“I want my money,” Kozlov roars, and I squeeze my eyes shut, fear curling up inside me.
The man emerges from my bedroom, shaking his head. “Nothing, boss.” He posts up near the kitchen, with Jake’s birthday cake sitting on the counter behind him, looking borderline comical in this crazy situation.
Kozlov’s stare returns to Jake and hardens further.
“I’ve been working on it,” Jake assures him, inching to the side slowly. “Emma’s helping me and… I just need?—”
“More time?” Kozlov laughs, but there’s no humor in it. It’s bone-chilling. “No, I don’t think so. No more. Time to pay up, soldier boy.”
He lowers himself into my grandmother’s worn armchair like he owns the place, crossing one leg over the other. It’s the only piece of furniture I have left from my childhood home. The wood creaks under his weight in the heavy silence that follows his demand.
One second, two, three.
It feels like an eternity before Jake speaks.
“I don’t have it yet.” The tension in the room ratchets up another notch with Jake’s admission. He hurries to appease Kozlov, who looks less than impressed. “But I will. I’ve got some things in motion.”
My fear spikes as the man lounging in my sitting room presses his lips into a thin line and balls his fists.
This is going to end in bloodshed.
“Things in motion.” Kozlov tests the words, examining them like spoiled meat. “Do you know what I have?” Kozlov says softly. “A business. A reputation. Men who pay because they’re afraid not to. When men like you don’t pay their debts, it makes me look weak. Soft.”
One of his men, the one by the window, shifts slightly, making sure there’s nobody outside. No witnesses.
“And here.” Jake takes the pouch I press into his hands and holds it out for one of Kozlov’s men to take. They hand it to their boss without looking inside.
Kozlov takes a quick peek before glaring at Jake, head tilted to the side. “Do I look like a fucking pawn broker to you?”
He slides the pouch into his pocket, not returning it, but not promising to give Jake any credit for it, either.
My mother’s pearls. Gone. Just like that.
“Give me one more week.” Jake bargains.
Kozlov’s pale eyes narrow. He drums manicured fingers on my table, each tap deliberate. “How much do you have right now?”
Jake’s silence tells us everything we need to know. He doesn’t have any of it.
Kozlov laughs. “As I thought.”
“I can give you ten thousand tomorrow, and then the rest…”
Kozlov’s eyes slide to me, and he tips his chin up, revealing a pale scar cutting through his dark stubble. “Yours?”
I nod, scared to make eye contact until he clears his throat, letting me know he expects me to answer him out loud.
“Yes,” I whisper, feeling guilty for admitting the money is coming from me and not Jake. “It’s all I have, I swear.”
Satisfied, Kozlov gives me a pitying smirk, like my ten thousand dollars, that I’ve been working my ass off for years to save up, is chump change and not even worth bothering with.
“And I presume the diamond rings aren’t yours either, Jake. So,youdon’t have anything to contribute.” His laugh is cruel, mocking as he looks at my brother like he’s an idiot, shaking his head in despair. “And you expect me to believe you can have the rest in one week? How?”
It’s a fair question, one I’m wondering about myself.
“I’ll figure it out.”
Everyone in this room, including Jake, knows he’s bluffing. Stalling for time. He has to know he’s just delaying the inevitable. There’s no way tofigure outthat kind of money in a week. Not legally, anyway.
