Page 2 of Emerald Vices

As I sit there, growing numb, something cold weighs against my chest. I claw at it and feel the pendant Andrey gave me.

I curl my fingers over the interlinked cherries and bite back tears until I taste blood.

Please don’t let him die.

I wish I could ask someone how he’s doing. But I don’t have a phone or a purse or money or hope. I’m a sitting duck. Waiting for retribution. For the cavalry. For the consequences I know I must face.

I tuck my knees to my chest.

For a moment, I close my eyes, but then I see Yelena’s wide-open mouth as Andrey slashed her throat open. I shudder and tear my eyes open.

When I’m sick of sitting, I get to my feet and walk into the nearest restaurant. It’s a small shop with faded pictures of pizza displayed in their greasy window.

Ignoring the gnawing hunger in my stomach, I approach the portly older woman behind the counter. She reminds me of Yelena. I shudder again.

“Can I help you, sweetheart?”

“Uh… I’m sorry—” I cringe at my own ineptitude. But maybe it can work in my favor. “I-I need help…”

The woman’s smile falters.

“I was on my way to meet my husband.” I place my hands on my pregnant belly and step away from the counter so she can really appreciate my predicament. “When I was mugged?—”

The woman gasps. “You poor thing!”

I don’t fight back my tears. They’re real, though not quite for the reasons this woman might suspect. “H-he took everything,” I stammer. “My purse, my phone. If you could just let me… let me c-call my husband?”

“Of course, cara mia. There’s a phone in the back. Step behind the counter.” She ushers me back with a raised arm. “That’s right, come, come.” She shows me to a phone in the kitchen and then backs away around a corner to give me privacy.

There are only two numbers I know by heart, but I can’t call Aunt Annie. Especially not in her condition. So I call Katya instead.

When we were drunk and stumbling home, we swore we’d always be each other’s emergency calls. If she needed bail, if I needed to bury a body—we’re each other’s person.

Problem is, that was before Katya got involved with Andrey’s closest friend.

Funny how her romantic choices always come back to bite me in the ass. Although, that’s precisely why she owes me.

I hate myself for even thinking it. But I’m a desperate woman with no options left. Punching in Katya’s number, I pray to God that she’s not with Shura when she picks up.

“Hello?”

“Kat…” I breathe, pressing my lips into the receiver as another waiter rushes past. “It’s me.”

“Nat!” she practically yells. “Oh, thank fuck! Where?—”

“Are you alone?”

The urgency in my voice silences her. “I… Yes, I’m alone.”

“Shura can’t know I’m calling. No one can know, okay?”

“Nat, you don’t sound good.” I can tell she’s straining to hear me. Hell, I’m straining to hear myself. “What’s with all the noise? Where are you?”

“I’m at…” Looking up, I find a neon sign. “—Francesca’s Pizzeria. I need your help, Kat. If you can get my phone and my wallet here, I swear I won’t ask you for another thing for as long as I live.”

“You’re still planning on leaving? Now?”

I don’t have time for her shock or her reservations. “Kat, please. I’m desperate and you’re the only one I trust.”

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