Page 35 of Dangerous Refuge

ALLIE

The way Sarah eats her fries is ridiculous, dipping them into her chocolate shake. We sit at the picnic table behind the diner to have dinner since Sarah has the night off. We’ve not had an actual chance to hang out in a few days since I’ve been working, and since she is my excuse to leave the house most days, I feel like I need to spend time with her to ease my guilty conscience.

“That’s so gross,” I tell her, eating my fries the normal way, with ketchup. She snickers and shrugs, chewing her concoction in peace. It’s a warm night. The fries and shakes hit the spot, but I still have an hour of work left before thinking up a good excuse as to who I’ve been with and why I ditched Tucker earlier tonight at the grocery store. I wanted to use Sarah as an excuse again, go to her house for a few hours before coming to work, then sneaking back over before Tucker picked me up, but Sven asked me to linger with him longer this afternoon. I had no good reason to avoid interacting with him, and by the time I got out of there, Sarah was already at her work shift down the street. I was forced to lie and say I needed tampons and that Tucker had to drive me to the store.

“What are you thinking?” she asks, having another ice-cream covered French fry. I sigh and dust the salty grease off my fingers.

“I’m sick of sneaking around. I want this to be my real life without having to lie. I mean, Sven is okay. The sex is good. He mostly lets me do what I want around the house. I’m saving up enough that as long as things are going well I can be out of here in just a few more weeks, but the stress is starting to mount up.” I crumple the fry container and throw it in the bin behind me then pick up my shake and slurp it out of the straw.

“What do you mean?” Sarah’s fries are almost gone, which means she will have to go back to work soon. And that means I will have to go back to work soon and finish my shift. I’m not prepared with a logical excuse tonight. I just knew if I didn’t show up to work I’d be fired.

“I mean, last night Sven almost caught me in my lie. I ducked out of Gimbels and came to work and left his guard there. When I got back, I had to use sex as a distraction to keep him from asking me things I’d have to lie about. I’m a horrible liar. He knows it too.”

Sarah snickers and wags her eyebrows. “So how was it?” Of course she wants to know details about my sexual exploits because she’s not getting any herself.

“Don’t get me wrong, shower sex is amazing.” I snicker and continue. “But I don’t want to feel guilty about lying.”

“Then don’t feel guilty. Just do what you have to do.” She shrugs her shoulder and tosses her trash into the bin. “What is the harm in that?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like Sven may be more dangerous than either of us realize.” I bite my lip. I know I’ve been over this with her before and she told me to give him a chance, but I’m still not comfortable with not knowing about him. Things don’t add up.

“I told you. He’s never laid a hand on you. Doesn’t that mean something? Paul beat the hell out of you and tried to kidnap your kid” She stands, brushing her slacks off, and picks up her drink.

Something needles at my conscience. At the wedding, I felt like I was so close to getting some answers from Sven, but when I pushed the wrong button, he got irrational, pushy even. I can see he has an impulse control problem and a lot of built-up anger. I don’t know enough about him to rationalize away his defense mechanisms like some women might. Maybe he was abused or maybe he watched his brother get shot or something. I don’t know. What I do know is he has some issues.

What I also know is that he’s secretive. The only thing I know about him is what I learned from a priest. His last name is Gusev, at least if my logic follows. His brother was called “Mr. Gusev” by the priest, so it stands to reason that Sven shares the same last name, and that might be a clue to finding out what I’m actually getting into.

“What is it?” Sarah asks, hovering. I know she only has a few minutes left, but she knows this city better than me. Maybe she knows of any significance to the name.

“So I overheard the priest at Sven’s brother’s wedding call him Mr. Gusev.” I look up at her face and sigh. There is a fleeting look of terror and she licks her lip. “Do you know anything about the Gusevs?”

She sinks back onto the picnic table and glances at the door of the diner, propped open with a brick so I can get back in. She leans in close, her voice low. “Girl, you think Sven is a Gusev?”

My heart flutters and races. “Is that a bad thing?” I ask, now licking my lips. I want another drink of my shake in order to make my throat not feel like I swallowed a cotton ball.

“Uh, you’ve never heard of the Gusev Crime Family? Girl, they're the biggest organized crime syndicate in the city. Bratva… Russians?” Sarah acts like I’m stupid for not knowing this, but I have never heard a thing about it. When I was younger I just focused on my life, fashion, school, dating boys. And after Paul, the only thing I can do is run. Life never gave me a chance to slow down and pay attention to the news or things happening in the city.

“No…” I can’t believe that. I refuse to believe that I am living under the roof of a notorious criminal. “I mean Sven wouldn’t—”

“Stop. Listen to yourself. His name is Sven. That’s pretty Russian sounding. Right?” She stands again and backs away a step. “I have to get to work. If I had known who this guy is from the beginning I’d never have encouraged this. You need to get away from him fast, girl. You come stay at my place. Bring Rico. I have a space in my attic that he can use for a room. We’ll have to get an air conditioner up there, but with the cold front moving through later it will probably be cool for a few days.”

“Wait, Sarah!” I call, standing, but she keeps backing away.

“I’m going to be late. I’m just saying, please take my advice. Come stay with me.” Then she’s gone, turned around the corner to hustle back to work, and I’m left standing with an empty shake container and a dry mouth.

I toss the container and shudder in fright as I walk back into the diner. I don’t want to believe that Sven is that man, that his family is that family, but I know it adds up. The bleeding man, his fight in the bar, the way his cousin was murdered, the fact that the priest was trembling before him and his bodyguard pulled a gun without even so much as a whisper of an order. I rake my hand through my hair and find myself ice cold, anxiety setting in.

Paul is deadly. I know that. But so is Sven, probably worse. My gut has been right the whole time. I need to be away from him; I just don’t know how to do it and keep Rico safe at the same time. Sven offers me protection I need in exchange for the most amazing sex I could ever ask for. It’s not a bad exchange until you factor in that I’m going to marry a mobster.

“Something wrong?” Dana asks when I walk in. “You’re white as a ghost.”

“No… N-nothing,” I stutter, staring down at the trays of food plated up and ready to be served.

“Good, this goes to table four. This one to eight. I need you out there.” Dana pushes a tray toward me and picks up her own and I am left trembling as I stare at the food.

My mind is a swirl of confusion. Over the past few weeks I’ve really adjusted to life with Sven. We’ve had our differences, sure, but I’m comfortable. I’ve felt safer with him in this short time than I have felt in a decade. It’s not just the sex either. His commanding presence puts me at ease. I’m not afraid of him—or anyone else when I’m with him. No man has ever made me feel like that. I like that feeling.

But the mob? The Bratva? He’s one of them? And how can I reconcile raising my son into that family? Rico deserves a life that isn’t one of bloodshed and crime. I don’t want my baby boy growing up a gang member getting shot at and killing people. I can’t do it. He needs freedom to be whatever he wants and Sven’s family is dangerous.

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