Chapter 3

Fifteen hundred dollarssits at the bottom of my purse, tucked neatly inside an envelope. I counted it three times before leaving my apartment to meet Jimmy.

My stomach rolls as the bus swerves into the right lane and comes to an abrupt stop. I grab hold of the seat in front of me to keep from lurching out of my chair. My purse slips from my lap onto the floor, but I snatch it up before anyone notices.

One more stop, then I can get off and get this over with. At least for a few more weeks.

I check my phone for the time and notice three unread text messages. I hadn’t felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

All three are from Izzy, confirming that I’m going to be cutting her hair this week. She’s also considering changing the color, but she’s pretty sure Andrei will have a fit.

I roll my eyes. Andrei most definitely will have a fit, but he’ll get over it the second she smiles at him. Happily ever afters don’t come easy, and most of the time don’t come at all, but those two look at each other like there’s nothing in the world they want more than each other.

Nauseating.

As I scroll through my messages, I see the text from Viktor last night. It brings me back to the alley, where his glare and his frown had me pinned against the wall. The heat spread through my body, up my spine and tingled through my scalp the longer his eyes bored into me.

And that threat of his.

I wiggle in my seat as the memory awakens arousal in me. Annoying. That’s what he is. Annoying and overbearing and a mistake waiting to happen.

Just because he’s Andrei’s cousin and Andrei is married to my best friend doesn’t mean I have to have any sort of relationship with Viktor. If we bump into each other sometimes, fine, but anything more than that would be catastrophic.

After growing up with two stepmothers, and a revolving door of girlfriends playing stepmom for my father’s sake, I’ve learned exactly how rare happily ever afters are. I won’t jeopardize my friendship with Izzy over some insanely hot Russian man who makes my insides melt when he looks at me.

“Excuse me.” An older woman’s purse bumps into my shoulder as she works her way to the front of the bus.

My stop is coming up, so I let her pass then swing out into the narrow aisle and follow her up to the doors.

Izzy’s offered me her little Ford Tempo now that she’s with Andrei. Aside from having a driver ready to take her anywhere at any time, she has access to any of his half dozen cars.

But I like the bus. I don’t have to worry about parking. And who wants to waste money on insurance and license fees?

When I step down from the bus, a cold wind blows across my face, whisking away my breath for a beat. I suck in the chilled air when I’m able and wrap my scarf around me.

Tucking my hands into my pockets and securing my purse beneath my arm, I march down the block to the corner diner. I keep my head down but stay alert to everyone passing me. This isn’t the nicest part of the city.

Abandoned beer bottles roll across the sidewalk and into the street. Fast food wrappers litter the walkways. Several men huddle together outside the entrance of a drug store as I pass, swapping cash for little baggies of powder.

I quicken my step.

I know this neighborhood. It’s old stomping grounds for me, but I’m not feeling anything like nostalgia as I step over the legs of the sleeping man passed out against a storefront with his arms wrapped around a bottle.

Finally, I’m at the diner, and only when the bell over the door sounds my entrance do I breathe easier. It was only a block and a half, but with fifteen hundred dollars in my purse I felt every step of the way.

“Marlena.” Jimmy waves from a corner booth. The place is half empty, but the waitress doesn’t bother greeting me after Jimmy raises his hand. I’m here on business, and she knows it.

I slide into the booth across from him, bringing my purse to sit on my lap.

“You want something?” He gestures to the waitress standing behind the counter making more coffee.

“No. I’m just dropping and going.” I take note of the man sitting in the far corner booth, closest to the bathrooms. He’s eating a stack of pancakes and reading a newspaper through his reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose.

There’s a mom with two kids two booths behind us. She’s managing to keep one from smearing syrup on his face while praising the older girl for eating all of her oatmeal.

It doesn’t seem Jimmy brought anyone with him.

“No chitchat?” He quirks a dirty brown eyebrow at me. His lips, chapped to hell, spread into a smile. “Please. Have breakfast. It’s on me. Don’t make me eat alone.” He gestures to the half-eaten omelet on his plate.

“You seem to be doing fine on your own.” I glance up as someone walks past us to the restrooms. An elderly man.

“You need to relax. No one’s gonna jump you.” He laughs and shovels a forkful of shredded hash browns into his mouth.

“I have things to do today, let’s get this over with.” I unzip my purse and dig out the envelope with the last of my cash. It had been an absolute miracle when I’d opened up the box in the back of my closet and found five hundred and thirty dollars there.

“Fine. Fine.” He grabs the envelope from me, opens it, and thumbs through the twenties and tens until he’s satisfied it’s all there. “Good.” He tucks it next to his plate and picks up his fork again.

I let out a breath and start to scoot out of the booth.

“Next week, same time.”

I freeze at his words.

“What?” I sink back into the lumpy leather booth seat. “Next week? I don’t have anything else for you, Jimmy. Enough is enough already.”

He lifts a shoulder. “Before I went away, I was making well over half a million a year. So, five hundred grand for three years.” He raises his eyebrows. “That’s a lot of money I’m out because of you.”

“I don’t have that kind of money, Jimmy. I’m not in the business anymore. I got out.” By the skin of my teeth and a miracle I’ll never quite understand. “I have nothing to give you. Every time we meet, you stretch this out. I know you blame me, but it’s enough already. I don’t have anything to give you.”

“I think you do.” He salts his eggs. “What do you know about the Petrov family?” He looks up at me and I know he already knows his answer.

“I know you shouldn’t be fucking with them.” Jimmy never did know when to back off. Always looking for a bigger fish, the bigger score.

It’s how he ended up getting pinched years ago. After spending three years in county, you’d think he’d learn his lesson. Turns out all it did was make him hungrier for more.

“They’re just men, Marlena.”

“You said the same thing about the Delany brothers. You remember how close you came to getting killed when you touched what was theirs?” I remind him.

If Jimmy’s uncle, the head of the Agosti family, hadn’t stepped in and made things right, Jimmy could have been six feet deep before it was settled.

Jimmy doesn’t like people knowing he’s the big boss’s nephew. He says it gets in the way of his ability to make a name for himself. But when he gets himself into a jam, Uncle Michael is the first person he calls.

He laughs. “Yeah, they weren’t appreciative of my talents.”

“Talents? You tried to steal their mother’s Lamborghini while she was in it, Jimmy.” He can’t be serious. He’s a thief. And not even a good one.

“Whatever.” He points his fork at me. “Right now, you should be thinking about how you can help me instead of fighting me. I mean, you don’t want Luxe Strands to find out about your little history, do you? Considering the Donato family owns the place, I’d think you’d want to keep your previous job history with Michael Agosti a secret.”

The Agosti and Donato families have been at odds with each other for decades. Even though the salon is owned by a relative outside the powerhouse that is the Donato legacy, if it gets back to Nicole Donato that I’ve worked for the Agosti family in any capacity, she’d have to throw me to the curb.

But worse, I’d be blackballed in the city. I’d never have a chair at a worthwhile salon again.

“Jimmy. I can’t afford this.” All I want to do is wring his neck. I’ve been dealing with him for months. It started out with him trying to get me to join his crew again, and when I turned him down, he demanded a payoff. And then another one. Each time it’s more, and it’s more frequent. And when I try to ignore him, he dangles the threat of talking to Nicole.

He got me through a rough few years, taught me how to stay under the radar, and helped keep me from being sent into the system. I’d felt bad for him, and now I’m paying the price.

“All right. All right. I get it. I’ll give you a break. Two grand in two weeks. Or—” His eyebrows rise. “You can help me with a little project I’m working on.”

I’m not going to like what he’s going to suggest. It’s a freight train coming right at me, and I have no way of stopping it.

“What’s the project?” I curl my fingers into my palm, pushing my fingernails into the skin.

“I got an order. Some of the guys that work with me, they’re new to the game. Luxury cars aren’t their thing.”

“I told you. I’m done with that. All of it,” I say when he pauses.

His eyes narrow and he leans back from the table, dropping his fork onto the plate.

“All right then. Two grand in two weeks.” He waits a beat. “Or I send photos to Nicole Donato of that time out in Naperville. Remember that Porsche?”

My hands go cold.

It was a cherry red Porsche meant for Vincent Donato’s goddaughter’s sweet sixteen birthday. Michael sent us way out to the western suburb to lift it right out of her driveway the night of her birthday. After it was stripped, he sent us back out there to return it.

The most dangerous job he’d sent us on was getting that empty shell of a vehicle back onto that driveway.

“You have a photo of that?” I try to sound cynical. He’s been in jail since then.

He swipes his phone alive and turns it to me. The photo’s already open.

Me and the Porsche with the license plate showing as it sits on the tow truck picked to pieces.

“How much, Jimmy? How much until this stops?” I’m shaking on the inside, but my voice is steady.

Them finding out I worked with Michael will get me fired. This could get me killed. It was a personal insult, what Michael ordered. It would be a personal message to get rid of the people who completed the job.

It’s been years since I knew the temperature between the two families, but unless it’s cooled off, Vincent could use me as a message to Michael. Paying Jimmy may be the only way to get out of this.

“Well, I was going to take it easy, but then I found out you’re connected to the Petrov family. Your little friend married one of them. Which means you have access to cash.” His smile makes my stomach roll.

“For the last time. I have nothing. My friend married into the Petrov family, not me.” My teeth might break if I clench my jaw any tighter.

He’s beyond reason. He’s seen a cash cow, and he wants to cash in.

“How much?” I ask again.

“Well, without your help on the job I could be out twenty grand. So, we’ll say that. Twenty grand and I’ll consider terminating our relationship.”

“Twenty grand and you’ll destroy the photos,” I argue.

He taps his finger against his lips.

“Fine. I’ll destroy them. Twenty grand. Installments every two weeks, or all in one sum, you choose. I’m being overly generous here, Marlena. Because we have history.” He puts his hand on top of mine, and it takes every bit of energy in me not to jerk it away.

“I’ll see you in two weeks.” I slowly pull my hand out.

“Good. See you then. You call me if you change your mind, though.” He winks as I climb out of the booth.

“Feel free to hold your breath, Jimmy.” I tighten my scarf around my neck and get out of the diner as fast as I can without making it look like I’m running from him.

Once the cold air hits my face, I rush down the street. I need to get as far from him as I can. Two grand every two weeks, how can I come up with that much money so fast and still pay my rent and my bills?

I was only eighteen when Jimmy got pinched. What did he think I was going to be able to do about it? Break him out? Pay his bail? I had nothing.

His own uncle didn’t do anything to get him out.

And now he’ll keep coming at me until I break.

It’s happening all over again. I finally get something that’s mine, that’s good, and someone is threatening to take it away.

Air isn’t coming into my lungs. I stop, close my eyes. I inhale, slowly taking in the cold air, holding it for a beat and letting it back out.

I won’t let my dreams be taken from me.

I won’t.

When I can breathe again, I look up at the sky, willing the frustrated tears to not come. They come anyway.

I flick them away, gritting my teeth and stiffening my muscles. I will not stand on the street and lose control.

I have to find a way to fix this, to get the money, to get those pictures from him somehow. I suck in a deep breath again. The cold air burns my lungs just enough to take the edge off the impending breakdown.

“Marlena?” A deep voice, a concerned voice, intrudes on my panic.

I turn and again my breath is frozen.

Viktor looks down at me with concern mixed with irritation. “Marlena, what’s wrong? What are you doing here?”