I looked away, down at my hands. “I know a little bit.”
“Tell me what you know then.”
I cleared my throat. “He stole something from important people. Not money, or else he would’ve given it back if he could. I knew he was afraid and he was sort of saying goodbye.”
“That’s why you were at the bar, to say goodbye?” He sounded skeptical.
But it was plausible, so I went with it. “More or less. It wasn’t the first time I’ve said goodbye to my father. He wasn’t exactly a popular man.”
“No, he really wasn’t.” Another long pause as he took a drink then stared. His gaze was so disconcerting, not only because he held it on me like a magnifying glass in the sun, but also because it sent a strange chill down my spine. His lips were full, his jaw square, his arms muscular, his chest pressing against this shirt, and all I wanted to do was scream, run away, or strip down and throw myself at him.
Definitely still in shock.
“I was in the bathroom. When I came back out, he was gone, and one of those old guys told me he left with you two. That’s when I heard the gunshot and went running.” I gritted my teeth and finished the whiskey. I nearly gagged but kept control of myself. “And now here I am, sitting in your living room, trying to figure out what’s going to happen to me.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” he said and looked over toward the blank television. “Here’s the thing. If you’re right, and your dad did steal something important, then people are going to be looking for you. I thought this shit was only about money, but maybe I was wrong.” He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “God damn, Lionetti. God damn, Justin.”
I curled up on the couch again, knees to my chest. “Who do you work for, anyway?”
His eyes opened and he looked at me. “I work for the Morozov family.”
“Never heard of you.”
He showed his teeth. “We’re small now, but we won’t be small forever.”
“Are you the big boss?”
“No, I’m not. Only one boyevik among many.”
“Then who is in charge? Maybe if I can talk to him—”
“The Pakhan isn’t interested in little shit like you.” Luke shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “No, you’re my problem, and I intend on handling you myself.”
“So I’m stuck here then.”
“Until I decide what I’m going to do with you.” He stood up suddenly and nodded toward the stairs. “Come on, I’ll get you set up in my spare room.”
I hesitated, then unfurled myself and went up with him. Every instinct told me to get away, but I was too frazzled and shocked to do much more than go along with whatever he wanted.
The second floor was warm, but equally cozy and clean. The guest room was at the end of the hall and had a queen bed piled with blankets and pillows, a bookshelf crammed with paperbacks, a small TV on a dresser, and two nightstands. It looked like someone put some care into decorating at least, and I found it hard to believe that it was him.
“Not much, but it’s yours for now.” He nodded toward the door. “Bathroom’s in the hall. There’s only the one, so we’re sharing.”
“Great,” I said, but didn’t care. I was used to sharing with my father when he came stumbling back home drunk out of his mind.
That wasn’t ever going to happen again, since he was dead.
“Get yourself settled,” he said, turning away. “We’ll get you clothes and all that shit soon, but for now, hang here. I have to make some calls.”
“Wait,” I said before he could leave. He hesitated in the doorway, watching me again with wary eyes. I stepped toward him and had the sudden, crazy urge to reach out and touch his cheek or to press my hands flat against his ripped chest, and instead I tugged at the hem of my shirt and looked away. “I guess I should thank you for keeping me alive.”
“You could, if you wanted.”
“But I’m not going to.” I met his gaze, forcing some resolve into my stare. “You still killed my dad, even if he was an asshole.”
Luke only laughed and left, shutting the door quietly behind him.
I collapsed onto the bed, trembling with fear, excitement, anger, remorse, anguish—or some horrible combination of them all. I curled up, pulled pillows around me, against me, built a little nest for myself, and tried to figure out what I was going to do.
The ladies’ room at Daly Drinker might hold the key.
But there was no way I’d get back in there without Luke following me. He seemed like a thug, but there was something smart lurking beneath that rugged, angry exterior. He was going to watch me closely, and there was no way I’d get within ten feet of that bar without him finding out.