Chapter 2 – EMMA
EMMA
Kozlov’s accent is faint, Eastern European maybe, but his English is perfect. “Jake Wilson. You’re a difficult man to find.”
There’s censure in his tone despite the tight smile he wears, the kind that suggests he’s going to enjoy what comes next.
“I was coming to see you tonight, I promise.” Jake’s voice is steady, but I feel the tension running through him, coiled tightly. “Let’s go outside and talk.”
“I think the time for privacy and subtlety is over.” Kozlov laughs and gestures to the broken door that’s hanging lopsided by its broken hinges.
He steps further into my tiny apartment, which feels even more cramped now, filled to bursting with more big muscles, cologne and aggression than it’s ever seen before.
“You know I am a very busy man, Jake. Yet here I am, hunting you down like a dog.” His men spread out, one disappearing into my bedroom, the other lifting Jake’s backpack off the ground and turning it inside out.
Drawers open and close. Hangers rattle as he rifles through my closet. My mother’s quilt is on that bed. My journal is on that nightstand.
Jake’s fingers grip the hem of my shirt, warning me to stay silent.
I bite my tongue and let them look.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to sort some things out,” Jake says, more submissive than I’ve ever heard him.
Kozlov raises an eyebrow at Jake’s vague explanation of why he’s been dodging him. It’s probably a variation on the same thing he’s heard and seen many times before.
“You’re late, Jake. Very late.” Kozlov’s tone is deceptively calm as he saunters around the living area, looking at my pictures, running his hand along the back of my armchair, peering out the window.
“You told me two weeks. Begged and pleaded with me for more time. Always more time. Then you told me just another two weeks. Then you stopped answering my calls.”
The icy look he gives Jake tells me that on the inside, this man is anything but calm. A vein bulges at his temple, and a tendon moves in his jaw. This is a man on the edge.
“I want my money,” Kozlov roars, and I squeeze my eyes shut, fear curling up inside me.
The man emerges from my bedroom, shaking his head. “Nothing, boss.” He posts up near the kitchen, with Jake’s birthday cake sitting on the counter behind him, looking borderline comical in this crazy situation.
Kozlov’s stare returns to Jake and hardens further.
“I’ve been working on it,” Jake assures him, inching to the side slowly. “Emma’s helping me and… I just need—”
“More time?” Kozlov laughs, but there’s no humor in it. It’s bone-chilling. “No, I don’t think so. No more. Time to pay up, soldier boy.”
He lowers himself into my grandmother’s worn armchair like he owns the place, crossing one leg over the other. It’s the only piece of furniture I have left from my childhood home. The wood creaks under his weight in the heavy silence that follows his demand.
One second, two, three.
It feels like an eternity before Jake speaks.
“I don’t have it yet.” The tension in the room ratchets up another notch with Jake’s admission. He hurries to appease Kozlov, who looks less than impressed. “But I will. I’ve got some things in motion.”
My fear spikes as the man lounging in my sitting room presses his lips into a thin line and balls his fists.
This is going to end in bloodshed.
“Things in motion.” Kozlov tests the words, examining them like spoiled meat. “Do you know what I have?” Kozlov says softly. “A business. A reputation. Men who pay because they’re afraid not to. When men like you don’t pay their debts, it makes me look weak. Soft.”
One of his men, the one by the window, shifts slightly, making sure there’s nobody outside. No witnesses.
“And here.” Jake takes the pouch I press into his hands and holds it out for one of Kozlov’s men to take. They hand it to their boss without looking inside.
Kozlov takes a quick peek before glaring at Jake, head tilted to the side. “Do I look like a fucking pawn broker to you?”
He slides the pouch into his pocket, not returning it, but not promising to give Jake any credit for it, either.
My mother’s pearls. Gone. Just like that.
“Give me one more week.” Jake bargains.
Kozlov’s pale eyes narrow. He drums manicured fingers on my table, each tap deliberate. “How much do you have right now?”
Jake’s silence tells us everything we need to know. He doesn’t have any of it.
Kozlov laughs. “As I thought.”
“I can give you ten thousand tomorrow, and then the rest…”
Kozlov’s eyes slide to me, and he tips his chin up, revealing a pale scar cutting through his dark stubble. “Yours?”
I nod, scared to make eye contact until he clears his throat, letting me know he expects me to answer him out loud.
“Yes,” I whisper, feeling guilty for admitting the money is coming from me and not Jake. “It’s all I have, I swear.”
Satisfied, Kozlov gives me a pitying smirk, like my ten thousand dollars, that I’ve been working my ass off for years to save up, is chump change and not even worth bothering with.
“And I presume the diamond rings aren’t yours either, Jake. So, you don’t have anything to contribute.” His laugh is cruel, mocking as he looks at my brother like he’s an idiot, shaking his head in despair. “And you expect me to believe you can have the rest in one week? How?”
It’s a fair question, one I’m wondering about myself.
“I’ll figure it out.”
Everyone in this room, including Jake, knows he’s bluffing. Stalling for time. He has to know he’s just delaying the inevitable. There’s no way to figure out that kind of money in a week. Not legally, anyway.
“When you can’t even pay your rent?” Kozlov shakes his head. He leans back, hands steepled in front of his chest. “Do you think I’m a fool, Jake?”
Jake shifts his weight from one foot to the other, knowing this situation is going rapidly downhill. “I know a guy who said he’ll cut me in on a job…”
My legs wobble as I fight the urge to tell him no, that he can’t turn to crime as a way out, but right now, even to me who’s still playing catch up on this situation, it seems like the only realistic way he gets out of this alive.
Kozlov’s eyebrows shoot up. “I offered you a job many times, yet you refused. What’s changed?”
Jake grinds his teeth. “I haven’t got a choice now, do I?”
“No, you don’t.” Kozlov considers Jake’s words while he looks at a photo on the wall of me, Jake, and our parents at the lake during a summer holiday fifteen years ago. “Must be a big job.”
Jake says nothing.
“And that’s great, if it goes according to plan. But if it doesn’t, then what? You end up behind bars, and I get nothing?”
Kozlov’s right. It will be impossible for him to get his money back if Jake ends up in prison or dead. When he stands, smoothing his suit jacket, it seems he has come to a decision.
“Go and do your job. Then find me.”
My legs almost give way with relief. I thought I was about to watch them drag my brother out of the door, never to be seen again. He has a week. Maybe he can flee the country, maybe we can round up the money from family and friends.
But we have time to do something to save his life.
“But…” Kozlov continues, holding up a finger to silence him when Jake goes to speak. “I need to make sure you return and hand over your spoils, yes? That you don’t get tempted to keep it for yourself and run.”
His gaze slides to me, and I shrink further behind my brother, desperate to have this man’s attention off me.
Jake shifts to keep me out of reach, fists clenched at his sides, as Kozlov moves closer.
“What’s your name, darling?”
Like a deer caught in headlights, I blink rapidly, not sure what’s happening, but knowing it’s not good.
“I asked you a question.” Kozlov grits out, taking my silence as disrespect.
I force myself to meet his eyes, just for a second, before answering.
“Emma.” Maybe cooperating will get them out faster. Though I’m trembling like a leaf, my voice comes out stronger than I expected, than I feel.
“Leave her out of this.”
Jake shields me as Kozlov circles us, looking me up and down, leering, making my skin crawl.
“I think it is you who brought her into this, Jake.” Kozlov gives Jake a stern look, a warning not to push him when his patience is already worn thin.
One of his men steps forward, brushing his suit jacket back to reveal the holster underneath. The butt of a black gun peeks out, and I cling tighter to Jake, just wanting these people out of my house and out of my life.
Kozlov gives me a curious smile. “Emma.” He rolls my name around like wine. “Pretty name for a pretty girl. So, tell me, Emma. If your brother doesn’t come back from this big job he’s doing, are you going to take responsibility for paying his debt?”
I balk, looking between Jake and Kozlov. “I don’t have that kind of money… I’m already giving him every penny I have.”
Jake’s face goes pale, eyes widening in horror. He steps forward, shaking his head furiously.
Kozlov’s man pulls his gun and points it straight at my brother’s head.
I whimper, squeezing my eyes shut, scarcely believing any of this is really happening.
Kozlov keeps his attention on me, ignoring Jake’s pleas, as the man with the gun tells him to move away from me.
“Here’s my problem.” Kozlov begins, back to his reluctant bad guy tone. “Your brother owes me a lot of money, and I have no reason to believe he can pay.”
“I told you…” Jake’s attempt to cut in is met with the tiniest tip of his head by Kozlov.
The closest goon steps forward and punches him hard in the stomach, folding Jake in two, leaving him doubled over and coughing for air.
“Yes, yes, I heard you. Things in motion. And I hope for both our sakes that it works out.” Kozlov waves dismissively. “But I’m a businessman, Jake. I need some guarantees. Collateral. Insurance.”
He looks me dead in the eye as he utters the last words.
I glance around my tiny apartment. There’s nothing of value here for him to take.
Unless...
No.