Page 37 of The Bratva's Christmas Bump
I shrug. “I can’t show her pictures in this state. But when we nab the other cunt, maybe I can then. She’s worried about her kid. And her mom.”
“Shit.” Rex drags a hand down his face. “What I’m gonna do to that fucker when I get my hands on him will be too grotesque to even write about in the papers.”
“Get in line,” I mutter.
Outside, the brisk air blows away the lingering hospital air. The weight in my chest eases a fraction, but not enough to allow me to breathe freely. Rubbing my chest, we walk toward the car while Rex kicks up a stone next to me.
“You know, did you think about telling Hollie the truth about what she saw?” he asks. “She might not give you such a hard time if she knew why you killed that bastard.”
“I can’t tell her. One, she’s not part of this life. You’ve seen her. And if I tell her, all I’ll do is terrify her while painting a picture ofwhat people in this world could do to her. Including my fucking father.”
Rex grimaces slightly. “True.” He opens the door for me and shoots me a brief, sympathetic smile.
“Keeping her in the dark is the only way to keep her safe. Besides, one more dark detail and the fragile peace that’s keeping her mouth shut might shatter. Then we’re all screwed.”
14
HOLLIE
Returning to work brings a comforting sense of normalcy that I cling to with both hands. The Elden Hotel houses some of the most elite people in the state and in my previous years of playing music in the lobby, I would get distracted by how regally dressed all these people were. The tips they left were just as obscene as their clothing.
This year’s different.
After the explosive meeting with my parents on Sunday after Maxim’s father tried to kill me, I focus on the music andonlythe music. The violin rests comfortably in my hands while numbing cream prevents the hidden bruises around my throat from flaring up. The bow rests loosely between my fingers and with my eyes closed, I play the next melody on the Christmas music list approved by the hotel manager.
Around me, golden lights twinkle on every single surface and to my left, a gigantic golden Christmas tree stands proudly, wrapped in elegant silver tinsel, baubles, and lights. A little too much gold for my personal tastes, especially since the managerpoured me into a floor-length golden ballgown to emphasize that I really am part of the furniture.
But the money is good and with music in my ears, nothing else matters. I play my way through eighteen songs while appreciative guests drop tips into the snow globe basket near my stand. Some stand nearby and compliment my music, and anyone who gets too close immediately gets on the radar of the two men Maxim has guarding me.
Stu and Toto.
Ironically, they blend in well in a place like this. Money is clearly no object to Maxim, and the way he acts, I’d suspect a hotel as lavish as this is almost beneath him. That extends to both my guards even as they lounge in the lobby completely undisturbed by security. They watch me closely, but even they fade to the background as I play. Behind me, tall windows draped in silver curtains are coated in fake snow and above me, projectors create the illusion of an angel sending stars down to greet me.
Song after song plays until my fingers throb and my shoulder aches, but they’re familiar, pleasant pains that I embrace as my last song draws to an end.
Sudden clapping catches my attention, so I scan the crowd as I lower my violin and catch sight of Tiffany, my boss.
A familiar, friendly face that immediately overwhelms me with the urge to run to her. Toto and Stu clock her a second after I do, but I reach her first and clasp her hands. “Tiffany!”
“Hollie, you’ve got someinsaneexplaining to do,” she scolds as she pulls me in for a tight hug. Her suit rumples but she hardly cares. “Not returning my calls? Ignoring my texts? Then you turn up here like nothing is wrong? Do you have any idea howbadly I’ve been stressing that I’d have to rebook this gig and—oh, my God!” Clutching my hand, she notices the wedding band and drags my fingers to her face. “What is this?”
“Excuse me.” Toto’s hand lands on Tiffany’s shoulder, but before he can pull her away, she turns to face him with a sharp glare over the top of her perfectly rectangular glasses.
“You'd better remove that hand unless you want to explain to the owner why all your fingers are broken and your membership has been revoked, young man!”
Toto gapes at her while Stu snorts just behind him.
“Guys, it’s fine. This is Tiffany, my agent.”
“You know them?” She looks back at me, visibly puzzled.
“Uhm… let me explain.” After shaking off the guards, I guide Tiffany to the golden couches in the lobby and we sit. “I got married.”
“I can see that!” She adjusts her glasses and winces as she keeps hold of my hand and observes the ring. “How cheap is this guy? I didn’t even know you were dating!”
“The ring is only temporary,” I say, though why I’m defending it, I have no idea. “And it was sort of a last… minute thing.”
“Oh, my Lord.” Tiffany would be clutching her pearls if she had any. “Hollie, what did you do?”
