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“Let me look,” Misha said, coming closer without waiting for a reply. I was almost on my feet when he promptly shoved me back down by my shoulders. “How is your vision?”
Was that a fucking trick question?! My vision was perfect, thank you. 20/20. Which meant I hadnoproblems seeing what the hell he and Hayden had been up to.
Rather than get myself into any more trouble for essentially spying on him like a perv, I kept my mouth shut for the second time in one shift. Impressive, but I hoped there wasn’t a Round Three. I already knew I didn’t have that kind of restraint.
“Is it blurry?” Misha asked, taking my face between his warm hands and tipping it back so the light overhead shone down directly on my cheek.
“No,” I replied, trying to watch him out of the corner of my eye. Did henotsee me in there? No… he made eye contact, for fuck’s sake. He most definitely saw me.
“Are you dizzy at all? Nauseated?” His fingertips moved over my cheek gently, in what I could only assume was a search for fractures.
Of course I was fucking dizzy. Leaning over me, his face was so close I could feel every time he exhaled. His cologne, his touch, it all made me fucking dizzy. Plus I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. I think it was the handful of olives I swiped earlier in the shift while we were prepping.
“No,” I replied, jerking my face out of his hands. He probably made Hayden fucking dizzy too, which was a reminder I didn’t need. “I’m fine. I gotta get back.”
Misha let me stand, but not leave. As soon as I tried to sidestep him, he slid in front of me, blocking the way. “Marek—”
“Look, man, I can’t afford to lose this job. I know it’s ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell.’ I’m not going to say anything to anyone.”
“Oh, I know you won’t.”
Swallowing in the hopes of loosening the sudden tightness in my throat, I shifted on my back foot, away from him. He didn’tsoundpissed. Quite the opposite. He sounded as calm as could be, which was sometimes more terrifying than anger. “What do you want from me?”
His brows pulled together and his lips twisted into a slight frown. “You look desperate to leave. Do I frighten you that much?”
“Frighten me? No.” I crossed my arms over my chest tightly, as much against the cold leeching through my black button-up as it was to keep him at whatever distance I could. “I don’t see the point of standing around here when I’ve got work to do.”
“The point”—he took a step toward me, backing me up against the building with nothing except his massive frame looming closer—“is to make sure we have an understanding.”
Memories from my teenage years surfaced. Violently. They crashed through my head and sent a sickening shockwave through every cell in my body. Other men, other alleys, other “understandings” I wanted no fucking part of but were forced on me anyway—on me,inme, whatever theotherguy wanted. But there was a difference between back then and now. Not much of one, but enough that I wouldn’t stand around and let it happen again. Not without a fight.
“Fuck your understanding.” I shoved him away from me as hard as I could and darted into the opening I created, leaving me free to sprint down the alley if need be. “If that’s what it takes to keep this job, you can fucking have it. I quit.”
He exhaled deeply, more of a tired sigh than the kind guys took right before they backhanded you. “Don’t be ridiculous. What kind of monster do you take me for?”
“I’ve known plenty of guys like you over the years. Expensive suit, fancy watch, nice car. They think they’re God’s gift to the world and do whatever the fuck they want, to whomever they want, whenever they want. Not this time. No job is worth that.”
The more I talked, the deeper his brows drew together. By the time I was done, his mouth was pressed into a hard line and a muscle in his jaw clenched before he spoke. “I can see this is more complicated than I originally thought.”
“Yeah, I’m sure all your other employees roll over and take it. Not this one.” I shook my head and took a couple of backward steps, relieved he didn’t follow me. Once there was a comfortable distance between us, I turned and strode down the alley as fast as I could.
So much for that fucking job.
8
MISHA
After three daysof Marek being absent from work without so much as a phone call, I sought him out at the address he’d listed on his application. His home—if it could even be called that—was not the sort of place I imagined he lived in.
“Do you want me to go up there and get him, boss?” Anton asked, ducking his head to look up at the old building he was double-parked in front of.
“And make him think you’re there to kill him? No. It’s my mistake, I’ll fix it.” I exited the vehicle and made my way inside the unsecured building.
Construction tape crisscrossed the elevator and a crudely written sign on a piece of paper stated the obvious—Out of Order.
“Wonderful,” I sighed, heading into the stairwell.
Ten flights later, I miraculously made it to the right floor in spite of the stairs’ dubious structural integrity. The hallway itself wasn’t much better than anything else I’d seen. More than one door looked like it had been kicked in and replaced so haphazardly the hardware wasn’t even aligned properly. Paint chips fell away from the wooden frames, creating little piles on the stained, threadbare carpeting.
