Page 83 of Refrain

“W-what?” Pain. Agony. Relief. I feel it all like a kick in thestomach. I’ve told myself that reality for over tenyears,but finally hearing it…

“How? Where is she?” I picture her as a child, little Anna. Her impish little smile and sweet kisses. I don’t find her in the office, and Piotr stops me when I head for the doorway.

“She’s not here,” he says. “I brought her into the country a few months ago. That’s why you came back, isn’t it?”

My roller coaster of grief comes to a screeching halt and then implodes. So it wasn’t a coincidence that I stumbled across the redheaded girl in the database all those months ago. She was bait, used to lure me here.

“Where?”

“Somewhere safe.” Noting my confusion, he explains, “She wasn’t put into the trade,Ksei.”

My lungs flood with so much air at once that I nearly choke. Is this relief? Or terror? “Then…then where?”

“My father and his wife at the time had a young child who died. They took her.” He could be referring to a doll for all the emotion his voice holds. “They raised her, but my father has his own enemies who attacked their compound and killed his wife, so he put the girl into hiding. I offered to bring her to America for safekeeping, so to speak. It upsets you to learn this,” Piotr says almost as if in awe of the gauntlet of emotions a normal human can feel in the face of grief. He takes a step toward me, and I nearly blow a hole through Espi’s jacket in my haste to draw the gun.

My eyes throb, my vision nonexistent. But I aim the gun in his direction anyway. I won’t miss. I can’t. “You’re lying.” Maybe Ivan was right after all. I’d rather face the fact that my sister is dead than have her memory used as a pawn to trap me again. “Tell me where she is or I’m gone.”

“I will,” he promises, and the thud of footsteps trails off. “But you must earn your present from me.”

His voice drips like liquid honey, the same way it used towhenever I did something or someone well enough to please him.My perfect littleKsei.

In his world, a “present” equated to a test. A tough client to win over or an impressive amount of drugs to imbibe, snort, or inject. Anything to make him happy. Anything to make him smile.

Fearless Chloe Parker should demand that he elaborate, but I…I can’t. I just wait, and he mulls the silence left in my wake like a wolf savoring the bloody trail of its prey.

“I promise you will enjoy it…but I do not have it ready, and frankly, I was not expecting you to arrive so soon.” He frowns, and my heart lurches. Piotr is predictable when caught off guard.

I wait for my punishment. Hands or fists? However, he doesn’t move. For now.

“Come back tomorrow night,” he tells me. “Apparently, seven days is too long a wait—”

“Likehell, I will.” I trail the gun over his forehead. Do it,I tell myself. “Tell me where my sister is, or I’ll kill you.” My wrist throbs with tension, but my finger won’t pull the trigger.

“When you return,” he tells me. “And youwill. Like hell, it is inevitable. But I promise that you willregainyour lovely smile again.”

My mouth flattens in spite. He’s lying. “I won’t come back.”

“Until then, Ksei.” He turns back to whatever business I distracted him from.

I don’t know how long I stand here with the gun trained on the back of his head. Minutes. Hours. I feel numb when I finally turn away without firing a single bullet.

It’s a silent walk back the way I came. The bouncer grunts inacknowledgmentwhen I leave. By the time I make it to the lobby without a knife in my back, I realize he’s really letting me leave unscathed for the second time within twenty-four hours.

I camebackto him for the second time…

It’s a thought I can’t bear to face alone. Not sober. Notpainfully, achingly clean. A million lines of cocaine couldn’t give me the hit I need though.

I dig my nails into my palms. Hard…harder. I’m desperate enough to do anything and everything to escape the pressure building within my skull when I finally remember.

“If you need me, you know where to find me.”

But he isn’t in Mulligan’s when I finally slip through the front door. Francisco is manning the bar alone.

“Thanks for fucking bailing, kid!” he shouts above the din of music and drunken laughter. He must not be able to see the blood. “Where’s your little friend?”

“I…I think she’s gone.” I watch my fingers fidget with the frayed edge of my sleeve. “Ran off with a boyfriend or something.”

“Hmph.” Francisco eyes the counter with what could be deemed a disappointed frown. “I needed the fucking help. Anyway, if you’re looking for Espi, he’s gone. Arno’s closing the bar down for business, so Darcy took him out.”

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