Page 27 of Wrath
While he stood there stunned, from somewhere in the room, the sound of Snoop Dog’sDrop it Like it’s Hotcame on. Misha hunted around until she found her cell hidden between the headboard and the wall. “Oh, there it is.” She picked it out, dusted it off and answered. “Hello?”
Dismissed, just like that.
Wyatt wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t that. He tugged on his jeans and shirt, shaking his head to himself. He couldn’t believe it. Dismissed. What the fuck did he care? He didn’t. So why was he arguing with himself?
“Calm down, Roka. What’s happened?” Misha gave Wyatt an eye roll, then swiftly, her expression turned grave. “Slow down. I can’t underst—What? A Fire?”
Fire?
The room closed in around Wyatt. No. It can’t be. That’s exactly what Evan warned him about.
“Have you called the Fire Department?” Misha sat on the edge of the bed. Her leg bobbed frantically. “Okay, okay. Where’s Tata? And Alek? Shit. I’ll be right there.”
She cut the call as Wyatt tugged on his last boot.
“Look,” she said, eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears. “I have to go. I’m sorry to just leave like this, but you understand, right?”
Wait a god-dammed minute. Wyatt stopped her as she tried to leave.
What was that all about?he mouthed.
She frowned at his lips and shook her head. “I didn’t catch that. You spoke too fast.” Her face screwed up and for a minute, Wyatt thought she’d cry. She covered her face with her hand, so he couldn’t see. “I can’t believe he did that. Dimitri, you fucking asshole. It was supposed to be me.”
He pulled her hands away and dipped so she could see his face.It will be okay. I’m coming with you.
“It was supposed to be me first, Wyatt. Not them. I can’t be the one left picking up the pieces again.”
He’d never seen such pain in her eyes. This bright, bubbly woman was terrified and trembling.
He gave her shoulder a squeeze for comfort, then dragged her out the door. When they got to the bottom of the steps, he straddled his bike and handed her his only helmet.
“You don’t need to do this,” she said. “I get it. You’re on your way out. I’m sure they’re fine. They’ll be fine.”
But from the way she bit her lip, he didn’t think so. He wouldn’t leave her like this.
Put the damned helmet on, woman.Whether she read his lips or not, she slid the helmet over her head and climbed on behind him.
That new part better work. He stomped on the kickstarter and the engine roared to life.Thank Christ.He revved the engine loudly and drove out. As they hurtled down the road, all he could think was this was his fault. He should have listened to Evan instead of running. If he had listened, he’d be at the restaurant. Whoever set the fire—this Dimitri bastard—he’d better hope to God he hadn’t hurt anyone, and if he did, he’d rue the fucking day he’d ever messed with the Minski family.
Twelve
Misha clung toWyatt as they shot through suburban streets on his motorcycle. Through every turn, dip and hill, he controlled the machine expertly. If she wasn’t so panicked, she might find it fun, but all she could think was that Dimitri should have come after her, not her family.
She should have known better. If Dimitri wanted to make a quick point, he resorted to violence, but if someone really did him wrong, the psychological game he played was far worse than a direct assault. She’d seen him turn a footballer into a sniveling pile of mess in high school. The quarterback had relentlessly bullied Dimitri, going as far as shoving Dimitri’s head down a toilet because he knew he was afraid of water. Misha had felt sorry for Dimitri and consoled him, told him that karma would get that footballer back one day.
He hadn’t known what karma was, but Misha had been learning about it from Ciocia since she was a young girl:No need to get angry about it, Misha. Angry people only end up with the life deserving of an angry person. Karma will sort them out.But when Misha tried to explain the laws of karma to Dimitri, he took away the wrong lesson.
Misha learned firsthand how Dimitri dished out his own twisted karma. He’d discovered the footballer was afraid of snakes and filled his locker with them… only thing was, they were poisonous. The footballer was bitten and spent weeks in hospital, missing out on playing in the finals, and missing out on the scholarship he needed to get into college. You’d think that was enough to satisfy Dimitri’s thirst for revenge, but it wasn’t. Years later, that footballer ended up committing himself to a psychiatric asylum because he’d kept seeing imaginary snakes. Dimitri confessed to Misha that he still taunted the man—that he would plant the snakes and then take them away.
Dimitri was a psychopath; Misha had known it for a while, but he’d always left her alone after she did what he wanted. She thought he would get over the mysterious grudge he’d developed for Misha, or at the very least, he would get bored.
How wrong she’d been.
They could smell the smoke from a street away and by the time they pulled into the parking lot of the cultural food center, black smoke was everywhere. Sirens wailed in the distance, but it was too late. The Pierogi Palace was going up in torrid flames.
Wyatt skidded to a halt. Business owners and patrons had spilled into the lot, all panicking. Some were on their cells, others tried to spray down their restaurants with water from hoses in an effort to stop the flames spreading. When Misha pulled her helmet off, the roar and crackling of the fire was deafening. She choked on the fumes.
Roksana, Ciocia and her father all stood too close to the burning building. Other staff members were far across the lot. Something was wrong. Her father tried to go back inside, shouting incomprehensible Polish, but they held him back. Where was her brother? Alek worked in the kitchen after school. What time was it? She searched the lot frantically.
