“No. It’s really, really not okay. I think I fucked up. Bad.”
“So, talk to me. What happened?”
I don’t even know where to start or even how for that matter. I just blurt it out. “Michelle isn’t my cousin. She’s FBI.”
Her eyes get as big as saucers. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“No.”
“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”
“Keep it down. Jesus,” I hiss, looking around the parking lot.
She gapes for a few seconds, her mouth moving soundlessly. Finally, she puts her hands on her head and says, “What in God’s name are you doing talking to FBI?”
“They picked me up one night like a month, month and a half ago. They know who Roman is and what he does and… and they wanted me to get close to him and tell them what’s happening at the club so they can build a case against him.”
All the blood drains out of her face. “You’re akrysa, Em!”
“A what?”
“A rat! A snitch!” She stops herself, her mouth slamming shut. Then she sighs and says, “Jesus on a pogo stick.”
“I know this is bad.”
“It’s really bad, Em. How much have you told them?”
“Not a lot. Hardly anything.” I pause, crossing my arms across my chest as my nerves shake within me. “But… but last night, I learned about something big with Roman?—”
“Don’t tell me!” she barks. “For fuck’s sake. Don’t tell me anything. I don’t want to know about it. Please tell me that you didn’t tell that agent.”
“No, of course not. In fact, I just told her that I wanted out. I can’t do this anymore.”
“Let me guess. She’s not trying to let you go. She got something on you?”
I shake my head. “I mean, just guilt by association. She’s pretty intent on getting Roman and she’s going to drag me down with him. What am I going to do? Roman and I have gotten really close. I can’t do this to him.”
“Even if you weren’t very close, you can’t do it to him.” Her pale shade is turning a yellowish green color. She suddenly looks like she might vomit all over the parking lot. “You don’t want to know what the Bratva do tokrysa. Secrecy and unity… it’shuge.You cannot betray him.”
“Hey, I don’t like what you’re implying,” I say to her. “He’s a lot of things, but he’d never?—”
“He’s Bratva,” Natasha says, urgency in her eyes. “That always comes first. No matter what. If he finds out you snitched, no amount of head is going to save you?—”
“I didn’t snitch.”
“It doesn’t matter. If he finds out you were even talking to the FBI, the kindest thing he’ll do is dump your body someplace he can visit once a year.”
I shake my head vehemently. I can’t believe that he would do that to me. I just can’t.
“A year ago,” she says, “there was this girl that used to work at the club. She’d only dance every once in a while, you see, because she had a boyfriend that was Bratva. She didn’t really do it for the money. She just liked to dance naked, I guess.”
“Tash—”
“And one day, she got into this huge fight with him about… I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. But the next day, she came in talking about how he made his money dealing and pimping girls out, you know, because she was pissed at him. One of the last things she said to us was that ‘it would serve him right’ if she went to the police. We didn’t see her again the next night or the night after that. After about a week, pieces of her washed up on the beach?—”
“Stop,” I say firmly. My palms are sweaty. They feel damp against the sides of my chest as I hold myself. “I get it, okay? You don’t fuck over Bratva.”
“You don’t. Not ever. No matter who you are.” She pauses, chewing on her bottom lip as she regards me with genuine concern. “And if you are really trying to get away from that agent, then you need to work harder at it. You need to get away from her and bury all knowledge of your ever meeting with her. Salt the earth if you have to.”
