“How?” she presses.
“Late-fee structure,” I say. “Dynamic incentives.”
Her eyes narrow. “Incentives like…breaking their legs?”
Lily kicks her little feet against the seat. “Legs!”
I keep my gaze on Bella, my voice mild. “Incentives like making sure they take their obligations seriously.”
“That’s not a no,” she mutters.
“It’s not a yes either,” I say.
She exhales sharply through her nose. “What about Kirov? Was he…another logistics manager?”
“Let’s say he owned trucks,” I reply. “He wanted to park them in places that belonged to my trucks.”
“And you sent him a reminder.”
“We had a conversation,” I say. “Several, actually.”
Bella leans her head back against the seat, eyes on the car ceiling. “You are the worst at pretending this is normal.”
“Normal people don’t need code,” I remind her. “You wanted both.”
She looks at me again, more tired than angry. “How often do you…deal with problems yourself? Personally.”
Lily has moved on to pressing her nose to the glass, fogging it up.
“When I have to,” I say. “Less than I used to. More than I’d like.”
“That’s helpful,” she mutters.
“Would you like a spreadsheet?” I ask. “Breakdown of violence by quarter?”
She shoots me a glare, but the corner of her mouth betrays her. “You’re an ass.”
For a moment, the car is silent except for the hum of the engine and Lily’s soft babbling at the window.
Then Bella sighs. “What about…us? Me and her. In your code, what are we?”
I feel that one all the way down.
“Priority cargo,” I say after a beat. “Nonnegotiable. Maximum protection. No substitution.”
Nikolai’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror, assessing my tone, then back to the road.
Bella blinks. “You just called us boxes, Aleksander.”
“You asked for code,” I say. “You don’t want the real word in front of her.”
She studies my face, really looks. “What’s the real word?”
That, even I don’t know. What am I even doing with this woman and her three-year-old?
Bella watches Lily for a moment, then looks back at me. “You told me about your dad,” she says quietly. “But what about your mom?”
I roll the question around in my head, staring out at the highway. “She took care of me,” I say after a beat. “Best she could. She deserved a quieter life than the one she got.”
