“Not now,” she barks. “I keep being led to a fucking edge. I want answers! Ryan just said this has something to do with Max.”
“After class,” Viktor growls, stalking toward her. “You should sit in on this class since you missed yours today. I’ll give you credit. We’re having a discussion on the value of knowledge and truth.”
The skin puckers between her eyes. “I must be a genius then because I already know the value of knowledge and truth. In fact, that’s what I was here seeking before you poisoned me with your feral ways.”
“You have to the count of three to get out there, or I mean it, I’m bending you over my lap.”
She stands. “You’re not doing that.”
Fuck, I’m proud of that girl.She knows this guy is Russian mob, and she’s still howling at him like he can’t hold her against her will and make her disappear. Granted, we both know he wouldn’t.
“Do I need your permission?” Viktor growls.
She nods. “You do. Both of you do, or this is over right now.”
“What do I have to do with this?” I ask. “I’m the one that loves you kindly. He’s the monster.”
“You’re both monsters, but I’m willing to look past it for some knowledge and truth.” There’s a downturned look on her face that I haven’t seen since Max disappeared. I wish I knew more. I wish I could tell her everything. I wish I could make this ache go away for her.
Viktor looks toward me and raises his brows, straightening his suit jacket before looking back toward Everleigh. “I’ll be over tonight at eight. We can talk then… and I expect that body to be ready to cash the checks you were writing earlier.”
Viktor steps toward Everleigh, his hand beneath her chin as he looks down at her tense body.
She raises her brows and huffs, turning back toward me with sarcasm in her voice. “I’ve waited three fucking years, what’s another two hours?”
I nod, knowing this is what she needs more than anything, though I have a feeling the truth isn’t going to help her as much as she’s hoping.
She glances back toward Viktor, a grin on her face as she makes her way back out into the classroom. “Eight o’clock, and if you’re a minute late, I’m spanking your ass.”
Chapter Eighteen
Everleigh
I’ve called Lucy eighteen times, no nineteen times since I found this receipt, and every single call has gone to voicemail. Not to mention the forty-two texts I’ve sent. Most of them are memes displaying impending doom if she doesn’t respond immediately, harassment sort of things that I know she’ll roll her eyes at later. The first being a girl banging on the side of a fishbowl, desperate for attention. The next a child sitting abandoned in a house with rain pouring down. They each convey the feeling I’m looking to get across… answer your phone… now!
Sure, she’s my security blanket. I know that, she knows that, Ryan knows that, my therapist knows that… so then why when I reach out to her does she have the nerve to be busy with anything of her own? It’s absolute insanity.
I need her opinion about tonight for a multitude of reasons. One, I need to tell her about this mafia thing. Two, I need to know what she’s found out with those bank account numbers. And three, I need her advice on whether I should really have sex with Ryan and Viktor again considering what I know now. I mean, my body is telling me yes. All the way, one hundred percent yes. But my brain is telling me to run for the hills. I realize listening to my brain is the smart decision, but my body is so damn loud.
I stare down at my phone, looking for a response but there’s still nothing. The truth is, I already know what she’d say. She’d tell me to grab the bull by the horns and let them do what they want with me. She’s kind of into that kinky shit. To her, life is experienced best when between the sheets, rocking back and forth on a big, hard cock. If I told her I had two lined up for the second time, she’d probably tell me how jealous she is, then remind me that life is short, and that I should fill my story full of experiences. I think I like her advice. Now only if she’d call back and give it to me.
Stretching up from the car, I make my way into the apartment where I will for sure soak in a long hot bath while I think about how Max is related to this entire mafia situation. I assume they’re brothers. He and Max I mean. They have to be. I mean they look nearly identical, and the delay in telling me what’s going on only screams the truth, which is that they’re somehow related. It makes sense. Max and I were engaged to be married, and he kept his family out of everything we did. He told me once that he was sure they’d make amends once grandchildren came along, but I didn’t read much into it, mostly because he was fixated on separating them from his life. Maybe that’s why he ran. Maybe he was trying to break free from his old life, get away from everyone and everything that controlled him so he didn’t end up like Viktor.
My phone rings and I whip it out of my back pocket with speed, hoping it’s Lucy.
“Where have you been?” I snarl playfully.
She sounds out of breath. “Don’t go home.”
I pause for a second, unsure of what she’s saying and if she’s serious. “I am home,” I say. “I’m two doors away from the apartment.”
“Turn around!” Her tone is flat and aggressive, not like the normal playful snark she usually has. “That reporter… he works for the Russians. He was just here, waving a gun around at the bank parking lot. If the police hadn’t been parked outside, he’d have probably shoved me in his shit white van. I refuse to die in a shit white van! Did you know that Viktor is in the mafia?” She pauses after she says it, waiting for my response. I don’t answer and she continues. “Apparently, that key you gave me has something to do with the mafia. I don’t know, but they want it back. Do you still have it?”
“My man, a gun, the key, the reporter, you’re saying a lot of things. Are you hurt?”
She raises her voice. “Are you hearing me? He’s going to come looking for you!”
“You’re not making sense. It’s seven thirty. There’s still at least an hour of daylight. I think I can make it two more steps into my apartment.”
