Page 183 of Porcelain Lies

The tall guy turns to him. “We’re bail bondsmen, here on official business. This woman has skipped out on bail. She’s a flight risk, and we’re taking her into custody.”

My mouth drops open at the ease with which he just came up with that lie. But why am I surprised? These men are criminals, after all. Just like the man who hired them.

“That’s not true,” I tell the manager, who looks at me suspiciously. “I’ve been kept against my will, and they’re trying to force me to go back.”

The shorter guy makes a snorting sound. “If I had a dollar for every time some perp used that line on us, I wouldn’t need this job.”

The manager stares at me, and then down at my food before meeting my eye again.

“I think you’d better finish up and go with these gentlemen, miss,” he says.

Gentlemen?

“Are you freaking kidding me?” I blurt. “These guys are hired thugs!” My voice rises, and the couple at the table nearby turn to stare.

“Please don’t cause a scene, miss,” the guy says. “I have other customers to consider.”

My stomach churns, threatening to expel my act of rebellion. The shorter guy is smirking at me, while the other one stands with his arms folded over his chest. Their stance leaves no room for argument.

“Fine,” I whisper, gathering my things. They flank me as we exit, their presence a cage of flesh and bone. So much for my hastily plotted escape plan.

The black SUV waiting outside might as well be a hearse. The big guy holds the door open, and I slide in, my heart pounding so hard I fear it might break free of my chest.

Fuck!

He’s going to be so pissed.

Too bad. I’m even more pissed.

“I don’t want to speak to him,” I say to the guys, who are occupying the front seats. “You can take me back, but that doesn’t mean I have to swallow any more of his lies.”

They don’t respond, both staring ahead through the windshield in silence.

“I hope you’re proud of yourselves. Bullying an innocent woman. Who’s pregnant.”

More silence.

What did I expect? I’m just a job to them. They’re following orders.

I sink back into the expensive leather upholstery and rub my face with both hands. There’s no getting around it. I’m going to have to confront Aleksei about what I’ve learned. I just don’t know how, or what to say. Right now, I’m afraid I might launch an attack when I see him. Rage is bubbling in me as thick and black as hot tar. I can almost picture it.

God, what a mess.

How could I have been such an idiot? I knew what he was. Bratva. They’re not good guys. Drugs. Trafficking. Illegal arms.

Aleksei Tarasov isnota good guy.

And he killed my dad.

Another sob shudders up my throat, and I fight it back again. When I see him, I’m not going to be some pathetic mess. I’m going to tell him that I know, and that I despise him. That I hope that all the pain he’s inflicted in his lifetime gets inflicted back on him.

But Bobik…

I shake my head. Poor Bobik can’t help who his father is. And just because Aleksei shows some kind of heart around the boy doesn’t mean he’s a good person. Despicable people often care about things. Even Hitler loved his dog.

As the car maneuvers through the city traffic, I work to settle my nerves. I have to keep it together when I face him. Have to be calm.

Boyana, I think desperately, seeking comfort in old habits. But the thought of her — of Sofia — sends fresh pain lancing through me. My sister. My enemy. Another truth too bitter to swallow. It doesn’t matter that the Boyana I know has been imaginary. I feel her loss as painfully as if she’d been beside me all these years. Because, in a way, she has.

---