There’s something about her, no matter how much shit life’s thrown her way, that refuses to dim in the face of adversity. I still don’t know why she’s sleeping in a shitty storage unit, but it’s just one of many things on the list I’m tallying to address in due time. Whatever it is hasn’t knocked the fight out of her.
I’m doing everything I can to ease her way until I step in and do it for her. To that end, I replaced the lazy asshole who’d been working atDino-Mite Storageand installed the wife of one of my men. She reports to him, and he to me. Alevtina is a good girl. Obedient and trustworthy. I know she will follow my instructions to ensure Petal has a safe place to rest and around the clock access to food.
Acid roils furiously in my gut when I think of my little bird trapped in her dark cement hidey hole without even the simplest of luxuries. The idea she might need something so basic as a toilet or comfortable bed to sleep on and not have it. Sneaking into her garage bay while she worked yesterday to install tiny cameras proved I was right to worry. The space is tidy and her belongings are stored in neat cartons, but it’s nowhere near the sort of place I’ll tolerate her staying for long.
“You know, you could just go talk to her.”
Only years of practice at schooling my reactions prevents me from jumping in surprise when Feliks appears from nowhere and grumbles right into my ear. My focus was so devoted to my little bird I’d missed his approach entirely. Risky and careless.
“Mind your business, brother. And your tone.” It doesn’t escape my notice that Feliks knows how much time I’ve spent watching Petal.
Thing about an organization like ours is, as vicious as we may be when it comes to taking care of business and handling the duties assigned by thePakhan, we gossip. A lot. Shit, the amount of time the lot of us have spent dissecting Rurik’s obsession with his jailbird would rival any watercooler gossip mill in existence.
“Your spending is my business. Now, you’re employing others in your foolish fixation on this girl. You’ve pull the men’s wives into jobs, and now, there is talk they will expect to continue making money in this way. You’re making waves, Sin. Changing the way things are done and making the men nervous.”
Making Feliks nervous, more likely. His dislike of change has earned him a reputation for fussiness he can’t escape. Still, this is obnoxious even for him. What kind of man is upset because his woman gains a little independence?
“What problem is it of mine if the men cannot convince their wives to stay home when I no longer need them to work? Are they not my men? ThePakhan’smen? Should I not give their wives opportunities when they would keep their women small? Feliks, you degenerate.” I know this will get under his skin. This is why I say it.
“Fuck you, Zinovy. Stop picking a fight and wasting time. If you want the girl, take her. Or walk away from this nonsense and get back to work. There’s too much going on for your attention to be divided, right now.”
“It’s not so simple. If I take her, she will be missed. If she’s missed, it may draw attention. The timing is not good for such things.” Being the voice of reason between the two of us is not the way things typically go. The role reversal itches under my skin.
“By who? Who would miss the girl? She’s sleeping in a storage unit for fuck’s sake.” Scorn drips from the words, raising my hackles until my fists clench and unclench at my sides. Brotherhood or no, I won’t tolerate anyone talking badly about my little bird.
“Change your tone when you speak of her,Obshchak, or do not speak of her at all.” It’s an order. He may not be my subordinate, but he’d do well to heed it anyway.
“Relax, Sin. I just mean there’s likely no one who would go to much trouble to find her if she disappears. Fuck, man, who says you have to actually take her, anyway? Just ask her on a date like a normal human.” Feliks shakes his head as if he can’t understand why I can’t approach Petal the way one might a regular woman.
I’m not even sure I fully understand why I can’t. At least, not beyond recognizing the risk of her denying my advances turns my blood to ice in my veins. No. It’s far more logical to ensure she comes to me than it is to gamble on asking her for something so mundane as a date.
Chapter
Eleven
CHAPTER 11
I’ve gotten so usedto feeling eyes on me whenever I’m away from my storage hidey hole I hardly bother trying to find the source anymore. Matter of fact, it’s kinda comforting to feel as if someone’s looking out for me. Again, my mind skips back to the stretch of luck I’ve had lately, and I hope I’m not jinxing myself by thinking about it so often. In all my life, I’ve never been one to catch a break. No clue what changed, but it’s amazing to walk down the street and not be scared.
The bell above the door jangles when I push my way into the kitchen entrance atPete’s. The bright light competes with the mixed scents of food being prepared for the morning and the sounds of pots and pans banging and clanging. All of it creates a jarring explosion of stimulus after the near silent trek here in the pre-dawn gloom.
“Speed it up, girlie. Tons of prep to get through before opening time,” George barks.
A week ago, the way his words boom and echo through the kitchen made me jump with nervousness. Today, I find myself smiling in the face of his harried anti-morning grouchiness. George is big and loud, but he’s a proverbial teddy bear with a heart of gold. He’s the kind of man who protects those smaller than him, and he’s taken me under his wing and been the kind of father figure I never had.
He’s also let me pick up extra hours helping in the kitchen, so I can save up for a place even faster. I don’t say why I need to make money fast, and George doesn’t say anything about the P.O. Box I listed as my address on my application. There’s no way he doesn’t know how desperate I am, but I appreciate that he’s taking a chance on me and not prying too deeply into my life.
“Start on the potatoes after you get washed up. They need to be peeled and diced for the scramble skillets we’re featuring for brunch today. Throw ‘em into the bucket with a couple gallons of warm water to soak out the starch. Got it?” He’s already heading into the cooler, and he misses the victory wiggle I give at the new chance to prove myself in the kitchen.
“Sir, yes, sir!” I chirp at his retreating back.
Waiting tables is fine, and it’s good for quick cash. But time spent in the front of the restaurant is time spent being on display. It makes me easier to locate if Jordan’s trying to findme. Working in the kitchen adds a layer of protection, even if it means missing out on tips. Hopefully, I’ll prove myself to George, and he’ll let me help in the kitchen when we’re open, too.
My fingers are cramping and the skin pruning up from being constantly wet by the time I’m done peeling all the potatoes necessary. Jordan used to make me do all the cooking, but this is different. The scale of prep work in a restaurant is light years more than I’d guessed, but there’s a rhythm to it I’m finding peace in. Serving customers is a chaotic whirl of managing eleventy things at once, almost a dance of sorts.
“Can I use this knife, George, or is it one of your special ones?” I’ve watched enough television cooking shows to know how much chefs care about their blades.
“Use it. Just be sure you dice the potatoes into even cubes.” He’s busy cubing up pieces of ham, cooking bacon on the flat top, and there’s already a pile of sliced peppers, mushrooms and onions in a huge mound on the counter.
