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“Put down your guns, Vinny,” I say.
The Collector looks at me. His brown hair is pushed back and shaved on either side of his head. He steps deeper into the warehouse. He isn’t holding a gun; the only armor he has is painted on his hands.
I glance at Vinny again. He has to see this isn’t possible. He fucked Egor over. This is the consequences of our world.
Vinny starts to plead. “I have the money.”
“Put all the guns on the ground.” The Collector rolls his neck like he’s getting ready for war. I’m not under any illusion that we won’t both die if Vinny gets trigger happy.
“Put them down,” I tell Vinny. “I have money” He’s growing paler. I’m bullshitting. I have money, but no amount will stop the collection process. He can beg in front of the boss. “Just put the gun down.”
He knows this is his only hope. I’m nodding, encouraging him as he lowers the weapon to the ground.
“Stand with your feet apart.” The Collector’s voice booms around the warehouse. He’s like a bedtime story that’s designed to frighten us. He keeps everyone in line, and I still can’t fucking believe I’m in the same space as him.
Vinny steps out from behind the pallet and peels off his leather jacket. He hands it to me. “Can you give that to my wife?” I’ve never seen him take it off. He might even sleep in the fucking thing.
“No. I’ll keep it here for when you get back.”
His smile is lost in all his fear, but I see the flicker of hope. I won’t ever see him again, I know this. I look away as he spreads his legs for the Collector.
It’s in the last second that Vinny decides to be as dumb as fuck and runs. The Collector barely moves. A knife sails through the air and rips through Vinny’s shoulder. He hits the ground hard. The Collector walks to him and retrieves his knife from Vinny’s shoulder as he screams.
“Run again and I’ll aim for your neck. I never miss.” The Collector keeps a foot on Vinny’s back as he cleans his knife. There’s a huge part of me that wants to reach for the gun and shoot the motherfucker in the head, but I remain still. The Collector glances at me as he slips the knife into a pocket on his trousers legs that I hadn’t even noticed before dragging Vinny off the ground. They disappear through the door.
I light up a fag as I gather up the guns on the ground. I remove the magazine from one. I would never piss off the bosses. It was fucking stupid of Vinny to think he was above our rules. We never see the bosses, and maybe that’s the fault in our system. They soon became myths and people grow sloppy. Then the myths become real when they fucking appear.
I leave the guns in the warehouse and make my way back into my office.
“He’s gone. Get everyone back to work.” I speak frankly into the phone to Roman before hanging up. I’m not going to linger on Vinny. He fucked himself over. His family will be taken care of; I’d make sure of it.
Now I need a distraction. And I’ll find it at home with Katina.
Chapter eight
KATINA
Hishouseissonice. I keep walking around it, taking in small details. It’s not the grand piano in the living space that captures me. No, it’s the small stack of Spanish books that makes me pause. He’s learning Spanish.
The piano is an ornament, untouched. I didn’t see any music, and I’ve never known Tomas to play an instrument. He doesn’t have light hands, and that’s fine with me. I’ve always been curious about what lies under his clothes. Now that I’ve seen all that flesh, I don’t think I can ever get enough of Tomas.
I open a brown box that holds six thick cigars. One is missing. I wonder what he celebrated. Maybe getting out of prison. I want to know each of his victories, each upset that I missed.
The front door opens, and I’m surprised he’s back so soon. My body hums with the promise of us having a shower together. I can’t wait to explore his body again, to have him inside me. I tighten my thighs.
“Tomas.”
I freeze at Nick’s voice. What is he doing here? His voice removes any notions I have.
There’s no point hiding. I’m very aware of Tomas’s clothes on me. Once Nick sees me in his friend’s jumper and pants, he’ll know something has happened between us. But I’m not a child.
“He isn’t here,” I say as I step into the hall. Nick slams the front door, his gaze scanning me from my bare feet to the top of my head.
“What are you doing here?” His words come out in a snarl. His blue eyes are wide. He looks older. I haven’t seen him in a while.
“You care?” I ask him in Polish. I’m so used to fighting with Nick in our own language. I always switch to Polish so I don’t have to be ladylike with my words.
“I’ll take you to Ne Ne’s.” He’s still speaking English. The dismissal in his voice has lowered the tone.
