“I’m going to go in there and feed Sidorov his intestines. My pet was with us.” He coolly stared at Rowen.
“Aye, but he’s bound to have a couple of men with him.”
Sloan shrugged. “And what are we?” I’d never heard him sound so agitated, not that I’d been around him much, but Cillian’s jaw ticked and he didn’t look comfortable, and that did a lot to put me on edge. I’d learned to read men in the ring, and right now Sloan seemed as if he was ready to charge someone, consequences be damned. “It’s a restaurant his grandmother owns.” He tapped the window, pointing at the rundown building. “She’s likely somewhere inside. It’s doubtful he’ll have many men with him. Maybe none. As you said, he’s comfortable here.”
My stomach turned. I’d heard that sometimes Sloan did stuff like this himself, but I’d never seen it, and he was just as cool as Aspen while he talked about going off to kill people—but I guessed that made sense. I didn’t know if I would ever sound that way, or if I even wanted to. I bit the inside of my lip and steeled myself because I was too far along on whatever the fuck this journey was to back away now. I knew too much. My family would be disappointed.
I had to keep my shit together and get used to this.
We got out and walked inside. I couldn’t say why, but I was shocked at the typical restaurant booths. The seats were stuffed red vinyl, the kind you might find in small diners all over New York. The saltshakers and menus were in the middle, and the sweet scent of baked goods hung in the air and made me hungry. But... I’d expected something fancier from the Russians, something more spectacular. They were always so full of themselves. Not every place could be super-snazzy, and plenty of the Irish businesses were everyday sorts of places, but I was disappointed. So much of mob life was drudge—us dragging other people who were already in the dirt down deeper.
We passed three occupied booths and I was already counting them as collateral damage. Sidorov was in a booth way in the back, and at first when he saw us coming he held up a hand and smiled at Sloan, but his gaze darted around, dancing over us, and I could only imagine what he saw. We looked exactly like we’d been in a fucking explosion. My clothes were smudged and my pants torn, and none of our guys looked any better than I did. There was a man and woman in the booth across from Sidorov, and as we got closer, my breath caught. They were ridiculously pretty. The woman had dark hair up in a complicated knot on the back of her head, and shiny black material clung to her body. It stopped barely at her thigh, and I guessed it was supposed to be a dress. The boy wore eyeliner and had lips almost as nice as Vail’s. His brown hair was combed to the side in an old-fashioned style, and his brown eyes glittered as he turned to rake his gaze over us. His gray button-down clung to his shoulders and chest and showed off slim muscles.
Aspen grabbed my arm and held me back as Sloan slid into the booth beside Sidorov. He was slick as he drew his gun and hid it under the table, and I swallowed hard as he aimed the muzzle at the man’s balls.
“What the fuck, Killough?” he said, far too loudly.
Aspen tilted his head back and glared down his nose at the man in a way that had me holding my breath. There were two large guys nearby who’d been leaning on the wall playing on their phones when we came in, but they were on the move, closing in. Cillian turned around, putting his back to me and Aspen. He shook his head at the men, and they hesitated. Rowen seemed to be watchingeveryone. I had no fucking clue what to do, but a headache began to pulse in my skull and I let out a long breath.
Sloan smiled, and despite the grime on his face, he was a handsome guy. He knocked his shoulder against Sidorov’s, almost friendly, but the man gasped as Sloan jammed the gun harder into his family jewels.
“There are plenty of men who hate me and let me know it to my face. I don’t mind that, I can do business with that if necessary. I have plenty of enemies I acknowledge and work with because it is beneficial. But to pretend to be my ally.” Sloan shook his head and narrowed his eyes.
Sidorov grunted. “Christ, Killough, what do you think I did? I have been here for the last hour with my....” He waved vaguely at the pretty girl and guy. Once upon a time I might have been jealous of these big shots and the beautiful people they surrounded themselves with, but I glanced at Aspen and warmed up inside when the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile as he caught my eye.
“Leave,” Sloan said to Sidorov’s friends, and they scrambled out of the booth fast, so they must have an inkling of what kind of work their...what? Boyfriend? Sugar daddy? Well, they must know what Sidorov did, anyway. Rowen was nice enough to hand the panicked girl her coat because she would have frozen to death outside otherwise. Aspen and I moved aside to let them flee the restaurant, then closed ranks again.
“Thank you,” Sidorov said and sweat beaded on his brow.
“Oh, I am more generous than my enemies, and crueler, when necessary. I don’t harm significant others unless I’ve been seriously slighted.”
Sidorov squinted. How hard was Sloan jamming that gun into his boys? “I washere,” Sidorov gasped out.
Sloan flashed his teeth, mocking him with a sick smile that had Sidorov breathing faster. “Oh, that’s cute. I rarely do my own dirty work. It was clever of you to blow up your own investment if your plan was to throw me off the scent. What happened? Was your grandmother mad about Ilya after all?” His tone was conversational, and I guessed he was probably curious for real.
Sidorov closed his eyes and let out a long breath. Oddly enough he didn’t look too pissed off, all things considered, and he even let out a strangled chuckle. Sloan’s eyebrows danced.
“I really didn’t do anything. She was upset, but—” He shrugged. “—business is business.”
“I am giving you one more chance because until now I’ve had no reason to distrust you. Why did you betray me?”
Sidorov let out a long breath. “Half my men are right around the corner at the Durak Club.”
“You’ll be dead before they get here.”
“And these ones will meet Jesus before they know what got ’em,” Cillian said cheerfully. The men in question were standing awkwardly in the aisle near our booth.
“There are patrons here.”
Sloan shrugged, and I thought maybe he was pissed off enough he really didn’t care. He might murder every person in here to kill Sidorov right now.
“Is your granny around?”
Everyone turned to stare at me, even Cillian. They all looked like they couldn’t believe I’d opened my mouth right now, but there was no way I was shooting someone who was here to eat some pancakes, or whatever the hell Russian food this joint served.
Sloan cocked his head and gave me a “gimme” gesture with two fingers.
“All the old ladies in my family don’t hold back. Let’s ask her if she asked Sidorov, here, to get messy.” I shrugged.
