22. Zora #2
"Heading home. I've got Zora with me. Her apartment got broken into tonight." He turns, and the momentum pushes me against the door and I wish I could fly out into the street and vanish into thin air. Even when I want to do the right thing, I get interrupted.
"Jesus. Is she okay?"
"She's fine. I told you she's with me." Kazimir squeezes my hand. "So you have details on what happened at the club?"
Despite feeling guilty enough to drown in my own sorrow, my ears perk up. My morbid curiosity has me devouring every detail. I figure it's how medical examiners feel when they dissect a body to find out how a person died.
"It's bad, Kaz." Stepan exhales into the phone. "Timur got out before they could grab him, but it was close. He went out the back when the detectives started asking for names. Arsen took the hit at the front door. He's been cooperative but they're holding him for questioning."
"What about the fighters?"
"Three of them got picked up on immigration charges. Paperwork issues, expired visas, the kind of stuff that was never a problem before because nobody was looking. Now they're looking."
"Which three?"
Stepan gives him the names and Kazimir punches the steering wheel angrily. I wince and hug my arms over my chest. It's too much for me. I feel like the worse this gets, the less of a chance I even have with him at all.
"The building's done too," Stepan continues. "Now that the cops know what we've been doing there, they'll be watching it. Even the police general says we have to back off." I'm curious what that means at first, but Kazimir fills that in for me.
"What the fuck do we pay him for, then? Can't we talk to him?"
"I already tried. He wouldn't even answer the call." Stepan pauses. "Kaz, there's more. I've been getting calls from people in the community—fighters, trainers, guys who've been with us for years. They all think this was your fault…"
"What do they blame me for?" He runs a hand through his hair and I watch the speedometer climb a little. He's so upset, he's driving erratically.
"I guess Federov told them he warned you and you did nothing…
Is that true?" The line crackles. Kazimir doesn't respond for a long time.
His jaw is clenched so hard, I can see the muscles tighten under his skin.
His eyes are fixed on the road but they're not seeing the road.
They're seeing something behind it, something crumbling—his life on the verge of flatlining.
"I need to stop at the office," he growls.
"Yeah… You should," Stepan says. "We all should." Stepan hangs up and Kazimir's phone screen goes black, and my opening to end my part in this has closed. He doesn't have to explain to me how the loss of their venue will affect them. I already know.
"I have to make a stop, Z," he says to me, reaching for my hand. I let him take it.
"Now?"
"Timur's there. I need to see him in person."
After he says that, he drives in silence.
It isn't easy seeing him like this. I don't know how to help him now.
I'm watching him unravel at the seams knowing it's my fault.
If he had just ignored me in that hallway outside the gala, maybe none of this would've happened for either of us. Maybe I wouldn’t be pregnant with his baby.
When we pull up to a random building along a dark street, he turns to me. "Come inside with me," Kazimir says, killing the engine. "I don't want you sitting in the car alone."
"I don't think that’s a good idea," I mumble, knowing how guilty I will look. "I can wait."
"No… I need you. Please. Just go with me."
I sigh and reluctantly climb out of his car. Then we enter through the side entrance. The hallway's dark and the building feels hollow. Our footsteps are the only sound as we weave down hallways in the darkness until we emerge into a well-lit office space.
Timur is sitting behind the desk with his laptop open and three phones laid out in front of him.
He looks up when we walk in and his face is drawn like he's been sick for weeks. He nods at me and then looks at Kazimir. I see the hesitation and anger in his eyes that doesn't get expressed, and I know he doesn’t want me here. I know I should’ve stayed in the car.
"Sit down," Timur says.
Kazimir pulls a chair out and sits. I stand near the door because this isn't my meeting and I know it. It's bad enough that I'm in this building. I can't physically force myself to sit down in Timur's presence. The man may very well kill me over what I've done. I've seen men like him kill for less.
"The police had a detailed tip, Kaz." He flicks his eyes to me and then looks at his computer screen. "They knew the exact time and place, and they had a few names of fighters too… We're lucky Rostik got out fast."
"Do we know where the tip originated?" Kazimir runs a hand through his hair, and I watch his chest work as he breathes deeply, probably trying to calm himself.
"Anonymous… It came through the department's tip line about two hours before the card." Timur leans back. "We might’ve lost Arsen for good."
"And the fighters who got picked up?"
"Immigration's holding them. We'll need a lawyer, and even then it could take weeks to sort out. Most of them will be deported." Timur rubs his eyes, then his whole face. "We blew it…" He says the words quietly, like air leaving his chest deflates him and his will to live. "Ro will be crushed."
Kazimir sits shrinking, shoulders dropping, hunched over.
It wraps around my heart and crushes me until tears well up and I'm forced to look away.
I did all of this to him and to his organization.
The very man who helped him and practically raised him is now going to be so disappointed in him, and it's not his fault.
I'm to blame, and I can't ever make it up to him.
"The community's talking," Timur continues, only confirming what Stepan said.
"People who've been loyal to this family for a decade are questioning whether we can protect them anymore.
Roman's name still carries respect but yours is taking damage, Kaz.
People are starting to say that the operation can't function without Roman at the helm. "
Kazimir nods without lifting his head. He doesn’t even argue or defend himself.
It's painful to watch him wilt like a flower.
This is all Bogdan's fault and I could scream it from the rooftop, but it wouldn’t matter.
What's done is done. His bettors have lost faith.
His fighters are being deported, and his venue is burned.
"I'll call Roman in the morning," Timur says. "He needs to know everything. The raid, the arrests, the gym, the community response. All of it."
"No, I'll make the call," Kazimir says, finally looking up. "He left me in charge. He hears it from me."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." He stands and his posture straightens, but the effort it takes is visible. He's holding himself up through sheer willpower. "If anyone deserves the explosion that's sure to come out of him when he hears it, it's me."
Timur nods and looks at me standing by the door. His eyes hold mine for a second and there's suspicion in his eyes before he looks away and turns back to his laptop.
Kazimir takes my hand and leads me out of the office and down the hallway and through the side door to the car. He opens my door and I get in, and he goes around to the driver's side and sits behind the wheel for a full minute without starting the engine.
I reach over and put my hand on his arm, but he doesn't look at me.
He stares through the windshield at the empty parking lot, and he's probably thinking he's an utter failure.
He's wrong—he's not a failure. He's so perfect in my eyes, but a man's confidence is only as good as his performance, and everyone thinks he failed.
Everyone but me.
"Let's go home," I say.
He starts the engine and pulls out, and as we drive, I keep my hand resting on his arm.
I don't know how to fix what I've done. But I know I have to try something. Even if my brothers disown me. Even if they try to send me away. I have to do something to stop their stupid attacks and help Kazimir not lose everything.
I should've put my foot down a long time ago and I never did.