Page 30 of Fight

I laughed. “Maybe, but I don’t think you’d risk it. And if I die, I’d just haunt you forever. So you’d better just tell me, Ioan,” I said.

He went quiet for a moment, reflective, and then he grimaced before he set his face in a determined expression. “I figured out what I’m going to do,” he said.

“Oh,” I said, slumping back against my seat, my momentary good mood deflating. He’d now name his price, tell me what I would have to give in exchange for his protection.

The little fantasy I hadn’t been able to keep myself from building was over.

He glanced at me quickly and then turned back to the road. “Just ‘Oh’? What does that mean?”

“That was the boss’s house, right?” I asked.

After a long moment, he nodded.

“You talked to him about your predicament and mine?”

He paused again but eventually said, “Yes.”

I breathed out harshly, mind racing. I knew I should have been thinking, but I’d wasted time playing salon, and now I was behind the eight ball. “What did you decide?” I asked.

When I looked at him, his eyes were on the road, his face again that inscrutable mask. I hated the fact that I couldn’t read him, had no clue of what was going on in that brain of his.

“What do you think I decided?” he asked.

I hated that too, him answering a question with a question, and I made my displeasure known. “You’re playing word games with me and not answering my question,” I said.

“And what if I am? What could you do about it?”

Not a damn thing and he knew it. I glared at him, but aside from a dirty look, I had no power here at all. I knew that, and I knew Ioan did too, but to have it thrown in my face…

I’d looked away and out of the car window, but then I looked at him again. His expression hadn’t changed, but I could see that he knew he’d made his point.

I sighed.

“I was hoping you’d tell me you asked for a loan, but it looks like that didn’t happen,” I said. That had been the best-case scenario, one I hadn’t banked on. I tried to fight off the sinking feeling in my stomach that was steadily intensifying.

“A loan?” he asked, his face twisting, his voice brimming with disgust, confirming that he had done no such thing.

I nodded, though Ioan wasn’t looking at me. “I mean, you can’t judge a book by its cover, but they looked pretty flush. You could borrow the money and pay it back,” I said tentatively, wondering if it wasn’t too late to try to convince Ioan to take that path.

His disgusted expression deepened, and he looked at me incredulously when we pulled up to a stoplight.

“Ask for money? Do you have no pride?” he said.

I wasn’t one who cared what people thought of me usually, but the scorn in his eyes stung. Still, I swallowed it down and continued to hold his gaze. “Pride is expensive. I could never afford it,” I said.

For just an instant, his expression softened, and I wished I could take the words back. I hated the idea of anyone pitying me even more than I hated being at someone’s mercy. Now, with Ioan, I was both.

“You’re wrong, P,” he said as the light changed and he began to drive again.

“About what?” I asked.

“Your pride. You almost died for it.”

I shook my head. “That was just stupidity.”

He shook his head, that and his vehement expression telling me he didn’t believe a word I said.

“No. If you had given Markov what he wanted, you would have saved yourself a lot of pain,” he said.

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