Page 59 of Skin Deep

He sighed and guided me down the stairs. “Come. Let’s get some air.”

Aleksi took me through a side exit near the kitchen. I never actually saw the kitchen, but I could smell meat roasting and fresh bread baking. The side yard we stepped into was the neglected garden that had seen better days. Leaves drooped limply, weeds grew into the paths where we used to play, and thorn bushes had overtaken the flowers.

Aleksi stopped by the door, leaning against the wall to light a joint. He inhaled, exhaled, and offered it to me, but I declined. I was not putting my mouth on anything that had touched his or putting anything into my body that I hadn’t fully vetted first.

Anything except for Paxton, I supposed, but he was the exception to every rule.

My cousin took another deep pull on the joint before sighing. “You should not have said what you did back there.”

“If you’re expecting an apology, you can keep dreaming,” I said and shoved my hands into my pockets.

“I expect nothing from you,” Aleksi said, eying me. “But I wonder something. Why were you at the Foxhole? Didn’t you realize you’d be provoking him by showing up there?”

I didn’t answer him, staring out at the garden. Voices from my childhood echoed against the high garden wall, just out of hearing.

“It’s done now,” he said, shaking his head. “We can’t go back.”

“No, we can’t,” I said, listening to the ghosts of who we were play in the garden.

“Don’t let Sergei get to you. What is Sergei now but a glorified errand boy, eh? You’re a respected surgeon.” He patted my arm. “You are free now. You can do whatever you please, go where you like. Sergei works for Simeon, and then, when Simeon finally dies—if he ever does—he will work for me.”

I frowned and looked over at him. “Not for Nikita?”

Aleksi shrugged. “Everyone will work for Nikita though,da?” Aleksi smoked in silence for a little while before speaking again. “Did you know,” said Aleksi, “that the President of the United States has a member of his staff responsible for collecting his shit from toilets?”

I lifted an eyebrow, saying nothing.

“His own personal shit boy.” Aleksi flicked the rest of the joint out into the garden and smirked at me. “Maybe I will turn Sergei into my shit boy.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little. “I’m sure that will go over well.” I turned to Aleksi. “This business with Bowen—”

Aleksi’s free hand shot out cover my mouth before I could say more. “Shhh,” he hissed, and glanced around even though we were alone out there. He pressed a finger to his lips and removed his hand from my face. “You should talk to your father about that.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. That was all the confirmation I needed that the order hadn’t come from Simeon. “I knew it. I don’t appreciate being used as a pawn in this.”

Aleksi regarded me coldly, and for a moment, I got to see a side of him I had always tried to forget. The side of him that’d come out whenever Sergei tried to hold me down for too long, or punched a little too hard. The side that had twisted Sergei’s arm out of its socket and broken two fingers when we were boys fighting over swords made of sticks. I saw the monster beneath, the cold-blooded ruthless killer he could be.

“Everything has its season,” he said, “and this one is coming to an end. We must prepare for a difficult winter. When the winds blow and the wolves howl at the door, perhaps not everyone will make it through. Go to your man,” he said, patting my shoulder. “See that you are all on the right side of the door when it closes.”

“And when will that be?”

“Soon,” he assured me. “And if you are patient, the prey you hunt will come to you.”

Worksucked,butwhatelse was new? We were filling potholes out on I-71 South, blocking off a section of road three miles long. Since it was a short-term job, that meant cones, and I hated cones, especially on the freeway. People were supposed to slow down in construction areas, but they still zoomed by doing eighty and coming dangerously close to clipping me a few times. The sun was brutal coming off the asphalt, baking the back of my neck, as I shoveled hot aggregate into the hole and patted it down with my shovel.

Twelve miserable hours in that heat, dodging cars and sweating like a priest at a porn shop. The only thing that made it bearable the first day was getting to text with War on my breaks and after work.

The second day, though, he didn’t answer when I texted or when I called. Maybe I was being too needy, or maybe he was having second thoughts. Either way, it made the work nearly unbearable that second day. By the time I was done, I was royally pissed at everyone about everything.

Once I got off work, I went straight back to my truck and sat in the air conditioning, hoping that would cool me down. It didn’t. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to drive across town and see War, but my daughters were waiting at home. Was I stupid for caring about him as much as I did? For thinking I meant something to him?

My phone rang. I sighed and pulled it out of my pocket, freezing in place at the sight of War’s name dancing across the screen of my phone.

And just like that, my bad mood lifted.

I hurriedly answered the phone, suddenly even more desperate to hear his voice. “War, is everything okay?”

“Sorry I haven’t called you back.” He sounded exhausted.

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