Page 24 of The Last Inch Of Ice
“Then what the hell is it about?”
Nazar realizes he needs to let go. His brain is screaming at him to let go. But his hands won’t cooperate. His lungs aren’t working properly.
He can’t stop seeing it—Marcus pushing Callahan’s knee, forcing his legs apart, standing between them while Callahan went very,verystill.
Not like himself at all.
“Radio Rykov?” Callahan’s voice cuts through. “Hello? Anyone home in that thick skull?”
“Stop making jokes about everything.”
“Dude, I’m confident you know other words besides ‘stop.’ Pretty sure they taught you a few more in school.”
“That’s the only language you understand.”
“Right. And the only way to communicate with you is grunting.” Callahan’s sarcasm is back in full force now. “What was it like in kindergarten for you? Did the other kids draw storm clouds over your picture while everyone else had bright yellow suns smiling down?”
He can’t take it anymore. He rolls his eyes and releases Callahan, stepping back.
Callahan straightens immediately, his hands moving to adjust his leather jacket with exaggerated care. Making a show of it. “Is that all? Is the interrogation over?”
Nazar steps aside, creating a clear path to the stairs.
Callahan brushes past him. Their shoulders touch—just barely, just enough to send electricity racing down Nazar’s arm.
And that’s it. That’s all it takes.
A siren goes off in Nazar’s head. He moves without thinking, blocking the path again, his body angled to cut off the stairs entirely.
Callahan’s control snaps. He shoves Nazar hard in the chest with both hands. “What now? What the fuck do you want from me?”
“Want from you?” Nazar’s voice rises. “You’ve been causing me problems every three days since you got here.”
“Poor Rykov,” Callahan snarls, stepping closer. So close their noses almost touch. So close Nazar can see the individual flecks of color in his eyes—not just blue, but gray and silver and something almost green near the pupils. “You’re so oppressed. So victimized by my existence.” Nazar feels sparks at his fingertips. His hands are shaking. “What, you singing Marcus’s song now? And at the same time thinking you’re better than him? You probably tell yourself you’re different—not some executive, but a guy who earns his living with real work. But you’re not that different from him, Rykov.”
“I don’t know,” Nazar says, his voice dropping low and dangerous. “Seems to me it’s you and him who’d fit right in at those Ferrari weekend parties with horse racing and whatever the fuck you do there. Not me. I don’t give a shit about it.”
“Oh, wow, congratulations. Want a medal for being working class?” Callahan’s laugh is bitter, ugly. “You’ve got enough money to buy one yourself. Actually, how do you even know what parties I go to? Are you stalking me?”
“It’s fucking impossible not to notice you when you broadcast everything to everyone around you. Everything I know about you, I learned against my will.”
Nazar thinks throwing Callahan’s own words back at him will bring satisfaction. It doesn’t. He’s left standing there, vibrating with an energy he doesn’t know how to release, hoping—praying—that Callahan will shove him again. Hit him. Do something that will justify hitting back.
He won’t start it himself. But God, he wants Callahan to.
“Get out of my way,” Callahan says. His voice has dropped to almost a growl, rough and raw.
And despite the anger radiating off him, despite the tension coiling through every line of his body, he looks so young. Boyish. Devastatingly beautiful in a way that makes Nazar’s throat go dry.
Finally—finally—Nazar steps back.
Callahan walks away without another word, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell.
Nazar leans against the concrete wall, staring after him long after he’s gone. His mind won’t stop racing. Won’t stop circling back to one thought:
He needs to know if Marcus has touched Callahan before. Needs to know if Callahan was telling the truth.
And underneath that: the realization that he can’t control himself anymore around Callahan. That somewhere along the way, Callahan hooked something inside him and refuses to let go.
