47

O’Leary looked around the small kitchen for a second and then turned his attention to Tasha. She, being the most fluent in English, had become the official spokesperson for the Russian women. “Are you ladies being taken care of?” he asked.

“Yes,” Tasha answered, “we have all we need.”

“I didn’t ask if you had all that you need. There are always little things we want that we don’t really need, and I know this place ain’t the most luxurious, especially when compared to the house on the Cape.”

“We are fine. This warehouse has everything we need and is many times nicer than what most of us grew up in. Besides we don’t have to . . . how do you say it? Fuck for our supper.”

He ground out his smoke and sipped from the coffee mug that he held and studied her for several seconds. “Tasha, I’m a pretty good judge of when something is bothering people, and I can see that you got something on your mind. I hope that by now you realize I’m here to help you, not use you like Adriana did.”

“We know, Jimmy. But . . .” she was hesitant to say more.

“Tasha, in this country we have a custom. It ain’t anything unusual, but what it boils down to is if you don’t tell me what’s buggin’ you, I can’t do anything about it.”

She reached over and took a cigarette from the pack Jimmy had placed on the table when he arrived. Once she had lit it, she arched her head back and exhaled a stream of smoke at the ceiling. “What will happen to us?”

O’Leary, too, lit a cigarette. He stared at the fiery end as he thought about his answer. After several moments, he used his right index finger to tap the cigarette, dropping ash into the ashtray, and sat back. “I ain’t exactly sure—not yet. However, I can say this, there are several avenues available to us. Two of which I’m not about to let happen: you ain’t goin’ back to Russia, and you ain’t goin’ back to no place like that fancy whorehouse on Cape Cod—at least not as long as Gordon and I are alive.”

Tasha looked away from him as she, too, tapped ash from her cigarette. She rolled the burning end around the ashtray until the fire was a perfect dome. She looked at Jimmy. “I hear things.”

“We all hear things.”

“I hear there are people who are determined to kill you.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?”

She smiled. “Jimmy, no one is indestructible.”

“Didn’t say I was. I’m just awfully careful.”

“I have also heard,” she said, “that some of the people who want to harm you are in positions of power.”

He reached over and gently lifted her chin with the side of a curled index finger. He looked into her large brown eyes. “I’m starting to think that your interests are more than you’re saying.”

She blushed. O’Leary found it charming. Considering all she had been through and had been forced to do, blushing did not come easy. She smiled—he thought it a sad one. “You are very special to all of us . . .”

He grinned, more than a little pleased that a woman as beautiful as Tasha could have strong feelings for him. “All of you . . . or you?” He pulled his hand back and gazed into her eyes.

“Both but especially to me.”

Winter walked into the room and stopped short when O’Leary glared at him. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Of course not,” Tasha said.

“Give me five minutes, will you, Gordon?” O’Leary said.

When Winter left, he turned back to Tasha. He ground out his cigarette and said, “Tasha, you’re one gorgeous woman, you truly are. But you just been through some heavy shit . . .” Her quizzical look made him pause. “You’ve been through some tough times.” Her face showed that she now understood what he was saying, so he continued. “So let’s take things slow, okay? If after this is all over you still feel the same way . . . well, we’ll deal with it then.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“Do you really understand?”

“Yes.” She looked forlorn when she stared at the floor. “I cannot blame you. No man would want a woman who has done the things I have done . . .”

“Stop right there. That thought has never crossed my mind. What I’m trying to say is that you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever known—and I ain’t exactly eye candy. I don’t want you to confuse gratitude for something else. Am I making myself clear on this?”

“I think so . . .”

“The last thing I want you to do is change from one form of slavery to another. I’ve done many things that are, let’s say, illegal. Things far worse than anything you have ever done. Let’s wait until all this shit settles down, then we’ll see what happens. I don’t want you to say or do anything now that you’ll later regret.”

She nodded, took a final drag on her cigarette, and ground it out.

“There is nothing I’d like better than to go around Boston with you on my arm—and woe to any son of a bitch who said anything about you. But I want you to be sure that an old beat-up hoodlum like me is what you want.”

She smiled. “Jimmy, you will always be my knight. Your armor may be tarnished, but it will always shine for me.”

O’Leary got up from the table, walked around, and placed a hand on her elbow. He urged her to stand and then took her in his arms. He kissed her and felt his heart increase its beat when she responded. After several intense moments, their lips separated, and she tilted her head back to better see him. “Woman, you have no idea how you make me feel . . . and even less of an idea of how big a problem you would be taking on.”

“Problem? I see no problem.”

He laughed. “When you have a few minutes, you need to have a long talk with Gordon—he knows me better than anyone else.”

As if on cue, Winter reappeared. “Boss, we got to go . . .”