Page 156 of Requiem of Sin

I hate that I’m starting to see the appeal. But still… “You have the casino. The hotel. You don’t need all this.”

“Whatever the casino makes in a month, my Bratva quadruples in a week.”

Well… shit.

Just doing some back-of-the-envelope math based on what I know about casinos, if what he’s saying is true, then Demyen could use hundred-dollar bills to blow his nose and it wouldn’t make a dent in his bank account.

Me? Finding four quarters in the couch means it’s a good day.

We live in different worlds.

Demyen beckons one of the mechanics over. “How’s it looking?”

The guy rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s a Tesla. Like workin’ on a fuckin’ spaceship. We can remove the plates, give it a paint job, switch the leather, but that’s about it.”

“Do it. Have it brought to me whenever you’re done. In the meantime, we’ll take whatever’s under the tarp.”

I’ve never ridden in a Firebird before.

We roar down the desert highway. Demyen is clearly enjoying the drive and, I have to admit, so am I. The purr of the engine is so much louder than the silence of the Tesla that there’s no way we’re able to hold a decent conversation over the noise.

Which is fine by me. I’m too busy panicking to talk.

Martin’s pulled some shit before, but nothing like this. I knew he wouldn’t give up on his hunt, but I never imagined he’d have me publicly labeled as a kidnapper. A drug-wasted, child-endangering kidnapper. A criminal at large.

The fact that my father let it happen only makes the stone in my gut sink lower. Does he know? He has to know. There’s no way Martin could get this past him without his knowledge or his blessing. My father may be many things, but he’d never misuse police resources on fake kidnapping charges.

Unless…

Unless he doesn’t think it’s fake.

I’m glad for the loud engine—it drowns out the whimper of fear I feel in my throat. If this seat would let me sink any lower, I would.

My only comfort, my only relief, is seeing Willow happily comb her unicorn backpack’s mane while she sings to herself. She’shappy, she’s safe, and she’s with me. That’s all I can ask for right now.

When we pull through the gates onto Demyen’s long driveway, the guards leap into action and immediately lock up behind us. The compound is buzzing with activity, from uniformed patrol doing extra-thorough checks to men I recognize asvorscalmly but sternly strolling the walkways and peering out windows.

It’s like they’re expecting an attack.

And maybe they should be. Clearly, Martin has no problem misusing police resources for his own gain. I wouldn’t put it past him to show up with a full SWAT team.

I wouldn’t put it past Demyen to come ready with a team of his own, either.

Guards andvorsalike greet us with nods and gestures that say, so far, everything is in the clear. Demyen nods his approval and drives us into the garage, pulling into one of the few empty spaces flanked by luxury cars I don’t know the names of.

He doesn’t get out right away, so neither do I.

“Hey, Wills.” He turns in his seat to smile at her. It’s tense, but he’s doing his best to keep her oblivious to the danger surrounding us. “Bambi just texted me. Gloria’s gonna put a movie on in the sunroom and make you some popcorn. Sound good?”

Usually, Willow would scream with excitement at that, but not this time. She pouts and hugs her backpack to her chest. “But what about school?”

I choke on the sob I won’t let her see. My heart is breaking for her at the same time the anger is welling up. None of this is fair, least of all for her.

She didn’t deserve to have her day ruined by the asshole who claims to be her father.

“I forgot some papers.” Demyen scrunches his face. “Sorry, Wills. That’s my fault. Can I make it up to you later?”

She squints at him. Then: “I want ice cream.”

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