Page 97 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

“The owner was kind to me back when … when I wasn’t doing well. Before I met Teddy and was sleeping on the streets one time, he gave me food. He gave me some anytime I was around that area later on, too. Although I tried to steer clear because it’s not the best part of town. It can get dangerous at night.”

Genuine interest brims in Gavril’s eyes. “Who’s Teddy?”

“Just my friend. Used to be.” Old grief stirs deep in my belly, along with heaps of guilt. When was the last time I even thought of poor Teddy? “He overdosed.”

“Ah. But …” Something different, suspicious passes over Gavril’s face before he finally voices it. “You never did any of—”

“What do you take me for?” I snap.

Gavril’s expression and voice is flat, unrepentant. “A human. Who can be tempted by very human things.”

“So, what? If you found out I experimented with drugs, you’d give me the boot, deem me unsuitable fake-wife material—is that it?” I don’t know what I’m saying, only that I’m mad, stupidly so.

“No. I knew within an instant of looking at you that you weren’t a junkie.”

“So why do you care?”

“Why do you?”

I sink back into bed. I’m being stupid. I know I am. Maybe it’s all this sex stuff with Gavril that has my head tied in knots.

“I never tried any of it,” I finally say, “I was too scared. My mom told me stories about how my aunt ended up after she tried heroin. And I saw how hard it was for my mom to quit cigarettes. Dammit, whenever I’d even start eating freaking Oreos, I couldn’t stop.”

Gavril’s mouth twitches. “So, what deterred you from heroin was … Oreos?”

I giggle against my better instinct. “Well, it sounds dumb when you say it like that.” Then, I sigh. Now that I’m thinking of it, there could be another reason for my outburst. “I don’t know. People tend to paint junkies with broad brushstrokes. Dismiss them and their suffering because it’s ‘their fault,’ like they’re not even worthwhile people. But Teddy was the gentlest, kindest man I’ve ever met.”

Gavril says nothing, just inclines his head.

I eye him suspiciously. “That’s it?”

He nods. “That’s it. I’ll be the first to agree that people paint things in black and white, when often they’re anything but.”

I nod, suddenly out of words. Clearly, I forgot who I was talking to. The king of moral ambiguity:“Never hurt anyone not in the game.”Although, I still haven’t worked out exactly how far he disregards society’s normal moral code. I’m probably better off not knowing.

“So, tonight …” Gavril says, suddenly rising.

“Tonight,” I say, but he’s already on his way out. Going, going, gone.

Looks like I’ve got several hours to amuse myself and Chowder. Maybe we can explore Gavril’s ample backyard. Who knows? Today’s our oyster.

* * *

Turns out Gavril’s grounds aren’t just big—they’re ridiculously, breathtakingly, majestically huge. Bushy pines as far as the eye can see, straddling gently rolling hills. Chowder and I have an amazing time. I let him go running off leash and he stops to bark joyously at the unlucky squirrels who happen to be nearby. I run after him, laughing until I’m gasping, then flop on my back in the grass and smile at the blue sky.

Life is good.

By the time I meet with Gavril inside later, I’m more than ready to eat. We drive downtown with easy chitchat and I keep forgetting that Gavril is my paid husband, that I don’t tend to get along with people this well.

When I notice where we are, my stomach does a weird lurch. There it is: the crosswalk of Bank and Miller, where the stores all start resembling punched-out slums and the people start looking like grimier and grimier zombies.

At a stoplight, Gavril slings me a sidelong look. “You slept here?”

“Only for one night,” I say defensively. I know how it looks—damn near suicidal. Maybe it was. “I was exhausted and too tired to keep walking. I hid behind some old cardboard. So I don’t think anyone noticed me.”

Gavril exhales, then frowns. “Not crazy about the idea of parking here. Too exposed. Any suggestions?”

“Yeah, actually.” I know just the place.

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