Clamping my hand on the back of his neck I do something uncharacteristic but necessary. I pull him in and embrace him.
At first he pushes at me. But I keep my hold strong. Then when the fight leaves him, when the reality of his decision hits him he embraces me back.
And Imogen was right. It is nice to have people who care for you.
I pull away first but not before clapping him on the back.
He wipes the back of his hand over his glistening eyes. Then in a humorless laugh he says, “We are so cooked.”
My brows furrow at the terminology. “Cooked?”
He snorts and this time it’s sincere. “It means we’re fucked, Rico. You’re fucked because you’re in love with the enemy’s daughter and I’m fucked because I’m aiding and abetting it.”
“I assure you, you’ll be acquitted of the charges,” I say drily.
“Yeah just on this fucked up game of monopoly I’m not getting the go to jail card I’m getting the death sentence card,” he quips.
“There’s no such card, Pietro.”
He gives me a leveled look before dramatically saying, “Obviously.”
I head back to the mini bar and pour him two fingers of whiskey and a finger for myself. Joining him opposite of the sofa I set down his drink on the coffee table.
Just as I had he tosses back the liquor without a grimace.
“So, what’s the plan?” He asks.
“That depends.”
“On?”
I press forward, my elbows resting on my knees, my fingers steepled under my chin. “What information do you have regarding Sebastian that sent you over here like a madman?”
“Right. That.” With the empty tumbler he nudges it in the direction of the minibar. “Pour me another glass.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
“It takes more than a couple shots of whiskey to get me drunk. You don’t have to worry about me crashing and imposing your sexcapades.” He winks. I take the tumbler and pour him two fingers. He adds, “Pour yourself another, too. You’re going to need it.”
And so I pour myself another and rejoin him. “What is it?” I demand.
“Sebastian was seen in a town car outside of Hell’s Kitchen.”
“That’s hardly surprising,” I say rather disappointedly in his news. “I had high suspicions it was him and his crew behind the latest Eden incident.”
“Rico,” he says, eyes imploring me to listen, “he wasn’t alone in the town car.”
Seamus must be accompanying him. Perhaps they’re willing to have an in person meeting with Constantine and Carina.
“Who was in the town car?”
“Kirill fucking Vasiliev.”
CHAPTER 35
Rico
Pietro was right. The additional glass of whiskey was indeed needed.
