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“Yes, sir.” Danny remained tense as Nikolai spoke to Artyom and left with Ten only a few steps behind.
The moment Nikolai was gone, Artyom slapped him across the back of the head. “Did you leave your brain in Dublin? Why would you say something that stupid?”
Danny grunted in pain and reached back to rub his stinging scalp. “In my defense, I was on a plane for fourteen hours. I came home and found out my house burned down and my girl was dancing for money to pay for a bail bond. I’m hungry, and I’m tired.”
“That’s no excuse.” Artyom shook his head and stared down at him with disappointment. “You’re a captain, Danny. You have to be above reproach. You did so well on your trip. We got nothing but good reports. Then you come back here and fuck it all up!”
“Right because you’ve never fucked up when it comes to a woman,” Danny grumbled.
“You little shit,” Artyom hissed. “Don’t even think about comparing your situation with Chess and her daughter.”
“You’re right. They’re not similar at all. I didn’t kill Macy’s boyfriend.” As soon as he said the words, Danny regretted them. That was a dark secret that was never supposed to be spoken aloud to anyone, and he had just thrown it in the face of his only living relative, of the man who had basically raised him since he was twelve. Ashamed, he said, “Dyadya—.”
“You should go,” Artyom cut in roughly. “Your girlfriend is probably waiting for you.” Artyom reached over and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Be careful, Danny.”
Feeling like the lowest piece of shit, Danny watched his uncle leave. He carried the box of beets and money across the restaurant, through the kitchen, and out to the employee parking. Considering Artyom had abandoned him without a ride, Danny planned to use Lyft, but Boychenko sat in his Tahoe waiting.
“Thanks,” Danny said as he loaded his box into the cargo area next to his carry-on.
“No problem.” Boychenko waited until he was in the passenger seat to ask, “How bad?”
“Not as bad as I had expected,” Danny admitted. “Pay cut. Got my ass chewed. Have to apologize. No contact with the Albanian crews or territory.” Guilty about dragging Boychenko into his mess, he asked, “You?”
“Just a disappointed look,” he said and backed out of his space. “I think I would have preferred a slap. Get it over with, you know?”
“Yeah. Where are we going?”
“Your new place?” Boychenko replied uncertainly. “I thought you’d want your car.”
“Right.” The whole afternoon had gone sideways, and he was completely thrown off his game. “I don’t have a key.”
“Glove box.” Boychenko grimaced. “Do you smell dirt?”
“Beets from Ten,” Danny said and retrieved the envelope from the glove box. “I used to put money in boxes all the time for the boss. If someone was in trouble, I would pull the same bullshit to embarrass them. I’m just getting back what I gave.”
“Maybe next time throw the beets in the trash before you put them in my car? If that stains my carpet pink—.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Danny retrieved his phone from his pocket and read the message from Macy. “Janie is still being processed.”
“That jail is a shit show. There was an article in the paper a couple of weeks ago about the settlement the county paid out to Ivan’s sister-in-law and some other women who sued.”
“Whatever it was, it’s not enough.” Danny didn’t even want to think about Ruby and the other women who had suffered under the hands of sadistic jailers.
“Maybe the money helps it hurt a little less,” Boychenko reasoned. “And maybe it won’t happen to anyone else.”
“It will,” Danny replied. “As long as they keep throwing people in for-profit jails and prisons for being drug addicts or mentally ill.”
Boychenko laughed. “You sound like a politician.”
Danny snorted. “Politicians are the reason for this mess. Politicians won’t be the ones to fix it either. It will be people like Ruby and Erin, sisters, mothers, fathers, and brothers. People who want to make noise, and people who are sympathetic.”
“Now you sound like a community organizer.”
“No, that’s not me.” Danny had long ago given up any idealistic dreams of being someone who could do good in his community. He understood his place in the hierarchy of Houston’s underworld. His was a life meant to be lived in the shadows, quietly and unseen.
When they arrived at the house, Danny was a bit startled to see how much work Artyom had done while he was away in Ireland. The dilapidated old house had been one of his uncle’s foreclosure auction buys. The place had been a complete dump when Danny had toured it with Artyom after the sale. Caved-in ceilings. Collapsing floors. A makeshift crack den in the back bedroom. Possums and armadillos and mice running wild in the walls and crawlspace.
Now, it looked like it belonged on the cover ofSouthern Living. The white picket fence was almost too perfect. The flower beds were overflowing with cheerful bursts of pink and yellow. The front porch matched the fence with its bright white paint. There were hanging baskets lining the porch, all of them overflowing with ferns and purple flowers. He half expected to see an old lady in a rocking chair drinking sweet tea from a mason jar.
