Her father: And your brother Rod is dang smart, too. He taught himself to reload ammunition, and he makes near two hundred dollars a month extra above his job as a warehouse stocker, reloading brass with great big loads for rich people to go on safari and shoot giraffes and elephants with. A guy sent him a picture last month of the momma lion he shot with one of Rod’s loads. Said the cubs were running around all frantic as he dragged her off. Now that was funny, right there.
Her mother: You can’t major in computer science and finance. Your father won’t allow it. He won’t let you do that to your brothers. We just won’t release our tax returns to that that student aid faffle thing, so you can’t get any student loans anymore. It’s not right, you going off and doing that to your brothers and to us.
Svetlana said, “I am nothing but ox to her, to be hooked up to plow. And when I don’t want to plow, I am trash.”
Rage at Svetlana’s mother surged in Colleen’s muscles, a rigid cramp and then the burn of holding still when she wanted to choke the stupid, evil woman over in Russia. Who would throw their daughter away like that? What sort of a monster would sell their kid to someone who would abuse them?
What sort of a parent saw their relationship as transactional, that the kid was born to fill a role for them, not to be a human being?
Colleen stood by Svetlana and ducked her head to look at the girl. Tears were dripping off Svetlana’s nose into the sink. “You know your mother was wrong, don’t you?”
Svetlana asked her, “Who is to say what is wrong? Maybe she was telling truth, and my whole life has been mistake. Maybe I am waste.”
Colleen gathered the thin girl into her arms, and Svetlana held onto her and wept. “She’s wrong, Svetlana. She’s horribly wrong. Just because she was your blood relative doesn’t mean she gets to pass judgment on you that way, and it doesn’t mean you deserve to be thrown away. You deserve so much more than that. You deserve to have a good life with people who love you. Kids if you want them, and friends and your own family that you make whether you have the kids or not. You deserve to do what you want and certainly never, ever have someone own or use you or throw you away. You deserve so much more than that jackass out there. You deserve a wonderful life with people who love you, and to do wonderful things, and acceptance and comfort, not abuse, not loneliness, not people wanting stuff from you and then throwing you away.” A deep voice telling her impossible things gave Colleen the words. “You deserve to be cherished, and treasured, and loved.”
Svetlana sobbed on her neck. “What if I don’t? What if I am problem?”
“You’re not,” Colleen told her. “Come on. We’re going to get you out of here, and I’ll make sure you get away.” She clamped her teeth together in her mouth. “No matter what it takes.”
18
Tristan’s No Vote
Tristan
Just as Sergey’s thug was scooting his chair back and wiping his mouth to rise and Tristan was getting ready to stop him from going after the girls, Colleen breezed through the door with an enormous grin on her face and the golden silk of her dress billowing behind her. “Oops! I almost missed more caviar!”
Tristan dragged his face into a calm, relaxed expression in her general direction and held his breath to slow his racing heart.
She sat beside him and flashed an enormous, white-toothed smile at all the Russian guys on the other side of the table.
That was a peculiar smile for Colleen, who was much more of a private, sly-smile sort of a person. Nevertheless, Tristan grinned back at her and turned to Sergey to continue trying to escape the bratva’s clutches.
From across the table, Sergey demanded of Colleen, “Where is Svetlana?”
Colleen dropped her napkin in her lap and attacked the blinis. “She’ll be along in a minute. Girl stuff! Sorry we took so long. I just adore her. She is just the sweetest thing. We just got to talking, and we hit it off like a house afire!”
Yeah, that was a lot for Colleen to say. Something was up. Tristan watched and waited, ready to jump in if he was needed.
Sergey asked, “But she was in bathroom with you?”
Colleen had been steadily eating the next course that had arrived on the tasting menu, a caviar flight with six different tiny pots of caviar surrounding a few wheat pancakes on each plate. She paused with her teeth already sunk into the next bite of pancake topped with red-gold roe and looked between the two of them.
Tristan and Sergey waited while she deliberately chewed and swallowed, lest she speak with her mouth full.
She was stalling. Something had happened when the two girls had left, and Colleen was stalling.
Tristan’s skin chilled.
The evening’s dinner had just turned from dangerous to deadly.
Finally, Colleen gulped audibly and said, “She was in one of the stalls, and I was talking to her until I thought I had to come back. I didn’t want to be gone too long. Didn’t want to miss the caviar!” She stuffed another bite in her mouth.
Sergey was still frowning, but he seemed mollified. He and Tristan returned to their banter about whether Tristan would continue to be involved in Russian organized crime.
Tristan was still working hard on his no vote to that. “And even though I have a contract with my associate here,” he didn’t say Colleen’s name because he still didn’t want to confirm that Sergey had been right about it, “it’s just a provisional contract.”
Sergey narrowed his eyes at Tristan. “Is not real contract?”
