“Make it four empanadas,” he said, ignoring her glare as he held out two twenty dollar bills.“Three waters.”
Cars rolled through the lot, headlights sweeping asphalt.Too many blind spots.Sergei scanned, marking faces, cars.A man in a dark jacket lingered by a lamp post.
“I can pay for my own damn food,” Keisha snapped, voice low.
“I know.”His eyes stayed on the man.“Your hands are shaking.”
She shoved her fingers in her pockets.“It’s nothing.”
Nothing.
Like her seizure wasn’t nothing.
“Keisha!”Tiana’s voice pierced the crowd, bright, sharp.
The girl bounded over, backpack bouncing, one purple sock, one green—her rebellion.
“You’re okay!”Tiana crashed into Keisha, nearly toppling her.“Bad and tatted said we needed to separate for a while.Although I didn’t expect us to be back together so soon.”
Keisha’s face softened, tension easing.She hugged Tiana back.“I’m good.There have been some developments, so our timeline has moved up.“
Sergei handed Tiana a water, studying her—sixteen, all defiance, all vulnerability.Svetlana’s memory stabbed his chest.“Mango?”Tiana asked, peering at the food.
“Beef and cheese,” Sergei said.“Protein.”
Tiana rolled her eyes.“You sound like Mr.Rossi.”Her voice dropped.“He was always weird.Jumpy when he got certain calls, made me leave the room.”
Sergei’s focus snapped.“What calls?”
She shrugged, biting empanada.“Dunno.Never asked, but on certain days, Mrs.Rossi would tell me not to walk home.”
Keisha’s eyes met his, rigid.“How long ago was that?”she asked, calm masking intensity.
“A few days before all this went down.There was also some guy taking neighborhood pics for real estate,” Tiana said, slurping water.“Asked about our house.”
Sergei’s muscles coiled.The lamp post man was gone, replaced by a woman with sleek hair and a familiar posture.
“We’re leaving.Right now,” he said, low.
“But I just got here!”Tiana protested.
“Five more minutes, please,” Keisha begged.
Too long.
Sergei slid his hand to his ankle knife.Three exits: dumpster alley, parking lot, taco shop.The woman turned.
Vera Sokolova.
Her eyes locked on Tiana, smile cold.
“Tiana?”Vera called out, voice honey-toxic.
Tiana looked up.“Do I know you?”
Sergei clamped Tiana’s shoulder, fingers digging.Running meant a scene, drawing more enforcers.“No,” he said, firm.“You don’t.”
Vera stepped forward, hands open.A fake calm.“Jalisa is back home,” she said, flashing a counterfeit badge.“I’m here to take you back to her and Miguel.”
