Chapter 9 Micah
NINE
MICAH
Ilya disappeared into his office about ten minutes ago. I keep staring at the door, wondering what he’s doing in there. He’d taken a call over breakfast, everything in fast Russian, so it’s not like I got any information from that end.
I clutch my phone tighter in my hand. This is my chance to snoop. I hadn’t seen anything overtly suspicious out in the open, but maybe there’s a… a murder weapon or something in Ilya’s bedroom closet.
If I got caught, though…
My eyes burn at the idea of what could happen. Ilya could make me disappear, like the last informant Adam had been working with.
I fumble with my phone, staring down at it. I can’t text him; that would leave evidence behind if Ilya was to go through my phone like Adam does. But he can’t blame me for calling Adam.
If anything, he has to know it’s inevitable.
I hurry to the guest room and close the door, eyeing it. I would never dare lock Adam out of a room, especially not in his own house, but I lock this door and head deeper into the room before calling Adam.
I wait, and the phone only rings twice before he picks up.
The wave of relief and nausea I feel is overwhelming. “Adam?” I whisper.
“Micah? Did you sleep on the street?” Adam demands immediately. “Why didn’t you come home last night?”
“You told me not to!” I protest, my heart sinking. “You told me to stay gone. So I found a way to—” I look at the door to the room, lowering my voice. “I’m at his place. I’m going to find out everything I can about him and tell you. I’m going to make this right for you.”
“His place?” Adam’s voice turns darker. “Who? Your ex?”
My mouth goes dry. “No!” I say, shaking my head. “No, I’d never. I’d never. I found Ilya. I’m here with him.”
This is the part I’m dreading. Either he’s going to be pissed off that I did this, even though he’d told me to do it, or—
No.
I already know he’s not going to be happy.
No matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, it’s never enough. This won’t be either.
Adam stays quiet for so long that I start to worry he’s going to actually break up with me.
“Ilya,” Adam repeats, quiet. “After you raised such a stink, you… what, you took a bus all the way to the bar and found him there?”
“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” I don’t quite lie. “As far as he knows, you broke up with me and I had nowhere to go.”
And he’d been kind enough to take me home, to treat me with reverence instead of disdain.
Now that I’ve had a taste of it, I want more.
There’s another long pause, and I can imagine the irritated twitch in Adam’s jaw that always precedes his anger.
That’s why it surprises me when Adam says, “Okay. Good job. Yeah. Get him to trust you, to open up to you. We need proof that he’s running illegal gambling dens and not just a few Russian restaurants.”
Gambling dens. Is that all?
“I thought he was a dangerous criminal,” I say. Gambling dens don’t sound that bad. They definitely don’t need to make someone who knows too much vanish.
Adam scoffs loudly. “What do you think happens to the people who lose too much money and can’t pay up?”
“Oh,” I say.
That had been stupid of me not to think about.
“So, um… You want me to keep doing this?” I ask tentatively. Had I done the right thing after all?
“Yeah. You need to—” Adam suddenly cuts off for a few seconds, and I think I hear muffled talking. “Okay, yeah, stay close to him. Do whatever it takes to get the evidence I need.”
I’m not sure if I’m relieved or even more terrified.
He’s depending on me.
He thinks I can do this, or he wouldn’t let me try.
“Whatever it takes?” I echo. “Do you mean…”
“Exactly what it sounds like, babe,” Adam replies. “If shaking your ass gets his lips to loosen up, do that. If he needs your tongue around his cock to get talkative… You get the gist.”
My stomach twists.
It’s not like I haven’t already gotten my mouth around his cock, but the way that Adam puts it makes me feel like a cheap whore.
“He told me something last night,” I blurt out instead of commenting on how that makes me feel. “That his hands are stained from things he’s done, that he’s not safe to be around.”
Adam lets out a small laugh. “What am I supposed to do with that? Any good lawyer would say it’s just a metaphor. We can’t get an arrest warrant with that.”
I immediately feel stupid for repeating the words, but I’d wanted to give him something. Anything. “I’ll find out something better,” I promise.
Even if it means continuing to act like a whore.
“Yeah. Guess you can’t come home for now. You’d be compromised.” Adam makes a disappointed sound. “Can’t be helped. The faster you get the info, the sooner you can come back to me.”
The fact that he sounds like he cares that I’ll be gone is heartening enough to where the sting of his earlier words is soothed. “I’ll do it as fast as I can,” I promise. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too. I have to go now. Love you.” He ends the call there, without giving me a chance to respond.
“I love you too,” I whisper anyway, like he can hear me.
I look around the room, inhaling deeply. I can do this. I have to do this. I have no idea what I’m doing, though. I’m not savvy or suave or charismatic.
But Ilya does seem to respond to me being helpless, and if nothing else, I’m good at that.
I let myself out of the spare room, heading into the living room to wait for him to finish his phone calls. I don’t know what he’ll expect me to do while he’s working, so I start to play a game on my phone while I wait.
A few minutes later, Ilya finally emerges from the office. “Sorry about that,” he says, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I had to tell my assistant I was taking a few days off.” He comes to sit down next to me. “You have my full attention now.”
I shift so I’m pressing against his side. “Your assistant? What do you do?” I ask, my heart threatening to hammer out of my chest as I try to figure out what questions I can ask that sound innocent enough but might yield something useful.
Then it hits me that he’d said something else, too.
He’s taking time off.
For me.
Adam would never have done that.
The guilt bubbles up, and I’m not sure what to make of that information.
“I run a few restaurants,” Ilya says smoothly. “Just managing, not cooking. I’m not needed everywhere every day, and my assistant can handle things.”
I nod. I need to be subtle and take this slowly, but I don’t want to take it so slowly that Adam thinks I’m lingering on purpose. “I talked to Adam,” I tell him, biting my lip as I watch him for his reaction.
Ilya’s brow furrows slightly. “What did he say?” he asks calmly.
I know he doesn’t like Adam, so I’m surprised that he doesn’t yell or reprimand me.
“We broke up,” I say, nearly choking on the words. “So it’s officially over, I guess. I need to start looking for a job. I…” My eyes are surprisingly wet with tears, like the fiction is real. “I really don’t have anywhere to go or anything to do.”
It’s not like I can go somewhere with my pathetic resume of being a drug dealer and a stay at home boyfriend.
Ilya squeezes my shoulder briefly. “You can take your time. I’ll take care of you while you figure it out.” He smiles at me. “But if you need ideas where to start, your music is—”
My blood freezes in my veins. “My cello,” I whisper as the implication settles. “It’s still at Adam’s.” I need it. Even if I have nothing but the clothes on my back, I need my cello. Playing is one of the few things that soothes me.
That, and things I can’t even talk about with Ilya. Would he even understand that the way I submit to Adam is a craving I don’t think I can cut out? That the way I’d knelt before Ilya the night before had been a need, not a simple desire?
“We’ll pick it up,” Ilya offers. “When does Adam work? I’ll take you when he isn’t home.”
“Days, mostly,” I say slowly. “But I don’t have my keys or anything to get inside.” No wallet, no keys, no clothes, no anything.
I’m completely at the mercy of this man who runs gambling dens where people get hurt for not paying their debts.
So why have I never felt safer than I do pressed up against his side?
“We’ll figure it out,” Ilya assures me. “There are ways to get into houses if you forget your keys.”
Is this one of the illegal things he does? Does he break into houses, too? Is that something Adam could use?
“Okay,” I agree. “I can get clothes, too. I don’t have much, and I won’t get in your way…” I look at him. I should ask if he’s really okay with this. I should give him an out. But I’ve already told Adam I’ll do this, and if I don’t, he will get pissed.
“Take only the essentials,” Ilya says. “Your documents, your cello. I’ll buy more clothes.”
I pull away so I can look at him, meeting his eyes.
I can’t hold the burning question back any longer.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask. “You don’t know me at all, but you’re doing all of these nice things for me.
You’re letting me stay with you. You’re offering to replace my belongings. You’re… Why?”
No one has ever been nice to me like this before without wanting something in return.
Even Adam.
Maybe especially Adam.
Ilya scratches his beard and averts his gaze. “It is… not a happy story. You will think lesser of me.”
I frown at him. “Why would I think less of you for something that has you helping me like this?”
He sighs heavily. “All right.” He takes my hands in his and runs his thumb gently over my skin. “I have seen it before. When I was younger than you. My father…” His expression darkens. “He was an angry man. Mean. What he did to my mother, it was… Well, I did not have happy childhood.”
I squeeze his hand, having to swallow hard against the tide of memories. My parents aren’t exactly shining saints, but they’d been too busy with the family business to pay much attention to me. “I’m sorry,” I say softly, but I can’t meet his eyes.
He thinks I’m like his mother, that Adam and I are like his parents.
Can I really say otherwise?