Chapter 10 Aleksander #2
I feel my neck tense. I glance at Lily. She’s focused on her cracker, but I know better than to underestimate what small ears pick up.
“Not in front of her,” I murmur.
Bella’s jaw sets. “She’s three, Aleksander.”
“She’s impressionable,” I counter. “I’m not talking about my work with her sitting right here.”
Bella lifts her chin. “Then talk like a respectable businessman. I’m sure you have a version of the truth you use at banks and charity galas.”
Nikolai huffs a quiet laugh through his nose.
I stare at her for a second, then sigh. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”
“No,” she says. “I am not.”
I lean back, choosing my words. “Fine. We’ll call it what it is without…spelling it out.”
She folds her arms. “Code, then.”
“Code,” I agree.
Lily holds up her cracker. “Cookie!”
“Exactly,” I say dryly. “Code and cookies. Very serious meeting.”
Bella’s mouth twitches, but she doesn’t let herself smile. “Start with the basics. What does your…company do?”
“We handle logistics,” I say. “We move…products for people who don’t like paperwork.”
She gives me a look. “Illegal products.”
“Products that don’t enjoy regulatory attention,” I correct.
Nikolai’s shoulders shake once. He keeps his eyes on the road.
Bella doesn’t let up. “And this logistics company of yours. Does it…have competitors?”
“Of course,” I say. “Other companies who think they can move the same boxes through the same ports. Sometimes they forget to ask permission first.”
“Ask permission,” she repeats. “Right. And if they forget?”
“We remind them,” I say. “Firmly.”
She stares at me. “Firmly as in…a strongly worded email?”
Lily chimes in, delighted, “Mail!”
I keep my face neutral. “Something like that.”
Bella narrows her eyes. “Do your reminders use, say, knives and guns instead of bullet points and fonts?”
Nikolai actually coughs to hide a laugh.
“Sometimes our reminders arrive with…escorts,” I say. “The kind that make an impression.”
Bella snorts. “Your euphemisms are terrible.”
“You asked for business language,” I remind her. “I’m being very professional.”
She shifts, brushing a hand over Lily’s hair. “What about money? You said you ‘manage’ it.”
“That’s easier,” I say. “People borrow. People pay interest. If they don’t pay on time, we adjust the terms.”
“How?” she presses.
“Late-fee structure,” I say. “Dynamic incentives.”
Her eyes narrow. “Incentives like…breaking their legs?”
Lily kicks her little feet against the seat. “Legs!”
I keep my gaze on Bella, my voice mild. “Incentives like making sure they take their obligations seriously.”
“That’s not a no,” she mutters.
“It’s not a yes either,” I say.
She exhales sharply through her nose. “What about Kirov? Was he…another logistics manager?”
“Let’s say he owned trucks,” I reply. “He wanted to park them in places that belonged to my trucks.”
“And you sent him a reminder.”
“We had a conversation,” I say. “Several, actually.”
Bella leans her head back against the seat, eyes on the car ceiling. “You are the worst at pretending this is normal.”
“Normal people don’t need code,” I remind her. “You wanted both.”
She looks at me again, more tired than angry. “How often do you…deal with problems yourself? Personally.”
Lily has moved on to pressing her nose to the glass, fogging it up.
“When I have to,” I say. “Less than I used to. More than I’d like.”
“That’s helpful,” she mutters.
“Would you like a spreadsheet?” I ask. “Breakdown of violence by quarter?”
She shoots me a glare, but the corner of her mouth betrays her. “You’re an ass.”
For a moment, the car is silent except for the hum of the engine and Lily’s soft babbling at the window.
Then Bella sighs. “What about…us? Me and her. In your code, what are we?”
I feel that one all the way down.
“Priority cargo,” I say after a beat. “Nonnegotiable. Maximum protection. No substitution.”
Nikolai’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror, assessing my tone, then back to the road.
Bella blinks. “You just called us boxes, Aleksander.”
“You asked for code,” I say. “You don’t want the real word in front of her.”
She studies my face, really looks. “What’s the real word?”
That, even I don’t know. What am I even doing with this woman and her three-year-old?
Bella watches Lily for a moment, then looks back at me. “You told me about your dad,” she says quietly. “But what about your mom?”
I roll the question around in my head, staring out at the highway. “She took care of me,” I say after a beat. “Best she could. She deserved a quieter life than the one she got.”
“That doesn’t answer anything,” Bella says. “Where is she now?”
My jaw tightens. There’s a place the conversation can go and a place it can’t. “She’s gone,” I say.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and I can tell she means it. “How did—”
“Bella.” My tone is sharper than I intend. “Not now.”
She leans back, studying me, clearly wanting to push, but she lets it drop. For a few seconds, the only sound is the hum of the engine and Lily’s little voice in the middle.
“Car,” Lily babbles, tapping the window with her palm.
“Yes, car,” Bella says, turning to her with a small smile. Then she shifts her attention back to me. “How am I supposed to trust you when you don’t tell me anything about yourself.”
“Some things are better left—”
Something in the rearview mirror catches my eye. A shape moving too fast in the next lane, a car edging closer than it should, windows just a little too dark.
My stomach drops.
“Duck,” I snap.
Bella blinks. “What—”
“Down!” I roar, grabbing her shoulder and shoving her and Lily toward the floor just as the rear window explodes.
Glass shatters with a scream, spraying over the seats. Lily bursts into terrified wailing. A bullet slams into the headrest where Bella’s head was a second ago. Another punches through the side window, the crack of gunfire drowning out everything.
“Shit,” Nikolai curses, yanking the wheel. The car jerks hard, tires squealing as we swerve across a lane. Horns blare all around us.
I throw myself over Bella and Lily, using my body as a shield while I drag them lower, wedging them into the narrow pocket of space between the back seat and the floor. Lily is crying, high and panicked, her little hands fisting in Bella’s shirt.
“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Bella chants, voice shaking, wrapping her arms around her daughter, curling herself around Lily’s body on instinct.
More shots. The sound is deafening up close. I feel the impact through the frame of the car, metal ringing and protesting.
“Keep your heads down,” I bark, already moving. I slide off of them just enough to reach across the seat, my fingers finding the gun tucked in the gap between the cushions. Cold metal against my palm is a familiar comfort I wish they never had to see.
“Stay here,” I tell Bella, meeting her wide, terrified eyes. There’s no time to explain, no time for promises. Just this.
Lily’s sobs tear through the chaos. Bella nods, pulling her closer, trying to cover her ears.
I rise just enough to see out the shattered rear window, gun low but ready, adrenaline burning everything else away.
Through the blown-out rear glass I catch sight of them—dark sedan, two cars back, riding too close. Passenger window down. A man half-hanging out, arm extended, gun in his fist.
“Nikolai,” I call out. “Two back, right lane.”
“I see him,” Nikolai grits out, knuckles white on the wheel.
I shift higher, just enough to get a clear line, keeping my torso between Bella and the back window as much as I can. Wind tears through the cab, whipping my hair, carrying the high, thin sound of Lily’s crying.
“Baby, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Bella repeats, holding Lily’s head against her chest, her own body curled tight, trying to make herself smaller.
The shooter raises his arm again.
I don’t think. I tally distances and speed and the way the car dips on the suspension and I squeeze off two shots, quick and controlled.
The first goes wide. The second doesn’t.
The man jerks back like someone yanked him by the collar. His gun clatters, disappears. For a heartbeat, the sedan wobbles, the man half-falls against the door, fingers clawing at the frame.
“Got one,” I say.
“Not all,” Nikolai snaps.
He’s right. The car doesn’t back off. It surges closer, another shape moving into the driver’s seat, shadow replacing shadow. There’s someone else in there ready to take over.
We hit the on-ramp to the main highway, merging into heavier traffic.
Everything speeds up—more cars, more noise, more places to die.
Nikolai throws us across lanes, threading through gaps with inches to spare.
Horns erupt around us. Someone leans on the brakes behind. A truck bellows its complaint.
My shoulder slams into the door as we jolt. I keep my gun trained on the shrinking line of windshield behind us, watching for another muzzle flash.
“Head down,” I bark again without looking back, feeling Bella flinch and tighten her hold on Lily.
The sedan fights to follow, weaving between cars, clipping a mirror, forcing a compact into the shoulder. They’re committed. They don’t care who they take out with us.
“Off-ramp in two miles,” Nikolai mutters, eyes flicking between road and mirrors. “If we make it.”
“You’ll make it,” I say. “Left side, when it splits.”
The sedan pulls up again, now to our rear left, trying to get an angle. I see the passenger window grind down, another arm, another gun. He leans out, braced on the door.
I wait for him to aim. One second. Two. The moment his wrist stabilizes, I fire three times in quick succession.
Glass blows out. His gun arm snaps back. The car jerks, swaying hard. For a heartbeat it looks like they might recover, then the front tire kisses the concrete divider at the wrong angle.