Stewart shut the office door behind them, his voice sharp. "What do you want? Get to work and do what I told you. We can't talk about this with that guy outside."
"I'm out," Nikolai said.
"Yes, go out and do it," Stewart shot back, waving toward the garage.
"No. I'm out. I'm not doing it."
Stewart froze. "What?"
"I said I'm not doing it."
For a moment, Stewart just stared. His mouth twitched as disbelief hit him.
Nikolai almost felt bad, almost, and almost laughed at himself for it.
"Kid," Stewart said, lowering his voice but still hard. "Look, I know you're nervous, but you can do it. You don't even need to fix anything, just break. Why's it so hard?"
"If it's so easy, do it yourself," Nikolai answered evenly. "From what I saw, you're about to mess with someone dangerous. Why would I help you with that?"
Stewart's eyes darkened, a quiet death glare replacing the fake grin.
Before either could say more, the door opened and the man outside stepped in. "I've moved the car."
Stewart's face shifted fast, hiding his anger. "I'll deal with you later," he muttered to Nikolai, then forced a thin smile and limped back out.
He was left alone in the office, the door clicking shut behind Stewart.
Nikolai leaned back against the desk and exhaled. Just refusing to help didn't mean he'd be safe if something went wrong.
That would depend entirely on what kind of man Moreno was, and that thought wasn't exactly comforting. But it still felt better than standing on the front line if this blew up.
He glanced at the empty space where Stewart had been and shook his head. It also meant waiting longer before buying the phone he'd planned on.
He'd been counting on the extra cut Stewart promised, but now it was clear that money wasn't coming.
A quiet chuckle escaped him as he pushed off the desk. "Figures," he muttered, then walked back out to the garage.
Nikolai walked back out into the garage. Stewart was half under the Mercedes, his legs sticking out as he muttered loudly to himself.
"Oh yeah, I see what the problem was… uh-huh, uh-huh," Stewart said, voice exaggerated and showy.
Nikolai shook his head. If he didn't have memories of Stewart actually fixing cars before, he'd think the man didn't know a thing and was just pretending.
The man Moreno had left behind, the quiet, heavy-built one, stood a short distance away, arms folded as he watched.
After a few more seconds, he shook his head slightly, turned, and started walking toward Nikolai instead.
The man stopped a few feet from Nikolai and gave a short nod. "Hey."
"Hey," Nikolai answered casually.
For a moment they just stood there, the man looking him over without much expression.
Then he spoke again, small talk about the car, the city, nothing much, just filling the air with words.
Nikolai replied with short, polite answers, careful not to give away too much or seem nervous.
After a while, the man reached into his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped one free and looked at Nikolai. "You smoke?"
"Sure." Nikolai took one when offered.
In his past life, he'd picked up bad habits during long, heavy nights, cigarettes, whiskey, anything that dulled the noise in his head when plans went bad.
He'd never been addicted enough to need it daily, but when the chance came, he didn't refuse.
Back then, his body had been genetically enhanced and strong enough that a few bad habits didn't matter. This body wasn't the same, but one cigarette wouldn't kill him.
As he smoked, another thought surfaced, one that had been lingering since the moment he woke up in this new life.
Could he recreate the genetic enhancer here?
The serum in his past life hadn't turned him into something unreal, but it had made him powerful.
His strength was far beyond average; not enough to lift cars or dodge bullets, but enough to break bones and fight trained men without fear. His speed and reflexes had been sharp, his recovery fast.
Illness almost never caught him, and even when he'd been poisoned a few times, it only slowed him down instead of killing him.
And there was more, clearer focus, sharper thinking. It hadn't made him a genius overnight, but it had pushed his brain a notch higher.
If he could reproduce even part of that formula here, it would change everything.
But he shook his head, pushing the idea aside for now. He had the full formula in his mind every step, every ratio, but that didn't mean he could make it tomorrow.
Some of the ingredients were rare and costly even in his old world; he could only assume it was the same here.
A few of the required elements were restricted or outright illegal for private use. Getting them would mean digging deep and risking attention he couldn't afford yet.
For now, it was smarter to let the plan rest and focus on surviving long enough to build the means to pursue it.
"How long you been working here?" the man asked, breaking Nikolai's train of thought.
"Two years," Nikolai answered easily. He shrugged and added with a small, self-deprecating shake of his head, "Still drawing straws. Stewart never lets me work on any real car."
The man studied him for a moment. "What about you?" Nikolai asked back. "How long have you worked for Mr. Moreno?"
The man didn't answer right away. "Very long," he said finally, short and closed off.
He flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushed it under his boot, then held out the pack and a lighter. "Keep it."
Nikolai took the box with a small nod of thanks, tucking it into his pocket.
Nikolai watched the man walk back toward Stewart.
He noticed how easily the guy had asked about him but given almost nothing back. Careful, disciplined, and alert, that told him plenty.
Moreno was definitely capable and powerful. One of the best ways to judge a man was by looking at the people around him. It didn't tell you everything, but it told you enough. And Moreno's people were sharp.