Chapter 3 - Nobody Touches Someone Under My Roof
Anton Petrov arrived at the Costa estate at eight that evening with two men and an apology already prepared.
Vincent did not meet him in the office.
He chose the dining room.
The message was deliberate.
The Petrovs were not important enough for a formal meeting.
Charmian was supposed to remain upstairs.
She did not.
Vincent noticed her standing in the shadowed hallway beyond the dining-room doors approximately thirty seconds after Anton sat down.
He pretended not to.
Aleandro noticed too.
His mouth twitched.
Anton was in his late fifties, broad-shouldered and silver-haired, with the polished manners of a man who had spent decades convincing respectable people that violence could wear an expensive suit.
“Vincent.”
“Anton.”
“I wish you had called me before there was confusion.”
“There is no confusion.”
Anton smiled carefully.
“Your man said you were concerned about a girl.”
Vincent’s gaze sharpened.
“Her name is Charmian Flannery.”
“Yes, yes. Of course.”
Anton opened his hands.
“Very unfortunate situation. Her brother borrowed money.”
“From you.”
“From one of my rooms.”
“How much?”
“Forty thousand.”
Vincent looked toward Aleandro.
Aleandro placed a folder on the table.
“Original principal was twenty-eight thousand,” he said.
Anton’s smile disappeared.
Vincent slowly leaned back.
“Interesting.”
Anton sighed.
“Fees.”
“Interest.”
“Risk.”
Vincent nodded.
“And now?”
“Approximately fifty-two thousand.”
From the hallway, Charmian’s eyes widened.
The number had increased twelve thousand dollars in less than two weeks.
Vincent remained still.
“You told her forty.”
“Things change.”
“They do.”
Vincent folded his hands on the table.
“Here’s the new number.”
Anton waited.
“Zero.”
The two Petrov men shifted.
Anton stared.
“Vincent—”
“The debt is no longer Charmian’s responsibility.”
“It never was legally.”
Anton laughed once.
“This is not a legal business.”
“No. Which means the only law that matters between you and me is mine.”
The humor disappeared from Anton’s face.
“Her brother took our money.”
“Then find her brother.”
“We tried.”
“Try harder.”
Anton’s jaw tightened.
“She agreed to work.”
Charmian’s fingers curled around the doorway.
Vincent saw it.
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“After three men cornered her in a parking garage?”
Anton hesitated.
Vincent continued.
“After your nephew hit her?”
Silence.
“After someone told her Tommy might disappear permanently if she refused?”
Anton looked toward his men.
That was enough.
Vincent’s voice became dangerously soft.
“You didn’t know.”
Anton said nothing.
“You lost control of your people.”
“My nephew can be impulsive.”
“He broke her face.”
“He frightened her.”
“He hit her.”
Anton sighed.
“Vincent, with respect, she’s a cleaning girl.”
The room went still.
Aleandro closed his eyes briefly.
From the hallway, Charmian looked down.
Vincent leaned forward.
“Say that again.”
Anton recognized the mistake.
“That wasn’t—”
“Say it again.”
Anton remained silent.
Vincent stood.
“You think her job determines how much violence she should tolerate?”
“No.”
“You think because she washes dishes, nobody important will notice when she bleeds?”
“Of course not.”
Vincent walked around the table.
“My organization has survived because people understand boundaries.”
He stopped beside Anton.
“You collect debts. Fine.”
“You run gambling rooms. Fine.”
“You make loans to stupid men who believe they can beat mathematics. Also fine.”
Vincent’s eyes became colder.
“But you do not transfer a man’s debt to his nineteen-year-old sister.”
Anton’s face tightened.
“You especially do not beat her, threaten her education, and work her until she collapses.”
Anton stood.
“We can discuss compensation.”
Charmian suddenly stepped into the doorway.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“I told you to stay upstairs.”
Charmian lifted her chin.
“And I told you I’m not your prisoner.”
Aleandro coughed into his fist.
Anton stared at her.
Recognition entered his eyes.
Charmian walked into the room.
Her hands trembled.
But she kept moving.
She stopped beside Vincent.
“I don’t want compensation.”
Anton smiled faintly.
“You should accept when powerful men offer money.”
Charmian looked at him.
“You already taught me what happens when your kind offers money.”
The smile vanished.
Vincent felt an unexpected flicker of pride.
Charmian took a breath.
“I want my school left alone.”
Anton said nothing.
“My apartment left alone.”
Silence.
“My job left alone.”
Her voice strengthened.
“And if Tommy comes back, you deal with Tommy. Not me.”
Anton glanced toward Vincent.
Vincent said, “You heard her.”
Anton’s expression darkened.
“You’re setting a dangerous precedent.”
“No.”
Vincent’s gaze remained steady.
“I’m correcting one.”
Anton looked from him to Charmian.
Finally, he nodded.
“Fine.”
Vincent was not finished.
“Your nephew.”
Anton’s face tightened.
“What about him?”
“He is no longer permitted in Costa territory.”
“That’s excessive.”
“He has until midnight.”
“Vincent—”
“Eleven fifty-nine.”
Anton stared.
Then slowly nodded.
He left ten minutes later.
Charmian remained in the dining room after the doors closed.
Her knees suddenly weakened.
She grabbed the back of a chair.
Vincent caught her elbow.
She flinched.
Then looked at his hand.
Vincent released her immediately.
“Sorry.”
The word surprised both of them.
Charmian slowly sat.
“You just erased forty thousand dollars.”
“No.”
“Fifty-two thousand, apparently.”
“That number was fictional.”
“It felt real.”
Vincent pulled out the chair opposite her.
“That’s how people like Anton survive. They convince frightened people that arbitrary numbers are laws of nature.”
Charmian stared at the table.
“What happens now?”
“You return to school.”
Her eyes lifted.
“That’s it?”
“You attend your classes. Retake the midterm.”
“My professor may not let me.”
“He will.”
Charmian narrowed her eyes.
“You’re not threatening my professor.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
“I was planning to have Aleandro explain that you experienced a documented emergency.”
“That sounds suspiciously legitimate.”
“I’m capable of legitimate activities.”
“Are you?”
Vincent looked offended.
Charmian laughed.
The sound stopped him.
It was the first time he had heard her laugh.
Not politely.
Not nervously.
Actually laugh.
For a second she looked like the girl in the college ID photograph.
Nineteen.
Bright.
Alive.
Vincent realized he wanted to hear it again.
That realization disturbed him more than Anton Petrov ever had.
Charmian noticed his expression.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About?”
“Whether sarcasm is part of your job description.”
“It’s a free service.”
Vincent almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Aleandro entered.
The humor disappeared.
“Problem.”
Vincent stood.
“What?”
Aleandro handed him a phone.
A security photograph filled the screen.
A man at a bus station.
Thin.
Unshaven.
Baseball cap pulled low.
Charmian stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“Tommy.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Her voice shook.
“That’s him.”
Aleandro nodded.
“Camera caught him at a station ninety miles north. Timestamp is two hours old.”
Charmian took the phone.
“He’s alive.”
Relief nearly collapsed her.
“He’s alive.”
Vincent watched tears fill her eyes.
Then Aleandro spoke.
“There’s something else.”
Charmian looked up.
“He wasn’t alone.”
Aleandro swiped to the next photograph.
Another man stood beside Tommy.
Heavyset.
Dark jacket.
Scar along his jaw.
Vincent’s expression changed.
Charmian noticed.
“Who is that?”
Vincent did not answer immediately.
Aleandro did.
“Sergei Petrov.”
Charmian stared.
“Anton’s nephew?”
“The same man who cornered you at school.”
Her relief disappeared.
“Why is Tommy with him?”
Nobody answered.
Vincent took the phone.
The image showed Tommy and Sergei boarding the same vehicle.
Not enemies.
Not hostage and captor.
They appeared to be talking.
Working together.
Charmian shook her head.
“No.”
Vincent studied the photograph.
“What if Tommy didn’t just run from the Petrovs?”
“What are you saying?”
Vincent looked at her.
“What if your brother took something from them besides money?”
Charmian’s face went pale.
Aleandro’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then his expression changed.
“What?”
Vincent turned.
Aleandro ended the call.
“That was one of our people at the Riverside warehouse.”
“And?”
“They found the place empty.”
“Petrov operation?”
“Was.”
Aleandro looked at Charmian.
“Someone cleared it out this afternoon.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“Money?”
“Gone.”
“Records?”
“Gone.”
“Weapons?”
“Gone.”
Charmian whispered, “Tommy?”
Aleandro shook his head.
“We don’t know.”
Vincent did.
Or at least he suspected.
The forty-thousand-dollar gambling debt had never been the whole story.
Maybe it had never even been the important part.
Charmian believed her brother had abandoned her because he was a frightened gambler running from people he owed.
But now Tommy had appeared beside the very man who supposedly wanted him punished.
And somewhere between the parking garage, the bloodstained warehouse, and the missing Petrov records, a much larger secret had been hiding.
Vincent looked at Charmian.
“Your brother is coming back.”
Hope flashed across her face.
Then Vincent finished.
May you like
“And when he does, I don’t think he’s coming home for you.”
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