I don't know how much time passes with me hunched over on the floor and my emotions taking over my body, but the sound of Sam's deep voice calling out my name causes me to startle. Quickly, I pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head to conceal my face and use the sleeve to wipe the tears away as I do my best to hide my anguish from my friend. But nothing gets by Sam.
"Leah, what's wrong?" he asks his voice filled with concern.
"Nothing," the lie rolls off my tongue as I try to hold back the quiver in my voice.
"Bullshit. Look at me, Leah." The tone of his voice drops. I hear him shuffle further into the room behind me. Crouching down, Sam clutches my elbow, forcing me to face him, and I don't resist. I don't have the strength.
He sucks in a sharp breath just before his feature turns murderous. One thing about Sam is he's very protective of those he cares about. "What the fuck, Leah. Who did this to you? I'm going to fucking kill them." His nostrils flare.
His concern does me in, and I break down. A cry escapes pass my lips, and Sam doesn't hesitate to take me into his arms. I ignore the pain in my side when he squeezes me. Only my flinch doesn't go unnoticed. His body stiffens, and he gently pushes me off his chest. His eyes drop to my torso. "Show me."
Sam's eyes blaze with intensity, and I bravely do as he demands. Lifting my sweatshirt over my ribs, I show him the damage my father left behind.
"Leah," Sam grits. "Who did this to you?"
"My father," I choke on my words with a steady stream of tears running down my face.
"I…" I suck in a deep breath. "He's making me go home and quit school."
"Hold up. Slow down, sweetheart. Your father did this to you?"
I nod. "Yes. My father has been watching me and knows I'm living here—about going to Crossroads. I broke the rules, Sam."
His jaw ticks. "He did this to you because you went out to a bar, and you're living with me?"
I cry harder. "Yes. I screwed up. I wasn't careful enough. I just wanted to have a normal life. I wanted to have friends. I thought I could be happy and hide it from him," I hiccup.
"Shh." Sam pulls me to his chest. "Everything is going to be okay."
"It's never going to be okay, Sam. Never."
A shuffling noise startles me from sleep. Opening my eyes, I find myself lying on my bed. I don't even remember falling asleep. Sam must have put me here. Reaching for my glasses on the table beside the bed, I slide them on then look at the time. It's nearly one o'clock in the morning. I spot Sam standing at my closet, stuffing my things into a garbage bag. "Sam, what are you doing?"
He peers at me over his shoulder. "We're leaving. I'm not letting you go back home to that bastard. I'm taking you away from here and away from him."
My heart rate picks up, and a knot forms in my stomach. "I can't do that. My father…" I don't get the words out before Sam cuts me off and fully faces me.
"You are not going back, Leah," he says adamantly.
"My dad will find me and drag me home. I can't hide from him, Sam. He's a cop. He has his ways."
Sam drops the garbage bag to the floor and sits on the bed next to me. "Do you want to go back? Tell me the truth."
I shake my head. "I never want to see him again. But…"
"No buts. You're not going back. All I ask is you trust me. Can you do that? Can you trust me to handle this?"
Sam is my best friend. I don't hesitate to answer. "Yes." My response comes out shaky. I'm terrified. I've thought about running away a million times, but with no money of my own and no place to go, leaving has never been possible. Sam is giving me an out. So, no matter how scared I am, I have to try and escape that monster.
"We'll only take what we need for now. I'll come back for the rest later."
Panic starts seeping in. "Sam, what if my dad has someone watching me now. How am I going to leave here with you without him knowing?"
"I have that covered. After you fell asleep, I left and parked my truck in the parking lot on the backside of the complex and came back through the patio door. We're leaving now. I'll get us a hotel room." Sam shoves the last of my clothes into the bag and ties it. "This is the last of what you'll need for now. Everything else is in the truck. Grab your purse. It's time to go."
My head starts to spin with how fast everything is happening. "Are you sure about all this, Sam?"
"Hell yeah, I'm sure. Now come on. Let's get you up."
Sam helps me stand from the bed. He holds my coat open so that I can slide my arms in, and then I grab my purse. Opening the sliding glass door that leads out to the back patio, Sam tosses the garbage bag over the rail. He then climbs over before helping me do the same "It's a bit of a walk to the truck. Can you make it, or do you want me to carry you?"
"I think I can make it."
Keeping his arm wrapped around me for support, Sam and I make our way through the wooded area behind our apartment until we reach the opposite side of the complex where his truck is parked. Sam tosses the garbage bag into the back, then jogs around to the passenger side to help me climb inside. Once he settles into the driver seat, he cranks the heat up full blast. I turn, reach over and grab hold of his arm, squeezing it. I go to open my mouth to thank him, but the words get stuck in my throat. I cry for what seems like the millionth time in twenty-four hours. Luckily, words aren't needed. Sam gives me a reassuring look just before shifting the truck into gear and pulling out of the parking lot.
3
Nikolai
It took some doing, but we finally got Alek Belinsky to agree to a meeting, and the only way he would do it was on his turf, which is why the car is rolling to a stop outside one of the few casinos in the territory he runs, The Gold Star. My father and I both exit the SUV on opposite sides. It's late, just around dinner time, and night has fallen. "Wait here," my father tells Victor, who nods then climbs back inside the vehicle
Belinsky's men greet us before entering the building and give us a thorough pat-down before leading us past red velvet ropes separating the regular club from the VIP lounge.
The room is dimly lit with blue lighting, and the private booths are draped in lush blue crushed velvet, giving the room a relaxing ambiance. We're led to the farthest corner of the room. The booth Belinsky is seated in is twice the size as all the others, with a small private bar to the left.
"Demetri." Belinsky stands and shakes my father's hand. "Welcome. I do not believe you have ever been to my fine establishment."
"Alek. I appreciate you agreeing to this meeting," my father says, eager to get down to business.
"Yes, well, we will see if this meeting is beneficial to us both, but first," Belinsky motions for us to take a seat, "let's drink. Sit." As I lower myself to the plush couch, Belinsky continues with small talk. "Nikolai." He eyes me as he drops his large frame back in his spot on the couch across from me, only a glass table separating us. "There's talk going around that you wish to no longer take over for your father one day." His bold statement causes my father to tense, and his mood changes, though I'm the only one to notice. To Alek Belinsky, my father is unfazed by his attempt to pry.
Cocking my head, I study Belinsky for a moment, watching the beads of sweat roll down his temples. All of this—him meeting us here, flashing his wealth around, and feeling as if he's got the upper hand in this situation is nothing more than a facade. What he doesn't know is we are aware of his financial situation. The bastard spends more than he brings in. Alek Belinsky makes most of his money nowadays running strip clubs, casinos, and smuggling drugs across borders for various associates. "I'm afraid you were misinformed, and it would be in your best interest to not encourage such rumors." My eyes lock with his, and fear dances across his face.
He clears his throat, ridding himself of his nervousness before he throws his hand in the air, waving a young woman over. As she bends forward to sit a tray filled with three glasses and a bottle of top-shelf liquor on the table in front of us, Belinsky gropes her, running his meaty palm between her thighs. T
he waitress's eyes fall on mine. Her blank stare is a mask but does nothing to hide her feelings of disgust, shame, and anger. I break eye contact with her. When I look back at Belinsky, he's staring at me once more. "You like her? She's one of my best girls," his thick brow raises as he shifts his eyes to her lean body. Not that she isn't a beautiful woman. My eyes travel the length of her frail body as she holds her shoulders back. She's too thin for my taste. I like more to my women, a flare to their hips and heaviness in their breasts. I want something to grab onto when a woman is riding me.
My father lifts the bottle of vodka from the table and pours the clear liquid into the already chilled glasses. Leaning forward, I raise a half-filled tumbler from the table, then press myself into the cushioned sofa and rest my ankle on my knee. "I am not here to get my dick wet. You agreed to this meeting because we share a mutual problem—Miran Novikoff." Belinsky's nostrils flare as he holds his tongue. I look to my father, waiting to see if he wishes to take control of this exchange of words. Lifting his glass, he gives me a tight nod, which is my signal to take the reins. I lift my gaze to the waitress still poised next to Belinsky. "Leave us," I dismiss the woman knowing my slight overstep in his establishment has angered him, but I don't care.
He clears his throat. "What exactly is it you wish to gain from this meeting, Volkov? I'm busy, and you are the ones requesting my time and my help."
"Don't be presumptuous. Let's be clear that you do not hold all the cards. You have obliged us with this meeting, but don't take our hospitality in requesting your time as an attempt to disrespect our positions in the game." Belinsky's face reddens for being put in his place. "Novikoff has been a thorn in our sides long enough. He has hit your business multiple times in the past year, am I correct?" In the center of the table sits a small humidor case. Reaching out, I lift the mahogany lid, retrieving a cigar. I punch a hole in one end, then cut the tip of the other, before striking the tip of a matchstick. The flame flickers as I stoke the cigar.
"That is true." He watches me closely.
"And our resources tell us one of your men has embedded himself within their organization."
"That is also true." Belinsky eyes me over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip of his drink.
"And yet you have done nothing to end or at least cripple his operations." My father and I know why he hasn't made a move, but I want to hear it for myself. We know he can't risk making a solo attempt.
He lets out a heavy sigh. "Don't patronize me. You know I am in no position and do not have the manpower to do much of anything. My guy filtering information has allowed me to stay ahead of who and when they will strike next. However, I'm smart enough to know information is desirable and comes with a price as well."
I grin at him, but it is my father who responds to his snarky attempt at bribery. "What you will get out of this exchange is your life," my father warns him. "You would do well to remember your place."
"You came here asking for my help, and you threaten me?" Belinsky stands, puffing his chest.
"Who would you rather your enemy be? Me or Novikoff?" Belinsky opens his mouth to speak, but my father cuts him off, "Think before words are spoken that you can't take back. You give us all your intel, and we use our manpower to send a message to Novikoff. This benefits us both." My father tips his glass back, downing the remainder of his drink. "Better to have me as an ally."
Silence hangs between the three of us. Finally, Belinsky speaks. "A large cell of Novikoff's operation is operating about an hour north of us, out of a warehouse."
"What about security?" I ask.
Belinsky shakes his head. "My man says the place is a fortress. One way in. One way out through a ten foot steel gate."
"How many men?"
"Last reported? Nearly sixty soldiers, armed with a massive supply of weaponry and ammunition," Belinsky states. The numbers are high but don't surprise me. We may not be able to take out Novikoff's entire operation, but we will damn sure blow a massive hole in it. My father sits his glass on the table, then stands, and I follow suit—Belinsky moves to rise as well.
"Stay seated." My father adjusts his suit. "Thank you for your time." He offers his hand to Belinsky, who shakes it. "My men will be in touch soon. Give them what you have on Novikoff, including locations."
"And you agree to protect me? If word gets back to Miran Novikoff that I had insider information, he'll do his best to kill me." Belinsky's face shows fear as it should.
"You have my word," my father states.
"Everything in place?" I ask Maxim from our current position, just outside the perimeters of Novikoff's central warehouse, located in a town three hours south of my family's controlled territory. The entire area is desolate. The condition has made it a perfect breeding ground for Novikoff and his men to operate without any interference from authorities. The vile things that go on here are largely ignored. It's more or less a dumping ground for the underbelly of society.
"The explosives are in position and ready to be detonated when you give the word," Maxim states.
It took a few days for my men to get in and out undetected to set the charges, due to the increased amount of activity. Novikoff caught wind that our family would not turn a blind eye to his thievery like so many others have. His threats against those who would stand against him or in his way mean nothing to my family. This was his first offense against us since severing ties a few years ago. Destroying his most massive warehouse, which happens to be the base of his operation, will serve as a warning—to back off. He will lose many of his men today, as well. A price he must pay for his disrespect. "Any word on his whereabouts?" I ask as I stand outside the SUV that drove me here.
"He is out of the country, relaxing at his vacation home near Pylos," Maxim confirms.
"Light it up." I give the command, and Maxim speaks into his two-way radio. Within seconds the bombs detonate, causing the earth below our feet to tremble from the blast. Another explosion erupts with a loud clap, and orange flames billow outward. The sounds of steel splintering and windows shattering can be heard as a large section of the building's structure collapses. Even as I stand here, a safe distance away, I can feel waves of heat rolling off the blaze on my exposed skin, watching Novikoff's warehouse burn.
Satisfied, I turn to the vehicle. "Send word to Novikoff. Inform him the next time he disrespects the family again; he will pay with his life."
4
Leah
A few days after Sam and I left our apartment behind, I am sitting on one of the two full-sized beds in the hotel room, watching TV when he walks in carrying several grocery bags. Climbing to my feet, I shuffle across the room to help as he sets the bags down on the small table in front of the window. "You're only going to be gone one day, Sam. I don't need this much food."
He smiles. "I brought you more than food." Opening one bag, he pulls out a packaged Kindle. "I know how much you've been missing your books and TV is not your thing."
He's right. I usually read from my phone, but Sam made me leave it behind at the apartment when we left. He didn't want my father to trace where I am.
"You shouldn't have spent your money on me. You've done so much already. You're paying for the hotel and all our food."
Sam shakes his head, cutting me off. "Zip it. You're my friend, Leah. I want to help. Just like I want you to accept the gift." He holds the package out to me, his eyes daring me to say no. Finally, I relent and take his offering.
While unloading the groceries and placing some of the items in the mini-fridge, Sam changes the subject. "You sure you don't want to come with me to Polson? It's only one day, but we can make a weekend out of it."
"I'm sure. Alba has enough on her plate. I don't want her to see me like this and ask questions. It will upset her."
"She's your friend, Leah. She'd want to know what's going on. She'll be pissed at us for hiding it."
"I can't, Sam. Not yet, anyway."
He sighs. "Okay. I get it."
This time
I am the one to change the subject. "Did you hear back about the apartment?"
"Yeah, but I'm having second thoughts about it. I think we should move out of Bozeman."
"But your job is here."
"I can drive back and forth or get another job."
"Sam…"
"Not going to hear it, sweetheart. We already talked about this. Stop worrying about me. Making sure you're safe is what's important."
Looking down at my feet, I sigh. I hate feeling like I'm a burden. Sam has completely uprooted his life for me.
"Hey." Sam stops what he's doing, his stern tone catching my attention. "Stop whatever it is your thinking." He strides toward me and opens his arms. "Come here."
I take his offered hug. "I'm sorry," I croak.
"You have nothing to be sorry for. We're going to figure this shit out together."
Later that night, I toss and turn in bed. Sam left for Polson hours ago, and I'm starting to regret my decision to stay behind. I don't do well with being alone. Since Sam and I have been staying in the hotel, I lay awake most nights, terrified my dad will find me, even though Sam assures me I'm safe. I left my cell phone and my car behind. I also haven't stepped a single foot outside the hotel room since we checked in. My father knows about Sam. What if he had someone follow him here?
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