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2
SAM
Sam scowledas he paced the floor of his living room with his cell phone pressed to his ear. He was talking to the Pakhan, the head of the Bratva. Alek listened silently while Sam explained that one of the men he was responsible for was arrested earlier this evening.
Sam was a Brigadier, which meant that the foot soldiers in the organization answered directly to him. Nix’s primary duty was to distribute products to the drug dealers within the Bratva’s network. It was vital that this be done by someone reliable, and Sam had assigned Nix the job a year ago. Things had gone smoothly up until now.
“Someone must have ratted him out to the cops,” Sam said, his hand clenched into a fist at his side. “Nix had about five kilos of H on him when he was arrested.”
“Fuck. They’ll get him on intent to sell,” Alek said, and Sam could picture him frowning. When the Pukhan was unhappy, everyone was affected. He needed to figure out a way to fix this.
“He won’t talk to the cops,” Sam said, fully confident in the truth of those words. Nix was loyal to the Bratva.
“Good. Take care of this, Samuil. Do whatever you have to do and keep me updated.”
Alek hung up, and Sam headed straight for the kitchen. There was already a bottle of rum on the counter, so he poured himself a double serving and took a deep pull from the glass. This arrest was a shit show that he didn’t want to deal with, but it was his job.
Crossing to the living room, he took a seat on the couch, his mind running through all kinds of ways to get Nix out of trouble. He needed to figure out who snitched on him in the first place while he was at it. That sort of thing couldn’t go unpunished.
He hadn’t come up with any solutions when a distraction came in the form of music playing through the wall of the apartment next door. It was classic rock, which surprised him. His hot new neighbor was into the same type of music that he liked. That was something of a relief. The last person that lived in that apartment was a fan of country music, which he hated.
Although, he had a feeling that living beside her would be no hardship. He felt a spark during their brief interaction, an attraction that had her lingering in the back of his mind all evening, even while he was dealing with the news of Nix’s arrest.
It had been far too long since he was with a woman, and Lexi was just his type. Mile-long legs and a killer smile. He’d been wondering how those plump lips would look wrapped around his cock since he watched her walk to the elevator with an erection pushing against the front of his pants.
Now, in the privacy of his apartment, he was hard again. Was Lexi alone in her apartment too? Maybe she’d want some company?
The thought of giving her a proper welcome to the building was appealing. He hadn’t been with a woman in about six months. It wasn’t always easy to find a woman that was interested in casual ex or a one-night stand. He never allowed things to go further than that with a woman.
Repeated sexual encounters led to intimacy and eventually, questions would be asked about his unwillingness to get completely naked during sex. He didn’t want to deal with that. The last thing he ever wanted to do was talk about his scars.
Sam took another sip of his drink as thoughts of sleeping with his neighbor faded. His mind slipped into a darker space where memories of the past seemed to wrap around his chest, squeezing until he could barely breathe.
It was frustrating as hell to still be so affected by his past trauma after all of these years. He wasn’t a child anymore.
Finishing off his drink, he forced himself to focus on his current problems, the ones he could do something about. The past could stay buried as far as he was concerned.
* * *
Sam sat on a hard plastic chair in front of a sheet of plexiglass as he waited for Nix to be brought in and placed in front of him. This place was depressing, with gray walls and fluorescent lighting. It was cold in the room, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
When the guard finally led Nix into the room, Sam’s stomach dropped and his fists clenched in anger. The man’s eye was swollen and black. He was walking in a noticeable limp, and he winced as he was shoved down onto his own chair.
Nix reached for the phone receiver that would allow them to talk through the glass, and Sam did the same.
“What the fuck did they do to you?” he asked, not bothering with a greeting or anyhow-are-you-doingbullshit.
“The cops roughed me up when I was brought in last night,” he replied. “I’ll be fine.”
“The hell you will. If they already beat you, you’re not safe here.”
“Sure, but what can we do about it?”
Nix sounded resigned, and his shoulders slumped as he let out a sigh. He brushed his blonde hair out of his face, suddenly looking exhausted.
“I’ll figure something out,” Sam assured him, even though he didn’t have a plan yet.
“Just do me a favor and look after Layla, okay? She’s in her third trimester now, so she gets tired easily, and I don’t know how the stress of all of this is going to affect the baby.”
