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I rounded my shoulders a little more, stealing another glance behind me and swallowing. “I don’t know anything. I swear. I just got hired here a couple months ago.” Biting my lip, I screwed up my face and glared at the floor. “God, Iknewthis job sounded too good to be true. Now I’m going to have to start looking for another job and hope—”
“Don’t do that! You don’t have to quit.” Shepherd said quickly.Aw, he wants me to be his little pet rat!That was a good sign. If they were still in the evidence-gathering stage of the investigation, then they weren’t close to an arrest, which bought Misha time. “Just, maybe, keep an ear to the ground. Can you call me if you hear something? Anything?”
Worrying my lower lip, I nodded slowly, fucking cheering on the inside like I won the Stanley Cup. I might have been rusty but I stillhadit, baby.
Shepherd nodded, satisfied with himself, and withdrew a business card from his pocket. When he handed it over, he raised his eyebrows pointedly and gave me a somber look. “I suggest you donottell your boss we were here. For your sake.”
I nodded quicker that time, shoving the card in my back pocket.
“And if you remember anything about Jude or anything that happened at Dalton’s.” Riggs stepped forward and handed me another business card. I waited for one from Choi but he just glared before storming through the door.
As soon as they were gone and I secured the locks, I let out a shaky breath. I pulled my phone out and stopped immediately before I did something stupid, like call or text Misharightafter a little visit from law enforcement. If they pulled my cell phone records, what was I supposed to say? It was a “coincidence” and not me tipping off the Russian mob that the cops were on to them?
I chewed my lip for real, trying to sort out all of the shit they said, mentally segregating it into columns of Truth, Half-truth, and Lie. Sadly, not much seemed to fit in the Lie column, which left me with Truths and Half-truths, which in turn only led to more questions.
Luckily, there was someone else I could ask for some clarification.
* * *
After managingto finish my work at Delirium, I went home with a plan. I’d use Sveta’s phone to call Misha and ask what the fuck was going on. Seemed solid until I got there and walked in to find the Russian mobster himself setting the table.
“You can’t be here!” I blurted out.
He paused, cocked his head, and finished laying a fork on a napkin. “I thought you would be hungry. I picked up dinner.”
Ignoring him and the delicious smell from whatever the hell was in the giant brown paper bag on the counter, I shrugged out of my coat and hung it up before marching into the living room. “Seriously. You can’t fucking be here. Those weren’t just cops—they had a fed with them. And they asked about you.”
“I’m sure,” he murmured, calmly adding a knife next to the fork and moving on to the other place setting.
“You’re not listening. This guy said your name. First and last names. Flawlessly. Heknowsyou, Misha. He thinks you murdered one of my old coworkers.”
“Then he would be correct.” He faced me with another one of his infuriatingly serene expressions.
“Fuck me.” I stared at him, trying to pick my jaw up off the floor. “You’re not even going to deny it?”
“And insult your intelligence?” He gave me a frown and retreated into the kitchen to retrieve the paper bag. It was like the fucking Twilight Zone. He was so… calm. I could have been wearing a wire or recording this entire conversation and he looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. Did he think I was too much of a coward to do it? Or did he just…trust me… that much?
Shoving that question to the side, I lobbed one of my own at him. “Why? Why would you do that? You didn’t even know him!”
“I know he sold Nirvana. I asked him about it and he couldn’t provide the information that I needed. In my business, it’s better to tie off loose ends so no one can hang you with them.”
Goddamn it! He was still after that fucking drug! I’d kind of hoped he moved on since he never brought it up to me again. Guess not. That realization struck me with a pang of guilt. Was Jude dead because of me? Because I hadn’t told Misha what he wanted to know in the first place? But if I had, maybe I’d be the one who was dead…
“How did you find out about Jude?” I asked, trying to find some way to let myself off the hook.
“The same way I find out everything else.” Misha stopped spearing pierogi onto a plate and looked up at me.
Alarm bells inside my head rang. Loudly. I had a very clear image ofmyhand, fucking black and gnarled.Myhead, missing a huge chunk because my brains were splattered on the floor.
He must have sensed a change because he set the food on the table and turned to face me head-on, spreading his hands. “I’m not going to do that to you. I wouldneverdo that to you.” He didn’t wait for a response before he slid behind my usual chair and pulled it out, gesturing to it, before he took his own. “You’re not in any danger, Marek. Please come sit.”
My stomach chose that moment to growl and I eyed the table with more than a passing curiosity. Forcing myself to move, I dropped into my seat and assessed the food up close, keeping my guard up, though, in case he decided to slit my throat right there over the sauerkraut. “That’s a lot of Polish stuff.”
“I thought you might like it.”
I furrowed my brows even as I stabbed a chunk of kielbasa. “Why? Because I’m from Colomb? You realize most of the Polaks ducked out of there, right? Moved on to bigger and better places?”
“I knew another Marek once. We worked together in Krakow.” He smiled before meeting my gaze. “Don’t worry. You two are nothing alike. He was twice your age and quite comical.”
