“You will need that same tattoo as the man you killed.” Ares doesn’t mince words this time about who was responsible for the death.
Despite Zervas wanting David Sinclair dead, he died by my hand. Even if in the end it was self-defense because?—
I stop… I technically killed Sinclairin self-defense. And Ihave a witness.
Fuck, I can’t do that to Fallon. I trust her to keep my secret.
A hollow laugh bubbles out of me. “I need a mercenary neck tattoo now?”
Ares says lazily, “It’s only ink.”
“It’s only my life,” I snap and rake a hand through my freshly shorn hair, exhaling hard. “What is your connection to Elias Black?”
Ares leans back, studying me. Wondering if he should play dumb. Atlas whispers something in his ear. My C.V., perhaps? I’m guessing he’s reminding his brother of my security background for the Irish ministry.
“It’s a loose connection,” Ares says succinctly.
“You mean a dead one. That’s who David Sinclair worked for?” I play my final card in this game. “Yeah, I know who he is.”
“Yes, David worked for him, and yes, he was married to my assistant. He was beating her black and blue nearly every night,” Ares snaps with visceral disgust, giving away all his secrets. “When he wasn’t off screwing women he met in my club.”
I’m not sure he cares at this point, but why does this need to be happening when I will be traipsing all over the city with Fallon?
I’m ready to vomit.
“And it’s microchips,” Ares finally admits. “Not humans. That manifest was detailed. Black-market stuff. Military-grade for drones. Very valuable.”
“And who are you selling them to?”
His mouth curves into something that resembles a smile.
“Balor O’Rourke,” Ares says with no irony in his tone. “His order coincidentally got lost in cyberspace, and he really needs them.”
With Quinlan Empire’s twisted ties to the Greeks and Trace being Balor’s brother-in-law, the O’Rourke hacker will trust us and take the shipment.
My body buzzes with the urge to walk out of here. But I don’t move.
Because this is who I am. This is what I agreed to when I got a call three years ago from Griffin. And because saying no to Ares Zervas is a good way to wind up at the bottom of the East River.
I drag my gaze back to him. “Fine. I’ll do it. Are we done here?”
“I’d get that tattoo sooner rather than later,” Ares says, smiling.
“Those microchips better not be counterfeit or worthless, or you’ll find yourself getting a visit from Lachlan O’Rourke.” My throat muscles constrict in tight coils like barbed wire.
The way they all visibly shudder spreads a grin across my lips.
“My brother is married to his sister,” I add. “Only she can call off that maniac of a brother.”
“He’s more like a nuclear warhead with a grudge,” Ares mutters.
“Don’t fucking forget it.” I kick the chair back, loving how the legs screech against marble tile. “If I get gunned down walking through Midtown with that tattoo, you have to answer to all of Quinlan Empire.”
I push out of Ares’s office, ignoring his gorgeous assistant. An elevator waits for me, its chrome walls reflect my face back at me, pale and furious and tired.
By the time I step out onto the street, the wind slices at my coat. Why is it I only feel warm when I’m with Fallon? Why does the city only glitter when I see it as a halo around her hair?
I shove my hands in my pockets and start walking, thesound of‘Here Comes Santa Claus’bleeding faintly from somewhere above.
