Page 24 of Ballistic

At no answer, I held the button down, and a heavily accented voice thundered from the speakers. “What do you want, kid?”

“I’m here to see Dmitry. He asked me to come here.”

The line went silent for nearly a minute, before the gates clicked and squealed, opening to the long and winding drive with a beautifully manicured lawn at either side of it. Probably took five minutes, peddling fast, before I reached the fancy brick steps and popped out my kickstand, while I took in the huge wooden door.

As I climbed the stairs, it opened to the familiar face of Dmitry. Another man waited alongside him and looked like something out of a barbarian movie. Guy must’ve been over six feet, easily, his arms the width of my whole body.

Standing in their pristine suits, it seemed strange that the two men would want anything to do with a kid like me. Felt like I should’ve been nothing but a small ant beneath their shoes, but with their arms crossed, faces all scrunched up mad, I got the feeling I was definitely on their shit-list—somewhere I suspected I didn’t want to be.

Like the two times before, Dmitry wore black leather gloves, which was one thing out in public, but really weird in his own home.

The moment I stepped inside the house, I could’ve sworn I’d stepped into another world, with all the marble and chandeliers shining with extravagance. I’d never been in a place so fancy before. Not even when mom cleaned houses for a bit after my dad left.

“This is the one I told you about, Aleksey,” Dmitry said to the giant beside him. “Bold little shit.”

The giant responded in another language, and both men laughed, as a short, older woman waddled up on a limp.

Dmitry’s stony eyes turned to me. “You’ll work with Donata here.” He rested one of those gloved hands on the older woman’s shoulder. “Do whatever she tells you. She’ll make sure you have lunch and dinner before you leave.”

“Dinner?” I crossed my arms over my chest, the heat of panic burning my cheeks. “I have to be back before dark.”

“You stole three grand from me. You’ll be back when I tell you.”

“I don’t …. I don’t like riding my bike in the dark.”

Dmitry crossed his arms over the front of himself, too, looking every bit like a mafia guy from the movies. “My driver will take you home.”

“What about my bike?”

“It’s a piece of shit. I’ll arrange to have a new bike sent to your house. I don’t want any excuses for you not being here on time.”

I scowled up at him. How dare he even talk about throwing away my bike. It was my bike! “You …. You can’t just throw my bike away.”

“It looks like it was thrown away at the time you inherited it.” His eyes scanned me down and up. “Donata will assist in getting you new clothes, as well. I carry out meetings on occasion, and I don’t need you looking like an orphan child running around here.”

Technically, I wasn’t old enough to work, at all, and I didn’t know how he planned to explain a child maid to his business people.

“How much are you paying me?” At the raise of his brow, I cleared my throat. “I mean, so I know how long I have to work to pay it off.”

“Eight dollars an hour. At eight hours a day, you should be able to have it paid off in a little under two months. Just in time for school.”

“Ten,” I argued, as he turned to walk away.

He craned his head, and the incredulous stare on his face had my knees knocking. “What did you say?”

“I know I’m worth ten an hour.”

His tongue slid across his bottom lip, and he looked to the giant at his side, spoke in that foreign language from before. Both men laughed again.

“Ten, and you don’t talk behind my back in whatever language that is. It’s rude.”

“So is stealing.”

I let my gaze make an exaggerated sweep of his mansion. “Looks like you can afford a little charity once in a while.”

The pop of his jaw must’ve been my words gnashing between his teeth as he chewed on them. Could’ve only been five seconds that passed in what felt like sixty. “Fine. Ten an hour.” He leaned forward and prodded a finger into my chest. “You better be worth it, kid.”

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