He adjusts his wire-rimmed glasses as he looks back at the files in front of him. He’s just shown me surveillance photos of me going to the bank, going to get coffee, walking to Natasha’s after that day I thought I was being followed…
“You’re already on the FBI’s radar,” he goes on. “And so are Orlov and his crew. Anything illegal that they do, particularly on the premises, you will be pulled in with them.”
“But they haven’t done anything. Roman promised?—”
“Orlov is a criminal, Ms. Lorenzo,” he says patiently. “Whatever he promised or didn’t promise will only last for as long as it serves him.” He sighs and sits back in his chair. “I can tell you this. They don’t have enough to arrest you today, but it’s only a matter of time before they do. I think working with them is a smart choice… and probably the only way you’ll be safe if anything goes ass up with these people. They can give you protection in exchange for helping to put them behind bars.”
He’s right. Dammit, I hate that he is, but he’s absolutely right. However nice he’s been to me or the employees, however good of a fuck he is or whatever feelings I may or may not have for him, Roman Orlov is a crime boss. No good can come from ignoring that.
I take a deep breath and say, “Okay. I’ll give them whatever they need.”
12
ROMAN
“Come on, Sash. Quit stalling.”
I’m pacing in the back court near the glass wall as my daughter kneels down to tie her shoes. The last few days she’s been climbing the walls being cooped up in the house. We both need some time outside.
It’s been a while since we’ve been at the racquetball courts. When she was younger, she used to sit on the sidelines and watch Mila and me play a few games. By the time she was twelve, she was challenging me to games.
It’s a good day to play as well. It’s early Sunday afternoon and the club’s closed tonight. And as far as my extracurricular activities in the Bratva, all is quiet so far. After seeing that strange person outside my property, I put Ares on getting eyes around my property in the hopes that he’ll show up again and I can find out who he is.
Whenever I think about it, I get a strange feeling in my gut. Like how it has to feel being in row boat in the middle of the oceanwhile sharks circle you. This feeling of being stalked is unnerving me. I have to get ahead of it before whoever it is decides to strike.
In the meantime, I’m here with Sasha. Everything going on is forgotten. Even the circumstances of her grounding.
Well, almost that, anyway.
Sasha stands up, a welcome smile on her face as she twirls her racquet. “Get ready for the heat,starik.”
I laugh. “I’m forty-four. Not eighty-four. I’m in my prime.”
“You’re an old, old,oldman,” she jabs at me in Russian. “Practically in a walker.”
“I’ll show you old. Serve the ball already.”
She stands there, racquet twirling in one hand and the little blue rubber ball in the other. “Care to make it interesting?”
“You have no money. How interesting could it get?”
“I win, you’ll lift my punishment?”
“Not a chance.”
She snickers. “Chicken.”
Sasha’s a sly thing. She’s lucky I’m nothing like my father was. “You’re not going to goad me into letting you off the hook, Sasha.”
“Fine.” She thinks for a moment. “If I win this one, we get ice cream after this.”
“And if you lose, you do the dishes for the next week.”
“What? No.”
“You wanted to make it interesting. Who’s the chicken now?”
“Fine,” she says. “Ready?”
