Page 60 of Mountain Daddy

He turns into an alley behind the old movie theater. The kind of place where rats go to die.

Perfect.

I give him a thirty-second head start. Then slip into the shadows.

He's not alone.

Another man waits in the alley. Shorter. Stockier. Face like a bulldog.

I recognize him immediately.

Dmitri. Works for human traffickers. Runs girls from Eastern Europe through the port cities.

Son of a bitch.

They're speaking Russian. Low voices. Careful.

“—told you to not ask about my family,” the tattooed man is saying.

“Family?” Dmitri laughs. “You think I give a shit about your cousin? She's just another pretty face in a nothing town.”

Cousin.

The word hits like a physical blow.

Lilly's cousin.

Family.

“She doesn't know anything,” the cousin continues. “Never has. I keep that life separate.”

“Whatever. Let’s get talking.” Dmitri steps closer. “This town's perfect. Quiet. Trusting. Nobody asks questions.”

“No.” The cousin's voice turns hard. “Not here. Not her town.”

“Her town?” Dmitri's laugh is ugly. “Since when do you care about geography?”

“Since I decided to get clean. Find a different life.”

“Clean?” Dmitri spits. “You think you can just walk away? You think the brotherhood lets people retire to play house?”

“I'm not asking permission.”

Wrong answer.

Dmitri's hand moves toward his jacket. Toward the gun I know is there.

That's when I step out of the shadows.

“Gentlemen.”

They spin. Hands reaching for weapons.

I'm faster.

The cousin gets slammed against the brick wall before he can blink. My forearm across his throat. Not crushing. Not yet.

“Lilly’s your cousin?” My voice is deadly quiet.

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