I walk the rest of the way to the shop, Natasha heavy on my mind. Carter was a scary guy, but asking a Bratva boss to step in and…
And do what? Whack him? The hell am I thinking?
If there was any question about my going to jail for being Bratva adjacent before this, there’d be no doubt about it once I tell Roman what’s going on. Even if I don’t explicitly tell him to go after this guy, I’ve got a feeling that he’ll be more than happy to step up to the plate to defend Natasha in her time of need.
Weirdly enough, it just seems to be the kind of guy he is.
It’s busy today in the coffee shop. The moment I step into the enclosed space and inhale the strong smell of dark roasted coffee beans, I have to stand to one side of the door just to get in line. People are lined up at the counters nearly back to chest and every table has people sitting in them.
Well. It’s not like I have any place to be. I open my phone and start scrolling through the news. The line’s moving fast, so it doesn’t take all that long for me to get my latte and get moving out of the constricted environment of the coffee shop. As I open the door and walk out, someone walking in bumps my shoulder… and my latte slips out of my hand.
It doesn’t get far. The man who bumps me grabs the cup with lightning speed, catching it in one hand just inches from where it just slipped from my hand.
“Whoops,” he says with a laugh. “Got it.”
He hands me the cup as I look up at him to thank him… and my blood runs cold.
He’s an ordinary looking man. Golden blonde hair cut low on the sides, the longer part on top gelled stylishly out of his face. He’s got a large scar that travels down from his eyebrow and over one eyelid. The lid is lowered slightly, the damage slightly clouding the darkened iris. His rough appearance is one thing… but his neck iscoveredin tattoos.
He’s wearing a suit, casual fit with a couple of buttons undone. The small part of his chest is completely blacked out with Russian writing and symbols. Even the backs of his hands are covered in them.
I take the cup from him, trying not to look as shocked as I have to appear. He smiles politely and says, “Another lifetime,” as he motions to his tattoos.
“I’m sorry?”
“The tattoos. You noticed them and you must think?—”
“Oh, I don’t… I mean, I’m not assuming anything.”
“You can relax,” he says with a little laugh. “These tats I got when I was young and dumb and thought I belonged somewhere I clearly did not. That life is in the past for me.”
I feel so silly. My face is getting hot. “I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t hide that very well, did I?”
“Most people don’t.” He pauses, looking me over. “I’m Sergei. Sergei Durov.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand.
“Sorry, I know this is going to sound like a line, but I promise it’s not. I have seen you somewhere, haven’t I?”
I shrug. He seems nice enough, but thelastthing I need is to be hit on right now. “I’ve been told I have one of those faces.”
“Yeah,” he says in a musing tone. Then he snaps his fingers. “The Kitten’s Paw. You work there.”
Okay. My cue to leave. I take a half-step back and his face flushes.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I meant… Well, you’re the manager there, right?”
“Right,” I say.
“Oh, that’s fantastic. You wouldn’t happen to be hiring for security or anything? I’ve been looking for steady work for months and…” He motions with his hands, turning them palm down, showing me the edges of his tattoos. “You can imagine this isn’t winning me any interviews.”
I relax a little. A reformed Bratva guy. Who wouldn’t have thought that even existed? “We’re always looking,” I tell him, “But I don’t know if it’s the right environment for someonetrying to stay on the straight and narrow. Strip clubs are rife with temptation.”
“Well, maybe not, but I gotta eat.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and hands me a card. “Here’s my number. If you’re ever looking, give me a call and I can send over my resume.”
I take the card. It’s pretty simple, white with black ink with his name and number on it.Sergei Durov. “Sure,” I tell him as I pocket the card. I lift up my cup to him and say, “Thanks again.”
“No problem.”
