Chapter Twenty-Three #2
"Let's go back," I say looking sharply at Vadik. "Did you know the first time they passed something off that it was stolen goods?"
"We would have to check every item for security purposes, so yes." He's rigid, like he's waiting for me to hit him.
I drop into the chair next to Roman's desk, thinking back to that first pile of boxes I saw in their room weeks ago.
I bury my face in my hands. I've seen kids pass stolen goods back-and-forth in the neighborhood around the shelter.
I'm not an idiot. I know what it looks like but something this size? This is a full-scale operation.
"My sisters have been making thousands of dollars from stolen property," I say numbly.
"Well, more like tens of thousands, but yes," Vadik says. "But I give you my word, we've been extremely careful, Miss Monroe. They are never out of our sight. There's never any interaction with someone we haven't vetted first."
Ivan reaches out to gingerly pats me on the shoulder but thinks the better of it. "Violet, look at it this way…" He's searching for something positive to say and comes up with, "At least they're not doing drugs."
Roman chokes back a laugh, rearranging his expression into something more serious. "Thank you gentlemen. Vadik, halt any excursions for Iris and Rose for the time being until Violet and I discuss this."
"Of course." He seems to be eager to get out of the room, and I don't blame him. He's been squiring my thieving sisters around town for weeks, watching them exchange stolen property.
The door shuts behind them and I bolt out of the chair, taking shaky steps towards the windows and then back to Roman, who's watching me with a sympathetic smile.
Did the twins take anything from here? Oh, holy fuck, we were just over at Dmitri's and Ava's a couple of days ago, watching the Fourth of July fireworks! Their penthouse is loaded with small, expensive objects. Running my hands through my hair, I tug on it, barely noticing the sting.
"Hey, hey…" Roman's hands pull mine down, holding them. "It's okay." He smiles down at me, cupping my cheek. "Ivan's right. At least it's not drugs."
My jaw drops.
"My sisters who just graduated from Catholic school are running stolen merchandise. This is a felony, Roman! Of course you would know that being in the business, but we're not! My sisters are committing felonies!"
He has the audacity to shrug. "Well, you have to respect their entrepreneurial spirit." His grin drops, he knows instantly this is the wrong thing to say to me.
"Did you know? Of course you knew," I say, pushing him away. "Nothing goes on here without you knowing about it. And you never told me."
Roman has always seemed supremely self-assured, but right now, he looks like he knows he fucked up.
"How could you know something like this and not tell me?
" I smack him on his shoulder, which of course makes me feel like I broke my wrist. Cradling it, I shout, "I'm their guardian, Roman!
They're my responsibility and you knowingly let those- those felons move stolen merchandise without telling me. "
"Violet, baby," he uses that soft tone that usually makes me melt. "They were worried about college expenses and did something that they thought would help pay for it. They're not criminal masterminds."
"We… we have to leave," I stammer, heading for the door. "I can't believe that they have violated your hospitality like this. I can't trust my sisters. They shouldn't be here. And I can't trust you. We've been playing house, cooking dinner, and having sex and-
“Well, Jack and Poppy are gone. Nothing has happened for weeks. We're going to move back to my place."
"Violet," he says, easing toward me like I'm a spooked horse ready to bolt. Which is essentially the case. "You can't leave. Even if Jack and Poppy are gone, there's still the threat of the people who know you're connected to me."
"What are you talking about?" There's a high-pitched buzzing in my ears, and I'm trying to get his words to make sense.
"The truck that tried to flatten us? Emiliano Morales ordered it," he says, leaning against his desk.
"He's a drug dealing piece of shit, his cartel sells fentanyl all over the city.
Protection rackets, petty crime shit. Morales has been trying to weasel into our territory for over a year.
He must've seen the advantage of taking you as a hostage. They tried to kidnap you that day."
Roman's voice is fading in and out like radio static.
"So… That's why we've been here so long, why you've been taking care of us.
" I can't look at him, his handsome, serious face.
I stare out the window, watching one of his neighbor's kids climb up into her elaborate play castle in their backyard.
How nice to be a princess in a tower where nothing can touch you.
"We're leaving today," I say, my eyes still fixed on the little girl in her tower. "I'll send you the hundred thousand dollars."
A shadow crosses over Roman's face. "It's not safe. I can't let you leave."
I finally meet his gaze. "It's not your choice.
If I'm gone and we never speak again, it will be clear even to a swine like this Morales guy that you don't-" Something's rising in my throat, trying to choke me.
Stop the words, maybe. But they spill out, mean, and hard. "That you don't care about me."
This part burns like a hot pan and no oven mitt.
"I have to question if Rose and Iris would ever have done something so stupid if they weren't living in a Bratva household where every terrible, illegal action is no big deal. Maybe they never would have thought of committing felonies if we'd never met…"
Don't you fucking dare cry!
"If we'd never met you."