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Fuck me and my instincts—like the one that has me pressing a gentle hand to her back to encourage her to keep talking. “What do you mean?”
Clara sniffs and fists her free hand in front of her face. “I had to practice my testimony, for the lawyer and at home. I had to practice what I needed to say, and… and… I kept getting it wrong. I kept—and Daddy… Daddy kept telling me…” She scrubs her face with both hands. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tolya. I just don’t know.”
I don’t move. I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll be the one cuffed and thrown behind bars next.
Tolya stares at her for a long, silent moment. Then sighs. “Well, it’s a few fucking years too late to ‘not know.’ You should have said this shit at the trial.”
She hiccups and nods. Her bottom lip trembles and she looks away again. This time, the shame on her face is as obvious as her tears.
He clicks his tongue. “Tsk tsk,malyshka. You were so brave when you didn’t know shit. Why look away now?”
Clara doesn’t respond.
Tolya suddenly leaps around the table and grabs her by her face, yanking her to her feet. “Goddammit! Look at me, you treacherous bitch!”
I don’t realize I’ve left my seat until my hands slam into his chest. Tolya stumbles back over the table, caught by the responding guards who quickly drag him to the nearest exit.
He glares at me as they take him, more of that sick madness contorting his face as he laughs and spits on the floor. But they move him out too quickly for him to shout any final words, which is just as well.
I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hear them.
It only takes us half the time to leave as it did getting in. The guards are eager to get us out of there and away from the furious Russian mobster we can hear screaming profanities from here.
As we leave, I’m deeply bothered by two things that are certain to keep me up later tonight.
One: Tolya lied. To me, to his lawyer, to everyone. Even by omission, it’s still a lie.
And two: I won’t hesitate to kick his ass if he ever touches Clara again.
51
CLARA
My sandals catch on the cracks of the cement pavement in the parking lot, but Demyen’s firm hold around me keeps me from stumbling.
I wish that was a comforting thing.
As we near the Mustang, I feel like I need to break the silence with my gratitude. “Thanks for stepping in?—”
The air is knocked from my lungs when he spins me around and pins me against the side of the car.
“The fuck do you mean, ‘you don’t remember’?” He grinds the words through clenched teeth, his breath seething.
I need to be afraid. I should be terrified. But the way his hands wrap around my hips, pinning me to the car while pulling me into him at the same time…
One glance over his shoulder clears up the confusion. Technically, we’re still on prison grounds. We still have eyes on us, eyes that connect to mouths that speak into the ears of those who hold Tolya’s life in their hands.
Demyen is definitely pissed. He just has to make it look like we’re having an intense discussion about…otherthings.
“It was years ago,” I try to explain. “And what do I… I don’t… I can’t…”
“Make up your mind!”
“I don’t want to fuck it up again!”
Demyen eases back, but only enough for me to see the sudden surprise in his eyes before he shutters it behind his usual suspicion and skepticism.
He doesn’t say anything, so I keep going. Either I’m going to dig myself out of this hole or I’m going to dig deeper until I hit rock bottom. “In case you haven’t noticed, I actually care about what happens to people. I’m sick to my stomach about what happened to Tolya. What he… he…” I wave a hand toward the prison, unable to find the right words to describe the unhinged madness the man’s sunk into.
