19. Kazimir
KAZIMIR
With the big fights coming up this weekend, there's no time to lose in our planning.
Timur is at the whiteboard with his schedules and payouts listed, the way Roman normally does, and Stepan and I sit by the conference room table watching him.
Though, with the pain still throbbing in my chest, it's hard to sit still for long and focus.
"Friday night, we've got six bouts," Timur says, tapping the board with a marker.
"Rostik headlines against the Georgian and the undercard is solid too.
After we substituted him in for the American, it left an open slot, but we got it filled.
Saturday's the invitational with eight bouts, two title fights, and every high-value bettor we have left is coming in. "
"Every one we have left," Stepan repeats, and the emphasis isn't subtle. After everything, he's still sticking it to me to make this my fault when it damn well isn't and he knows it. But I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
"We've lost four since the American situation," Timur says, capping the marker and turning to face us. "Federov pulled his investment entirely and he's been talking to other backers about doing the same."
"I'm aware," I grumble, running a hand over my unshaven beard. It's two days of growth I haven't bothered with because I’m too busy chasing down extra security for my posts at the club to worry about the time it takes.
"I know you're aware. I'm making sure we're all looking at the same numbers." Timur sets the marker on the table and crosses his arms. "Roman called me yesterday. He wants to know that this weekend will run clean without any surprises."
When both of them narrow their eyes on me, their unspoken communication is obvious. I'm never gonna live this down and I didn't even do anything wrong. Someone is attacking me, making me look like the bad guy to even my own family.
"I got a new phone with a new number and a new SIM," I tell them. "Nobody has it except the people in this room and Roman." What I don't tell them is I did keep my old phone so I can text Zora, but that's the only reason I'm using it now. No one's gonna track my messages with her to use against me.
"That's good," Timur says, then he nods and points at the whiteboard again where a list of things we haven't spoken about details more responsibilities for me. "The venue's locked down, cameras are up, and I'll be monitoring feeds from the back office both nights."
"I'll be on the floor with Kaz," Stepan says, picking up his coffee. "If anything goes sideways, we handle it together."
"What about the bettors who are still with us?
" I ask. "Are we reaching out ahead of the card?
" With our technical malfunctions with my phone, a few people suggested we go old school for the next few months, just until we get a handle on what the hell happened. It’s a good idea, and Timur took the lead on it.
"I've called every one of them personally," Timur says. "I reassured them the new cards are being run directly by us with no intermediary communications. Every bet gets handled in person, and nothing gets sent digitally."
"Yeah, okay." I fidget in my seat a little.
I've been antsy and on edge for days, in need of release or something.
Zora has even been quiet, not reaching out as much.
I did tell her I would be too busy to get together until after these fights, but goddamn, I miss her.
It's like in a matter of the past two months since we met, she became everything to me.
I think I actually function better when she's around.
"Are you paying attention?" Timur asks, glowering, and I sit up straighter.
"Yeah, just keep going," I snip, frustrated they're taking so long.
"I've restructured the payout schedule," Stepan adds. "If we get them a faster turnaround, they'll appreciate that. It'll leave no room for doubt. We can't afford to give anyone a reason to hesitate right now."
Timur pulls a chair out and sits across from me. He rests his elbows on the table and laces his fingers together. Judging by the look on his face, he's about to get serious.
"Roman and I had a long conversation yesterday," he says, "about the whole pattern—the spoofed texts, the bettor sabotage, the fake message about the American's arrival time, all of it."
"And what'd he say?" I ask, though I'm already bracing for another lecture. If Roman hasn't called me personally yet, it's because he's too angry to disrupt his own honeymoon.
"We're trying to figure out who has enough access to your schedule and your communications to pull this off." Timur holds my gaze. "The new phone eliminates the clone, which is good. But the person who cloned your old phone needed physical access to the device."
"We've been through this, Timur," I tell him.
"We have, and we keep coming back to the same problem.
" He glances at Stepan, and Stepan looks down at the table instead of having my back like he should.
This feels like an intervention or something.
All we need is someone with tissues and tears to tell me how my destructive behavior is ruining my life.
"The circle of people who had that kind of access to your phone is very small. "
"I know who's in the circle," I tell them. "And I'm not worried about any of them."
"So do we." Timur pauses. "Roman, me, Stepan, Rostik, and Zora."
Timur doesn't mince words. The way he says her name last and emphasizes it makes it obvious he's accusing her. And I won't tolerate this at all.
"Don't go there."
"Kaz, listen to me—" Timur starts.
"I said don't go there." I lean forward in my chair, and my ribs scream, but I push past the pain to make sure he gets my point. "Zora has nothing to do with any of this."
"Nobody's accusing her," Stepan says carefully, still looking at the table.
The fucker can't even look at me because he knows how much he's pissing me off.
"We're looking at the facts. The problems started after she came into your life.
She's been in your apartment. She's been around your phone.
She's had access to your schedule because you've been sharing it with her. "
I push back from the table and stand, leaning over it with my hands splayed on the cold wood. “I share my schedule with her because she's my girlfriend and that's what people do when they're in a relationship."
"And before her, none of this was happening." Stepan finally looks up at me. "How much more obvious does it have to be, man?" He shakes his head, narrowing his eyes. I see the compassion in his expression but he's wrong. He has to be wrong.
"It's a coincidence and nothing more," I tell him.
"It's not that much of a stretch to think she could've done this." Timur sits back, planting his elbow on the armrest of his chair and resting his chin on his hand.
"She didn't do this," I say as the heat climbs up my neck. "I know her. I've spent months getting to know her. She's not capable of this."
"Everyone's capable of anything," Timur says. "It's human nature."
"You don't know her," I tell him, now so angry, I don't even care if I make them mad, or Roman. They're outright attacking someone I love, and if it were them and the tables were turned, they would feel exactly like I do.
"You're right, I don't. And that's part of the problem." Timur shakes his head. "We haven't vetted her, Kaz. You refused a background check when Stepan offered it months ago. We don't know her family or her connections, and we don't know anything about her except what she's told you."
"Because what she's told me is the truth," I say hastily, starting to feel even more defensive. I start for the door, but I know it's wrong to just storm out, so I stop myself and fist my hands at my sides.
"How do you know that?" Timur asks.
"Because I love her." I turn and glare at them both, hoping they finally get the point. "And I trust her completely. If you're gonna sit here and build a case against the woman I—"
"We're not building a case," Stepan says. "We're trying to protect you." He stands and starts to come toward me as if he's gonna smack some sense into me, or try to get me to sit back down, but I take a step backward toward the door.
"Then protect me by finding whoever's actually doing this instead of pointing at the one good thing in my life," I tell them. "This is a personal attack on me, and it's hitting this whole family. You'd think you guys would do your job finding the real bad guy here."
I spin back around and stomp to the door, but as my hand turns the knob and I pull it open, Timur calls my name. "Kaz, hold on a second." I look over my shoulder as he lifts his coffee toward me. "For what it's worth, I hope we're wrong."
"You are wrong," I growl, and I walk out.
I'm so fucking mad, I could punch the wall, but the concrete would do a number on my knuckles, so I control myself and make my way out to my car.
But there's this little voice inside my head insisting that I get to Zora and be with her, probably to reassure myself that she really isn't the villain my cousin and uncle think she is.
All of that is a bunch of horse shit I don't have to put up with, and I want to see her to make myself feel better.
So I pull out my old phone and dial her number, and the instant she picks up, I feel better.
"Hey," she says, "Kaz, I was just thinking of you."
"I'm coming over," I tell her without waiting for small talk. I'm too worked up to sit around asking her how her day was.
"Right now?" she asks.
"Right now, Zora. I need to see you."
"Is everything okay?" There's concern in her tone. No matter what my family thinks, I know this woman loves me. I know she'd never hurt me like that.
"Everything's fine," I say. "I just need to be with you tonight."
"Then come over." I can hear her smile through the phone. "I'll be here."
I hang up and get in the car and pull out of the lot.
The conversation in that office is still rattling around in my skull, pissing me off.
I get it that they want to protect the Kuzin name and reputation, but taking it out on me is a surefire way to blow this whole thing up.
If they're not for me, they're against me.
And it takes a stupid man to be against a man like me. I have nothing to lose, and I won't let them divide me from the one good thing in my life.
Not ever.