Forever Lucky (Lucky In Love)

“Tonight then,” she says, kissing me. She runs her fingernails through my beard. “Be careful out there,” she says.

“You too, my love. Until tonight.”

I get into my car and drive over to the warehouse. Kyle is waiting for me. I don’t normally deal with information extraction, but on occasion, my particular talents are required. I use a softer approach, mainly with women. Much more delicate than the enforcers. I will have to come up with a new method of extraction. Since I married Ocean, fake flirting and charming these women is completely wrong and goes against everything I stand for. This is the first time I’ve been called upon since I got married, so this should be interesting.

“Is she in there?” I ask, taking my suit jacket off and placing it on the back of a chair.

“She is. She spit in my face.”

“The feisty ones always do.”

“Are we even sure she has the information we are seeking?” he asks.

“No, but that’s what I’m here to find out.”

“Don’t hurt her,” he says after grabbing my forearm to stop me.

“I won’t, man, I promise.” That’s not my deal, but I recognize the look of a man in love. Kyle O’Brien is my cousin and my best friend.

A young girl, no older than eighteen, sits on a bed inside the dark room. I already decided to just talk to her. She doesn’t look strung out on drugs as I thought she would. She’s supposedly a Popov drug dealer. Kyle grabbed her from Westside Park, where she was posted up by a tree selling weed to yuppie businessmen.

“Why am I here?” she asks before I get a chance to say anything.

“You’re here because you have information about the Popov’s.”

“Oh. Them,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What can you tell me about them?”

“I can’t tell you anything.” She looks down at the floor. She looks so scared, but other than being in this room; I am certain Kyle has taken the utmost care with her.

“Why not?”

“They have everything compartmentalized. They’d know it was me, like immediately.”

“The O’Brien’s will provide you protection,” I tell her.

“Do you promise?”

“Yes,” I answer honestly and without hesitation.

“How? Like exactly how can you protect me from those monsters? I’ve been trying to get away from them since I was eight years old,” she says, tears filling her eyes. I have to give her credit when she doesn’t let them fall.

“Kyle,” I say, coming up with a plan that he’ll love and will offer her the protection of the O’Brien name.

“Who?” she asks.

“The man that brought you here.”

“Oh. Him.”

“Yes. Him. You’ll marry him in three days' time.”

“Kyle O’Brien?” she asks, softly.

“Yes. He’s my cousin and an enforcer for us.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Yes. I’ll give you a few minutes. What is your name?”

“Katya. Katya Nikitin.”

“I’m Cillian O’Brien. It’s nice to meet you,” I tell her.

“Something tells me that it will be,” she replies. I leave her in the room, going back out to where Kyle is pacing.

“Well?” he asks.

“She’ll only give me the information we seek if we can protect her.”

“How can we do that.”

“You’re going to marry her if she agrees.”

“What?” he asks.

“Is that a problem?” I don’t want to force him to do something he’s not comfortable with.

“No,” he says quickly. Of course, it’s not. That look, the look of awe and fierceness, it’s the look all men get when they are in love. It can’t be helped. You can try to hide it, but that never works.

“Go talk to the girl. I’ll wait here.” He nods and goes into the room. I don’t hear what is said between them, that’s their story to tell, but twenty minutes later, the door opens.

“She’s ready.”

“She agreed?”

“She agreed,” he says, smirking.

“Very well. Katya?” I ask, and she comes out of the room.

“I’ve never dealt with a high-ranking Popov, but my point of contact is Alyosha Volkov. He’s a disgusting man who deals with their money.”

“And how will they know you told?”

“I’m the only street girl who deals with him. I’m missing now, so when you go after him, they’ll know.”

“Street girl?” Kyle asks, wrinkling his nose.

“I’m not a hooker. I swear. I can prove it too. Street girls sell drugs. We don’t look like typical dealers, so cops leave us alone, and businessmen know how to find me. I just sold weed, none of the hard stuff. I swear,” she repeats pleadingly, looking at Kyle. That’s my cue.

“Alright. I’ll leave you with Kyle. In three days, we’ll celebrate your nuptials.”

“Thank you, Mr. O’Brien,” she says, extending her hand to me.

“Cillian, please,” I say, shaking her hand. “Welcome to the family.”

“Well, that’ll be a nice change of pace,” she says cryptically. I’ll let Kyle untangle that.

I get back in my car and head home to my wife but not before texting Gavin Alyosha Volkov’s name.