Page 1 of Breakdown
Prologue
OLIVIA WAS ALL NERVOUSenergy. Her fingers drummed rapidly on her paper cup as Peter paid for the coffee. They took it to go, cutting across Glendale Boulevard and onto the pathway that circled the Echo Park reservoir. The place was nearly abandoned at this time of year, the evening chill of the January air driving the regular crowds indoors. No unwanted ears. Peter pulled his peacoat tighter around himself and waited until a lone jogger passed them to speak.
“I still say we should have rented a swan boat,” he joked.
“I don’t think they do that in the winter.” Liv’s smile was strained. “And I’m pretty sure you’ve outgrown the novelty of a paddleboat that looks like an asshole bird.”
“If you never got to enjoy something the first time out, can you actually outgrow it? I’m thinking my mid-thirties is when I’m really going to start doing all the shit I missed out on. Learn how to ride a bike, join a little league team, the works.”
“You know how to ride a bike, shithead. I taught you.”
Peter snorted. “Taught me? More like let me go with no training wheels while I careened into on-coming traffic. Same difference, right?”
“Bauers don’t do training wheels. Besides, we lived on a cul-de-sac. The only traffic was mom’s old Firebird.” She nudged him gently with her elbow, her shoulders finally relaxing. “Hey, you learned, didn’t you?”
He made a so-so gesture with his hand. “I don’t think I’ll be competing in the Tour-De-France anytime soon. Which is a real shame; my ass looks great in spandex.”
She chuckled, but it still seemed forced. “Nik good?”
“He’s okay.” Honestly, Nik was a bit of a mess right now, not that Peter blamed him. Stavros’ trial date had been set for mid-February, and Nik was slated to take the stand. It seemed unfair to make him relive that night. “He’s gearing up for the trial.”
“It’s in a few weeks, right?”
“Starts the tenth.” And Peter couldn’t wait until it was over. Nik could use the peace. They both could. “How’s Dave?”
“Good. Busy with work,” Liv said.
“Yeah, I imagine keeping dad behind bars is sort of a 24/7, all-hands-on-deck type gig, huh?” It never stopped being a little strange that Liv’s boyfriend’s job was keeping their crime-lord father locked away. A therapist would have a field day with that one but Bauers did therapy even less than they did training wheels—with Peter, as always, being the notable exception.
The joke didn’t even get a smile this time. They walked on, letting the click of Liv’s heels and the wind through the palms fill the silence. Things hadn’t been the same between them since the shit with Mia. It was starting to feel like a permanent state of affairs. He supposed he couldn’t blame Olivia; she’d given him more chances than most and he’d burned through them like they were inexhaustible. It was more than just that, though. They’d been inseparable as small-time crooks under their father’s malevolent thumb, but Peter was clawing his way out of the life and Liv was digging further in. He was starting to feel the distance.
“Is everything okay?” he asked her finally. Peter didn’t like the caution he heard in his own voice. It had never been this hard for him to talk to his sister.
“Half of LA’s on fire. There’s a turf war over every fucking corner and every fucking type of business in this city. Any dealer, pimp, conman, or thief who isn’t a Russian or a Greek is washing up dead on the shore and Families are killing each other in the streets. So, no, Peter, everything is about as far from okay as fucking possible right now. It’s war out there.” She sounded exhausted. Worse, Peter couldn’t ignore the undercurrent of panic in her voice. It scared him.
“But what about you?”
“Me?” She laughed bitterly. “Oh, I’m fucking ruined.” Liv pressed her middle and index finger into the spot between her eyebrows. “Matteo Giannopoulos and Anton Volkov are fucking ruining me.”
Peter reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, and Liv pulled away from his touch.
“Don’t,” she said flatly. “Don’t act like this is something that’s justhappeningto me. Matt’s been out for my blood since Stav got pinched and Volkov’s still pissed about that fucking stunt you pulled at his poker game.”
He took a long pull of coffee, making a concerted effort to keep his temper under control. “You think I don’t know I fucked up, Liv?”
“That your idea of an apology?” The muscles in her jaw twitched. “I think, yet again, you don’t have to live with the consequences of your fuck-ups. But,yet again, I do, and I’m forced to clean upyourmess.”
Peter flinched; he knew what Liv wanted from him. He wasn’t ready to give it. “What if we paid Volkov back for the damage? I could talk to Nik, maybe leverage some money on the garage...”
“Jesus, Peter, you think I didn’t think of that? I have tried to pay him back. Volkov doesn’t care about the money. He wants to tear out my bitch eyes and piss down the sockets. That’s a quote by the way.” She chuckled grimly. “It doesn’t matter what I do. Wherever I set up, he keeps finding my shops somehow. Volkov’s not going to stop coming for me unless I stop him first.”
He didn’t like the sound of that, not one fucking bit. “What are you planning, Liv?”
A hollow pit opened up in the bottom of his stomach. He could almost hear his father’s voice.When the time comes—and trust me, there will come a time—you will help your sister save the business. It’s my legacy.That voice lived inside him, no matter what he did.
Peter had agreed that day, not because of some stupid Bauer legacy, but for Mia, and for Nik. He’d naively hoped the time would never come for that chip to be cashed. You didn’t just back out on a promise to Erik Bauer. Even from jail, he could put all of them in more danger than Stasia Toles could ever dream up.
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing,” she said dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”
