The Marriage (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 3), Bethany-Kris [books for 8th graders txt] 📗

of his friend, Roman jumped up and went looking for a beer. He could feel Marky’s eyes on him, following his every move. Like a bug that needed squashed.

“And you need to get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass out myself.”

He popped a can open—one of the ones he’d left on the coffee table; it was still warm. Gulping the beer down, he didn’t even mind. It did nothing to quench his thirst, but he didn’t care.

“I’m starting to think us being friends fucks with your head,” Roman added. “You forget your place. Who are you and who am I—can you tell me that?”

Marky’s cheek twitched as he glared right back, while Roman felt nothing.

He couldn’t even remember why they were still friends, in fact. Who gave this guy the liberty to break down his door, run his fucking mouth, and call Roman out on anything?

“Okay, yeah, I’ll leave. I don’t give a shit,” Marky replied, pointing his finger like a gun at Roman. “I shouldn’t give a shit. I just wanted to ask you when was the last time you called Karine?”

Roman didn’t like the way he asked that—or maybe it was the answer in his mind that made him shout, “She won’t talk to me—what do you want me to do?”

Marky nodded. “But you haven’t called in a long time, so you don’t know if that’s still the case, Roman. You’ve been doing this for days—you’ve been up for days. Don’t you realize it?”

Roman swayed a little where he stood. The alcohol made him tired, brought him down from the floating feeling the coke had given him. The beer was a bad decision because all of a sudden—Roman could feel things. He could actually hear what Marky was saying, not just what his coke-addled brain wanted to hear.

He returned to the couch, and sat down again. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he avoided looking at Marky.

“You need to go and speak to your father,” his friend said quietly. “The two agents were there to see him a few days ago. Some shit is going down. You’re gonna miss it because you’re too busy numbing yourself to the world around you.”

Roman dragged in harsh exhales, letting the air out slower than he took it in. From under his lashes, he kept a firm glare on Marky.

“The same agents who tried to interview me?”

Marky shrugged. “I guess so.”

“What the fuck is up now?”

“Dima wanted a sit down with your father, but he refused. He doesn’t want to meet anyone from the new organization in Chicago who is not the boss.”

“So where the fuck is Leonid?”

Roman heard the way his voice pitched darker. Marky had messed up his high. Big time.

“Nobody seems to know. I don’t think the agents knew, either. I wasn’t really told a lot, to be fair. Just enough to pass it on to you.”

Roman raked a hand through his hair wishing he could go back to the day before when he didn’t care that he needed a shave, a haircut, and a solid night’s worth of sleep. He liked being selfish—it was easier.

That was over, it seemed.

There was time—a period of over a week—that he had just wasted getting high when he could have worked towards finding Dima.

He didn’t know if Karine would ever speak to him again, or if their marriage would even work now—but he had to do something to make this world a little safer for her to survive in.

Roman owed her that.

At least.

*

His parents were eating when Roman barged into the dining room. At least, he’d taken a thirty-minute stop at his barber’s before showing up. He didn’t look as fucked up as he did when Marky walked in on him that morning. It was all that could be said for him, and even he knew it.

His mother stood behind his father’s chair with her hands on his shoulders. They were in the middle of having a light-hearted conversation if the laughter in the air was any indication.

Usually, a scene like that would have him turning away, making some internal comment about men being wrapped around their woman’s finger. He’d never admitted it to himself before, but that misguided pride had always made up for the emptiness he felt. He’d not known what romantic love really was—how vulnerable a person became once they were in love. Degrading it was just another way for him to deal with what he lacked.

But the sight of his parents together warmed Roman’s heart because it reminded him of how strong the bond was between them, and how well his family thrived from the roots they’d planted. And just as fast, it pissed him off.

It reminded him of what he didn’t have with Karine.

Not yet, anyway.

Too bad they were having a good time.

Just the sight of Roman ruined it.

“Where have you been?” Demyan demanded.

At least, his mother kept smiling. “Take a seat, Roman. I’ll get you a plate.”

Roman didn’t even pay her any mind. His gaze didn’t leave his father. “The agents came back to speak with you? And you didn’t think to let me know?”

Demyan put down his spoon, and drew in a deep breath. “I would have told you if I knew what you were up to, but you keep fucking off—”

“Why don’t you eat something before fighting?” Claire tried interrupting with frankness, however, neither were interested in the food anymore. Even Demyan, who never turned down his wife’s food—seemed to have lost his appetite when he pushed his bowl of stew away.

“I don’t need to give you a report of all my actions, and my every move, Papa.”

He’d made sure to make the distinction with his father right then—he wasn’t interested in talking to his boss.

“You do need to check-in when you have a history of landing your ass in trouble.”

“Why don’t you just come out and say what you want to fucking say?” Roman asked, opening his hands wide. “Fuck her feelings—say it.”

Demyan stood up at that.

Claire stepped back,