“How powerful are we talking?” I ask. “Like, hardened gangster? Narco kingpin? Crooked business mogul?”
He raises one thick eyebrow. “You watch too many movies.”
I groan. “Not only did I get slapped by my fiancé and run out on my wedding, but I also crashed my car, fell off a bridge, and almost drowned in a river. If that weren’t enough for one day, I am now stuck in the middle of the woods in the black of night with a rather rude and wanted felon. Who, may I add, I recently lied to the cops on behalf of, making me an accomplice to jailbreak at the very least. Can’t you cut me some slack and answer a few questions?”
He mutters something in a harsh language I can’t decipher—Russian, maybe?—then adds in English, “I should’ve stayed in f*****g prison.”
“So yes? To one of those? Gangster,
