Page 55 of Baby for the Bratva

“Not really police. A bunch of crooks, if you ask me,” I reply.

“A cool million dollars. I could trade you for that and buy myself a couple of new cars.”

I know he’s joking, but the mere mention of the bounty puts me on edge. It’s going to follow me around like a black cloud until I squash it.

That, or until the rain comes, and I’m sorely underdressed for a storm.

“You wouldn’t get an ounce of cocaine into this country without me,” I state, which is the truth. I’m the only supplier who has the balls to transport such large amounts.

Javell strokes the tuft of hair on his chin. “You’re right about that, unfortunately. No new cars for me.”

“Ah, but I do have a deal to make with you,” I say, spotting my opportunity to upsell him on more cocaine. The more I can convince him to take, the shorter this trip has to be. Ideally, he’d take it all, but I know this country isn’t big enough for that kind of distribution.

“We’re already making a deal,” he says, narrowing his eyes at me as we stop in front of the house. “Come inside and we’ll talk. Leave the American in the car.”

I grab Stella’s wrist, squeezing it tight. “She stays with me.”

“She’ll be safe in the car,” Javell insists, but I don’t trust him. I’m not leaving her out here with his goons.

“Nobody is going to bust you for having another American in your house, Javell. Take a chill pill and let’s go inside.”

“I don’t do pills. I smoke my chill, if you know what I mean.”

I laugh. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

He sighs, but he doesn’t press me any further as we all get out and walk to the house. It’s a beautiful four-story mansion, glowing white in the midday sun.

I wouldn’t mind something like this for myself, but I’m never in one place long enough to justify such a large residence. For me, it’s better to have a dozen smaller ones scattered around the globe.

“Don’t mind the tiger. He’s been fed,” Javell says as we enter the house.

Another joke, but I can see the terror in Stella’s eyes as we walk into the lobby. There’s no tiger here. Javell already has enough issue with the law, and keeping a tiger in his house would only give them reason to pay him another surprise visit.

After the incident with the American last year, he’s been playing it a lot safer.

“Don’t worry about the tiger. It’s just a joke,” I whisper to Stella.

She frowns at me but doesn’t say anything. I don’t think she believes me.

“Come to the living room. I have something special for you. Imported from France,” Javell says, ushering us through another doorway.

We’re met with a large room with several white couches and a rug that appears to be made from mink fur. It’s an odd choice for something you put your feet on, but it makes sense when you take Javell’s personality into account. He’s obsessed with money, status, and luxury.

“Sit, sit,” he says, as though we weren’t already taking a seat on one of the longer couches in front of a polished driftwood coffee table.

I watch Stella closely as she takes a seat beside me. She’s still nervous, but she was probably expecting something a lot less luxurious than this, and she’s starting to look more curious than terrified. Cocaine distribution can bring up a lot of inaccurate imagery of shady deals and dangerous buyers, but the reality tends to be quite glamorous to outsiders.

For me, though, there’s nothing terribly glamorous about making deals like this. At the end of the day, it’s work, and anything that becomes a job is going to be less enjoyable than recreation.

Javell takes a seat on the couch across from us. He whistles, and a waiter comes with a bottle of wine and a few glasses.

“Very special one today. I had it imported just for this occasion,” Javell says as he uncorks the bottle.

I flash him a cheeky grin. “I hope you didn’t waste all your money on this. Coke isn’t cheap these days.”

“I need a little more, I sell a car. I need a lot, we move more product. No problem,” Javell replies as he pours dark red wine into a cluster of glasses.

“You might need a lot for what I’m about to propose,” I say.

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