Kane’s harsh brows lifted in suspicion, but he inclined his chin. “Glasses are over there.”
Poor hospitality, Zaria thought, but she made her way to the counter nonetheless. Her hand was unsteady as she poured the whiskey, causing a few drops of it to splash over the rim. She wasn’t a fan of alcohol, but she needed it to take the edge off, if such a thing was possible.
She was made of edges, and Kane of razor-sharp points. No matter how many deals they struck, Zaria couldn’t shake the idea that they were in no way meant to fit together. Not even for a short time. And yet here they were, a con artist and an inventor, combining their wildly different skills in hopes of committing an impossible crime, adjusting to accommodate each other’s corners.
“So,” Kane said as she perched on the edge of the hard-backed wooden chair opposite him, “what makes you think Cecile Meurdrac knows anything about primateria sources?”
Zaria took a sip of whiskey, wincing as it burned the back of her throat. “What do you want with the necklace from the Exhibition?”
“We’re not talking about me.”
“Then we’re not talking about me, either.”
To her surprise, Kane smiled at that—really smiled, instead of that wry mask he usually wore—and said, “Fine. I want the necklace because if I don’t get it, lives will be on the line.”
“Whose lives? Yours?”
“No. I don’t know.” Kane’s smile disappeared. “That remains to be seen.”
“Fletcher’s?” Zaria said.
She knew she was right the moment Kane’s jaw tensed. He tried not to make it obvious, and it was an admittedly subtle shift, but Zaria saw it all the same.
“Why would you say that?” he demanded.
Because, Zaria thought, she was familiar with the brand of desperation that came either from needing to save your own life or the life of someone close to you. But she only said, “Who else is there? You don’t strike me as someone with many trusted friends. So if it’s not your own life you’re worried about, it must be Fletcher’s.”
“And you think I’d risk everything for him, do you?”
“Yes” was her immediate response. “I’d do it for Jules.” Shewasdoing it. “He’s like family. I can tell you and Fletcher are the same.”
Kane pushed a breath from between his teeth. He set down his glass with one hand, clawing through his hair with the other. At the same time, something in his face darkened further. It was a haunted look, reminding Zaria oddly of the way her father had looked on his deathbed. Like he was being destroyed from the inside out. An unidentifiable twinge shot through her, snatching the air from her lungs. It was the face of a man who was trying to fight, but deep down had already accepted his own fate.
“Does Fletcher know?” Zaria asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer.
“No.”
She nodded slowly. “Someone’s threatening his life, and you didn’t think it pertinent to tell him? That’s fucked-up, Kane.”
“It’s none ofyourgoddamned business.” His teeth were suddenly very prominent in the dim light. “Especially given that you’re doing the exact same thing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come now, Zaria. You think I don’t know about Ward’s ultimatum?”
Zaria felt her cheeks heat. “I’m giving George time to tell Jules. I wasn’t even supposed to know—it shouldn’t come from me.”
“Somehow I doubt Julian would agree.”
“It would kill him to know his father kept this from him. I’m still hoping George does the right thing.”
“But it’s better ifyoukeep it from him, is it?”
“At least Jules’s life isn’t in danger,” she hissed, even as a sick sensation unfolded in her stomach.
Kane’s eyes glittered. “That remains to be seen. You thinkworking for the kingpin is safe? He kills his own, Zaria.” A pause. “Sometimes I do it for him.”
Her mouth went dry. She tried to swallow, but the muscles of her throat seemed to have stopped responding. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. To learn both that even being part of Ward’s crew didn’t keep you safe from him, and that Kane had been involved in killing his own associates. He had an undeniable air of danger about him, but he didn’t strike Zaria as amurderer.
