Page 13 of Slipping into the Dark Side

Down the back stairwell and through a hidden door, he came upon the room full of black ski-masked-wearing men. There was a slight panic in the lot of them, and when he entered the room, they all got quiet and gradually shifted to the back of the room, trying to gain as much space as possible.

Yakov inhaled deeply from his cigarette as he eyed each of them, but he landed on the man with a limp, the leader, and blew out the smoke. “You failed.”

The leader pulled off his mask. The older gentleman, named Vlad, had a tattoo on the side of his neck, the symbol of their family line of gypsies. They may be Russian, but they were the cesspool of society, the ones that never adapted to the new way of life. People like Vlad were disgusting to Yakov because they had so much potential, but they refused to change, preferring to‘live off the land the way God intended.’

“We stole her. You never indicated how long to keep her.”

Yakov suppressed a smile. The idiot was trying to wiggle his way out of his screw-up. Yakov despised him even more. “I had hesitation using gypsies. I figured your intellect was rather low. It appears I was right. Every mistake is a learning experience. Thank you for teaching me.”

Vlad glanced at his friends. He didn’t know what was going on or what he should say.

Yakov tossed several bills to the floor. “For your time.” He waved as he left, and his guard made sure to shut the door and slip a wedge under it. As he climbed the stairs, liquid fell out ofred containers. The smell of gas became heavy and followed him. As soon as he was at the top, he turned back down and listened to them banging on the door. It was loud and vibrated the floor.

He tossed his cigarette and watched the fire slide down every step.

Their yells transformed into horrified screams.

Yakov turned away.

Chapter seven

Date

Tatianna was positive she shouldn’t be here. As her car stopped in front of the restaurant, she stared at it, unmoved, even as her driver opened the door. She twisted her fingers in her lap, hating how much effort she put into her appearance. But what was supposed to do? When the leader of a mafia family invites you to dinner, you cannot say no.

And I didn’t want to.

That was the truth, but not something she would admit out loud.

Tatianna’s stomach was in knots. It felt like when her brothers were at the tire swing by the lake, and they would make fun of her, convinced she would never jump from it. And when they were proven wrong, she basked in the astonishment on theirfaces. That’s what this was. When she walked in, she wanted Yakov to be just as surprised.

With a burst of courage, Tatianna grabbed the man’s hand and stepped out. Her leg was nearly healed two weeks after her abduction. Her father kept her on bedrest and refused to let her go anywhere. This was her first outing, and she had lied to him. She told her father she was going to a sewing group. He loved to believe she would actually do something like that, and so the lie was easy to mold.

Though she was sure if her father ever asked her to sew anything, he’d have her in every lie she’s told since she was thirteen.

The restaurant was loud and boisterous. A live band played a fast-paced jingle that had all the couples dancing. A heavy plume of smoke clung to the ceiling, and male servants went about with food trays and drinks, while the women workers wore tight shorts and bras and walked around with trays of cigarettes.

A man greeted her at the front and guided her through the club. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before—a place her father would have forbidden and the kind of club Fedor would be embarrassed to venture into. It wasn’t fit for a lady of her standing, and yet, she found a few people she would see at parties chatting away with total disregard.

Up a flight of stairs and behind glass doors, Yakov was sitting behind a desk with a cigar between his fingers. He leaned back as she entered and smiled. There was no look of surprise, no shock. Just a smug satisfaction that pissed her off. As if he knew she’d come.

Tatianna waited for him to speak, but he continued to silently congratulate himself, and she couldn’t stomach it. She wanted to punch him, but since she couldn’t do it physically, she attacked verbally: “I know it was you.”

The smugness dissipated slowly like a weak flame dying out. With a flick of Yakov’s hand, it sent his guards out, and he sat up, putting out his cigar as the doors shut, leaving the noise on the other side. It was quiet, and Tatianna shifted uncomfortably. She hoped that hadn’t pissed him off too much.

“How?”

Tatianna wasn’t about to let him steer this conversation. She had spent two weeks trying to figure out the reason for the attack, why Yakov would pretend to be saving her when it was so clear it had been something he put together. She even tried to convince herself she was wrong, that it couldn’t have been him, but her instinct wouldn’t let her. “Tell me why.”

“Tell me how,” he demanded.

Tatianna shifted, glancing around the office. There was a couch, a table set for dinner, and his desk. She wondered how often he came here and why he didn’t hang out at home. There were no pictures on the walls and no indication he had family. How was he coping with being the head of the family for two months? Was it everything he ever wanted?

She set her purse on her lap as she sat on the couch. “I suggested you steal Yefim’s wife, and then you steal me. It made sense. But you botched it. I could have planned it better.”

Yakov sat on the couch with her. He leaned back, an arm on the back of it, while he crossed his legs. His fingers were an inch from her shoulder. Yakov always wore a fancy suit, but tonight, he sported a thick wool, dark blue sweater and black pants. She wondered if he paid someone to find his outfits for him. She doubted he wasted his time to get the latest styles. It made her lose a little confidence. The tight dress she wore was last year’s fashion, but at least her purse was up to date. Would he notice?

“But why?” Tatianna pushed.

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