by Zoey Parker
“Well you two should just go back to where you came from,” Darla said, snarling out the words. “Or else I’ll make sure you do.”
And that was it. The snarl that broke the camel’s back. Rage sputtered forth, grimy and uncouth and ugly, and Sam slammed her palm against the glass window partition. The glass panels thundered together, creating a vicious clank throughout the reception area, and Sam couldn’t even find it in herself to give a damn.
“You have no idea who you’re messing with,” she snapped. “If you don’t want to get mixed up with Sokolovs, then I suggest you hightail it out of here, you gold digger. Don’t get involved.”
Adrenaline pulsed through her veins as Darla took a step backward, confusion written on her face. Sam didn’t even recognize who it was that had said those words. Threatening her mafia affiliation? Yeah, she was in deep now.
Darla left the office in haste.
Once Sam was left staring into the reception area, seeing the wide eyes of patients staring her down, realization thundered through her.
She took a ragged breath and raced toward the back hall, pressing her palms to the cool wall. A moment later, Krissi was at her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“What the fuck was that?” she asked.
Sam clutched the sides of her face, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I can’t talk about it right now. I’m asking myself the same question.” Her entire body felt like jello, and cold. She drew deep, cleansing breaths, trying to reorient herself, trying to convince herself that hadn’t just happened.
“Girl,” Krissi began but didn’t continue. She just shook her head, tutting.
Sam rubbed her eyes. Fuck. Her next patient had been in there. What was she supposed to do now?
“Please don’t report this,” Sam finally said, sounding croaky.
“I won’t,” Krissi said, but she sounded reluctant. Like there was a but that she wanted to add.
“I’ve been going through a lot with my dad,” Sam whispered a few moments later. The fear and the adrenaline had cleared enough to where she felt like she could stand on her own two legs. “This is so embarrassing.”
“Everything will be fine,” Krissi said, checking the front reception area quickly. “Just tell your next patient you had a mental break.”
Sam laughed so hard that her body shook. The unexpected humor was much needed – and one of the reasons why Krissi was her closest friend.
“Because that’s exactly what patients want to hear before they spill their guts out to their therapist,” Sam said.
“You know it.” Krissi cocked a smile, then squeezed Sam’s arms. “Seriously though. You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Who was that—”
Sam raised a palm, shaking her head. “Not right now.” She drew a deep breath, hating how she avoided her friend’s gaze. Because she was embarrassed about more than just blowing up in public. The ruse had gone too deep. And now, she didn’t even know where to begin.
And if she came clean right now, she’d risk losing a friend too.
She’d tell her when the time was right. It just didn’t look like that was going to be anytime soon.
“I promise, I will tell you more later.” Sam squeezed Krissi’s wrists, then pushed her toward her desk in the reception area. “Now go. I’m going to hide in my office and think of any excuse that doesn’t involve psychiatric meds until you send the next patient in. And I promise I’m fine.”
Krissi sent her a small smile, then went back to her area.
Sam turned on her heels and stalked down the hall, slipping into her office. The confrontation with Darla reverberated through her, leaving a sick taste in her mouth.
She needed to call Trent. Immediately.
Sam dug out her phone and swiped to her recent calls. Trent was at the top of the list. She pressed ‘call’ and collapsed into her chair, nibbling on her lip.
She had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this.
Not one bit.
Chapter Twenty
Trent rolled his neck in a slow circle, gaze drifting lazily between all the points of interest in Jacobi’s office – between the plain metal desk and the one piece of art on the wall, a cross stitch thing that Jacobi’s grandma had to have made. It said something in Russian. Judging by the tiny grouping of cartoonish people clustered together, it had to be something about family.
Their family. The Sokolovs. And sometimes, maybe even Trent’s family.
Seemed like forever since he’d been in last when really it was only a week and a half ago. Jacobi needed him back on some business. Trent wanted more time to wrap up this side con.
“Okay. I’m back.” Jacobi came back into the office, offering a small smile. He’d gone to oversee a delivery – that was the side of Sokolovs that Trent didn’t have much to do with. They got into way more than just buying bad debt. And for however much Trent saw Jacobi as sort of a brother/father figure, that didn’t mean Jacobi shared the family business details.
And sometimes Trent wondered how deep their well ran. Did he even want to know? And if he felt like part of the Sokolovs, yet still knew so little, maybe he was more like a cousin. A second cousin, even. Distantly related at best.
Maybe that’s how it worked best, especially now that Sam was in the picture.
Trent offered a smile, tapping the armrests of his chair distractedly. He didn’t want to think about Sam in here. It seemed wrong somehow. Like he was betraying her.
And if that wasn’t some fucked up shit, he didn’t know what was.
“All right. So last we had you on was… Lucas. Right?” Jacobi looked at some papers.
These meet-ups were, for all intents and purpose, the same as visiting a doctor or maybe a mechanic – checking up on conditions, making sure everything was working properly.
“Yep. And I found myself a little side opportunity because of that gig, so thank you.” Trent flashed a grin.
Jacobi hefted out a laugh. “That’s what we’re good at in this clan. Finding side opportunities.”
Trent rubbed a thumb back and forth over his knuckles. Finding the side opportunities was one thing. But seeing them through was an entirely different matter. And now, Trent was feeling like this had gone on a bit too long.
Cons weren’t his thing. He was more of a grunt worker – make a threat, shake a guy down, bring home the bacon. Stuff like that. But this long-term con work? This was a different ball game entirely. One that Trent was worried he wouldn’t be able to navigate without the help of his family.
“I actually wanted to talk to you about this side opportunity,” Trent said, gaze shifting back to the cross-stitched Sokolovs. “It’s kinda turned into something that I… well… I need some help.”
“What kind of help?”
“I’ll need some documentation,” Trent said, squeezing his hands together. “Fake name, birth certificate, whatever other documents I might need to prove a fake identity.”
“Fake identity?” Jacobi lifted a brow. “Did you at least get a good name out of the deal?”
Trent shrugged. “Pretty standard name, if you ask me. Matthew.”
“Well. Then maybe you got a bad side opportunity.”
“I think it’s gonna work out in my favor,” Trent said. At least, he hoped. Who could tell anymore? He could barely tell up from down. And a lot of that had to do with Sam. It was like he couldn’t see any damn thing except for her. He blinked, shaking his head, trying to clear himself of the thoughts. “But I need to prove that I’m this guy so some trust money clears. I’ll get a cut of it.”
“Hm.” Jacobi folded his hands over the desk, eyes narrowing slightly. “And this side opportunity came to you on the heels of Lucas Mueller, I presume?”
Trent’s stomach tightened. He nodded.
Jacobi worked his jaw back and forth, his gaze falling to the desktop. The silence between them felt infinite as Trent tried to anticipate where this might be heading. He didn’t
like the signs so far.
“I’d be willing to help you with the papers you need,” Jacobi said. “I just don’t know how you think you’re going to pull this off.”
Trent cleared his throat. It was a valid question. One he asked himself almost daily. In the throes of Sam, the severity seemed somehow less. But the truth was – he was balls deep in a con that he needed to see through. Lucas had roped him in, and now he needed to get out of it.
Something in Jacobi’s tone rubbed Trent the wrong way. Maybe it was the lack of confidence backing up his words. Maybe it was the not-so-subtle nod to the fact that Trent was in over his head. All of it was true – Jacobi wouldn’t be wrong for not being confident in Trent.
But that didn’t mean he was going to take it laying down.
“Listen,” Trent said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice, “I said it was a side opportunity.”
“Exactly. And as a side opportunity, you are responsible. For everything.” Jacobi leveled him with a severe gaze. One that spoke volumes. “If you find yourself in trouble, if you need back up, if you even just want to fucking ask someone what the hell to do next? You’re. On. Your. Own.”
Jacobi’s words were lined with something, but Trent couldn’t tell what. It wasn’t foreboding, necessarily. Nor was it contentious. But it wasn’t just a friendly warning either.
Trent wasn’t sure what to say. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, studying Jacobi’s face, like it might have some clue. Like he might change his mind.
“I don’t get it,” he finally said.
“It’s not our business,” Jacobi said, the chair creaking as he leaned back. He clicked and clicked the top of a pen, shrugging. “It’s yours. That’s all it is. Nothing personal.”
Trent raked a hand through his hair, not exactly fucking happy with the outcome. But he couldn’t fight it either. Jacobi had a point. Even if he didn’t like it, he understood. And he wanted to change the subject, leave this unsavory business behind them.
“What about—” Trent’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He tugged it out – Sam. He glanced up at Jacobi. “Hang on one second.”
He swiped to answer, and before he could even say ‘hello’, Sam was blubbering into the phone.
“Whoa. Sam. Hey, babe. Slow down. Slow down.” He popped to his feet, heading to the corner of the office like it would offer any privacy. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She sniffled and faltered, then took a deep breath. “Darla. Darla came in.”
“Why are you crying so much?”
“I just… I don’t know.” Sam laughed, then another sob hiccupped out of her. “I called you, and I thought I was fine. Just a little shaken up, I guess. But then my emotions just came out of left field and I, I…” Muffled sobs from the other end. “Okay. Okay, I think I’m getting over it.”
Trent looked back at Jacobi and held up a finger. Jacobi nodded, leaning back in his chair. Trent pressed a palm to the wall, his heart racing as he listened.
“Just tell me what happened.” His throat tightened. Hearing her cry like that… it affected him. More than he wanted to admit.
“Darla came in.” Sam took another deep breath. “And she… she threatened me. She basically said that she knew we were faking it, and told us to get lost, or else there’d be trouble. And then…”
He gripped the phone tighter. “What? Tell me everything.”
“And then I lost it. I just… I still can’t believe it. I got so angry. And I… I made a scene! In front of my patients and everything. And she ran away.”
Trent wasn’t sure whether to be proud or dismayed. “Holy shit. You scared her off?”
“I guess. But… I don’t know. This is all so confusing.” She sounded normal now like the freak-out session had passed. “I didn’t know I had it in me. She just made me so angry.”
Trent worked his jaw back and forth as he considered where to go from here. He looked back at Jacobi. This wasn’t the time to get into too much detail.
“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he promised. “We’ll talk more then. Unless you need me.”
“No. I’m fine. Promise.”
Trent pocketed the phone and turned back to Jacobi. He offered a smile.
“Didn’t know you were seeing anybody,” Jacobi said offhandedly.
“Uh, I’m…” He’d almost said not, but that wasn’t quite right. Sure, the marriage thing was a ruse. But Sam was right. The rings got them fucked up.
“Married.” Jacobi pointed to Trent’s hand. “Shit, you take a couple weeks off and go get hitched. What will you do on your next vacation?”
Trent grimaced, sliding back into the seat facing Jacobi’s desk. “Yeah. It’s part of the con. But I dunno. It’s kinda serious too.”
Jacobi’s face darkened at the mention of the con again. He crossed his hands, leaning forward.
“Listen. I don’t know what Mueller offered you, but there’s something you should know about him.” Jacobi paused, scratching the side of his face. Like maybe he didn’t know how to go on. “That guy is a con job himself. You hear me?”
Trent’s stomach wrenched. This was what he was afraid of. And maybe now Trent was the one getting conned. “Yeah.”
“He owes us more than just money,” Jacobi said, narrowing his eyes. He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip like maybe there was something else to add, but he’d thought better of it. “Just be careful.”
Trent nodded, pushing to standing. “Thanks, Jacobi. I’ll be in touch.”
He let himself out of the office quickly, his mind roiling with thoughts.
First and foremost being that he’d not just gotten in over his head; now, he was drowning, and the life raft he’d been counting on was gone.
The Sokolovs weren’t here to save him if he needed it.
Now, he just had to figure out how to maneuver both him and Sam out of this situation. As safely as possible. And as soon as possible.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sam ran from her car up to the apartment after work that day. After Darla’s visit, it felt like eyes were on her at all times. Even though that was probably irrational, and ridiculous… the woman had shaken things up in a bad way. Like the worst type of snow globe.
Her hands shook as she stuck the key in her front door. It swung open, and there was Trent. His warm, reassuring, solid mass pressed against her, those thick arms wrapped around her, squeezing away all her doubts and worries. She let a long, relieved sigh and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I’m so glad to be home,” she murmured into his shoulder.
“Same here.” He held her for a few more moments, gently swaying back and forth. When he let go of her, Sam felt the absence of his warmth in a real way.
“So tell me what happened.”
They went to the couch and sat down.
Sam sighed as she shrugged off her light jacket. The look on Trent’s face was one of real concern. And she’d heard it in his voice on the phone too. What they were going through was crazy, but with him at her side, she was confident they could make it through.
She leaned on him. Trusted him. Way more than she ever would have thought possible.
Sam settled in to retell the tale of her work day. Trent watched with a grim face, gripping her hand while she spoke.
“I think what really got her scared,” Sam went on, “is when I dropped the Sokolovs name.”
Trent narrowed his eyes. “You did what?”
“I told her not to mess with us because the Sokolovs would have it out for her.” She nibbled on her bottom lip as Trent’s face went from concerned to ashen. Maybe even upset. “Why, was that bad?”
Trent let a terse sigh, dragging his hand through his hair. He popped to his feet then and started pacing the living room.
“Why would you mention their names?” he asked.
“I just—It just… happened? I don’t know, I—”
“That was stupid of you,” he blurted, putting his hands on his h
ips. He loomed over her now, his face wrought into frustration. “You should have never brought them into this.”
His reaction sent her brow into a hard line. She sat back, blinking up at him as she struggled to process where this strange about-face had come from. It wasn’t just his words; it was everything in the way he was speaking to her.
