I sat on the oversized chair opposite him and tucked the gun under my leg, hiding it from view. Vasilije’s gaze was crushing, and the silence stretching between us was painful. My anxiety about what was going to happen made me honest.
“The only thing I lied about was my father.”
His expression was fixed. “Yeah? Well, it was a big fucking lie.”
“I’m sorry I had to tell it.” I borrowed a tactic from my stepmother, and went the passive-aggressive route. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” he snapped, but his quick answer was too revealing. The Serbian boy had feelings after all.
“Then working together shouldn’t be a problem.”
He seethed as he searched for the perfect comeback, and then he stood abruptly, as if he’d found it. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. You’re a lot like him.”
My blood slowed to a stop. “Like who?”
“Your father.”
The terrifying statement landed, and I launched to my feet as if I could get away from it. “I’m nothing like him.”
“You’re getting awfully worked up for a girl who said she doesn’t have feelings.”
I took in a deep breath. “Maybe I only have feelings around you.”
He jerked back. His surprise lasted only a moment, and then evaporated into suspicion.
“It’s not a lie,” I said softly. “God, Vasilije. I wish it was.”
His mouth dropped open to say something, but he was cut off when the security system chirped and the front door swung open. My heart climbed into my throat as Aleksandar stepped inside and dusted the snow off his jacket. He hesitated when he saw me.
“What’s up?” His guarded gaze went to Vasilije.
I sat down on the chair, concealing the gun. It was a hard, uncomfortable lump beneath me. I wasn’t supposed to use it right away. Vasilije wanted to confront him first, although I was sure he was drawing this out to torture me. The anticipation was its own kind of murder.
“I need your piece,” Vasilije said.
The statement put Aleksandar on high alert. He stiffened, his hands balled into fists, and his angry gaze snapped to me.
“Don’t look at her,” Vasilije ordered. “I’m handling it, and she’s not the one you stabbed in the back.”
Fear mixed with regret, contorting Aleksandar’s face into an ugly mess. “They got to me, Vasilije. I’m sorry—”
“I need to know how,” he said flatly. “I was good to you. I deserve a goddamn answer on what they had that got you to turn on me.”
Aleksandar’s shoulders slumped and his voice went small. “I needed money.”
That seemed to piss Vasilije off. “I’ve got lots of fucking money.”
Aleksandar shifted his weight, uneasy. “I was in deep, with a lot of different families. Some of them, you’d told me to stay away from.”
“So, that’s it? A shitload of money was all it took for you to sell me out?”
“They’ll kill me if I don’t do what they want, and besides the money . . .” His gaze flashed to me. “When it was done, Sergey told me I could have her.”
My pulse climbed as Vasilije’s voice did. “What the fuck does that mean? Have her?”
“After she did what she needed to, she’d be mine. I could fuck her, or marry her, or . . . whatever. He promised her to me.”
There wasn’t anything left of me to crush. I’d never intended to hold up my end of the deal with my father, and obviously, he hadn’t either.
But Vasilije didn’t like this at all. “She’d never be yours. Oksana’s been mine from the first moment I saw her.” Even without looking my direction, I knew he was addressing me. “Did you know about that deal?”
“No, but after burning down a house with an innocent family locked inside, nothing Sergey does surprises me anymore. I told you, he’s evil.”
“And that’s who you work for now,” Vasilije said to Aleksandar.
The guy’s face twisted with remorse. “I don’t!”
“Then give me your fucking gun, Alek.”
For a long moment, he considered not doing it, but must have realized there was no upside. Even if he outdrew and killed Vasilije, he’d have both the Russians and the Serbians after him, and they’d tear through his family until they got what they wanted.
He moved cautiously, pulling the gun from behind his back and reluctantly handing it to Vasilije. “She’s the one who works for Sergey,” he muttered.
Vasilije’s head swung toward me, and his smile was so wide and sinister, my heart stopped. “Go ahead, Oksana.”
I jammed my hand beneath my thigh and closed a fist around the 9mm. As I stood from the chair on shaky legs, I raised the gun, and Aleksandar’s beady eyes flooded with horror.
“Does she look like she works for Sergey?” Vasilije snarled.
The gun weighed a million pounds in my hand, but I kept my aim fixed, waiting for Vasilije’s final command. I was stunned he wanted me to do it right here in the entryway. It’d take hours to clean, but then again, I’d gotten lots of practice over the years, cleaning up after my father’s downsizing meetings.