Page 30 of Bound By Sin
"The timing is killing me," he says, pulling me tighter against himself. "Ro's trusting me with the biggest thing we've ever done. There's a heavyweight champion flying in from the States on Tuesday. I'm handling everything and it's all this pressure." He lies back with his arm draped over his face and I turn toward him, resting my hand on his chest.
"You'll get it right," I tell him. "There's a reason you were chosen." But even as I say the words, the guilt is welling up. Call it fate or just perfect coincidence, but things are lining up to make this an epic win for the Volyn family. It won't even be hard to pull off either, and just thinking about that makes me a horrible person.
"Yeah, well I have to pick him up from the airport in a few days, so life's gonna be hectic after that." He speaks with his eyes shut, buried under a wall of flesh and ink, so he can't see my wincing as my own shame burns on my cheeks.
"Wow, that sucks. So, not so much time for me, then?" I want to let myself feel the disappointment of not seeing him. It'd be much easier than the nagging guilt of what I have to do.
"Sorry, but yeah. I can't mess this up." His arm stretches out and he looks up at me as he cups my cheek. "But you can come watch the fights. And maybe we can grab lunch or something."
I feel like I might be sick. I am such a horrible person. I can't even keep a straight face right now, and Kazimir looks upset that he's disappointed me.
"I'm sorry, baby. I swear if there were any other way…"
"It's okay," I mutter, glad that my rankling guilt has come across as sadness and not paranoia like I feel. "I have to pee." I slip away from him, feeling worse for making him think I'm sad with him, and grab my cell phone from the floor among the pile of clothing before I lock myself in the bathroom. Then the tears come.
This job is harder than I thought it would be. I haven't listened to anything my brothers have said. They warned me not to get emotionally involved, which might be easy for a man to do, but for a woman surrounded by men who control her, whose whole life has been one job after another, it's not so easy. He loves me, and I'm about to slaughter any trust he has in mankind.
I sit on the edge of the tub in the dark, sniffling and wiping my face before I unlock my phone and open the thread with Makar. I don’t want to do this, but if I come up emptyhanded, they'll call this off and do it some other way, likely just very loud and violent. I don't want Kaz to be physically hurt, so like it or not, this is the way it has to be done.
I type in a message and stare at my screen feeling dead inside.
Zora: 1:47 AM: They're flying an American in for their fights. I guess soon, couple days? I'll get more specifics. Then I'm out.
I press send and set the phone down as more tears come. It's gonna hurt like hell to tell him I don’t want to see him anymore, but it'll be easier than watching my brothers cause him to self-destruct. I can't do that.
I won't stand back and watch Kazimir be destroyed. The guilt would destroy me.
15
KAZIMIR
Ipull up my phone and check Roman's message one more time while I walk through the arrivals terminal. I couldn’t believe it when he sent it, but delayed flights happen all the time. He said be here at nine to pick up our American friend, and I sent a reply three hours ago. I got nothing back, but Roman said he wouldn't be reachable, so I didn't think much of it.
It's 9:15 now and the arrivals board shows the flight from New York landed at one this afternoon on time as was scheduled, which was eight hours ago. I stop walking and stare at the board. The flight number matches. The plane's been on the ground since early afternoon, and the man I was supposed to meet has been sitting in this airport for the better part of a day, probably wondering where the hell I am.
It infuriates me that this mess up happened, but Roman would've had a really strong reason for sending that. I stalk through the airport looking for the guy whose face I memorized, but I don’t find him right away. Maybe it's because I'm so angry again for another screw up, or maybe he ditched the airport tofind his way to a hotel. After thirty more minutes of searching, I finally find them in the lounge near baggage claim.
The American's sitting in a plastic chair with his legs stretched out and his arms folded across his chest with his head back. His eyes are closed like he's sleeping, though he's much larger in person than I imagined. His two handlers are on either side of him, one of them scrolling through a phone and the other pacing near the window. Both of them look as irritated as I feel.
The American sees me coming before I'm within twenty feet and he scowls, narrowing his eyes.
"You Kazimir?" he asks, leaning forward. A man this size could snap me in half with his bare hands if he wanted to. Lucky for me, I'm carrying and he most likely is not, given the fact that he had to fly here and walk through security.
"I am." I extend my hand. "I apologize for the wait. I was given a later arrival time and I came as soon as I could."
He glowers at my hand but doesn't take it. "We've been here since one o'clock this afternoon. My guy called your number four times and nobody picked up."
I pull my phone out and check but I have no missed calls. Either he has the wrong number or he's lying. I hold the screen toward him so he can see it.
"I don't have any missed calls," I tell him.
He finally unfolds himself from the chair to stand and the full height of him puts him at least six inches above me, which doesn't happen often. "We flew twelve hours to get here and we're exhausted." Now his buddies are staring at me too, angryglares that make my skin crawl. "I'm starving and I'm jet lagged and I want the hell out of this airport."
"I understand your frustration and I take full responsibility for the miscommunication." Placating an angry fighter was the last thing I wanted to do today, but here I am. "The facility's just a short drive and I have all of your rooms ready. If you'll come with me, I can have you settled in within the hour."
The handlers exchange glances and say something in English I can't make out—never studied foreign language—then one of them grunts and scowls at me.
"I'd better have food in less than one hour," the American says, grabbing his bag off the floor. "And then we're talking about whether this deal even makes sense anymore."
