He didn’t make my life harder. He could have, but he didn’t. He drank too much, stayed up too late, and didn’t bother getting a real job. There was serious pain behind his eyes and I could never figure out why.
I never asked. I probably should have.
Didn’t matter now. He was dead.
Poor Vlas. He couldn’t handle being in the family. He was never good enough, even if he was an aggressive dick.
I put the pillow aside and stood. The apartment was quiet. I couldn’t hear that weird guy moving around out there. I opened the door and prayed it wouldn’t make any noise.
The hinges were silent.
I stepped into the hall. The decor was thrift store chic. It smelled like a cigar factory mixed with mothballs. The place was hot, almost stifling. I crept down the hall and grimaced at every sound.
The living room was quiet. I could see the door just ahead. I walked to it on my toes and made it as silently as I could.
I reached for the locks and slowly slid back the chain. It came open with the softest, most terrible noise I ever heard. I reached for the deadbolt next and turned it.
It made a loud thunk noise
I froze, my body ringing with terror.
“Oh, man, almost.”
I let out a scream. I didn’t want to, but it was a primal reaction. I turned and pressed my body against the door.
Leo sat on the couch, feet up on the coffee table. He smiled and waved.
“Morning,” he said.
“Fuck.” I put my hand on my heart. I felt lightheaded. “Were you watching me?”
“Yep,” he said. “Woke up as soon as you opened the bedroom door.”
“Fuck.” I leaned my head back against the door. “Oh my god. I think I’m having a heart attack.”
He stood up. “Come here.”
“No,” I said. “No, no, no.”
He sighed. “Are we doing this now?”
“Get away from me.”
“Can we just skip this part?”
I turned to the door and grabbed the knob. I turned it, but it was locked. My fingers trembled as I tried to turn the little latch.
His hands grabbed my wrists. “That’s enough.”
“No,” I said and tried to get away. I threw my elbow back and caught his chin. He grunted and released my wrist. I grabbed at the knob again, unlocked it, and started to open the door.
He grabbed me again. This time, he grabbed me harder and pulled me from the door. I screamed in anger. The door was half open. I could taste freedom.
He pressed his palm against my mouth then and all I could taste was the salt on his skin.
“Stop,” he said as he hugged me hard against his chest.
I remembered him kissing me the night before. I remembered the way his lips tasted like sweet seltzer and anise seed.
“Let me go,” I said into his palm.
He held me until I stopped struggling. I panted hard and tried to catch my breath. He released me and walked to the door. I watched him shut it and lock it again with a sinking feeling.
I wasn’t going to get away.
He turned to me and rubbed his face. “That was a good shot,” he said.
I said nothing.
He stretched and cocked his head. He still wore the same clothes from the night before: black t-shirt, black jeans.
“You hungry?” he asked. “Want some coffee?”
“I want to go home.”
“That’s not on the menu, ducky.” He walked past me into the kitchen. “Like eggs?”
“This isn’t going to go the way you think it is.”
He shrugged, got out a pack of eggs, and fished a pan from beneath the stove. “What do you think I want from this, huh?”
“You think you can ransom me back to my family.”
He made coffee first. He moved with a strange gentle deliberation. I kept seeing him kill Vlas over and over in my mind, but the memory didn’t square with the handsome, almost gentle-seeming man in front of me in the kitchen.
“That’s the general idea,” he said as the coffee pot began to gurgle. “But you think that’s a bad plan, huh?”
“My family doesn’t give a shit about me.”
He smiled. “Hard to imagine that’s true.”
“It’s very true. My uncle’s not going to pay a dime for me.”
“So then why were you living with his only son?”
I hesitated. “I was a babysitter. It was… it wasn’t a good job.”
He grunted and put the pan on the stove to heat up. He looked at me and ran a hand through his thick, hard hair. “Toast?”
“You’re not listening. This isn’t going to end well.”
He waved that way. “This already sucks,” he said. “I kind of thought you’d wait a while longer before trying to run away.”
I clenched my jaw. “Just let me go. Then you can go back to doing whatever it is you’re doing with your boss.”
“Hedeon,” he said. “And no, thanks.” He poured a little oil in the pan, swirled it around, then cracked four eggs inside.