Page 89 of Demitri

“If he’s so powerful, why isn’t he here asking me this himself?”

“You think he’d lower himself to do the actual work? He’s got other, bigger things to worry about.”

“Is that so?”

Yes, I can play the stupid and innocent game.

“It is. So he sent me. This is at his request. And you don’t fuck with a man at his level.”

“What is it exactly you want my bar for, Katya?”

I’m internally smiling at the look of incredulity on her face that I would have the audacity to use her first name.

“We need yourbar,” she spits the word like it’s dirty, “to move some things.”

“Drugs?”

“Among others.”

“What others?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“The answer is no.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, if you can’t be upfront and totally honest with me, I don’t want to do business with you.”

“I’m trying to give you plausible deniability.”

“Big words, little meaning. You think I believe for one minute that you wouldn’t throw me under the bus at the first sign of trouble?”

“You would just have to trust me.”

“Except I don’t trust you. The answer is no.”

“This isn’t over.”

“Of course not. How about you send your dead father in here to ask me next time?”

Her head snaps up, her eyes narrowing.

“You think just because I own a little bar in a small town that I don’t know anything? I watch the news. Your first mistake was lying to me about him. Your next was trying to manipulate me with money to do your illegal shit. I would appreciate it if you got the hell out of my bar and never come back.”

“You’ll regret this.”

“I’m sure you’ll try to make me, but you aren’t close to the worst person I’ve ever had the displeasure of dealing with.”

She looks like she’s ready to throw a tantrum. I don’t need this. I need her gone so I can have a proper meltdown.

I stand, putting us on an even level, and I look her in the eyes. “You should leave this place, this town, and the people that live here alone. We don’t want your drugs, we don’t want your family, and we don’t want you. Get. Out.”

The woman actually stomps her foot before turning on her red bottomed heels and storming out of the office, flinging the door open for added dramatics.

I’m frozen in the middle of my office. Unable to move, or breathe, or call for help. I feel my legs trying to give out, the desk feeling too far away to hold on to for support. I start to go down,but before I hit the ground, two strong arms are around me, pulling me up and against a chest I now know intimately.

“Shhh,Krasotka. She’s gone. I have you. Everything’s okay now.”

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