You’d think he’d be tired of repeating himself.
“Yeah, well, here I am,” I mumble as I toy with the edge of the sleeves of my hoodie. “Always exactly where I don’t belong.”
He lets out a deep, exaggerated sigh as he sits back in his chair. “The guys over at the seventh precinct are gonna want to interview you.”
I nod, not surprised.
The police would be crawling all over Mystic. I’m not on record as working there, officially, but my name is bound to come up. The security monitors are nothing more than live feeds, so there won’t be any recordings, which means they’re going to be desperate for witnesses.
They’ll find none.
Nobody’s going to talk.
Certainly not me.
“Was it him?” Gabe asks.
“What do you think?”
“I think it certainly sounds like something he’d do.”
“Well, there you go,” I say.
“So you saw him?” Gabe asks. “Kassian?”
Kassian.
My gaze shifts to my lap at the sound of that name. Sweat rolls down my back. It feels even harder to breathe in here now. Why the hell is it so hot?
“I heard him talking,” I say. “He was looking for me.”
“Did he see you?”
“Would I be sitting here if he did?”
“No,” he mutters. “Probably wouldn’t.”
I can’t even begin to imagine what Kassian might’ve done had he found me hiding behind that bar, how he would’ve reacted to the sight of me cowering there without a top on. Probably would’ve killed everyone. We’ve been doing this dance for a long, long time, but these past nine months have been the worst. I’m exhausted. Most intense game of Hide & Seek ever played, except it’s not a game. Not really. There’s nothing fun about what we’re doing. I want to quit, forfeit, call it a tie and walk away with my head held high, but Kassian Aristov plays to win.
There’s no negotiating with that man.
It’s his way or no way.
And I can’t let him win this one. I can’t. And he knows that. Him winning means the rest of us lose.
“Do you ever watch the sunrise, detective?”
Gabe sighs dramatically, ignoring my question, like maybe he thinks I’m being stupid. “Go home, Morgan. It’s not safe for you here.”
“Not safe in the 60th precinct?” I gasp with mock horror, clutching my chest. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“Yeah, well, if I’m not safe surrounded by police, what makes you think I’ll be safe anywhere out there?”
“He hasn’t found you yet, has he?”
“Not yet,” I say, yet being the operative word. If he figured out I was working at Mystic, it’s only a matter of time until he traces me to the apartment, considering George owns the place.
He set me up there when I hit bottom, after I threw myself at his mercy, having nowhere else to turn for help. He hates the Russians with a fiery passion, and the enemy of my enemy, well... let’s just say they’re the only ones stupid enough to jump at that chance.
“Can I ask you something else, detective?”
“If I say no, will that make you leave?”
“No.”
“Then fire away.”
“What do you know about a guy they call Scar?”
Gabe stops what he’s doing and looks at me. “I know anyone with a street name like Scar is probably going to be bad news. Other than that, nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing,” he says. “Why?”
“No particular reason.”
“Why, Morgan?” he asks again, voice louder. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
Man, this conversation is going nowhere.
“Go home,” Gabe says, standing up, “and stay there. Stay off the radar. Stay out of trouble. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t jeopardize what we’re doing here.”
“What are we doing here?” I ask. “Because I’m not really seeing anything being done.”
He squeezes my shoulder. It’s meant to be affectionate, I guess, but his touch makes my skin crawl. “I’m protecting you, Morgan, just like you need me to do.”
After he walks out, I sit there, considering those words. Protecting me.
If this is how they protect people, I think I’d rather protect myself.
Chapter Thirteen
“I have something for you, kitten.”
The little girl tensed at those words, at the Tin Man’s voice in the doorway behind her. It had been two weeks since that night when she’d been woken from her sleep for Hide & Seek.
When would it be over?
The little girl turned around in the wooden desk chair, where she’d been drawing with a stubby little pencil in the bedroom he called hers. The Tin Man stood there, dressed in a black suit, hands hidden behind his back. She hadn’t seen him much in days. She stayed in that room, avoiding him after he burned her favorite nightgown.
She didn’t like being there, but she liked it a tiny bit more when he wasn’t around. The Cowardly Lion watched her the nights the Tin Man didn’t come home. He wasn’t always nice, but he wasn’t as mean. Sometimes, she thought she might like him.
Her stomach gurgled and her hands shook as she fisted the pencil. “What do you have?”
The Tin Man said nothing, did nothing, just staring at her, not moving from the doorway. After a moment, he pulled something from behind his back, his hand dwarfing a stuffed bear. Threadbare in some patches, its fluff kind of matted, the tan coloring filthy brown. An eye was gone and an ear was barely hanging on, but it was the most beautiful thing the little girl had ever seen, because it was hers. Hers.
Her mother had given it to her.
She hadn’t seen it since the night she’d dropped it in the kitchen near where her mother slept. Her eyes widened, lips parting, heart beating wildly in her chest.
“For me?” she asked.
“It is yours, yes?” He looked at it, making a face. “Hideous thing. Do you even want it?”
She frantically nodded.
Of course she wanted it.
She wanted it so bad.
But she didn’t dare move from the chair, didn’t dare try to get it. Not yet.
He knelt down then, eye-level from the doorway, and held it out for her to take. The little girl was terrified it might be a trick, but she wanted it so much she had to try. Standing up, she approached him, reaching for it. He kept his grip on the bear, not yet releasing it. “Does it have a name?”
She nodded.
“Use your words.”
“His name is Buster,” she whispered.
“Buster,” he repeated before finally letting go. The little girl snatched the bear to her chest, hugging it tightly.
The Tin Man stood back up, like he was just going to leave, like it hadn’t been a trick at all. He really had something for her, something he would let her keep.
In a snap decision, the little girl flung herself at him, hugging his legs, squishing the teddy bear against his thigh. He froze, looking at her. She worried she’d made a mistake until his hand gently stroked her long brown hair and he hugged her back.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered.
His finger crooked beneath her chin, making her look up at him. “I would do anything for you, kitten.”
She wasn’t sure if she believed that, but his gentle tone made her smile. For the first time in fourteen long days, she smiled at him.
The Tin Man grinned down at her, again stroking her hair, his shoulders sagging, his posture less tense, like maybe he remembered his heart again. Maybe it was in his chest, beating all weirdly just like hers, kind of scared still, but almost a little bit happy, too. It didn’t last long, though, as something happened to his smile, making it freeze on his face, like the smile her mother gave her the night when things went all wrong.
“You look like her,” he said, his tone flat. “I pray you never act like her. I would not handle that well.”