Chapter 14David
14
David
V lad picks up on the first ring, but he sounds groggy. “Hello?”
“What are you doing?” I growl.
“Why? What happened?” A bit of life springs into his voice after he hears the agitation in mine.
“Fuming,” I say.
“Do you need me?” he asks without hesitation.
“There was another shooting,” I say, pacing my kitchen. I can’t go into my bedroom. It feels too empty without Hazel in it.
“Where?” Vlad’s voice is low.
“At the warehouse across town.” I rub my tense jaw.
“Oleg?” Vlad asks.
“Yes. He had a crew with him,” I say.
“Anyone we know?” Vlad asks.
“It all happened so fast,” I explain. “But not that I could tell.”
Vlad goes silent for a moment before continuing. “What were you doing at the warehouse?”
“Checking the counterfeit machines,” I reply, trying to sound casual.
“Were you alone?” Vlad sounds wary.
My hesitation is all he needs to hear. “You brought her to the warehouse?”
“I can trust her,” I bark out, a warning in my tone to let Vlad known that no matter what, I’m still in charge.
“Jesus, boss.” He blows out a sharp breath.
“Leave the decision making to me,” I growl. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Was anyone hurt?” he asks, still concerned.
“We got out of there alive,” I tell him. “But she left once we got back to my condo. She’s furious at me for putting her in danger.”
“Did she ask to go with you to the warehouse?” Vlad chooses his words carefully. He’s insinuating that she’s part of the problem, or perhaps the entire problem, but that’s not the case. I’m the one who came up with the idea.
“I invited her,” I tell him, keeping my words short. I really don’t want to start talking about Hazel right now, especially not after the phone call we had.
I’ve told Vlad very little about Hazel, other than her name and vague details about my arrangement with her. The less he knows, the better. But he is aware of her existence in my life, and that she’s writing a story with anonymous details about the operations going on in this city. I told him about our end game goal of putting an end to the gun running violence. Vlad understands that much, because he wants it to stop just as much as I do.
“She’s pissed, too,” I admit after a long silence between us.
“Well, don’t hate me, but she might have every reason to be pissed,” Vlad says.
“She thinks I let her down when I was supposed to be protecting her.” I light a cigar and blow a puff of smoke toward the ceiling. “How the hell was I to know those gangsters were going to show up?”
“You probably shouldn’t be alone anymore,” Vlad mentions.
I huff. “I can take care of myself.”
“Still, it might be a good idea to bring Miroslav with you places from now on. Just until the heat dies down. Oleg is obviously trying to take you out.”
“He won’t be successful,” I bite back.
“No one is one-hundred percent invincible,” Vlad reminds me in a much gentler tone.
“Miroslav makes Hazel uncomfortable,” I add as if that’s a legitimate excuse for the whole argument.
“Well, is death less uncomfortable to her?” Vlad asks.
I laugh. “Alright, you’ve made your point. It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s gone because she can’t handle this lifestyle. She thought she could, but she can’t. It’s over.”
“I’m coming over,” Vlad says, and I hear him rifling around on the other end. “Grabbing my keys and shoes now and heading your way.”
I groan. “That’s not necessary.”
“You’re upset, boss. You need someone to be there to help ground you,” Vlad says.
“I’m not insane,” I snarl. “I can take care of myself.”
“No one said you couldn’t, but you also shouldn’t carry all these extra burdens by yourself. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” And with that, he hangs up, so I won’t be able to protest further.
Vlad stares at me with his arms folded.
“What?” I blurt, irritation scratching under my ribcage. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You miss her,” Vlad declares with a somber expression.
I belt out a laugh. “You are as crazy as you look.”
Vlad’s expression doesn’t change. “You care more about what’s going on with her than you do about Oleg.”
I cast my eyes away, a muscle in my jaw twitching. “It’s not true.”
“You care about her.” Vlad takes a step forward. “Feelings for a woman can be more dangerous than any bratva lifestyle.”
“She’s too soft for the bratva lifestyle,” I yell, tossing my arms up. “She can’t handle it.”
“You don’t know that,” Vlad says.
“Is she here?” I gesture around the empty living room. “No. This life is not for her. She left at the first sign of pressure.”
Vlad unfolds his arms. “Perhaps we should have a drink. You know, to take the edge off.”
I study him through narrowed eyes. “It’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
Vlad’s eyes glint with excitement. “The night is young. Let us drown our troubles inside a bottle.”
“And I have the perfect one for an occasion like this.” I strut to my liquor cabinet and pluck out the Beluga vodka I’ve been saving.
Vlad’s eyes go as huge as the moon. “You want to open that ?”
“Why not?” I shrug and set it on the counter.
Vlad blinks, glances at the bottle, then back to me, his mouth agape. “You must really need to forget about this woman.”
He’s right, but I don’t admit it aloud. “Let’s just drink,” I grumble, reaching for two shot glasses.
Vlad shuts his mouth, watching me pour the crystal-clear liquid into two glasses. I slide one to him and pick the other up for myself. We clink them together.
“To loyalty,” I say.
“To health,” Vlad chimes.
“To prosperity, and justice.” I tip my head back and drain the shot glass in one gulp.
Vlad’s eyes are sharp on mine as he swallows. In Russian, he says, “All debts will be paid, David. Don’t worry about it.”
I pour us both another round and glug it back, wincing. “I’m not worried about it.”
Vlad’s eyes water and his lips pucker. “Damn, that’s strong.”
“But it goes down smoother than anything else we could choose,” I say.
“What’s the proof on it?” Vlad inspects the bottle. “One shot equals a forty-five minute coma?”
I smirk at him. “You’re weak.”
He feigns offense, then pours himself another to prove me wrong. “Only when it comes to women. I guess we’re not all that different.”
I glare at him. “Watch your tongue or you’ll be leaving without it.”
A chuckle escapes his mouth. “Let’s just keep drinking. It’s safer.”
“Can’t argue with that.” I pour another, lift my glass, and clink it against his. Another round goes down the hatch.
The alcohol burns in my throat, warms through my veins, makes my senses dull. I yank the bottle and my shot glass off the counter and weave my way to the living room where I plop down on the couch, releasing a loud belch.
Vlad meets me and sits in the recliner opposite me, but he doesn’t lean back. He props his elbows on his knees and continues giving me that intense stare down as if he’s ready to interrogate me. “I will get my guys on the details of tonight’s shooting.”
“I don’t want to talk about work.” My vision swims.
Vlad rubs his forehead. His eyes are bloodshot, probably mirroring mine. “No problem, but we should probably get ahead of Oleg before he does something really stupid.”
I try to bring Vlad’s face into focus but my vision’s blurry with alcohol. “He’s already done a lot of stupid things.”
“I know.” I can’t tell if Vlad is nodding in agreement, or if he’s nodding because he’s drunk.
“You know, it’s really messed up that Hazel left me,” I blurt out. The truth is not afraid to come to the surface when one is impaired.
Vlad’s head tips up, but his eyes are glossy and narrowed as if he’s trying to focus on me and can’t. “You say it like you were in a relationship with her.”
I tap my finger against the armrest of the couch. “Nothing like that.”
“Oh.” Vlad frowns. “But you still act like it’s a loss.”
I explode into drunken laughter at his frown. “Does that disappoint you?”
“I just want you to be careful with her. You say you trust her but…”
My spine snaps straight and I glare at Vlad. He’s my most trusted advisor, yes, but he needs to watch his step. “I do trust her, and it would be in your best interest to remember who you’re speaking to.”
Vlad’s face is flushed, but it’s because of the alcohol, not because he’s embarrassed. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about work?”
My jaw clenches. “Can you not grin at me like that?”
“Like what?” He grins harder.
“Like that. I’m going to punch you,” I say without a hint of amusement.
His smile fades, his mouth dripping down his chin. I know it’s not really happening, but my drunken mind is playing tricks on me.
I sigh and lean forward, scrubbing my hands over my face. “I need to go to bed.”
“I thought we were going to drown our sorrows?” Vlad slurs.
“I think we’re managing that quite well,” I admit.
Vlad bursts into hysterical laughter.
“What the hell is so funny?” I scowl. I’m in the mood to be an angry, mean drunk, not a free-spirited, light-hearted one.
Vlad throws his head back and rocks in the recliner, his mouth open in a bellowing laugh.
I roll my eyes. “Will you shut the hell up please? You’re giving me a headache. What are you even laughing at?”
“You’re in love,” Vlad exclaims.
When he says it, my heart hammers in my chest so hard that it hurts, and all the blood rushes to my brain and makes me dizzy. My face is on fire like he threw gasoline in it and set it aflame.
“You’re wrong. You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I hiss, scraping my fingers across my thighs.
“Calm down, Dave. What’s so bad about being in love? Especially if it means you get a nice woman to warm your bed at night.”
I fly off the couch and march in Vlad’s direction. I loom over him. He stops rocking and his face grows as pale as the moonlight. It’s almost silver. “Be careful what you say to me if you don’t want me to pummel your face until it looks like a splattered melon.”
Vlad’s skin glistens with a slick layer of sweat beading at his temples and above his brows. “Relax, boss. It was just a joke.”
“It wasn’t a funny one,” I growl.
Vlad straightens in his seat. “Maybe I should go.”
“You’re too drunk to drive,” I tell him.
I return to the couch and collapse. I release a long exhale, my body deflating.
Vlad’s apologetic stammer comes a moment later across the room. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I crossed a line.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I close my eyes to keep the room from spinning. “I overreacted because of the alcohol. I need to stop drinking.”
Vlad is quiet. I use the time to dissect what he said, as well as I can with an intoxicated brain. He’s wrong. I’m not in love with Hazel. I barely even know her, and she abandoned me.
No. That’s not the right word.
She quit.
I meant what I said, earlier. The bratva life is not for her. It’s for the best that she disappears from my life. I don’t need to get involved with a woman, any woman. I have a business to run, and it’s falling apart on me as it is, without female drama.
The low rumbling sound of Vlad’s snoring ruptures the silence. I count to three inside my head and lug myself to a standing position.
I leave Vlad where he is, head tipped back in the recliner, arm thrown haphazardly over the side. I stumble down the hallway to the bathroom. My bladder is nearly splitting. I switch on the light and groan as the harsh vanity bulbs burn my retinas.
I dig my palms into my eyes sockets and try again, blinking into the mirror. My reflection reveals how haggard I feel inside.
As I relieve myself, nausea spins into my stomach and almost sends me to my knees. The wall in front of me is cool and firm, providing me with stability as I lean over the bowl, taking slow, deep breaths.
I close my eyes and wait for the swell of sick to fizzle out, which it thankfully does. I swallow the bile back down my throat and flush, fumbling with my hands on the wall to stay upright.
I don’t look in the mirror on my way out of the bathroom. The man who would stares back at me is not someone I want to face today.
Alcohol is a temporary fix, but reality is pressing into the base of my skull, demanding attention. I squeeze my eyes shut and roar like a bear, clenching my teeth.
Why does this woman have such a strangle hold on me? My pulse is too fast. Sweat and nausea makes my shirt cling to my back. I need to go to bed and sleep it off.
I can’t stand Hazel for putting me through this, but I hate myself more for allowing it.
I don’t have my father. I lost the support of the woman who I didn’t’ realize until now was helping keep me glued together.
My crew is in shambles, my best captain passed out cold in my living room.
I’m losing control, and I need to find a way to fix it all.
So, why do I miss Hazel to a point where it’s becoming a physical pain, starting in my heart, and spreading like a disease through my body? I can’t breathe without her. I’m suffering alone, a void in my soul that’s becoming a crater in her absence.
I’m drunk enough to admit to myself that I need her. I can’t survive without her.
But she hates me, and I’ll never get her back. The only thing I can do is try to piece together an organization that’s falling apart faster than I can keep up with and pray that’s enough. If not, this could really be the end of me.