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“Could be worse,” he says, pocketing my phone. “In fact, it might very well become worse if the Italians catch up to us.”
“Yeah, you still haven’t fully explained that.”
“Come,” he says, holding out his hand. I take it, and he helps me out of my seat like a perfect gentleman. I feel a rush of butterflies in my stomach, and my heart hammers against my ribs so hard I’m scared that he’ll hear it.
As we exit the control room, we’re met with a gust of cold air, and I move closer to Jasha. Despite his coat having switched to my shoulders, his body seems to continuously radiate heat. My body seems incapable of keeping up with his warmth, and I’m drawn to him like a moth to the flame.
A few of his men down the hallway as the train straightens out on the track after a turn. They’re like inky shadows, floating in a cluster a few compartments down. Something about them scares me, though I know they’re under Jasha’s command.
I move even closer to the stoic safety beside me until my cheek touches his muscular arm. Jasha doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans into it, pulling me into a side hug as we enter into our previous cabin.
It's slightly warmer here than in the hallway, but not by much. My body heat doesn’t help, but Jasha’s is enough to change the temperature in the room as we settle into a seat together, side by side.
I can still smell the smoke in the air, but it’s not unwelcomed. Anything is better than the smell of cold steel and snow.
“Let me tell you a little story,” Jasha says, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat as he speaks.
His voice is like crimson velvet, wrapping around me as I continue to hug him. I can smell the sweat from his armpits, and I wonder how he could possibly be sweating at all with how cold it is. I push my head into his chest, inhaling deeply, but staying as quiet as I can so that he doesn’t realize how much I’m enjoying this.
If you can get something good from someone you hate, you should. It’s the only way to win against them.
“When I’m referring to the Italians, I’m talking about a specific subset of them who formed a mafia group fifty years ago. They’ve moved down from New York, where they originated, branching out into the semi-legitimate businesses, usually dealing in stolen goods.”
“Semi-legitimate? How does that work?” I ask.
“With legal storefronts and untraceable jewelry,” he answers, “They get the jewels cheaper than their competitors because they’re stolen, but they cut them up and set them in rings, watches, and necklaces so that they can’t be traced. In theory, they shouldn’t be able to get away with something so basic, but they use the extra profit to pay off politicians who, in turn, protect them from the law.”
I shake my head. “That’s terrible.”
“Terribly clever,” he replies, patting my thigh. “I’m just sorry I didn’t think of it first, but that’s irrelevant. My brother and I deal with more sophisticated things.” There’s a humorous gleam in his eyes, and I’m not sure I want to know what exactly his Bratva does for money.
But he tells me anyway. “Drugs, weapons, the occasional priceless antique… It was all business as usual until we started butting heads with an Italian Mafia Family by the name of Pessolano.”
“And now you’re stealing a train from them?”
“I’m taking what’s on the train, and it’s not really stealing if it belonged to me first,” he replies, a note of indignant pride in his voice.
Since he’s already made it clear he’s not talking about me, I’m really not sure what he’s on about. This train is empty. I walked through the entire thing before I started it up this morning, so unless something of value magically climbed on board when I wasn’t looking, there’s nothing here.
But Jasha is certain there is.
“So, the Pessolano Family stole your drugs or something?” I ask, thinking they could be stashed on the train without being spotted.
“Not drugs,” he replies, squeezing my thigh and sending a jolt of excitement through my nervous system. “Precious stones, but most of them aren’t mine. There’s just one in particular that I’d like to get my hands on, and I believe it’s on this train. Orinit. Orunderit.”
“Why not stop and search it?” I ask, a bit confused why he has to take it all the way to Texas.
“No time. The Pessolano Family probably already knows that I’ve taken the train, and they’ll be coming after us soon. Your little trick to steer us in the wrong direction might just cost everyone their lives. I hope you’re happy about that.”
“Obviously not, but you should’ve told me the danger we were in instead of keeping me in the dark.”
“I couldn’t trust you.”
“You trusted me enough to fuck me the day we met,” I reply, feeling a surge of white-hot annoyance. I pull away from him, remembering that I’m only using him for warmth, and I’ve had enough of that.
Jasha wrinkles his nose, almost playfully. “That was different.”
“Why? Because you took advantage of me for your own pleasure?”
