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“I can be there in twenty minutes,” he replies dutifully.
“Great,” I reply, hanging up the phone. My head feels light as I tuck it into my pocket and shift my attention back to Sage. I can’t believe this is happening at such a crucial time in my life. Why does everything always have to turn sour when life is starting to be sweet?
“What was that about?” Sage asks, her pretty face tight with worry. I wish she would never have to look like that, but life isn’t so kind. Things are about to get a whole lot worse before they can get better.
“Come to the lounge and we’ll talk about it. I’m sorry, but I need a damn cigar,” I grumble, taking her hand and pulling her along.
She follows me without speaking, allowing me the moment of silence to get my head straight. Right now, all I can feel is a cloudy mixture of dread and frustration. I anticipated that the man in the blue suit might cause trouble in the future, but I never thought he would be from the Levin family.
Once in the lounge, I’m able to distract myself with a cigar box tucked into the corner of the bookshelf. I slide it out, opening the box and inhaling the rich scent of dry tobacco. I haven’t smoked in weeks, but it’s time to take a break from good behavior.
The wicked men are the ones who win, after all.
I light up the cigar using the silver lighter in my pocket. I’ve carried it around with me religiously, even after I quit smoking. Something just feels right about the weight in my pocket. It’s comforting, like the shape of the gun on my hip.
“Alright,” I say after clouding half the room in smoke. “Let’s open a window. I don’t want you breathing this crap in.”
Sage shuffles over to the window before I can, popping it open and making a point to cough to show she doesn’t like the smoke.
I want to roll my eyes, but I’m not going to. Some things aren’t worth starting arguments over, and besides, she’d be the right one. I hate being wrong, so there’s no point in even talking about it.
I hold my cigar away from my body as I speak to her, trying to put some distance between us and the smoke. “That was Ivan on the phone, calling about the man in the blue suit. They’ve finally identified him.”
She cocks her head to the side, giving me a curious look. “That good news, though, right?”
“It could be,” I reply, taking a few more puffs from my cigar. The smoke tastes so good after being away from it for weeks. I feel I’m more addicted than I ever was, or maybe that’s just my trauma trying to pull me back into dependence.
Sage crosses her arms, growing impatient with me. “Is this guy super dangerous or something?”
“We won’t know until Ivan comes with the information he’s gathered, but as stupid as it sounds, it’s not about the danger. It’s more of an emotional weakness for me, and I’ve let myself get soft in that area.”
“You’re not soft,” she snaps, slapping my arm. “You’re the strongest man I know, and you have a heart like steel. Don’t say that about yourself.”
I smile. She’s always on my side, and I love that about her. “You’re right,” I say softly. “But this is a big deal to me because the man they identified goes by the name of Alex Levin. The man who destroyed by family, the one I ended up murdering, was also part of the Levin family. Honestly, I thought they were all gone.”
“That’s not good,” Sage says, her voice dropping with her expression. “But… you can handle it, right?”
I shrug. “Perhaps. I just don’t know how deep the rabbit hole goes. Alex was behind the wedding incident, which means he’s been keeping an eye on me, digging around for information to use against me. Maybe he’s not involved in organized crime, because he didn’t send anyone to kill me… yet.”
“He’s an amateur. He just wants to get back at you, but he’s not a real criminal,” she suggests.
“It’s possible, but I want Ivan to confirm the details. For all we know, the wedding incident could be the beginning of something bigger, or perhaps he’s trying to look like a minor threat, so we don’t underestimate him. Play a sucker to catch a sucker, if you will.”
“You’re no sucker.”
“You’re right. You usually do the sucking,” I say with a wink, tucking my cigar back between my teeth.
“Are you really making jokes right now?”
I chuckle. “There’s only a few ways to stay sane in situations like these, and I’m already smoking. A joke is far from the worst I could do right now.”
She shrugs. “True, but I want you to remember that we’re in this together. Don’t feel like you have to face this on your own.”
I hold up my finger to stop her. “I don’t think I need to remind you that you’re pregnant.”
“Barely,” she mutters. “I can shoot a gun. I’ve done it before.”
“Not happening,” I say, waving her idea away like the smoke between us.
