Page 30 of The Deliverance of Marek Sommers

“I’m so sor—”

“Shut up,” I growled. “Whatever feel-good shit you’re about to spew, you can fucking save it.” I turned my back on her and made a beeline to the Range Rover.

“You didn’t want to hear her out?” Misha asked once we were in the car.

“Just drive,” I huffed, tossing the bag in the backseat.

“It sounded like she wanted to apologize.”

“Because you made her feel like a shitty parent and because she’s probably hung over. Everything that comes out of her mouth is toxic and I don’t believe a fucking word of it. You shouldn’t either.”

“I’m sorry she’s like that. That is no way for any child to grow up.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Well, that’s life.”

There wasn’t much to chat about after that and the radio filled the silence for us. A few times I caught Misha looking at me out of the corner of his eye, like he was trying to find an opening to say something, but he never did.

I beat him to the punch. “Where are we going? I thought you said we were going to the hospital?”

“We are,” Misha replied with a frown.

“Ingalls is that way,” I said, throwing a thumb over my shoulder in the complete opposite direction.

The slightly horrified look on his face was only there for a second before he blinked, erasing it. “He’s at Rush.”

“Rush?!”Fuck me!It might have been a teaching hospital but it was still going to be goddamn expensive.

“He’s in good hands there, I promise,” Misha said gently. “And this afternoon he goes to a treatment facility.”

“What?!” It was my turn to look horrified. “What are you talking about?”

“A center that specializes in teenage addiction. Three months. He can continue his studies while he is there, so there’s no setback to his schooling. We can renew his stay as long as necessary.”

“We?! What fucking ‘we’ are you talking about? I can’t afford that, Misha! And you saw Crystal. She won’t drop a dime on those kids for basic necessities, let alone fucking rehab!”

“It’s already paid for.”

“What?!”

“Why are you shouting?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! You can’t just come into my life and make decisions for my family, let alone pay for shit like that! Unless you’re banking on the whole social construct of reciprocity. Is that it?! Have you been fucking playing me this entire time?!”

“What are you talking about?” He actually looked confused. For a moment I wondered if they even taught social psychology in Russia, then I remembered what talented liars men like him really were, no matter what fucking country they were from.

“For the last time, what do you want from me? Might as well spell it out now. Is this going to be a one-time fuck or a permanent thing? Or are you going to pimp me out to people at Delirium whenever you feel like it? At this point, I don’t fucking care. But just so we’re clear, you’re not going near my brothers!Ormy sister! You got it?”

He braked for a red light way harder than necessary and grabbed the back of my neck, yanking me across the center console. Our faces were millimeters apart and his blue eyes were full of so much fury it made my heartbeat stutter. “Letmemake something clear—if I wanted to fuck you, I could have fucked you any number of times and there’s nothing you could do to stop me. Contrary to what you seem to think, not every kind gesture has an ulterior motive. I’m helping you and your family because you need the fucking help, not so I can feel better about raping you whenever I’m in the mood. It breaks my heart that that has been your experience with the world but I will not have you questioning my honor from this point forward. Understood?”

With his fingers digging into my neck, I couldn’t exactly nod. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He released me and carried on driving as if nothing happened.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye regardless. His anger seemed to back up his sincerity, but no matter how genuine he sounded, no one went out of their way for people the way he did and expected nothing in return.No one. So whilehemight have believed he didn’t have any ulterior motives, I fucking knew better. The so-called “bad guys” were easy to spot. They were self-centered assholes, blunt and to the point. Crass and demanding. They were loud and their intentions were obvious.

It was the nice guys you always had to watch out for. Nice guys who shelled out money for expensive coats and hospital stays and rehab, who loaned you an apartment, who doubled your salary for no goddamn reason other than citing some obscure “favor” you were supposedly doing for them. Nice guys like that were dangerous and Misha was, without a doubt, the nicest guy I’devermet.

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