Page 77 of For a Price

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Look, just be careful, okay? Stay safe. I’m still going to help you get Lucero back. I promise. It just might take a while longer.”

“Kat, you’re scaring me. You haven’t heard about what happened to Fozzil, have you?” Rosita asks without waiting on an answer. “He was run over by some unknown black truck. Multiple times. He’s paralyzed, in critical condition in the hospital. He’s probably not going to make it.”

A cold shiver runs down my spine. “I… I hadn’t heard.”

“Whatever you and your little crew got yourselves involved in this time… it seems serious. So I’ll stay safe if you stay safe, alright?”

We hang up on that note, making mutual promises we’ll stay out of trouble and keep in touch. I return Roman’s phone, unsure what even to say about my conversation.

“Is your friend doing well?” he asks.

“Yes, very well.”

“From what I could hear, it sounded like she was screaming.”

That’s because she was.

“Oh, that. She’s, um, a very dramatic person.”

He hardly looks like he believes a word I’ve said. He links his fingers with mine and tugs me into his lap. “Your friend was asking you about the Russian mob, was she not?”

“She was loud. But she wasn’t that loud. Were you somehow listening from the sofa? Some secret mic planted? Beastly superhuman hearing powers?”

“My kitty cat loves to make jokes. I wonder if she would make jokes if she were being punished.”

“The nipple clamps were enough punishment for a lifetime.”

“More like temporary ’til the next time you misbehave.” He tilts my head ’til our mouths are lined up and we share in a soft kiss. Even one so quick and fleeting sends a ripple of warmth through me. Keeping me planted in his lap, he grips my hips and holds my gaze captive. “Your friend has nothing to worry about. You may be in the custody of the bratva, but you are with me. I will protect you against anyone who comes for you.”

“Even your uncle?”

“You already know that answer, devochka.”

“And your father? The sovietnik?”

“Yes,” he says, his face darkening, “even the sovietnik.”

“Why were you so worked up the other night when you came home? I’ve never seen you so… feral.”

“I had a meeting with my father. He found out the pakhan visited me.”

My lips part in shock. “You mean he didn’t know?”

“Apparently, the pakhan did not divulge that to him. You understand how that drums up suspicion. Allegiances are fragile.”

“The schism you mentioned…”

“It seems he is siding with my uncle.”

“And you with the pakhan?”

Roman doesn’t directly answer. He merely strokes a hand into my curls and breaks our eye contact as if to study my curl pattern.

“But…” I go on, curiosity taking over. “That’s a good thing, right? You being on the pakhan’s side? He’s the head honcho, right? The HBIC.”

“HBIC?”

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