Break For Him (Volkov Crime Family 2)

I stumbled but Owain held my elbow.

“Don’t worry. Almost there.” His voice was so close to my ear that I flinched away.

That only made him laugh.

He marched me up a flight of steps and in through a door. I heard the skinny guy Viktor light another cigarette but he didn’t come inside.

“More steps,” Owain said. He steered me toward them and together we climbed to the second floor of a house. I smelled fresh flowers and wood dust. I thought I could hear a television on somewhere playing a football game.

We reached the top and he took me down a hall. The floors creaked beneath my feet. A door opened, he took me inside, and the door shut again.

He whipped the bag off my head.

I stood inside a bedroom. My eyes took a second to adjust to the light.

“Here it is,” Owain said. “Your new office.” He grinned huge.

He was a big man, tall and muscular. He had light brown hair cut short, a square jaw, small nose, light eyes, high cheekbones. Tattoos covered his skin and disappeared beneath his long sleeve shirt. He was handsome and radiated a strange, almost seductive charm and power. I had the sudden and stupid urge to touch his chest just to see if it really was as muscular as it appeared.

And then I remembered that I was essentially his whore and wanted to throw up.

“Don’t look so down,” he said. “You’ll get used to it.”

I took a step away from him and sat at the end of a large queen bed. The comforter was dark blue with a flower motif stitched along it. Multiple throw pillows covered the top. The walls were light blue and the bureau had fresh flower in a vase.

“Who lives here?” I didn’t know why I asked. The room just didn’t feel like it could belong to this man. It was feminine, almost soft.

“This is my house,” he said. “I prepared this just for you. Do you like it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I understand.” He pointed toward a door at the end of the room. “Bathroom, all yours. The door locks from the outside I’m afraid, and there are bars on the windows, so please don’t make a racket. I’ll let you get settled for a little while.” He turned to leave.

“Wait.” I didn’t know what I wanted from him, but being left alone scared me.

Almost as if it made this all real.

“Yes?” He tilted his head.

“Can I have… I don’t know… my phone?”

He laughed. “Of course not.”

“Then some clothes. And something to eat.”

“I can do clothes and food.” His face remained passive. “Anything else, little Leigh? I want my newest employee to be happy.”

I wanted to throw up.

“No, that’s fine.”

“Get settled. Sleep if you need to. I’ll be back soon.” He left the room. I heard a lock clunk shut on the other side.

I fell back onto the comforter and stared up at a ceiling fan.

Three hours ago, I was sitting in the back office of my little retail shop. I designed and sold t-shirts and custom shoes. People could drop off their Vans or whatever other sneakers, and I’d draw designs on them. When Owain broke into my shop, I was doing a Snoopy design for a customer and trying not to think about my dead brother.

I closed my eyes.

Fucking Jason.

I had no clue, but I should’ve known.

He’d always had problems, all through school. My dad died when we were just kids and that set him off. He spiraled after that, and my mom was too busy working all the time to support us to do anything about it. She tried, but she was way in over her head. I couldn’t do much, since he was four years older than me, and we were never that close. So he got into trouble all the time and sort of drifted away, doing his own thing.

I heard from him sometimes. Saw his social posts online. He was in San Francisco, Florida, Denver, Texas. He traveled across Thailand. He lived in Japan for a few months.

Then a couple years ago, he showed back up in Philadelphia with a proposal.

I design the shirts and run the store, and he’ll do the business end. He raised the money, found the store front, and did all the advertising. Business was going surprisingly well, and I was too stupid to ask him who was investing and where the money was coming from.

Fucking Jason screwed me. He screwed me and himself.

I could still see him slumped over in the back room, sitting on the floor behind the desk, a needle stuck in his arm. He must’ve died in his sleep. That was what the coroner said at least.

It broke my mother’s heart. She didn’t cry at the funeral, but I think she’d already cried all her tears.

I wanted to be sad he was gone. Three hours ago, I was sad. I was devastated and trying to figure out how I was going to save the business I’d worked so hard to build with him.