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“Stop deflecting,” he growled, his eyes fixed on me like a predator. He had me cornered and he fucking knew it. Short of physically leaving, which I was sure he wouldn’t let happen after the last time I tried, there was no way I was getting out of answering anymore. He didn’t give a shit how pissed I was.
“It’s bigger than one person,” I said quietly, wilting under his piercing stare and letting my gaze fall to the table between us. “You can’t fight them all. You’ll never win.”
“Watch me.”
“You don’t fucking get it!” I shoved away from the table and sprang to my feet, stalking into the kitchen. Raking my hand through my hair, I spun to face him once I was a safe distance away, even though he remained seated in his chair. “You didn’t believe me about Ken and look at all the fucking problems he caused! The people who set up Nirvana are ten times worse because there’s more of them!
“It’s a fucking business, Misha. Not like Sergei and the nice little pyramid you guys follow with a clear chain of command. These peoplearebusinessmen. They run it like any other investment firm with failsafes in place. They studied other dealers. Ok? They literally broke down their organizations and pinpointed where it went wrong. Those other big names lose productandprofit because of seizures by law enforcement, so these guys changed the distribution model, selling the shit wholesale to dealers instead of using a go-between, that way they get their money first. And if the dealer gets pinched? Oh well. They cut their loss as a bad investment and move on.
“This isn’t about power or prestige for them; they already have it! And it’s not about turf, like it is for you guys, because they have that too. It’s about fucking money. Period. And if you screw them over, they will fucking destroy you. All the shit Ken does, magnified by a hundred. Foreclosures, eminent domain, vehicle seizures, false arrests with guaranteed convictions on afederallevel. They might not kill you but they’ll ruin every single aspect of your life. And the more you have? The more you have to lose! Can you even imagine what they’d do toyou, a fucking immigrant? Your ass would be on the first plane back to Moscow! You can’t win!”
“How many leaders are in this organization?”
“Jesus Christ, Misha! Did you even listen to a word I said?! You can’t fucking beat them! They rigged the whole game! I won’t be the reason you get arrestedorfucking deported!”
“I listened to every word. How many leaders?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed, throwing my hands up instead of punching something.
“Then how do you know they’re so powerful?”
I folded my arms over my chest and glared at the floor. I’d already said too much.Waytoo much. Then again, I spat so much information at him that I hoped he wouldn’t know where to start with any of it.
Misha stood and walked toward me slowly, stopping just out of arm’s reach. “I don’t want to fight.”
“I don’t either.”
“Then we agree there are some things we won’t discuss?”
“Probably a good idea.”
He nodded, assessing me with his usual calm, steady gaze. He spread his arms slightly, a silent peace offering.
I wanted to tell him to fuck off, that he couldn’t badger me for answers that would get him hurt and then expect a hug like nothing had happened. But the next thing I knew, I darted forward, wrapping my arms around his waist. He pulled me against his chest, brushing his lips across my forehead.
Closing my eyes, I clung to him, trying to find shelter from the storm raging inside of me. Everything wassofucked up, I didn’t know what thought to settle on first. I wanted to believe that things would work out the way he planned, that he’d find a way out of this Nirvana mess unscathed, but since I was involved, it was guaranteed to blow up in his face. The second I thought something goodmighthappen, something worse inevitably followed, reminding me how stupid I’d been to think otherwise. And one day Misha would learn that painful lesson—no good deed goes unpunished.
29
MAREK
While I wasout with Nadia for her afternoon walk, my cell phone dinged with an incoming text message. Once, then twice. I figured it was Misha, since he was the only one who really texted me these days other than the occasional employee from Delirium about whatever their issue was.
When I quit Dalton’s, I’d quit dealing, so my interactions with Brooklyn had all but ceased except for her checking in every couple of weeks asking if I wanted back in. To which the answer was unequivocally “No!”
And thanks to Crystal, I knew it wasn’t Bri. I’d thought about getting her another cell phone and slipping it to her during my weekly grocery delivery but I hadn’t yet. I hadn’t even seen the kids since the day Crystal took them back because I was a chicken shit. I always dropped the stuff off right when they were getting home from school and took off again before anyone saw me. Part of it was so I didn’t cause issues for the kids, in case the crack whore was there, but the other part was sheer guilt. I told Bri to hold on, that it wouldn’t be much longer, and it had been over a month already. With no way to keep her updated on the lawyer situation, aside from a handwritten note full of lies and bullshit positivity, I didn’t want her to catch sight of me and then crush her completely when she found out I wasn’t there to take them away for good.
So when I finally slipped my phone out of my pocket, the last thing I expected was to see a picture of my siblings sitting on the couch, sobbing.
The text beneath read:
Hurry home, big brother.
Swearing loudly, I sprinted back to the building with Nadia as fast as I could. I shoved her in the apartment door, snatched my helmet off the peg on the wall, and flew back down to the parking garage. The Suburban would have been safer but I didn’t have time for safe.
Jumping on the Ninja, I peeled out of the parking garage as fast as I could without dumping the bike, spraying slush and snow in an arc as I whipped around the next corner and headed southward.
Those four words kept replaying in my head, along with a tiny clock ticking away, counting the seconds Bri and Ezra were subjected to whatever the fuck was going on at that house.
