16. DANYA

I was supposed to be making sure Sutton wasn't hurt, and then he goes and gets himself between a heavy machine in a bag and an alley. That could've ended much worse than it had. I hoped that whoever had been on the sending side of those texts didn't know. Sutton was the key to solving all of this. He was quite literally holding my balls and by extension my life in his hands. And sure, sometimes I enjoyed my balls being played with, but not if that playtime had also involved a serrated knife brushed right against the skin.

Sutton laid on a series of cushions and pillows on the living room floor. His head propped against a sofa. He had an ice pack on his head and his laptop on his knees.

"So, what do you know about this machine?" I asked, looking it over on the coffee table. It was a black box with buttons and small inserts for wires.

"Don't touch it," he said, pushing the ice pack on his head. "When I was whacked with it, something turned it off. I'm not sure if that was a button, or if it was something inside."

"Do you think it tracks?"

"There's no indication it's even on right now," he said. "So don't touch it, otherwise it might turn on and then it could have a large power outage radius. I don't know. But I am gonna find out."

"Can I have the sandwich then?" I asked.

"Sure, unless it's poison," he said.

"Why would it be poison? I know the deli that makes these. It has the logo on it."

He shot upright, the ice pack falling from his head to his chest. "What?"

"What, what?"

"You know the deli that made the sandwich," he said. "That's a lead."

I shrugged. "It's a popular deli. Anyway, I'll eat the sandwich, if it's not poisoned first." I rolled my eyes. How stupid to think that one of Weisel's Deli sandwiches was poison.

"I don't know CPR," he called out after me as I was already on my way to grab it from the fridge. I wanted it cold when I did eventually eat it.

It was a meaty sandwich. My mouth salivated as I unwrapped it. And before taking a bite, I pulled the first piece of bread away. "Oh fuck."

"What?"

"Is this supposed to be in here?" I pulled away a cellophane wrapped USB drive slotted into the center of the sandwich. "I don't remember them coming with fun little toys."

Sutton reached me. "Gimme that," he said. "That's obviously a lead. Well, unless your deli guy has started putting little gifts inside of all his subs."

"My subs," I snorted, wiggling my brow at him.

"My head is hurting, don't give me those, I'm ready to take you to bed, eyes," he said, pushing the ice pack on his forehead again. "If it's all right with you, I wanna look at the USB. But first, I'll need to make sure my laptop is secure enough to take it."

I tossed it over to him. The mayonnaise on the cellophane from the sandwich getting all over his T-shirt. "There," I said. "I'm eating this. Unless there's something else in here."

Snarling at me, Sutton's upper lip curling. "Do whatever you want," he grumbled. "But if you get sick from it, I'm not holding back your hair while you vomit in the toilet."

"My hair?" I asked, wiping the back of my hand over my buzzcut. "What do you mean?"

"Ugh. Nothing," he said, and as I turned around, he started speaking again. "I meant to say, if you get sick from eating that sandwich, I won't be good at taking care of you. And I also don't want to share a bed with someone vomiting either."

I gave my chest a good pound with a closed fist. "I don't get sick," I told him. I took a bite from the sandwich to prove a point to him. It was stale. Sour on my tongue. I might've felt a little sick.

"You're looking a little green."

My jaw stopped chewing and my throat closed, saliva filled my mouth. It was rancid, like expired milk. Without being able to utter a single word to him, I took myself to the bathroom, closed the door. I threw up everything. It wasn't my greatest moment, but it also wasn't my worst, and if the sandwich hadn't been so warm and stale, it would've been nice. It even had me craving a visit to Weisel's Deli.

Sutton didn't look too impressed when I came back out of the bathroom. I was in a tank top and using a cold wet hand towel to press against my face. He smiled at me and rolled his eyes like he was trying to have me second guess my call of him not being concussed.

"What did you find out?" I asked, blotting my face.

"It's encrypted," he said. "Obviously. The encryption is hardcoded to the device, which makes it both easier and more difficult to crack."

"What do you mean?"

"The USB has a passcode lock on the drive." He demonstrated, showing the numbers on the side of the drive. "Look, you need to input the code, which could be anything from four digits to ten, I'm guessing, but there's no real way of knowing until I plug it in and check."

It wasn't making much sense to me. When things have passcodes or locks on them, I broke them until it let me inside. I assumed this would be like that. "And why can't you break the lock?"

He cocked his head a little, staring at me. "You think it's that easy?" He gestured for me to take the USB. "Then be my guest."

"No, no, I'm just saying, you could break the lock, like physically." I shrugged it off, I hated it when I was made to feel dumb or even a little stupid. "You could, right?"

"Wrong. USB drives like this are used mostly for one thing. Storing crypto passkeys, this could be the solution to putting all the money back into your account," he said. "If we break it, we lose access to it, in fact, if we break it, everyone loses access and whatever is on here is probably erased."

"Then don't break it," I told him. It was simple. I didn't know why he was talking around in tales. "Obviously, try and get in, but if it's got money on it, we want that more than anything else." It was my priority; no money meant my hands or head were on the chopping block. "Ok?"

"I know what I'm doing," he said. "And I'm not breaking it. Trust me. If there's money on this, and after you've got your money, I'm taking the rest of it, call it compensation for being kidnapped."

"Kidnapped," I scoffed. "I saved you." At least, that's what I'd been told to do by that unknown number. It struck something in me, taking orders from some unknown entity. That wasn't what I was about, I took orders from my father, and that was it.

"Wh—" he started.

"But we're not getting into that right now," I said. "I'll follow up at the deli. You stay there. Don't go anywhere. Please. It feels like we're so close to getting somewhere. If you leave with the money on that thing, I will have to hurt you. Understand?"

A wicked smiled formed across his mouth. "I understand," he snickered. "And don't worry, I don't feel like going outside again for a while. I don't want to be hit over the head."

Dressed and smelling fresh in a clean shirt and a pair of navy slacks, I headed to the deli. It wasn't far from the apartment. It was local. And potentially had a lead to who hit Sutton, and maybe who had been sending those texts. The two didn't line up. In one message I was being told to save Sutton, and the next, they were trying to drag him away after almost leaving him with a concussion.

Through the glass, I spotted the owner, and he spotted me, moving away from the cash register. I walked right into Weisel's Deli passing everyone as I approached Henry Weisel at the end of the countertops by the back of the store, he was man in his mid-sixties. Worry had permanently etched wrinkles into his face.

"Hey," he said. "Long time no see. What can I get started for ya?"

"I'm here to get answers," I told him. "Earlier today, someone in an orange cat mascot outfit hit my friend over the head. He had one of your sandwiches on him."

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "I don't know if I can help ya," he said. "We get all sorts of street performers coming in here. Everyone is going rave over that new cat movie. We have a handful of them coming into the deli every day. And I couldn't tell you who was who."

"This one has an orange backpack," I continued, staring him down. "It'll be worth your while if you have any information."

"Danya, you know I'd do anything I could to help, but those mascots are a dime a dozen," he said, shrugging at me. "Maybe if you knew what his order was, that could jog my memory. It's all a little hazy in here, but I'll be damned if I ever forgot an order."

Without offending him, I didn't know how to explain the order. "It was a couple days old, it smelled bad."

He pounded his hand on the counter and sighed. "What a waste of a perfectly good sub," he said, raising his hands. "I wish I could've helped."

I couldn't tell him there was a USB on it, he probably had zero clue, but maybe one of his workers knew. I scanned the two younger guys standing behind him, making orders and cutting meat with the slicer.

"Can I speak to your guys?"

"My sons," he said. "They don't know anything. And we don't want any trouble."

A loud car horn beeped outside.

I only needed to glance from the corner of my eye to see it was a family car. A black SUV that had an engine hum so sweet it was almost a lullaby. I knew who it was for. "You ask them for me," I said. "I'll be back later to see what you find out."

Henry nodded. "I will do, I promise."

My older brother, Grigory was in the back of the SUV. He opened the door, scowling, he didn't say a word, only gestured with a nod for me to climb in.

"What's happened?" I asked.

Grigory grumbled, steam nearly coming out of his ear.

"Hey," I called out to the driver. "Where are we going?"

The driver didn't speak either. He glanced at me, I couldn't tell if he was Piotr or Ven.

"They're here," he said. He whacked a hand against my knee and turned to face the window. Steam fogging the glass as he let out and exhausted sigh.

I gave his hand a tap with my knuckles. "Who?"

"Who do you think, brother?"

"No, no, no." I shook my head. It wasn't possible. "But we were only talking about how they weren't coming for another two weeks. What changed?"

Grigory with his flared nostrils turned to me, both of his hands in fists. "Word spread that you let the money slip right through your fingers," he said. "They'll wipe us off the face of the Earth because of you. Because of your fuck up."

"Not possible," I said. "Nobody would've told them. I didn't. Nobody in the family did." I glanced at the driver, locking eyes with him in the rearview mirror. "Would you?"

"Leave Piotr alone," he said. "He's driven for the family for twenty years. Father has his suspicions about who it is."

"Who do you think?"

"Danya, please, don't play stupid now. You made a mistake, you're a liability, we need to blame someone, so think fast before we get to the house, and before they get there too."

My mind raced rapid and wild. Unpredictable thoughts of every face I'd ever seen seemingly flashed before my eyes and melded into one being. And then to Sutton. He was at the apartment. A nervous knot squeezed tight in my stomach.

"Can we go back to my apartment first?"

Grigory let out a throaty laugh. "Someone is already going there."

"So, you didn't go there yet?" I asked. "So, how did you find me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Your phone, dummy. Father has them tracked."

We were fucked. And not the pleasurable type of fucking.

This would hurt.