Page 18 of Alik

My dad runs a hand over his head like he’s exhausted from having to explain such complex things to me. He’d rather I just blindly obey. Wave my flimsy restraining order in Creeper’s face the next time he decides to fuck up my life instead of take any real action.

“Thatbrotherhoodis affiliated with the Irish mob.”

I throw my hands up. “All the more reason to turn them in. There are your higher profile people right there.”

“No,there’syour death warrant. That’s what they do to witnesses. Would you like to see pictures? I have an endless supply I could show you at the office.”

A gust of air rushes past my lips as my hands find my sides. “Is this what you tell all the witnesses who come to you?”

“No, this is what I tell my daughter.”

“I’m not a coward.”

“Then you must be anidiot.”

I stumble backward like he physically slapped me, all my bravado draining from my veins. He doesn’t seem to register the hurt on my face because not an ounce of anger leaves his as he stands there admonishing me.

I stare at the floor.

After a minute, a sigh rushes from his lungs. “I’m calling Dr. Blunderson in the morning. I’ll text you the time of your appointment. If you don’t show up?—”

“I know,” I whisper before he can finish the threat.

No more money.

No more help.

And really… No more love.

Another minute goes by while I imagine him trying to think of what to say. He must give up because, without another word, he turns for the door and leaves me alone.

I want to consider what he said. The whole time I plug my dead phone in and wait for it to boot up, I try to convince myself that he knows best.

But when I find the text message from Creeper I knew would be there, the one I must’ve seen when I was blacked out, his words lose their merit.

This is Creeper’s fault. It was his fault last time, and it’ll be his fault the next time unless I change things. My dad was right about one thing… It isn’t just my life I ruin with my actions, so it isn’t just me I’m protecting by getting rid of him.

I know where he deals. Who he deals to. Where he gets his supply. Where he lives. I knoweverything.

I don’t need to take the stand in a courtroom to put him away.

All I need is a video camera and an anonymous tip.

5

ALIK

Glass shatters as Nikita swipes everything off his desk onto the floor, a growl barreling out his lungs.

He raises his cane and strikes a hundred-thousand-dollar painting on the wall, slicing the canvas down the middle. He obliterates it with six more swings before he takes the frame off the hook and hurls it against the drink cart. Silver rattles, and liquor spills as the thing topples over, and because that wasn’t enough, he storms that way.

No one says anything when his foot catches on the carpet, and he slams his cane down to catch himself. No one dares help him when he takes a knee, sweaty, dark blond hair normally neatly combed back now hanging over his forehead.

Maksim and Roman, two of Nikita’s lieutenants, stand off to the side with pissed off looks on their faces while I stand by the door, my hands clasped behind my back, wondering if either of their expressions are genuine. I have my doubts, especially when it comes to Maksim. His relationship with the Italians is good, so I question if he already knows the news I just brought Nikita.

The Italians, the main suppliers of our heroin, have decided they’re no longer willing to work with us due to how much heat we’re taking from the DEA. It’s too risky on their part,apparently. Their don won’t even give Nikita the courtesy of a meeting to discuss the matter; instead, they sent a soldier to our regular exchange point, empty handed. And to make things worse, two of our dealers were arrested today.

It’s been three days since I left the princess at that drug house. Nothing was in the papers about it, which is unusual. As far as I can tell, no attention has left our operation, which means...

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