“Niki.”
Gianni takes a seat on the park bench beside me, tapping out a message on his phone before he turns his attention to me. I grab another handful of oats from the plastic bag in my lap, carefully dividing it among the ducks as I throw it.
“It’s a beautiful day,” he remarks.
I look up at the clouds, clear and blue. The sun warms my face, and I think that it’s always a beautiful day in Florida. It’s a different kind of heat, though. Muggy and thick. It’s hard to adjust to, just like everything else about my new life.
“How are you doing?” Gianni asks. “Anything new to report?”
“I’m fine.” I shrug. “Nothing new to report. Every day is the same.”
And it is. I go to work, and I don’t talk to anyone over the age of eight. When I’m finished, I go straight back to my apartment and turn on the television or the radio just to avoid the numbing silence. My life in witness protection is not all that different than it was before. It’s still a prison, just a different kind.
“It’s an adjustment,” Gianni insists. “It takes time, but things will get better.”
“I thought it would be different.” I crumple the empty bag in my hand and toss it into the bin beside us.
“Everyone has an idea of what it will be like, but it’s important to follow the rules. They’re in place for a reason, and they keep you safe.”
“I’m not talking about the program,” I mutter. “I’m just talking about the world.”
Gianni takes a sip from his travel mug. Coffee black, just the way he always drinks it. I’ve come to know that about him. Recently, I’ve come to know a lot of things about him. For example, he chews with his mouth open. And he still wears a gold chain, even when he’s not pretending to be a gangster. But the most obvious thing I’ve learned is that he really just wants to be a hero.
He sighs and leans back, drumming his fingers on the park bench. “I suppose it’s a grass is greener on the other side sort of situation. In your case, though, the grass really is greener. But it’ll take time to see that.”
I don’t know if I believe that. My new world is everything I imagined. I have the freedom to come and go as I please, within reason. I can choose my own meals. I can dance whenever I want. I have a job, and I have a purpose. But I had to sell my father out to get here. Something that when I was at home, suffering at his hands, seemed like a good idea. Gianni approached me when he knew I was at my lowest. He saw my vulnerability, and he struck like a python, squeezing until I caved in.
Does my father deserve to go to prison? Undoubtedly. But do I want to be the one to stand up and testify against him? Absolutely not.
I’m empty inside, and the worst part is that I feel like everyone I’ve ever loved has betrayed me.
“We need to talk in private,” Gianni says.
I already knew that. It’s why he’s here, after all. But he’s impatient and determined, so we make the walk back to my apartment to put him at ease.
After unlocking the six deadbolts on my door and keying in the alarm code, we’re in, just like that. Gianni is familiar with the space and makes himself at home on the Ikea sofa, while I opt for the kitchen.
In truth, I’ve done very little with this space. I don’t see the point when he says I might have to move again after the trial. I might have to move again any time they say for the rest of my life. That’s how it works. I am a tree without roots. A flower that cannot bloom where its planted.
“Do you want some tea?” I reach for the kettle.
He declines with a shake of his head.
I busy my hands with the preparation, so I have something to do while he talks. Already, I expect the worst every time he comes here. I expect him to show up in the middle of the night to say they’re coming for me.
“I’m ready whenever you are,” I tell him.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?”
“No. I’m good where I’m at.”
He sighs, but reluctantly agrees. “Tanaka, I don’t know how to tell you this. But it’s about your father.”
“He’s dead?”
“Maybe,” he ventures. “But probably not. The judge released him on bail, and he’s gone.”
“How could that happen?” I demand. “You told me they wouldn’t give him bail.”
“I don’t know,” he admits, frustrated. “But if I had to guess, someone bribed the judge. Or threatened him. Regardless, it is what it is. I have an obligation to let you know.”
“That’s it?” I stare at him. “Just an obligation to let me know?”
“It isn’t just him,” Gianni adds. “Half of his crew was killed in prison. The rest have gone into hiding. Something’s going down, and I suspect it’s the Russians.”
The kettle boils, and I remove it from the stove, pouring the water over my tea bag and watching it steep.
“I don’t suppose you know anything about that, do you?”
His tone is accusatory and slightly hostile, and it pisses me off. He’s been trying to get me to flip on Nikolai since he took me into WITSEC.
“How could I?” I reply. “I’m not there, am I?”
“This changes things,” he says. “You won’t be going to trial now, obviously. And the DOJ will likely determine you’re no longer at risk, considering the circumstances. You’ll be left to fend for yourself.”
I drop the tea bag in the garbage and suppress the urge to slap him. In truth, I owe Gianni a great deal. My life, actually. But he hasn’t done any of this for my benefit. It’s about his name. It’s about being a hero and what that will mean for his career.
“You can save your breath,” I tell him. “I don’t know anything about the Vory. I’ve told you that already. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you that.”
“Tanaka, you lived with him for months. You must know something. I don’t know what sort of misguided loyalty it is that you have for Nikolai Kozlov, but I can assure you that he has none for you. If he finds you, he will kill you. Do you understand that?”
“I do,” I admit. “I understand it better than you ever could.”
He comes into the kitchen to demand his answers. “So why are you protecting him?”
“Was that all you came to tell me?” I ask. “That WITSEC might dump me from the program?”
“Tanaka.” He reaches out in an attempt to soften me by touching my hand. “If you don’t do this, they will kill you.”
“Then maybe I will finally be at peace.”
His lip curls, and I know he resents me for not doing this for him. He’s a federal agent, but I’m honestly beginning to wonder if I can really trust him. But then I realize it doesn’t really matter either.
I’m done running.
If any of my father’s men want to come for me, they will. And if Nikolai or Viktor want me dead, then there isn’t a place on this earth I can hide.
I am tired of living a life where I worry about survival every day. And if there is not a place safe from that in this world, then maybe it is not the world for me.