Page 14 of Owned By The Bratva King

Outside, a small group gathers below us and boards a fancy-looking coach.

“They’re going on vacation for a few days.” Carrie’s voice betrays her sadness. “Expensive trip; nice hotel, good food. Taking a doctor and some nurses along.” She catches my eye and grins. “Not for me. I’m happy right here.”

She’s lying to me, but I can hardly begrudge her that. She’s spirited but so frail.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” I say as I head for the door. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

I pause at the top of the stairs to look at the bills, and a count reveals that it’s about twenty thousand. I don’t want to hand it all over in case it leads to questions, but if I’m quick?—

“Excuse me,” I call to a nurse as she pushes an empty wheelchair toward the front door. “Is the coach full?”

“No. The holiday costs five thousand dollars each because of all the medical needs and insurance. We didn’t have many takers.”

“I came into a bit of money,” I say. “I know it’s short notice, but if I pay extra, can Carrie go along?”

The nurse stares at me for a long moment. “Let me ask,” she finally replies, retreating through a side door. Three minutes later, she’s back, the manager in tow.

I don’t much like the owner of Two Pines. Her name is Gloria, and as far as I can tell, she hates caring for people. She turns her nose up when she sees me, adopting the priggish air I despise.

“It’ll be seven thousand,” she tells me, forgoing the niceties. “For the expense of adjusting the insurance and additional staff support. And her room and board and?—“

“Fine.” I hold out a bundle of notes. “Here, take it.”

She counts the money, arching an over-plucked brow at me. “Okay, well, thank you,” she sniffs. “Better tell her to hurry and pack.”

I wait for her to walk away before speaking to the nurse. “Don’t tell Carrie it was me. Just say it’s a prize or something.”

The nurse looks surprised but nods. “You wanna go break the good news?”

I run upstairs to Carrie’s room. She’s still staring outside but whips her head in shock as I drag her battered suitcase from under the bed.

“They said you can go!” I say. “A place came up, and you’ve been getting better, so they said you can go along on the trip!”

Carrie’s level gaze stops me. She’s not getting better, and we both know it, but she’s not going to bring us crashing back to earth. Not now.

“That’s marvelous.” She grins. “Now hurry, Quinn, and find my bathing suit!”

I’m waving Carrie off when my cell rings. It’s my former landlord’s number; Mr. Krelborn has been hounding me for weeks to remove my remaining possessions, and I keep telling him I have nowhere to put them. Why can’t he give me time to get a storage unit?

Hot damn. Yes! I can afford one now. I’m on a new salary, too, enough to live comfortably, but he already gave the old place to some yuppie couple.

I slide the button to green. “Mr. Krelborn, I need another day. Please. I have some money. I can go hire a storage unit and?—“

“I made an error with your tenancy,” he says, cutting me off. “It turns out you have rights under the original lease because of the time you lived in the apartment. Raising the rent the way I did was unlawful. I’ve ceded ownership of the building in lieu of legal proceedings.”

“What do you—I mean—I don’t get it,” I stammer. “Why would someone sue you for that? Who cares what you did to me?”

“I don’t know. A property holding company. I don’t think they care about you, but they found out somehow and used it as leverage to get the deal of the century. I can’t afford to go to court over this.”

Krelborn’s tone sours, “So don’t worry about your stuff because you’re getting the place back, rent-controlled and all. The keys will be in the safe in the office whenever you’re ready to collect.” With a click, all I hear is dead air.

What the hell is going on?

11

Roman

Quinn hasn’t seen me. She wouldn’t be standing there so calmly if she knew I was watching.

---