Page 83 of The Payback

“Why? Is it too revealing?” she asks.

No. Fuck no. Focus, man.

Dimitri surprises me then, rushing me and taking me down like a linebacker. My ass slams against the kitchen island, my back bows, and he pushes me down. Nothing was coordinated about his tackle; it was all limbs and chaos. But it was effective as hell.

I brace against the marble and shove at his shoulders. While my legs are unsteady, he sweeps his foot under my own, tilting me sideways. He flips me easily, pulling my arms back into an uncomfortable position, and shoves my head against the unforgiving surface.

My eyes find Ellie as she sits on the stool and picks up the sandwich I left for her. She smiles around a mouth full of bread and does a finger wave. She’s wearing a high-necked T-shirt, so Dimitri’s distraction tactic was just that.

“This is fantastic. Thank you, Nik.” Her words are garbled, lending an additional air of humour to the whole situation.

“I aim to please,” I tease back. “I’ll accept your gratitude once I’m done with this, ’kay?”

She snickers, and Dimitri presses harder against the back of my neck. My vision gets fuzzy, and my shoulders hurt like a motherfucker as he stretches my arms to their limits behind me.

“Submit,” he seethes.

“Not a chance.” I kick out behind me, and he traps my legs with his own and puts more pressure on me from behind.

“Your choice” are the last words I hear before everything goes black.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

Eleanor

Dimitriand I tuck into our sandwiches as Nik sleeps it off on the floor.

“The gala is a good idea. I thought we’d sidestepped it with the wedding being months ago, but there’s merit to the idea,” Dimitri says after sitting at the counter beside me. He puts a second sandwich on my plate, this one with cut-up bananas and peanut butter. He picks up his sandwich and takes a bite, groaning around it. “That’s fucking delicious.”

I laugh at the out-of-character moment. “That good, huh?”

He groans again, nods, and takes another massive bite. At this rate, he’ll finish the damn thing in four bites.

“My mother used to make them for me when I was a kid.”

I let that little nugget of truth settle between us. There’s not much information about Dimitri’s mum, Katarina, but plenty about his dad. His mum passed from cancer when he was sixteen, and the frown on his face makes me wonder if he’s still feeling the profound effect of her loss.

“What was she like?” I ask quietly.

Dimitri sighs, finishes his chewing, and clears his throat. His knee bounces under the countertop, and the brief flash of humanity endears him to me. He may scare me with his business methods, but here, in this kitchen, eating his peanut butter and banana sandwich, he’s gentle—nervous, even.

“She was quiet. Calm. Believed in a God with a plan, though I can’t seem to understand it. She was the antithesis of my dad. Their marriage was a business deal between two families, but she tried her best to make it work.” His eyes are unfocused as he walks down memory lane. “She endured a lot, and I hate that so much of that was for me, and then eventually, Nik. She was our shield.”

“Your dad was...”

“Abusive, yes—though he wouldn’t call it that. He’d say he had a ‘firm hand,’ which is the same thing. He ran the household like a military operation, demanding our best behaviour and manners. Mum thought it was because his role was so chaotic, and when he took up the post ofpakhan, it worsened.” He rakes a hand through his hair, and his leg bounces. “Now that I’m in this position, I hate that I can see where he was coming from. Not that his methods are excusable, but... I don’t know how to explain it. The job is hard. Keeping people in line and on track is like three full-time jobs crammed into one.”

I venture a guess as to his meaning. There is no universe in which I can imagine striking or wounding Bella with either my hands or words, so I try to see it from another perspective. “So you think his need for an orderly and well-mannered home came from needing something in his life to work smoothly when the job was so erratic?”

He nods. “Yes, but there are better ways. Having your wife and child live in fear is not the only way to accomplish that.”

I reach out, resting a hand on his forearm. He flinches under my touch, obviously lost to the memories of other hands on him. I squeeze gently, and the bunched muscles of his arm relax. “You’re already doing better by recognising that, Dimitri.”

He shakes his head. “I have no social life, and I’m throwing the organisation to the wolves, Eleanor. Not because I can’t hack it but because of the wrongdoings that keep happening. This is no way to live, and too many innocents have been affected by our actions—people who never signed up for this life and bystanders who get caught in the crosshairs. I’m not a saint by any stretch. I will be judged and found wanting when my time comes. No God in this world or the next will condone my behaviour and actions, but if I can stop another young man from being brought up in this, then all of this will count for something.”

My heart breaks for this man. He’s conflicted about right and wrong, unable to see the good in himself. I’ve been quick to condemn him for so many things, but hearing it all laid out like this gives me food for thought.

“If it matters, I think you’re doing the good and right thing, Dimitri. I may not say it often, but the footage you’ve collected has gone a long way in building a case, and we’re on our way to making a genuine change. Not the type that affects those closest to us, but you’re putting the good of many above the prosperity of a few. God may not recognise it, but I do.”

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