Chapter 28 – Poppy #2
“Aren’t there other stores in the city? Tatko took me to the mall….” He stopped and his face fell.
He hadn’t wanted to talk about the incident at the ice cream parlor. I wasn’t an expert on trauma, but him seeing four thugs shot was no doubt preying on his mind. That was why I hated the underworld. Its scars were deep.
My heart ached for the child. I had no one to talk to about the destruction I witnessed. I bottled it up until it was reduced to nightmares. I should be the one who knew how to guide him from this mess. To teach him that there wasn’t always a choking, suffocating fear around every turn.
“Maybe Ivan can take us to the zoo again,” I offered.
That cheered him up. The storm clouds vanished quickly. For now.
We were going to have to deal with what he’d experienced. It wasn’t healthy. But how did I walk into a therapist’s office and explain without narcing on the mob?
Grabbing our shoes, we headed outside to find Kiril vaping in his car on the opposite side of the road.
“The grocery store. Again?” He groaned.
“Hey, in Italy, it’s common to do the shopping daily,” I protested.
“Yeah, same where I come from, but that’s because the markets are fresh. Here, everything lasts on the shelf for months,” he grumbled. “It’s genius! You should buy that stuff. Then I don’t have to take you shopping every fu—”
I hissed.
Kiril cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s go.”
Such conflicting views.
It made sense. But I wasn’t going to get into the downsides of shelf-stable longevity.
What I hadn’t realized at first was that most of Ivan’s men came from impoverished villages, where basic necessities were scarce.
Or they grew up in the ghetto here. In food deserts.
Having a store with food constantly available, with cheap boxed meals that could last in the cupboard or jars that could be stored for ages was no doubt impactful.
Dragging his heels, Kiril took us to the store. Unlike Rayko, he didn’t follow us inside, preferring to sit in the car and vape, listening to death metal.
I took Brady inside.
“Mrs. Mladenov, we have the brands of cheeses you were asking about,” the department manager announced, making a beeline to me.
I do not feel guilty. I don’t feel a bit bad! I smiled, hiding my unease. “Thanks, were you able to source the other items?”
“Not yet, but we’ve got our distribution team looking into it,” the manager assured me. “What else can we keep in stock for Mr. Mladenov?”
The pasture-raised eggs, the A2 milk, the changes to the meat department—these had already been astronomical. Just me, an introvert, unashamedly using the mob boss’s name to make changes at the local supermarket. It was kind of ridiculous.
But at the same time, kind of awesome. My own brand of blackmail. Who knew I was an intimidating mafia princess after all?
“If I think of anything, I’ll let you know,” I said, going down the aisle that now was filled with food options I felt better about buying.
I picked up a bunch of things, planning to bake for the guards and their friends.
If the store was going to stock the stuff, I needed to be responsible and purchase it. The prices weren’t inflated either.
I squatted in front of a shelf of new items, looking between the cans of tomatoes for their sources.
“Poppy, a word.”
I jumped.
“Deputy Kevin!” Brady boomed excitedly.
He raced over to give the deputy a hug.
I wanted to shout at the deputy to get the hell out of here. Being seen talking to the law in public was going to spread like wildfire.
Brady was talking a mile a minute, but as I stood, moving the cart, I saw that Kevin wasn’t alone. My heart stopped. Then began to thump wildly against my ribs.
“Okay, champ, that’s enough,” the commissioner said peevishly.
Kevin, to his credit, gave Steve an annoyed look. “He hasn’t seen me all summer, have you, bud?”
Brady shook his head and launched into recounting our trip to the zoo.
“Poppy, we need to talk,” the commissioner insisted. “Your dog needs to be put down.”
Brady frowned. “We buried Lady last fall. She’s already in heaven.”
The commissioner ignored my son. “Do you know what that bastard did?”
“Language,” snapped Kevin.
I shot the deputy a grateful look.
“He’s making threats, Pop.” Kevin pulled out a sheet of sheriff badge stickers for Brady and then handed him the cuffs from his belt. My heart stuttered a little. Kevin always tried, and he was so good with kids.
But there was no spark between us. That was why I pushed this perfectly good man away.
And now that I found a spark….
I shook my head. “What does that have to do with me?”
“We need you to testify. Come into the protective program, and let’s take this Mad Dog down.” Kevin stepped forward, speaking low while Brady cuffed himself to the metal shelf, then proceeded to practice undoing the restraints.
“You want me to what, exactly?” I’d heard him, but I balked at the idea. “I’m not hurting Ivan.”
I’m not hurting him. Huh, that sounded even more funny saying it again. But it was right there, the resolve etched into my rapidly beating heart.
“He’s going to hurt someone,” Kevin insisted. “And I won’t let it be you or Brady.”
I tipped my head and studied the deputy. “He would never hurt us.”
My voice sounded far away. The realization had clicked into place, and I just stood there, probably looking dopey and blonde as I studied it.
“Really, Kev, we’re safer with him than we are any other place—” Holy Virgin! These weren’t just statements coming out of my mouth. I meant everything I said. Every damn word.
“Wow,” I whispered under my breath.
“Look, lady, he and his pack came at me this morning.” Commissioner Dallas ripped down the collar of his polo shirt. The faintest of scratches was fading on his throat.
I snorted. “That’s it? Looks like you cut yourself shaving.”
The commissioner opened his mouth, then closed it.
“That’s what happened, wasn’t it?” I let a bite of anger rip through my voice. “You stand there and accuse the man I’m in love with of hurting you, when you don’t have the balls to face him yourself! This is harassment! Kevin, I want to report this man as a stalker, and—”
Kevin stared at me.
The look spoke volumes. It told me Kevin was in pain, that his body was on the verge of collapse. That he’d been mentally struck.
“What is it?” I gasped, rushing forward and checking his forehead for a fever. “Are you ill?”
Kevin turned his head to the side and brushed me off gently. “No, Pops, just realizing I’m making a fool of myself. You said enough.”
What did I say? My brain scrambled, but the short-term memory switch wasn’t working. I dropped my hands to my sides. “Really, Kevin, we’re good out here. Thanks for checking, but you don’t want to get caught up in the stuff that’s going on.”
He nodded. “I’ll head back this afternoon. Don’t worry, I’ll let everyone know you’re fine.”
“Hey, now, wait just a minute!” The commissioner shoved Kevin. “You came to me, remember? You said you’d do anything to help your friend and put down the crime lord. Was this just a joke to you?”
“Watch it, Mr. Dallas,” Kevin warned.
But the commissioner was incensed. “You fucking played me!”
He stabbed his finger into Kevin’s chest. Right under the badge.
“Hey, don’t hurt my partner,” Brady shouted.
And before I could squeeze around the men to catch my son, the little rascal clapped the handcuff on Commissioner Dallas’s hand while the other end fell closed over the handle of the cart.
The commissioner roared. “How fucking dare you, you snot-nosed brat!”
I saw the palm raised, the arm descend. It was slow motion. I was powerless to stop it. Kevin didn’t move fast enough either.
The commissioner backhanded Brady.
“Brady!” I shrieked, leaping through a gap and folding him into my arms. The brave face was somber. Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes.
“That hurt,” he murmured, lip wobbling.
There was a crash as the cart hit the ground behind us.
“I know, baby, I know,” I said, fighting back my own tears. I scooted away, pulling him into my arms.
My sweet, crazy baby.
He was hurt. Because I hadn’t done my job and protected him.
Behind us, Kevin had the commissioner on the ground. His knee was on the man’s face, digging in hard. The deputy unclasped the cuff and put it around the commissioner’s other wrist. He wasn’t gentle. He made sure it was tight.
“—anything you say can and will be used against you,” Kevin snarled. “Do you understand your rights as I’ve told them to you?”
“Fuck you! And fuck that cunt and her kid!”
“Call 911,” Kevin instructed a store employee who’d appeared at the end of the aisle. He shot a look at me. “Then bring some ice.”
I cradled my little man in my arms, sitting cross legged on the floor of the supermarket. He stopped crying, fighting so hard to be brave. The fear ebbed, but pain laced my heart that my child had been caught in the middle.
But as the fear vanished, anger stole its place.
Glaring at the commissioner, I promised silently that this wasn’t over.
He didn’t notice.
For the last eight years, I lived in fear of the mob. Right now, I hated the intervention of the law. But I promised myself that soon, I was coming for the commissioner. Soon, he would pay.