Page 84 of The Pakhans’ Curvy Prize

Marla's expression shifts slightly, a reminder that she's still processing what we really are and what we do. But she doesn't look scared. Just thoughtful. She takes a sip of coffee, her fingers wrapped around the mug. What's really going on in that curious brain of hers?

"Speaking of embarrassing stories," Russ says, clearly not ready to let this go, "did Marla ever hear about the time Alex got so drunk at a business dinner that he told a rival pakhan his wife looked like a horse?"

"That's not what happened," I say immediately.

"It's exactly what happened. I was there."

"She did look like a horse," Nick adds quietly.

Marla covers her mouth, trying not to laugh. I glare at all of them.

"The woman had an unfortunate profile," I say defensively. "And I wasn't that drunk."

"You were absolutely that drunk," Russ says. "You told her husband she had a face like a thoroughbred and then tried to clarify by saying you meant it as a compliment because thoroughbreds are expensive."

Nick's shoulders shake slightly with silent laughter.

"Fine," I say. "We're sharing embarrassing stories? Let's talk about the time Russ drunkenly drove a snowmobile into a decorative fountain at a hotel when he was eighteen."

Russ's grin vanishes. "How the fuck do you know about that?"

"I know everything."

"That was supposed to be buried."

"Nothing stays buried forever."

"It was a private party," Russ protests. "And the fountain was in the middle of the fucking driveway. Who puts a fountain in a driveway?"

"Someone who doesn't expect drunk teenagers to drive snowmobiles through it," Nick says.

Marla is laughing now, her head thrown back and her eyes bright with amusement. The sound fills the kitchen and none of us, it seems, can resist the charm. All of us have varying degrees of smiles on our faces.

"What about you, Nick?" Marla asks, wiping her eyes. "Any embarrassing stories?"

"No," Nick says flatly.

"Bullshit," Russ says immediately. "What about the time you got so pissed off at a rival organization that you challenged their enforcer to a fistfight in the middle of a restaurant?"

"That's not embarrassing. I won."

"You broke three tables and got banned from the restaurant."

"It was a shitty restaurant anyway."

Marla laughs again, and even I can't help smiling. The tension from earlier dissolves, and an easy, comfortable atmosphere replaces it. For a moment, we're just four people sitting in a kitchen drinking coffee and trading insults.

Then my phone buzzes on the table. The sound cuts through the laughter like a knife through skin. I pick it up and read the message from one of my captains, and my body immediately tenses.

Nick notices immediately. His smile fades, replaced by the hard, calculating expression that means business. "What is it?"

I read the message again, making sure I understood it correctly. Then I set the phone down carefully and look at each of them in turn.

"Someone broke into Marla's old foster care records overnight."

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MARLA