She looks back outside, her hand gently holding the sheer white curtain. “In case you were wondering about all the Bratva I’m sure you saw when you pulled up, we’re on lockdown or about to be on lockdown. Something’s going on that Dad wants to protect us from.”
A heavy guilt sinks down to my heart. I should never have agreed to talk to that fucking shark of a woman. We probably wouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t.
“Does this happen a lot?” I ask her, and she scoffs.
“No. Dad doesn’t let a lot of that spill over into my day to day. He likes it that I’m just a normal teenager…” She trails off, then softly, she mutters, “whatever that means.”
She goes quiet again and for a minute, I think that maybe she’s fine. She’s not in tears. She’s certainly not disintegrated into pieces. She’s just deep in thought. I suppose that’s where I’ll be after I unpack my things.
“Do you know what’s happening?” she asks me.
“I’m… not sure.” I stammer, unsure of how much I should be telling her, if anything at all. I decide to go with the thing that’s all over the news. “The club was raided last night. It probably has something to do with that.”
“Oh. That would be why Uncle Ares is taking me to school instead of the club today.” She pauses, then turns to me with a skeptical eyebrow. “But strip clubs are legal. Why would the FBI raid it?”
I shrug and give her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Sasha, but I know about as much as you do. I was here with you last night, remember?”
“Yeah, but… he didn’t tell you anything about what happened? Nothing at all?”
“No, not really.” Ugh, that feels dirty, but I can’t tell her the real deal. Hell, I don’t even have the complete story. “Listen, whatever’s happening, maybe don’t stress too hard about it? It’s probably just a good idea to get dressed like Ares said and get ready for school.”
She sighs and steps away from the window. “Today is going to suck balls. Being on lockdown but not throwing any red flags to the school means I get to have an escort all day long. You know what it’s like to be in class and look out the window to see a guy with a ton of tattoos watching you from his car or just standing around on the sidewalk? That’s going to be my life every day until whatever this is blows over.”
She walks over to her drawer to find clothing, and I take that as my cue to leave. “I’ll be here when you get back, at least,” I tell her. “I have a feeling we’ll be spending a lot of time togetherwhile your father deals with this mess. Maybe this afternoon we can watch some old movies or something?”
She smiles at me. It’s warm and welcome. “Yeah,” she says. “That sounds nice.”
I leave her bedroom and return to pulling my suitcase to Roman’s room. I get there, put the suitcase by the bed, and close the door… and I’m alone.
I should never have talked to Rastelli. Somehow, that’s the catalyst to all this. I refuse to believe it’s not all connected somehow. It also occurs to me that maybe she didn’t know about Roman’s meet at all. I don’t know any details about who’s in jail or dead or even if they found something worth keeping us shut down. No one’s called me, and Roman’s away ‘handling’ things. I’m in the dark about what else could be going on.
But it’s not outside of the realm of my imagination to believe that maybe Rastelli did this just to show that she could. She’d have had to get a warrant to do what she did, but how hard could that have been to do? She already knew who Roman was. Maybe she just told a judge that she wanted to do it and that’s all it took.
The last time I talked to her, I told her that I didn’t want to do this anymore. She seemed really sure that I didn’t have any other optionsbutto cooperate. I’m having a hard time believing that what happened last night wasn’t revenge.
Shit. Shit. Shit.This probably won’t even be the last time that it happens, either. She’s probably got a bead on all Roman’s properties. Maybe she’s planning on raiding all of them. Once word gets out that the Kitten’s Paw and all the rest of Roman’s properties are being targeted, people will stop coming. And if people stop coming…
This is bullshit. I need to talk to her. I need to get her to understand that she can’t do this. She has to back off me and back off the club. I can’t let her do this.
I take a step toward the door and stop. If I try to leave, Ares will insist on coming with me. Roman’s not going to want me to go anywhere by myself. I’m going to have to get past his people if I want to leave the property.
I leave the bedroom and creep toward the stairs just far enough to see down into the living room. There’s no one downstairs at the moment. I can probably sneak out through the kitchen and no one would notice.
Down the stairs I go, watching and listening with hypervigilance. As I pass the foyer, I see Ares’ silhouette through the glass of the front door. He’s waiting for Sasha, still. Even if he sees me go, he won’t be able to follow me and take Sasha to school. That’ll buy me some time to get away.
I swiftly walk across the kitchen, slipping out the back door and to the lanai. I still have to walk around the house to where my car is parked, but that shouldn’t take but a few minutes. I practically run for it, darting across the lawn to the farthest corner of the house. Around the corner and through a mildly overgrown path until I reach the front drive. Several cars are parked bumper to bumper… but mine is still sitting near the back. Last night, I parked a few paces from the front door, leaving space for Roman when he got home. My car’s position has conveniently left an easy opening for me to just get in and leave… so I do. I creep up on my car and get in on the passenger’s side and slide over.
The moment I start my car, they’ll be alerted that I’m leaving. When I get back, Roman’s going to be pissed at me for doingthis… but that is a problem for the future. Right now, I have got to right this wrong.
I start the car, put the car in drive, and I pull out of the circle drive. As I pass by the front door, I see Ares rushing down the stairs, his eyes trained on my car. I’ll be long gone before he can catch me.
22
ROMAN
“Iswear. I didn’t say anything! I don’t even know any FBI agents!”
Junie sits in the chair, tears struggling to escape his swollen eyelid. His bottom lip hangs fat and bleeding from his mouth and one side of his head is starting to turn purple from my repeated punches.
