The Crabtree was, as usual, a mess. The air was filled with smoke so thick visibility was restricted to about thirty-five feet. Not that it mattered—the room was only half-lit to begin with. The corners were a shrouded mystery of debauchery. The floor was packed with people surrounding the scattered pool tables, money changing hands every few seconds.

 

In the middle of the hazy room was a large wooden table. Over a dozen people sat around it, all engaged in their own conversations, yet seemingly oriented towards an imposing man sitting at the center. Every person sitting at the table had a patch sewn somewhere on their leather clothing: flaming skulls chasing each other over a Welcome mat that sat at the entrance to the gates of Hell. Underneath it said The Hell Brothers.

 

The man at the center of the table was resting his arm on a motorcycle helmet that had The Hell Brothers patch drawn on the front with Leader stamped across the top. He was handsome, in a hard way, with tattoos and scars haphazardly strewn across his body and a crooked smile that said he knew a thing or two about a thing or two. He turned to his left and looked at the gorgeous, olive-skinned woman sitting next to him.

 

The man opened his mouth, leaning forward to shout above the din, his auburn hair falling into his eyes, when the front door burst open, sending a cool draft of air across the room that parted the thick clouds of smoke clinging to the ceiling.

 

“Ace!” A very tall, very heavy-set man stood in the entrance, gasping for air as he leaned his huge belly against the doorframe. His long blond hair was falling from its ponytail, matting against his sweaty face.

 

The man at the table sat up, suddenly alert. “What is it, Smalls?” he demanded.

 

Smalls did his best to explain what happened between huge gulps of air. “Jackson…selling out back…Alexei showed up…”

 

Ace held up his hand. He didn’t need to hear any more to know what happened. “Thanks, Smalls. Take a breather, okay?” He needed Smalls with him out there, not passed out from exhaustion.

 

The Crabtree had once upon a time been considered off limits, a home base of sorts, where none of the gangs were allowed to conduct business, or settle old scores. It was a cease-fire zone where leaders could meet peaceably.

 

Then the Russian mob had moved in, taking the corner market on almost every territory with their foreign products and far-reaching fingers. Their leader, Alexei, was merciless, and his second-in-command, Yury, delighted in inflicting pain. They had no order, no code to keep them in line, which meant eventually they would burn themselves out. Ace just hoped the Russians wouldn’t take everyone else out along with them.

 

Ace stood up and looked at the people sitting before him. “Riley and Diego,” he said, pointing at an incredibly good-looking black man with a goatee, and a short, stocky Hispanic man who was wearing sunglasses even though he was indoors. Without any hesitation, they both immediately stood and followed Ace to the door.

 

Smalls stepped back, holding the door open for the three men. He let the door swing shut on the smoky room, where the remaining patrons anxiously returned to their conversations, pretending they hadn’t overheard what had just transpired.

 

Still panting a little, Smalls led the men around to the back of the bar, where five men stood in a pyramid formation, the man at the front holding another man by the back of his neck with one hand, and pointing a gun at his side with the other. The one holding the gun was massive, well over six feet tall with ice-blond hair.

 

“Jackson,” Ace whispered to himself, recognizing the much smaller man being held at gunpoint. “What’s going on here?” he asked the group, his breath puffing small clouds in the cold night air.

 

“I just found your boy selling on our territory, that’s what’s going on,” the man with the gun, Alexei, said.

 

“The Crabtree isn’t supposed to be anyone’s territory, Alexei. You know that,” Ace said patiently. “And if it were going to be anyone’s territory, it would be The Hell Brothers.”

 

Alexei sneered at him. “You know all of downtown Chicago belongs to the Russians. Don’t make me give you a reminder,” he threatened, stabbing the gun into Jackson’s side, causing him to grunt with pain.

 

Ace sighed, annoyed. The Russians had their hands in a lot of cookie jars—trafficking, witness intimidation, hits—but their drug game was weak. They cut their coke with caffeine pills and their ecstasy was always laced. Alexei was too proud to admit it, but anyone who wanted good product came to The Hell Brothers.

 

“You should be happy The Hell Brothers keeps to themselves and doesn’t infringe on your other areas of business.” Ace countered Alexei’s threat with his own.

 

“What are you trying to say?” Alexei asked.

 

“I’m saying you’re a shitty businessman, Alexei,” Ace said disgustedly. Goosebumps raced up and down his bare arms. “If you did good business, you wouldn’t need to resort to busting low-level gang members who are breaking meaningless rules.”

 

Alexei looked at Ace like he was crazy. Who the fuck did this man think he was? Alexei raised his gun, cocking it as he pressed it to Jackson’s head. Jackson whimpered, staring at Ace, pleading with his eyes for him to do something.

 

“I’m going to kill this man if you don’t swear to me right now, in front of your own men, that you will stay out of Russian territory,” Alexei said flatly.

 

“Didn’t I just say he was a nobody?” Ace said, chuckling. He pushed his shaggy auburn hair back with one hand. “I don’t care about him.”

 

“Please…” Jackson sobbed, “Ace, help me—”

 

Jackson’s voice was cut off by a loud gunshot and he fell from Alexei’s grip, crumpling to the gritty asphalt of the wet back alley. He let out a high-pitched scream that settled into a low wail and he sat up, gripping his leg where Ace had shot him.

 

Ace lowered his gun and put it in the back of his waistband. “See?” he said. “Go ahead and shoot the dumb bastard for all I care.”

 

The men flanking Alexei shifted, muttering to each other under their breath. Alexei looked at Ace, snarling. He pointed his gun down at Jackson and fired, shooting him in the opposite leg. Jackson screamed and then immediately passed out.

 

“Don’t let me catch you interfering in our business again, Ace,” Alexei growled, his Russian accent finally making a subtle appearance. He turned and left, his men following him without a backwards glance.

 

Ace didn’t move until they had rounded the corner. Once they were out of sight, Ace whipped around to face his own men and began barking out orders.

 

“Riley, go tell Blake to call an ambulance. Tell them to prep for multiple gunshot wounds.” Riley took off at once at a run, his long legs silently carrying him back to the bar. “Diego, find Lianna and tell her to bring her kit around back.”

 

The shorter man nodded, his sunglasses gone. “On it, boss,” he said, quickly following Riley’s path, his feet slapping against the ground in his haste.

 

“Smalls, help me,” Ace said, pulling a bandana from his back pocket. Smalls’ hands shook as he removed the dark red bandana from around his head and passed it to Ace, who tied the two pieces of fabric together and wrapped them around Jackson’s leg, applying pressure to the wound.

 

Jackson woke slowly, groaning in pain. “Wh-why’d you shoot me, Ace? Why’d you do it?” he asked, taking shallow breaths.

 

“Because if I hadn’t shot you in the leg, Alexei would have shot you in the head,” Ace answered angrily. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing selling behind here, anyway?” he asked, tightening the tourniquet.

 

“Not so tight!” Jackson squealed. “Some college kids were down here looking for coke, enough for a party,” he explained. “What was I supposed to say to them? ‘Meet me five miles from here and it’s a deal’?”

 

Ace sighed, but didn’t loosen the makeshift bandage. If he did, Jackson might bleed out. “How much did you get?” he asked out of curiosity.

 

“A grand,” Jackson said, his eyelids beginning to flutter. Ace heard rapidly approaching footsteps.

 

Lianna had arrived with her medical kit. She had spent a couple of years as an EMT before joining The Hell Brothers, and was their resident doctor for sticky situations when the hospital wasn’t an option.

 

“Hang in there, Jackson,” Ace said, stepping back to give Lianna access. An ambulance wailed in the distance. Ace had a feeling it was only the first of many he would be hearing. Things with the Russians had been tenser than ever. It wouldn’t be long before something happened that forced the two gangs to settle the matter between them once and for all.

 

***

 

The thin wail of an Enrique Iglesias song echoed from the depths of Fiona’s purse. She stopped in the middle of lobby of the office she worked at and dug through the contents of her bag until she found her phone.

 

She pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was her best friend, Melanie. Fiona pressed the green button and answered. “Hey, Melanie. I’m just leaving the office now.”

 

It had been a miserable day at work for Fiona, again. She had come into her new job with the title Administrative Assistant, fully expecting to spend the first couple of months doing all of the bitch work, but last week marked six months, and she was still just the gofer girl.

 

She wasn’t even the gofer girl for the PR department either, which was where she eventually hoped to work. No, she was the designated bitch for the whole office. Step right up, everybody, and give Fiona an errand to do. Out of coffee? Fiona would get it. Need those papers sent out? Fiona would do it. How about your asshole wiped?

 

“Fiona?” Melanie said in her ear. “I’m really sorry you had a bad day, but remember to breathe, okay?”

 

Fiona realized she had been standing the parking lot next to her car, ranting for the last five minutes solid. “Sorry, Melanie,” she muttered, smoothing her thick brown hair. “I could just really use a vacation.”

 

“Couldn’t we all,” Melanie replied, drily. “Wanna have a girls’ night soon? Maybe we can have a staycation this weekend,” she suggested.

 

“That sounds exactly like what the doctor ordered,” Fiona agreed, her blue eyes lighting up at the idea of homemade hair masks and a bottomless glass of merlot, though Melanie was probably envisioning a nightclub and enough vodka to put down a horse.

 

Melanie Lang had always been Fiona’s wild friend. She was incredibly beautiful, tall and lithe, a model’s figure, with long, straight black hair that hung to her waist. In college, it had been Melanie who had given Fiona her first beer, encouraged her to try her first one-night stand, and once upon a time—and perhaps once or twice since—had given Fiona her first experience with pot. Melanie was daring, promiscuous, and she took risks Fiona would never even consider. She was, in short, everything Fiona wasn’t.

 

Fiona’s phone buzzed, bringing her back to Earth.

 

“Hey, can I call you back?” Fiona asked. “Niko is calling.”

 

“I wonder what he needs,” Melanie said cynically.

 

As Fiona’s younger brother, there was nothing Fiona wouldn’t do for Niko, and she knew the opposite was true, too, no matter what other people said.

 

“He’s better now,” Fiona insisted. “He got off probation five months ago and he hasn’t been in trouble since.”

 

Fiona and Niko’s childhood had been less than happy, with Fiona doing her best to shield Niko from the worst of it. Their father was a drunk, to the point that their mother had eventually abandoned him, leaving Fiona to pick up the pieces of their family at age fourteen. Niko had only been eight at the time, and now, eleven years later, he was still dealing with the aftermath in a variety of ways.

 

When he was younger, it was just schoolyard fights. Someone would say something about their mother running off, or their father’s consistent unemployment, and it would set Niko off. As he got older, though, Niko began to turn to drugs, usually coke, but any kind of upper would do. Anything so he could feel good for once.

 

Fiona felt sorry for him. He had been too young to remember when their family had been happy. She still had memories from before things got bad. Niko had no happy times to fall back on when he was struggling with life. But three months ago, Niko said his friend Paul had gotten him a job, and that things were finally looking up.

 

“I wish you would at least give him a shot,” Fiona said.

 

“We’ve been down this road before, Fiona. Several times, in fact. He’s a drug addict.”

 

“I told you—not anymore!” she protested. “And if you would just go out with him the one time, then maybe he would stop bugging me to bug you and he could move on.”

 

“Shouldn’t you answer your brother’s call?” Melanie asked, trying to change the subject.

 

Fiona rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll talk to you later,” she said. She quickly hung up with Melanie and switched lines, managing to catch Niko just in time. “What’s up, little brother?” she said when she answered.

 

“Just checking up on my Fi,” he replied, charmingly using his childhood nickname for her. “How do you feel about some brother-sister bonding time? Tonight? Your place?” he asked.

 

Fiona’s gut turned. It wasn’t unusual for the two of them to spend lots of time together. Growing up, they had only ever had each other, with Fiona as the primary caretaker. Fiona had even selected a college nearby so she and Niko could stay close. They never went more than a week without seeing each other.

 

And yet…Was Melanie right? Did Niko want something? More often than not, during their brother-sister bonding time, Fiona paid for their dinners, the movie, and anything else that came up, even going so far as to buy him groceries on occasion.

 

Fiona gave herself a mental shake. Niko wasn’t a bum, he was her brother, and he was just going through a rough patch. He was getting better, after all.

 

“Sounds great, Niko,” she finally answered.

 

“Awesome,” he said. She could hear the grin in his voice. “I’ll bring the booze!”

 

“Niko, you’re nineteen,” she reminded him.

 

“When has that ever stopped me before?” he said, chuckling.

 

Fiona hung up after giving Niko a warning about underage drinking. She got into her car and resisted the urge to send Melanie a smug text about Niko paying for something for once.

 

An hour later, he was at her front doorstep, brown paper bag in hand. Fiona brushed a chip of peeling paint from the doorframe as she answered. Her place was a piece of crap.

 

“What’d you bring me?” she asked cheekily, putting her hands out.

 

Niko reached into the bag and pulled out a box of wine. “Merlot, right?” he asked hesitantly.

 

Fiona nodded, happy he remembered. Melanie would probably scoff at the fact that it was box wine, but Melanie could stuff it. As far as Fiona was concerned, it was another point in her brother’s favor. “I have lasagna or empanadas,” she told him as she grabbed two wine glasses.

 

“Speaking from my vast knowledge of wine pairings, I think lasagna would go better with this oaky merlot. Once it’s been properly aired out, of course,” Niko said, opening the plastic bag inside the box and pouring the glasses for them.

 

Fiona laughed. Her brother was always cracking jokes.

 

“So, how have you been?” he asked once they had sat down to eat. “Are you still seeing Ass?”

 

Fiona set down her fork and glared at Niko. “I told you not to call him that. He overheard you last time.”

 

Ash, referred to as Ass by her brother, was a guy from the office a floor below hers. They had met in the building cafeteria one day two months ago and, from Fiona’s perspective, had been involved in a lukewarm, sporadic, half-formed relationship ever since.

 

Ash, however, had a tendency to be romantically aggressive, as Fiona liked to call it. Niko just called him Ass. Ash frequently dropped hints about bringing her over for dinner with his parents, despite her obvious reluctance, and he had even once suggested the two of them move in together, though he later claimed to be joking.

 

“Why are you still with him?” Niko asked. “Is he really that good in bed?”

 

“No, not really,” Fiona admitted. “But it’s better than nothing.” She wasn’t too sure about that last part, especially as of late.

 

Fiona wouldn’t consider herself a kinky person, but she still liked to mix it up a little in the bedroom. She couldn’t remember the last time Ash and she hadn’t had sex in the missionary position, if ever. She had tried to initiate sex with her on top once, but Ash had stopped her and moved so she was beneath him again. She stopped trying after that.

 

Maybe it’s my fault for not being open enough with him, she thought.

 

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Niko said, interrupting her, “it’s not true.”

 

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” Fiona said defensively, knowing the question was pointless even as she said it. Niko always knew when she doubted herself.

 

“I know there’s nothing you, or anyone else, can do to fix whatever problems that guy’s got,” he said with a snort of laughter.

 

“Well, if it isn’t the pot calling the kettle black!” Fiona exclaimed. She may have defended her brother to Melanie earlier, but Niko had enough of his own issues to focus on without making fun of someone else’s.

 

“Hey now,” he protested, “play nice.”

 

Fiona reached forward to poke the ticklish spot under his arm. “How’s that?” she teased, just like she used to when they were little.

 

Fiona had always had a solid, athletic build, with a narrow waist and thick thighs that gave her a much lower center of gravity than her skinny younger brother. Once she got a hold of him, she almost always won their fights.

 

Niko let out a satisfying yelp and Fiona reached to tickle the back of his neck. She spotted an opening and dug her finger into his side, expecting a girlish squeal.

 

Instead, Niko grunted loudly and dropped to one knee, holding his ribs where Fiona had poked him.

 

“Niko?” Fiona cried, alarmed. “What did I do?” Before he could stop her, she pulled up the hem of his shirt to take a look.

 

Huge bruises, blue, black, and purple, spread across his chest and sides, their edges tinged with green. Niko had always been skinny, and even now his ribs were clearly visible beneath the boot-shaped bruises.

 

Fiona gasped. “What happened?” she demanded. “Did you get into a fight?”

 

“Not exactly,” Niko said.

 

“Then what happened?” she repeated. “And don’t even think of lying to me right now, Niko Arthur Brown!” Fiona said, using his full name.

 

“I’m handling it, Fiona,” Niko said, glaring at her. “I don’t need your help, you know.”

 

“Have you taken a good look at yourself recently? Or, better yet, been to a hospital? I’m willing to bet you’ve got at least one fractured rib, by the look of you.” Fiona went into the kitchen and returned with her purse, which she sat on the dining room table and began to sort through.

 

“What are you doing?” Niko asked suspiciously as Fiona pulled out her phone.

 

“Since you won’t tell me what happened to you, I’m calling you an ambulance to take you to the hospital,” she replied smartly, dialing.

 

Niko lunged forward to knock the phone out of her hand. “I won’t let you. You can’t be getting involved in this, Fiona! It’s too dangerous for you!”

 

Fiona easily moved out of his way, holding the phone just out of reach. “Too dangerous for me?” she said. Niko crumpled as Fiona viciously stabbed a finger into his side. “You can’t even defend yourself against your sister right now. What hope do you have of defending yourself against these people again?” she asked, waving her arm towards his discolored midsection.

 

Niko said nothing. He merely lay on the floor, clutching his stomach. He was furious with his sister, but only because she pointed out something he already knew to be true. He had no hope of standing up to the Russian mob. Not by himself, anyway. He certainly wasn’t going to ask his sister for help, but perhaps there was someone else who could help him. Someone who already had a vendetta against Alexei and his men.

 

Fiona sank down to the ground next to her brother. “Please, Niko. Tell me what happened,” she begged. The longer Niko sat in silence, the more creative her imagination became. She closed her eyes. “How much money do you owe?” she asked resignedly.

 

Fiona knew there was only one reason Niko wouldn’t want to tell her how he had gotten his bruises. He was ashamed of them. Which could only mean one thing: Niko was in trouble again.

 

***

 

Fiona went into the kitchen and pulled an icepack from the freezer, throwing it to Niko, who winced as he raised a lean arm to catch it.

 

“Start from the beginning,” she ordered him, pouring herself another glass of wine.

 

Niko sat back, tousling his cropped brown hair. “I don’t know…” he moaned.

 

“Well, you’d better figure it the fuck out, Niko,” Fiona said, unconsciously falling into Mom-mode, with her fists squarely set on her wide hips, “because you getting killed by the Russian mob isn’t an option!”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Right, because that’s what I want. To be murdered. Very helpful, Fiona. This is exactly why I didn’t plan on telling you about this.”

 

“Yeah, and your cover lasted all of an hour and a half before I found out. Great job, Niko!” Fiona shot back. “I can tell you’ve really got a handle on the situation.”

 

She saw the hurt flash in her brother’s eyes and she mentally cursed herself. Yelling wasn’t going to help anything now. If she freaked, Niko definitely wouldn’t come to her the next time something happened.

 

She sat down next to him, sighing deeply. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I just worry about you, and when I worry, I get angry. Will you please tell me what happened now?”

 

“Are you going to get mad?” Niko asked testily.

 

Fiona bit her lip at his tone. “I promise I won’t get mad.”

 

Niko leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You know my friend Paul who got me the job? Paul Ivanov?”

 

She felt her heart sink and tried not to let the disappointment show on her face. It was something Fiona was well practiced at by now.“You said his cousin’s friend hired the two of you to work at a bar,” she said evenly. “That wasn’t true, was it?”

 

Niko shook his head. “That part is true. His cousin Patrick did hook us up with the guy we were working for, Danny, but…” He trailed off, too ashamed to continue.

 

“But what?” Fiona pressed. Despite her promise, she was quickly losing patience with Niko’s reluctance.

 

“It’s not like I said before. Not anymore, anyway,” Niko said, hanging his head. Fiona thought she was going to scream if her brother didn’t spill in the next thirty seconds. “About a month ago, Paul and I were bussing tables one night when this guy walks in. He’s a tall, snooty-looking guy, like how dare you breathe the same air as him, y’know? Anyway, as soon as he walks in, the bartender goes to the back and gets Danny, who shuts the place down. Like, kicks everyone out except the staff. It was crazy.” He paused to take a sip of his wine and Fiona mentally screamed at him to get to the point. Niko seemed to be in a much better mood now that he had an audience.

 

“So after everyone leaves, in walks this other guy, biggest guy I’ve ever seen. His shoulders practically touched the doorframe when he came in. Scary guy. He gave me the heebie-jeebies.” Niko shivered dramatically to make a point. “He and Danny went to the back and Paul and I went back to cleaning. Cut to an hour later, the guy comes back out. He spots Paul and me and comes over to us.” Niko paused. “This is where I start to get stupid,” he warned her. “He asked us if we wanted to make quick cash running an errand for him. Paul said yes before I could say anything, and I figured I could use the money.”

 

He paused for a long time.

 

“What was the errand?” Fiona asked hesitantly, unsure if she really wanted to know.

 

“It was a drug run,” Niko blurted out finally. “Almost a pound of meth. Paul carried it and I was lookout.”

 

“Why did they beat you?” Fiona asked, trying to maintain her carefully constructed I’m not judging you face.

 

“They didn’t,” Niko told her dully. “Alexei, the big guy who sent us on the run, he was so pleased that he gave us five hundred bucks each, and a bonus: some coke.” He laughed bitterly. “I’m sure you can imagine what happened next. I got hooked on the coke and the cash. So did Paul —for the cash, anyway.”

 

“So then…” Fiona was still struggling to understand how Niko had gotten hurt in the situation.

 

“Everything was good for a few weeks,” Niko continued, seeing her confused face. “We got bigger and bigger runs, for more and more money. Then a couple of days ago Paul and I got jumped. They stuck guns in our faces and told us to hand over everything we had. The drugs and the money.”

 

“Niko!” Fiona gasped. “You refused to hand it over? They could’ve killed you!” she exclaimed.

 

Niko laughed again, anger beginning to creep into his voice. “Oh, we handed it over. That’s what nearly got us killed. They didn’t do this to me, Fiona,” Niko said, gesturing to his stomach. “Alexei did. When we got back, and he found out what had happened…he lost it. Went fucking nuts. He grabbed a bat and started swinging, then kicking when I finally fell down.”

 

“What about Paul ?” Fiona asked timidly, terrified of the answer.

 

“Alexei beat the shit out of him, too,” Niko said. “But he got off lucky,” he added.

 

Fiona made a face, bewildered. “How is that? You said he got beat up, as well.”

 

Niko sighed. “Yeah, well, do you remember that cousin of his I told you about?”

 

“Yeah, what about him?”

 

“I guess he’s pretty rich,” Niko told her, explaining nothing. Fiona bit her lip until she tasted blood to keep from screaming at her brother. “Alexei expects us to pay him back for what we lost. Paul ’s cousin Patrick paid for his half,” he clarified, continuing. “I still have to come up with mine.”

 

A long silence stretched between them.

 

Fiona stood up, pacing the living room. “I guess asking what happens if you can’t come up with the money would be a stupid question,” she said, finally breaking the quiet.

 

Her brother nodded. “I don’t think they would be quick about it, either.”

 

Fiona turned green and her stomach did a flip. “So, how much?” she asked him again, continuing to pace. Fiona wasn’t stupid. She knew her brother had been purposely avoiding this particular fact during his story hour.

 

Niko bit his lower lip and said nothing.

 

“Niko…” Fiona threatened, stopping in her tracks to glare at him.

 

He mumbled something under his breath.

 

“Niko!”

 

“Ten grand!” he yelled back, snapping. “Fucking ten thousand dollars, okay?”

 

Fiona sank back down to the couch, her eyes wide.

 

“Yeah,” Niko said solemnly. “I’m fucked.”

 

“Not necessarily,” Fiona said, optimistic. “He had to have given you some time to get the money together. How long do you have?”

 

“One week,” he replied heavily, nearly crushing her hopes with his fatalistic tone.

 

She jumped up from the couch and began to pace again. “Okay,” Fiona said, her mind going a mile a minute. “Okay, so I’ve got a couple grand in my savings account. I might be able to open a credit card and get a cash advance on it within a week, that should be at least another three thousand dollars right there, so that’s half of it taken care of…”

 

Niko watched as his sister walked back and forth across her small townhome living room, muttering to herself about accounts and advances. A slimy pit of shame grew in his gut as he realized he had gone his entire life allowing his sister to clean up his messes for him.

 

Every time he got into trouble, there she was to bail him out, no matter what he had done. And every time, the trouble he found himself in was worse and worse. Eventually, a time would come where Fiona wouldn’t be able to help him.

 

Is this that time? he wondered, hating himself that he was so weak. He tuned back into his sister’s ramblings. The least he could do if she was going to save his sorry ass was pay attention.

 

“…if I sell my car I could get another three, maybe four thousand, so that leaves a thousand…let’s say fifteen hundred dollars we need to come up with in a week,” she finished, looking at him expectantly.

 

He stared back at her. “Yeah, uh, that sounds great.”

 

“Do you have any ideas where you can get fifteen hundred dollars?” she asked, though what she really wanted to say was, You had better start helping me save you or I’m going to let them murder your ass.

 

“I might be able to borrow a couple hundred from Paul ,” he suggested.

 

“Okay, why don’t you give him a call and ask him while I go get more wine,” Fiona said, heading to the kitchen before Niko could respond.

 

If she didn’t get a minute to herself, she was going to flip the fuck out. Her brother had really pushed the limits this time. She had to help him, though. If she didn’t, he would be dead within a week. There was no way he would be able to come up with ten grand on his own.

 

Fiona poured herself another glass, reasoning that tonight had been incredibly stressful and that she was entitled to an extra glass of wine or three. Taking a deep breath, she reentered the living room and immediately saw Niko was white as a sheet.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed. She rushed to his side.

 

“Well, I’m glad we hung out at your house tonight. Paul said Alexei put someone on my place, to make sure I don’t run,” Niko explained, seemingly in shock. “He also said every day I don’t come up with the money, he’s going to add ten percent interest. I, uh, I guess it’s normally twenty percent, but, um, Paul said Alexei gave me the employee discount.” Niko broke into a crazed, uncontrollable laughter that quickly subsided into heaving sobs. “He wants me to fail, Fi!” he screamed. “He wants me to fail so he can kill me and pretend it was my own fault; that’s what he does!”

 

Fiona flinched, more at his tone than his volume. She had never heard the sound of pure terror before. It was particularly horrifying knowing that its source was her little brother. “We’ll think of something,” she finally said, sounding more confident than she felt.

 

“Like what?” Niko asked skeptically.

 

Fiona stood up. “Let’s just figure out tonight first, okay? You can’t go back home, obviously. You’ll stay here and we’ll work out a plan first thing tomorrow morning.” She forced a smile onto her face and went to grab a pillow and blanket for the couch.

 

Niko caught sight of the look on Fiona’s face just before she plastered that awful “everything is fine” grin across it. It was a look that said for once, she had no idea what to do. Niko took the bedding from Fiona, setting it next to him on the couch.

 

“Good night, Fi,” he said, flashing a quick smile at her. “I think I’m gonna watch some TV before I go to sleep. I’m feeling pretty wired, y’know?”

 

Fiona didn’t move. Niko gave her a look. “I’d ask you if you wanted to watch with me, but at this hour it’s just going to be infomercials and I know you hate late night TV.”

 

“I’m really sorry, Niko,” Fiona said quietly. “But I need you to turn out your pockets.”

 

Niko stared at his sister, a confused look artfully constructed on his face. “What? Why?”

 

“You know why, Niko. Please don’t turn this into a thing,” Fiona said flatly, her blue eyes aimed squarely at his shoes.

 

Niko began to puff his chest up, ready to stir up a dramatic outrage against his sister’s terrible insinuations, but one look at his big sister, a woman who had spent half of her childhood and all of her adult life taking care of him, and the tank of prideful hot air whooshed out of him in one big rush.

 

He stuck his hand into the small watch pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small baggie of cocaine, carefully, almost lovingly, rolling it between his tan, bony fingers.

 

“Can I trust you to do it?” Fiona asked quietly, interrupting his reverie. “Or do you need me to?”

 

“No,” Niko said firmly, strength filling his voice. “I can do it.”

 

He walked to the bathroom quickly, almost running, desperately trying to make it before he lost all the willpower his sister had imbued him with. The toilet flushed and Niko came back to the living room. He sat on the couch, rested his elbows on his knees, and then buried his head in his arms.

 

“I love you, Niko. Goodnight.” Fiona kissed the top of her little brother’s head and turned out the light, as she had done a million times before.

 

The next couple of days had the Brown siblings in high spirits. Fiona had found a potential buyer for her car that was willing to pay three hundred over the asking price, and Paul had said his cousin would help kick in two grand in thanks for keeping Paul safe. Between the money Paul promised to bring by, and the cash Fiona had made from selling a few other things, they were only eight hundred dollars away from saving Niko’s life.

 

Fiona woke up to the sounds of songbirds outside her window and the soft thud of the morning paper hitting her front door. She got up and went into the kitchen, passing her snoring brother on the couch. Starting the coffee machine, Fiona went about making breakfast, not caring to be quiet. Niko slept like a dead horse. The only way to wake him up was with an air horn or a cold bucket of water.

 

Testing this theory, she gave him a sharp prod in the shoulder where she knew he was uninjured. Nothing. Shrugging, Fiona walked to the front door to retrieve the paper. Her neighbor, Mrs. Montgomery, was walking by and waved hello. Fiona waved back as she bent down to grab the paper, not paying attention to what it was she was reaching for.

 

At the last second, she looked down, and saw her fingertips inches from a dead, brutally dismembered dove. Fiona shrieked and fell back, scrambling on her hands to get away from the bloody creature.

 

Niko’s head popped up, his brown hair pointing in all directions. “What is it?” he cried, pulling himself over the couch as fast as his sleep-laden limbs would allow him.

 

Fiona’s trembling fingers reached for the dove once again, using her thumb and forefinger to gingerly pluck a small, folded piece of paper from the bird’s beak. “A warning,” she said, the paper falling from her hands.

 

TIME’S UP.