Page 16 of Sin Wager
"How long have you owned horses?" I ask.
"A few years now. I have three racing at Podsolnukh."
"They're beautiful animals," I say, remembering the names he gave me before. Though I thought they were owned by a woman, but I don’t know everything. "Do you work with them directly?"
"Sometimes. I help with grooming and exercise when the regular handlers are busy." His tone doesn't invite further inquiry about his business, so I don't press.
"Do you enjoy it? The racing world?" My finger runs around the ring of my glass as I watch his warm smile grow.
"I enjoy winning. The horses are simply the vehicle."
I lean forward, emboldened by the wine. "Are you always this cryptic, or is it part of your charm?"
"Would you prefer me to be boring and predictable?"
"No. I like that you're different from other men I've known. You make me feel…" I search for the right words. "You make me feel interesting. Important."
"You are interesting. And very important."
The intensity in his voice makes heat rise in my cheeks. I take another sip of wine to cover my reaction, then redirect to having a few more bites of this decadent meal.
"Tell me about the people you work for at the track," he says. "Anyone give you trouble?"
"Not really. Most of the staff keep to themselves. The jockeys can be demanding, but that's normal."
"What about people who aren't staff?" He asks it as a run of the mill question, but my blood turns cold. Sonya's face flashes in my mind—sharp features, calculating eyes, that smile that never reaches above her mouth.
"Why do you ask?"
"You seem nervous sometimes. Distracted. I want to make sure you're safe."
I set down my wine glass, my hands suddenly unsteady. "There's this woman. Sonya. She… she asks me to run errands sometimes. Deliver envelopes, place bets for her friends. I thought it was harmless."
"But now you're not sure."
"She scares me. The way she looks at me, the way she talks. There's always this undertone of threat, even when she's being friendly." I wrap my arms around myself. "I want to stop helping her, but I'm afraid of what might happen if I refuse."
Misha reaches across the table and covers my hand. His fingers are warm and steady. "What kind of errands does she have you run?"
"Mostly betting slips. She gives me envelopes and tells me which windows to visit, which horses to bet on. She says her friends are too busy to come to the track themselves." Telling him makes me feel vulnerable and weak. I'm a fool for getting wrapped up with her, just like Batya said.
"How often?"
"Two or three times a week. Sometimes more during big race days." I look down at our joined hands. "She pays well, and I need the money for Elvin's treatments. But lately, the amounts have gotten larger, and she's started asking me questions about other people at the track."
"What kind of questions?"
"About the new bookie running things…" My hand is trembling in his, but he still makes me feel safe.
His grip tightens slightly on my hand. "What did you tell her?"
"Nothing. I haven't met him yet." I look up at him. "She feels dangerous."
"You have good instincts." He releases my hand and signals for the check. "I might be able to help you handle this situation."
"How?"
"Let me worry about the details. For now, just continue doing what she asks, but tell me about it afterward. Can you do that?"
