Leverage (6 page)

That did confuse me, because Conner had said something about Leo owing some guy money and his loans not going through, at least, that’s what Katy had told him. Aaron’s point suddenly clicked into place.

“Freshman aren’t required to live on campus at the U-Dub,” I said.

“That’s right.”

“Only reason Conner did was because…well…he didn’t want to live with us, with me, that is, and his old man said he’d pay for it. Plus, it’s a long commute from Issaquah, but for Leo, that makes no sense.”

“Bingo! Leo could’ve lived at home and saved all kinds of dough, not that it looks like he needed it,” Aaron surmised. “Jus’ sayin’, seems kinda weird to me, ya know?”

I stroked my finger and thumb along my chin, staring at Aaron yet not seeing him. “Yeah,” I admitted, “seems weird to me, too.”

“And get this. His full name is Leonid Anton Vasin. His father owns and runs a bookstore in the District, on University near Northeast 52nd. A Russian bookstore, Ty,” he said, his forehead a mass of horizontal lines.

“What are you telling me, Aaron?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “Russian name, the bookstore, Brighton Beach—”

“Brighton Beach? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, it ain’t called Little Odessa for nothin’.”

“Little Odessa. What does that mean?”

“Means there are a shitload of Ukrainians there. Russians, too, all tied to the motherfuckin’ Brotherhood. A real hot bed for the Russian Mafia, my man.” He shook his head, his bottom lip jutting out. “With your history, hard to believe this is all a coincidence.”

I rocked back in my seat, my arms up, and my hands sliding along the back of my head as I stared into space. That old familiar feeling gripped my stomach again. Terror. I let my arms fall to my sides then leaned up on the desk as I focused back on Aaron.

“You said that wasn’t what bothered you most.” Aaron shook his head no. “So what is then?” I asked.

“When I couldn’t find a social security number for Katy Holender, I searched under a few other names, Kate, Katherine, Kaitlyn, a bunch of others, all nothing, at least nothing that fit our little Katy. Until, working on this hunch I have about the Russians, I entered Ekaterina.” His eyes got wide. “Bingo. Miss Katy is actually one Ekaterina Oksana Holender, nickname Katya. She’s Russian, as well. No way
that
could be a coincidence, too.”

I stood and turned toward the window, my hands pressed to the glass as I mulled it all over. I turned back to Aaron. “This could all just be a coincidence. Maybe Leo was dealing drugs or something. Seems more likely than him being connected to the
Bratva
. Besides, there’s a large Russian population here, Aaron, all over the Eastside. Just ‘cause he was Russian doesn’t mean he was
Bratva
.”

Aaron nodded at the possibility that it
could
all be a coincidence. “Yeah, that’s true. But, come on, Ty, do you really want to take that chance?”

I turned back to the window, uncomfortable as to what that could possibly mean. “No,” I said then caught his reflection in the dark glass. “I don’t.”

“Good,” he replied and stood. “Then I’ll look into it more thoroughly and get back to you. In the meantime, keep your family close and your eyes open.”

I simply nodded, my back still to the door as Moody slipped his coat back on and left.

Then I recalled Conner’s bitter words from the day before.

I sighed and repeated, “Fuckin’ awesome,” to my reflection in the dark glass.

Tomorrow was the big day, when Conner would finally be released from rehab. It would be difficult to see him face-to-face, knowing what I knew about his friends, yet unable to share. That would open a whole can of worms neither Hannah nor I wanted opened. So I’d been a little cagey and kept Aaron’s information to myself. I told Hannah I had Aaron looking for Katy to give Conner some peace of mind, so he’d know she was okay. I planned on telling her everything as soon as I knew what that was exactly, but I hadn’t heard back from Aaron in the last week or so, except for a quick “I’m working on it” whenever I’d leave him voicemail. That didn’t go over well with Hannah or Conner when I passed his message on.

“I don’t understand what’s taking Aaron so long,” Hannah said while we cleaned up after breakfast.

I dropped the large frying pan I’d been washing into the sink. Soapy water slopped over the edge and down the front of the cabinets, splashing onto my pants and shoes. Hannah glanced up from wiping down the kitchen table and hitched a fist onto her hip.

“Something I said?” she asked. “Or are you just trying to get out of washing the dishes?” She smiled and walked to the laundry room and grabbed the mop.

I took it from her and began sopping up the mess I’d made, uneasy looking her in the eye. “Don’t be silly. I was just thinking about Conner and if he was ready to leave rehab.”

“Of course, he’s ready. Why wouldn’t he be?” she asked.

I stayed on task, wiping down the counter and the face of the cabinet. “It’s not easy, Hannah, being thrown back into the world that put you there in the first place.” I stood up and studied my handiwork, still not ready to face her. I knew she’d see right through me. I resumed my dishwashing. “I just don’t want him to relapse, you know, to fall back into bad habits.”

She grabbed a clean dishtowel and joined me at the sink, drying the dishes I’d just washed. “I couldn’t agree more, and that’s why…” She trailed off, her thought unfinished.

“That’s why what?” I asked and finally turned to face her.

“Why I don’t think Conner should go back to school right away.” She glanced up at me for the briefest of moments then concentrated on the dish in her hands.

I leaned my hand against the edge of the counter and waited for her to elaborate.

Another peek up at me, then she sighed. “Don’t look at me like that, Ty. What if he goes back to school and all the old pressures start building and he slips? I’m really worried about him.”

I was worried, too, but for different reasons. Was it safe to send Conner back to school if there was a threat from the Russians? Though my fears nagged at me, I was inclined to believe that Leo had just been mixed up in drugs. The other possibility seemed remote.

So I shook my head at Hannah. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, for several reasons.”

“Like what?”

“Like it wouldn’t be good for him to be idle, with nothing to do but think about Leo and Katy. That’s what put him there. Not his school work. Plus, Conner needs to learn how to deal with those pressures. It’s part of his recovery.”

She huffed in frustration. “I know, but—”

“No buts, Hannah. I’ve been through this, both the grief and the substance abuse. I know what I’m talking about. He needs to keep busy and move forward.”

“He isn’t like you, Ty.”

“I know, but we’ve set everything up for him. He has a shrink here in town, another counselor at school, plus one at rehab, all available anytime.”

Hannah crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at her feet. I rested a hand along her arm and tilted her chin up with my fingers.

“I’ll take him to an AA meeting, even help him find another group near school. But Conner has to get back to the land of the living, Hannah. He has to learn to take care of himself.” I stepped away and started putting the clean dishes away.

“You said you didn’t want to make the same mistakes with Conner that you’d made with Nick.”

“That’s right. I don’t.”

“But you are. You’re pushing him away, the same way you pushed your brother.”

I stopped and stared at her. “No, it’s nothing like tha—”

“Yes, it is. It’s exactly like that.”

“No,” I reiterated more forcefully. “Nick was a screw up, always getting into trouble, and me always cleaning up after him. He never learned how to take care of himself properly.”

“Funny, I thought we determined it was actually Nick who took care of
you
. Remember, that whole Russian thing with your father and all?” She set her mouth in a thin line and started to stomp away.

I grabbed her by the arm. “Really? You’d throw that back in my face, just to spite me?”

“No, I do it to make you see.”

“See what exactly?”

She wriggled her arm from my grasp. “That you push people away, hold them at a distance, expect them to live up to
your
ideals, all things you swore you’d never do again.”

She turned her back and whisked out of the room. I followed.

“You’re his mother, Hannah. It’s up to you to teach him to live responsibly.”

She spun around with her finger in my face, her face flushed with anger.

“Don’t
you
dare to tell
me
how to parent! You’ve never been there. You ruined that the same way you ruined everything else in your life, and for the same reasons!”

I stared at her with my mouth open and my eyes wide. Then I turned away and headed back down the hall. I grabbed my coat and keys from the kitchen counter and opened the side door. Hannah charged after me.

“Oh God, Ty, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

I raised my hand to silence her and stared her hard in the eye. “I think you meant every word.” I turned and slipped through the door, on my way to my truck.

Hannah followed. “No, Ty, not like you think!”

“What the fuck do you want from me? I try, everyday, to live and learn from my mistakes. That’s what this is! Can’t you see?”

She cried and shook her head. “He’s my son,” she wailed.

I nodded, clear on her message. “I kind of thought he was
mine
now, too.” I smiled with all the bitterness and resentment I felt Conner had ever laid at my feet and his mother had failed to contain. “Guess I was wrong.”

I opened my truck door and slid into the driver’s seat then started the engine. Hannah took a step toward me, but I closed the door, slipped the truck into reverse, and pulled back out onto the street, leaving Hannah on the driveway without another glance.

I watched Tyler’s truck speed off down the street. My next-door neighbor, a single, thirty-something man named Roman, stood in his driveway with the morning paper in hand. He waved with a tentative smile plastered to his rugged face.

“Buenos dias
,” he said with the lovely soft roll of a Hispanic accent.

I couldn’t reply. I just covered my face with my hands and wept. What had I done? Why had I been so cruel? The questions made me cry even harder.

I heard the sharp click of heels against the asphalt driveway and looked up to see Roman standing five feet away, his brow high in concern.

“I am sorry, Hannah, I could not help but overhear. You and your husband, you had a fight, no?”

I nodded and wiped the tears from my cheeks then straightened up to greet him. I didn’t know him all that well. He’d only been here for nine months or so, but like everyone else in the neighborhood, he was kind and friendly, and never failed to help when I needed it. And he wasn’t hard on the eyes either.

“Yeah, I’m sure
everyone
heard that one,” I replied with a sniffle.

Roman chuckled. “Probably, but you know, we are all here for you, including me, whenever you need. Just…give a holler. Walls are thin. I hear everything.”

I gasped at the thought that Roman had heard more of our argument than what had taken place out on the driveway. He took three steps closer, his tall, muscular frame looming over me, and touched my hands, patting them, embarrassment all over his nice-looking face.

“Oh, no, no, I am sorry. That is not what I meant. I stick my toe in my mouth, no?”

That drew a chuckle from me. I patted his hands right back. “No, please, I’m the one who should be embarrassed. That was…just…wrong to air our dirty laundry like that. My fault, really.” I looked down. “What can I say? Pregnancy hormones.”

Roman bent to capture my attention. “I realize there are two sides to every story, no? But…to me, it seems wrong for a man to carry on that way with his wife, especially when she is pregnant. And in public.” He shook his head. “Is not right. But I see the way he looks at you, a man very much in love. I am sure he will be back to apologize very soon.”

It was my turn to shake my head. “No, I doubt it, but thank you for your kindness.”

I turned to go back inside, but Roman tapped my elbow.

“Hannah, would you like to come over for a cup of café? I just made a whole pot, and I’ll never drink it all, silly me. Who makes a whole pot for one lonely person?
Aye yai yai!
”

He tossed me a grin, generous and bright, with two large dimples pitting his tawny cheeks. His brown eyes twinkled with a genuine warmth I found hard to resist. I doubt any woman could. I nodded and returned the gesture, then followed Roman’s trim figure into his house. It was the same floor plan as mine, only in reverse, but his was decorated with an ethnic flair, in warm reds and oranges, browns and tans, with bright splashes of green and blue thrown in. And strikingly beautiful photographs lined every wall.

“Where are you from, Roman?” I asked as I looked around.

“Ah, Venezuela,” he answered as he led me into the kitchen. He motioned toward a worn chair. “Please, have a seat. An expectant mother needs her rest.” He pulled two large, black ceramic mugs from the cabinet and placed them in front of his coffee maker where a very full pot of steaming coffee sat waiting. He lifted it up. “See, too much café for one lonely man,” he said. Then he stopped mid-pour and looked at me, a question in his eyes. “I make mistake, no? Can you have
café
?”

I put my hands against my rounded belly. “Oh, no, one cup is fine.”

He nodded and continued pouring then brought both cups to the table, going back to retrieve the cream and sugar. He lifted the tiny pitcher. “
Crema?
”

I shook my head. “No, none for me. I prefer mine black.”

“Ah, a true Seattleite, no? Not me. I could never drink mine black,” he said as he poured a good quarter cup of cream into his half full coffee. Then he sat forward with his arms against the kitchen table. “Now we have café, you tell Roman what you and that handsome husband of yours argue about, no?”

I chuckled. “Handsome husband, huh?”

He grinned ear to ear. “
Si, muy guapo!
”

“Roman, is there something I should know?” I raised one brow, wondering why the best-looking men were almost always gay.

He looked at me for a moment then seemed to understand what I was asking. He waved both hands at me and sat back in his chair, his eyes round.

“Oh, no, no, not me, please. That is what all the neighbor ladies say. Me,” he said, his hand to his heart, “I was married once, not long ago, with two beautiful children.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, fearing I’d insulted him, but curious nonetheless. “Are you divorced then? I mean, I am. Ty is actually my second husband.”

Though he smiled, his eyes looked sad. “I was just a photographer’s assistant when I met my wife, Marina. She was a model. Very beautiful,” he explained with surprising tenderness.

I wasn’t surprised, though, to hear he had a beautiful wife. Roman was pretty darn striking himself, dark and angular like Benjamin Bratt, masculine, and very sexy in a soulful way. It felt like his dark eyes could see straight to the deepest part of me. He smiled again, more bittersweet than the last.

“We had a grand affair, until Marina lost her visa. She was being sent back to Cuba, but before she left, she discovered she was pregnant, so I married her. Because I had already become a citizen, she was granted permanent residency. Five months later, she delivered a baby girl, Maya, and two years after that, a boy, Marco. But Marina missed her mother and wanted her to see our children, so they arranged to meet in Miami.”

Roman’s broad shoulders sagged and his eyes turned misty. I put my hand over his with a reassuring squeeze. I feared I was about to hear a horrendous story of how they’d all died in a plane crash. He placed his other hand over mine and looked me in the eye.

“Once Marina met her mother, she sailed for Cuba, and I did not hear from her for weeks. Then, a phone call. Marina said she was not returning to America. She said she was marrying another, and I would never see the children again.” Tears rolled down his face.

I squeezed his shoulder as he clutched at my other hand. “Oh, Roman, I’m so sorry. How awful. Have you seen or heard from your children?”

He shook his head. “I worked with the American government to get them back, but Cuba would not cooperate. There was no legal way I could recover them.” His eyes teared up again, but for only a moment. Then his powerful shoulders pulled back, and his once-gentle eyes blazed with the force of his memories. “I hired a team to abduct my own children and bring them home. It cost me everything, but well worth it to get my children back. But something went wrong, and Marina was killed. The man she had married whisked my children away. I searched for years, but could find no sign of them.”

He loosened his grip on my hand and sat back in his chair, his eyes on the table. “Maya is a young woman now, seventeen years old, and Marco, fifteen. I missed their entire childhood.” He pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes and gathered himself together. His chair scraped against the old vinyl tiles as he stood and reached for me. “I am sorry, Hannah. I should not have carried on so. I hope you can forgive me.”

I stood, took his outstretched hand in mine, and rubbed his shoulder once more. “Oh, no, Roman, please. There’s nothing to forgive.” I gave him a one-armed hug, and he began to lead me toward the entry hall.

I felt bad, as if he were embarrassed and wanted to be alone. He opened the front door and I passed through, but Roman followed me onto his porch. He took my hand and helped me down the three concrete steps and onto the brick walkway, where he turned me around and clasped my hands in his.

“You and your husband, you love each other very much. I can see that. He will come around, and you will be happy, no?”

I smiled and nodded, as much to reassure myself as Roman. He glanced over my shoulder as a vehicle passed us on the street, then he looked back at me, a new smile, dimples and all. He leaned in and kissed both my cheeks before giving me a hug and a friendly rub on my back. He even tapped my cheek with his fingers. Then his smile melted away as his attention was drawn behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Tyler sitting in his truck in our driveway. The expression on his face was blank, remote even, as he stared over at me and Roman. I dropped Roman’s hands and offered one last smile.

“I’m sorry, Roman. I should go. But thank you so much for the coffee and for sharing your story. Don’t you ever give up on those kids, you hear?” One more brittle smile, a small, civil wave, and I was off, traipsing through the lawn back to my house.

Tyler watched my every step then withdrew from his truck as I approached. We stood face to face, three feet between us, and considered each other, our gazes fixed and determined. I broke first, dropping my eyes to the pavement with a shake of my head.

“I’m sorry,” I said and peered back up at him.

He closed the space between us and folded his arms around me in a stiff hug.

“Me, too,” he replied. He pulled back and looked me in the eye then kissed my forehead first before placing another on my lips. It was tender, but conditional somehow. Tentative. He put his arm around my shoulder and steered me toward the kitchen door. “Let’s go back inside. We’ll start over. Okay?”

I nodded and walked toward the house, Ty’s hand at my back. I felt Ty hesitate then turn slightly back toward the driveway. I looked over my shoulder and saw Roman watching us, his face unreadable. I watched them both, Ty and Roman, how they seemed to challenge each other with just their eyes. Tyler offered a curt nod and a neighborly wave, but Roman—even after his well wishes and proclamation that Ty and I would be okay—spun around without a reply and walked back to his house. Ty halted at the stoop, staring after Roman. He drew his shoulders up, stiff and determined, but to what, I wasn’t sure. I captured his hand and pulled him inside.

Tyler closed the door, but stood stock-still, facing it, his fingers tight around the knob.

“What were you two discussing,” he asked without bothering to turn and face me.

I shrugged. “He heard us arguing. He was just, I don’t know, comforting me, I guess.”

Ty turned around and stared at me, silent, still. Then he stepped closer and gazed down at me, his eyes suspicious. “And did he?”

I shook my head, confused. “Did he what?”

Ty’s brow scrunched together. “Comfort you.”

An aggravated huff escaped my lips, and I turned to leave, but Ty grabbed my arm above the elbow, his grasp gentle, but unyielding.

“Well?” he said calmly enough, but there was an intensity to it, and the way he looked at me made me nervous, bringing back memories of our first encounter.

I twisted my arm in an attempt to pull free, but Tyler held firm.

I threw him an angry glare. “Ty, stop. You’re hurting me!”

He held tight for a moment longer before he loosened his grip. His hand stroked down the length of my arm, then his fingers laced through mine and he squeezed as his gaze dropped to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered then let go. He turned away and walked back to the door.

“What is it, Tyler? What’s got you so wound up?”

He froze, his body tense, and his chin low to his chest. His head turned to look out the kitchen window, and his jaw began to tic. Suddenly, he spun around and marched toward me. I jumped back with a startled cry as Tyler crashed into me, sweeping me back to the wall. His arms encased me, and his mouth came down hard against mine. He gathered me in tight before his hands began to explore my body in a frantic motion, up my back and over my shoulders then down across my breasts. Though momentarily stunned, I still moaned in response.

He squeezed once, tenderly, even in his chaotic state, then let go, letting his fingers crawl past my waist, beneath the hem of my skirt, and back up my thigh. He ripped my underwear clear and found that sweetest of all places on my body. I gasped into his mouth before my head reeled back against the wall with a sharp thud as his fingers stroked then probed, deeper and deeper. I moved against them, my eyes closed and my mouth open.

I couldn’t take it, the need in me. My hands slid from his shoulders down to his belt where they struggled to free him from his clothing. Once I did, he hauled me up against the wall and down onto him, his hands cupped beneath my bottom and my legs curled around his waist, not easy with a baby bump. I cried out and clung to his shoulders as he drove into me, again and again, but the moment, so frenzied and turbulent, so filled with inexpressible emotion, ended with a final powerful thrust as Ty raised his chin and moaned aloud.

Afterwards, we panted into each other’s ears before our mouths met once more, this time in a kiss so tender, my body quaked and tears ran down my face. I wrapped my arms tight around his neck as he slipped from my body and lowered me to the floor. He stepped away from me and buttoned up his clothing while I smoothed my skirt into place and dipped to the floor to retrieve my ruined panties.

Ty reached out and took hold of my hand, pulling it to his mouth where he kissed each finger before he closed his eyes and pressed my knuckles to his cheek. He cupped his other hand to my face and looked into my eyes with inexplicable love. He kissed me again, deeper than ever, then held his cheek to mine as he coiled his arms around me.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, his voice choked with something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Something profound was bothering him. Jealousy perhaps. Uncertainty. I didn’t know. And at that moment, I didn’t care. I just let it go and melted into his embrace.