Page 107 of Mr. Match

“Katya Kalashova, who do you think you’re dealing with here?”

“I don’t know.”

He looks down his nose at me. “Think harder, Katya.”

I know the obvious answer. But I don’t believe it. “What will you want in return for getting me out of here?” I ask, looking up at the cameras, still nervous about making a deal with the Bratva inside a fucking police station.

“You will learn once you sign.”

“What if I don’t sign?”

“Then I will stand up, walk around behind you, and I will make you sign.” He smiles.

We have a staring contest for about ten seconds. “Oh.”

Then he softens, just a little, and says, “It is good, Katya. Better than you could have hoped for. I promise. Sign the paper and you will see.”

I take a deep breath and sign.

Alexi Ivanov gets up, puts his folder back inside his briefcase, closes it up, and then picks up my pre-written signed statement that says Lucio Gori Senior abducted me as I was walking down the street this morning, took me back to the Antimony House—which was purchased in his name one week prior—and proceeded to try to rape me using the scalpel as a threat. That’s when I wrestled it away from him and cut his throat.

Apparently my mind draws a blank after that, but the cops showed up shortly after, so I guess there’s other statements to fill in that blank.

“It has a been a pleasure,” Ivanov says. “Be patient. These policemen are slow.”

And then he walks over to the door, raps his knuckles on it four times, and leaves me there to wonder just what the fuck is happening.

I don’t know how long I wait after that—maybe hours. Maybe it’s the next day. But a uniformed woman finally appears and tells me it’s time to go.

I sign more papers. They hand me a plastic bag with my phone and keys, and give me back my coat.

I slip it on as I walk through the doors that lead to an outer hallway, and then head straight for the front door and stand at the top of the steps, trying to figure out what just happened.

A man gets out of a long black car, walks around to the passenger side, and opens the door.

I point to myself. “Me?”

He nods.

“Well, this is it,” I mumble, walking slowly down the steps towards the car. I’m gonna find out what they’ll expect of me now. I just hope it’s not too bad. I just hope they don’t sell me to another asshole crime boss. I just hope—

I slide into the back seat and sink into the soft leather.

I have no idea who the man across from me is.

“Katya,” he says, extending a gloved hand. He has the same Russian accent as the lawyer from inside. I give his hand a girly shake and pull away. “My name is not important but I have been watching you for many, many years.”

“Oh. Great. Another mobster spying on me.”

He smiles but I don’t have anything to smile about.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re not going anywhere. We are having a chat.” He says the word ‘chat’ like it makes him happy. “I have something to tell you, something to show you, and then I need an answer before we can move forward.”

I sigh. Heavily. Resigned to my new fate. “OK.”

“Your sister is bad.” He frowns, like this makes him sad. “She has sold you out even though you have given up everything to save her. Katya… she cannot be saved.”