Chapter 2 - My Father's Debt
“You don't get to say something like that and then stare out the window.”
Kalin continued staring out the window.
“Kalin.”
His eyes moved toward me.
I held up the note.
“Explain.”
“Your father borrowed money.”
“From you?”
“No.”
“Then from whom?”
“The Rossi organization.”
I laughed once.
It sounded terrible even to me.
“You expect me to believe the mafia is after me because my dead father had a debt?”
“Yes.”
“You're insane.”
“Unfortunately, I'm not.”
I reached for the door handle.
The locks clicked.
“Did you just lock me inside?”
“Yes.”
“Unlock it.”
“No.”
“Kalin.”
“Elena.”
“You don't get to kidnap me because I yelled at you with a broom.”
His driver made a suspicious choking sound.
Kalin's eyes narrowed toward him.
“Russo.”
“Sorry, boss.”
I stared between them.
“Boss?”
Russo focused very hard on driving.
Kalin sighed.
“My family and the Rossis have been rivals for years.”
My stomach dropped.
“You're mafia too.”
“I didn't use that word.”
“You didn't need to.”
Silence.
I moved farther away from him.
He noticed.
Something unreadable crossed his face.
“My father never mentioned any debt.”
“He wouldn't.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand originally.”
“Originally?”
“With interest, nearly six hundred.”
I stared at him.
“My father was a high-school history teacher.”
“He also gambled.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You didn't know him.”
“No. But I know records.”
I wanted to call him a liar.
Then memories surfaced.
Dad disappearing on weekends.
Selling his motorcycle.
Mom's jewelry vanishing after she died.
His vague explanations.
My throat tightened.
“Why are they coming after me?”
“Because they discovered Daniel Parker had a daughter.”
“And why do you care?”
Kalin didn't answer.
I pointed at him.
“Yesterday you tried to pay me to shut up.”
“That was yesterday.”
“What changed?”
“Someone had your photograph.”
The anger disappeared from my face.
“What?”
“One of Rossi's collectors.”
“How long?”
“We're determining that.”
I swallowed.
“So you were pacing upstairs because—”
“I was dealing with him.”
“And now?”
“Now you're staying somewhere safe.”
“No.”
“Elena—”
“I have work.”
“You're not going.”
“I have spent four months restoring a painting.”
“You can restore it later.”
“No, I can't.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You're remarkably difficult.”
“You met me holding a broom at three in the morning. What exactly were you expecting?”
Russo laughed.
Kalin slowly looked toward him.
“Not a word.”
“Yes, boss.”
I crossed my arms.
“Take me to work.”
“No.”
“Take me to work or I'll scream.”
“This vehicle is soundproof.”
“I'll annoy you.”
“That I believe.”
For several seconds we stared at each other.
Finally Kalin sighed.
“Rossi Gallery.”
Russo blinked.
“Boss?”
“Take her.”
I smiled.
“Thank you.”
Kalin leaned closer.
“I'm coming with you.”
My smile disappeared.
---
At the gallery, my supervisor nearly dropped his coffee.
“Miss Parker?”
“Yes?”
His eyes moved past me.
Kalin stood behind me with two men.
My supervisor's face drained of color.
“Mr. Kovatch.”
Kalin nodded.
“Morning.”
I whispered, “Everyone knows you?”
“Almost everyone.”
“That must be exhausting.”
His eyes met mine.
“You have no idea.”
I worked while Kalin sat across the restoration room.
For two hours.
Watching.
Finally, I put down my brush.
“Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Staring.”
“I'm protecting you.”
“You're distracting me.”
He stood.
“I'll wait outside.”
That surprised me.
“Really?”
“You said your hand needs to be steady.”
He walked toward the door.
I stared after him.
The terrifying mafia boss had listened.
Then the gallery alarm screamed.
Kalin spun around.
One of his men rushed inside.
“Boss!”
“What?”
“Rear entrance.”
Kalin crossed the room.
“What happened?”
“Someone left this.”
He held up a photograph.
Me.
Sleeping beside my apartment window.
Written across the photograph in black marker:
PAY THE DEBT OR WE COLLECT HER.
Kalin's face became frighteningly still.
He looked at me.
“You're done here.”
May you like
For once, I didn't argue.
---
