I hit my limit. I was sick of men threatening me, manhandling me, ignoring my wishes, stealing my life’s savings—and my underwear—and planning to kill me. “Stop this car.”
“I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Tell me the address.”
I screamed, “Stop this motherfucking car!” Undaunted, he said, “Where are you so desperate to get to?”
“What the hell is this, Sevastyan? You were cruel and disgusting to me, not twenty-four hours ago! So why are you stalking me now?”
“I made a mistake yesterday.” Did he think he could just erase it, and we’d go back to the way we were? “Katya, I was in your apartment.”
“What?” I couldn’t be more horrified. I pictured the pots on the floor and the pitiful cot. “How?”
“We canvassed out from where the cab dropped you, paying people for information. It led us to Shadwell. For a price, he let us in.” I bet he did.
Wait, I’d walked blocks from the Seltane to catch that cab—specifically for this reason! “How could you know which taxi drove me?”
“By tracking your phone all over town. You were smart to ditch it, but ultimately it led us to the cab you’d taken.”
Burn. Foiled by my own attempt at cleverness. “You had no right to be there.”
“No wonder you knew about those shithole apartments. You’re living in one yourself. You would prefer to be there? Instead of with me?”
“Yes! Because I paid for it. Because I didn’t have to beg some sick Russian hobbyist to give me my ‘donation.’ ”
He seemed to stifle a wince at that. “You had money. Thousands. Why not find a better place? An extended-stay hotel? Anywhere but there?”
“You’re really going to do this? Then listen up, Sevastyan. I couldn’t stay in a hotel because Shadwell—the guy you paid for entry to my apartment—stole all my money out of my hiding place. Seven grand. Gone. My mother’s rosary too. Even your money clip. Oh, and my thongs! He’s been shaking me down for months, shaking down everybody—making a fortune, and using the women as his personal harem. And now he was coming and going in my place as he pleased?” I leaned in, drawing my lips back from my teeth. “Even so, I stayed the night in my locked bathroom—rather than ask you for help .”
That muscle in Sevastyan’s jaw ticked overtime. “Did he . . . you . . . ?”
“I wasn’t weak enough—yet. I paid him to leave me alone.” But my rosary and ID were gone for good.
The full import of what I’d lost was starting to hit. I was about to lose my ever-loving shit.
“You’ll have your rosary and your money back.” He said something in Russian to Vasili, but I heard “Shadwell.” Oh, the plans going on behind Sevastyan’s eyes.
I could almost feel sorry for Shadwell, that preying, stealing serial rapist—
No. Actually I didn’t feel sorry for him at all. Maybe I was an ideal match for a mobster. My supe was about to get a horse’s head in his bed. Okay, muy bien.
To me, Sevastyan snapped, “You could’ve been raped last night! Or killed! You never thought about calling me?”
I gave him a palms-up shrug. “Oh, so sad, no phone. I didn’t toss it solely because I was suspicious of you tracking me. Uncle Anthony wouldn’t stop burning up my number. You see, he stole even more of my money and was trying to coerce me into a date with some French businessman, so I could—as you so eloquently put it—suck and fuck.”
Sevastyan grated more Russian to Vasili. Anthony gets a horse head too!
“You’re never going back to that apartment, Katya. I’ll burn it to the goddamned ground first.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
His gaze flicked to my full backpack. “You’re about to disappear.” He swallowed, as if I’d just presented him with a ticking bomb. “I’m asking you for one conversation. Or simply give me the honor of assisting you now.” He opened his briefcase, revealing stacks of bound bills. “I owe you money. Please collect what is already yours.”
“I don’t want anything from you. I’ll take my three hundred and sixty dollars, and I’ll start over. I will go round and round and fucking round!” I knew I wasn’t making any sense, but I couldn’t focus my thoughts. “I’m so sick of men! I was nothing but good to you—for you—and you drove me away!”
In a low voice, he said, “You group me with Anthony and Shadwell?”
“You’re worse! I never believed in them!” I couldn’t stop shaking. “I’d made the decision to tell you everything, but you would rather be cruel and hurt me than listen!”
He leaned forward in his seat, fists clenched as if he was barely preventing himself from touching me. “Let me help you, please. I want to protect you. I understand that I handled things badly. But I don’t know my way around a situation like this.”
Gazing past him, I said, “Like what?”
“You told me your pride burned bright. It should. Yesterday, mine took some deserved hits. I comprehended that I loved another more than myself—and that I want her far more than she does me. She’d given her heart to someone else, and it made me crazed with jealousy—an emotion I have limited experience with. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I lashed out and hurt her.”
Love?