I was seventeen then, basically still a kid, and they expected me to put a bullet in someone and carry it on my conscience like it was nothing. I couldn’t do it. My fingers wouldn’t move. But that’s what they want from you in that world. You do what they say, no matter how bloody it gets, or you’re the one who ends up on the floor.
He opens the manila folder, and at first it’s just photo after photo of men I don’t recognize, faces blurring together…until he flips to the last one.
The second I see who’s in it, all the blood drains from my body.
“I already know that you know him, so don't sit there and lie to me.”
“I don’t…I don’t understand. What does he have to do with anything?”
The words trip over themselves as I gawk at the photo, hoping for even a second that I’m wrong. But I’m not. It’s Kirill sitting at a bar, the lighting low and grainy, a drink in front of him. Even with the bad resolution, I’d know him anywhere.
“I need you to steal something from him. Something valuable he keeps in a safe. Or that’s where I’m betting it is. It’s your job to find it. And since you already have a nice little connection with him and his kid, you’re going to be the one to get it for me.”
This can’t be happening. He’s talking about Kirill like he’s just another mark, and he’s not. He’s the man who trusted me with his son, who let me into his home, into their lives.
I can’t steal from him. I don’t care what Eli says, what he threatens. There’s no version of this where I rob Kirill behind his back.
The words stumble out, my tongue thick in my mouth. “I don’t know what your problem is with him, but he’s a friend. And I don’t hurt my friends.”
“He’s afriend, huh?” Eli’s mouth twists. “That’s even better. Makes the next part easier. Especially if you’ve already fucked him.”
Heat rushes to my face so fast I feel dizzy. I stare straight ahead, refusing to give him anything. It’s none of his business what we have or haven’t done. None of that belongs to him.
Eli flips through the photos again and stops on a close-up of a brown leather book, spine cracked, edges worn, something in Russian written on it, or so I think.
“His family is very particular. They keep the locations of certain stash houses written down in a ledger, locked up in their vault. He’s the one who keeps it, so I need you to take it.”
“How do you know? Who is he?”
Eli laughs. “You really don’t know, huh? Maybe it’s better you don’t.”
I don’t know what the hell that’s supposed to mean. All I’ve seen from Kirill is kindness and protectiveness.
“There’s no way in hell I’m doing this. Not that I even could. I’ve seen his house. Wherever he keeps a safe, it’ll have cameras, guards, alarms. I’d be an idiot to try.”
Eli exhales like I’m annoying him. “It seems you still think this is some kind of negotiation, Eden, so let me make it simple. You have two options. One, I kill you and your fucking kid, or hand you both over to Barrett, depending on my mood. Two, you steal what I tell you to steal, hand it to me, and then you can run off and start whatever shiny new life you want.”
My hands won’t stop shaking. He says it like he’s offering me a gift, but it’s far from it. I’m screwed either way.
“And how the hell do I even get to his safe? It’s not like I have access.”
“You don’t need to worry about that part. All you need to do is get into his house.”
A hollow laugh slips out. “Right. Maybe I can just move in. Ask him nicely.”
“Don’t get smart with me.” His teeth grind, eyes flashing. “I’ve already thought of that.”
The fire in his tone makes terror fill my veins. I bite back anything else I want to say, because pushing him when he’s like this is suicide.
“He and his family own a very exclusive club called Rzvrt. Means mayhem in Russian,” he says, a little laugh under the word. “Fitting, considering what kind of place it is.”
My brows furrow, not understanding what he's talking about. “What kind of club, exactly?”
“It's a sex club, Sloane.”
“I'm sorry…what?”
Kirill, the man who brought his son into my diner, who handed me large tips and bought me a phone, owning a place like that. I can’t even wrap my head around it.
