“Get the fuck out of here,” he bellowed, the sound earsplitting in the small space. The boy didn’t need to be told twice. He took off, sprinting past Kane and up the steps. The man followed on his heels, breathing labored and blood dripping in his wake.
Kane lowered the gun, trying to collect his wits. He felt as if lightning had shot through his veins and had yet to fizzle out. He couldn’t process what had just happened and thus reverted to his coping mechanism of choice: not processing it at all. His gaze roved over Zaria’s crouched form, and for a moment, he felt nothing save a sensation of acute relief.
“You’re okay,” he said, and Zaria straightened ever so slightly to face him. Her eyes were shiny, her cheeks flushed, but she appeared unharmed. Why had he been so terribly afraid for her?
Because you need her, the snide voice in his head pointed out.You should be worried about losing her skills—nothing more.
“Is that all you have to say?” Zaria replied, her voice barely a whisper.
He took three more steps into the crypt. “God, Mendoza. I was afraid they had killed you as well.”
There—he’d called her by her surname. That was good. That suggested he was maintaining some level of detachment.
Zaria got to her feet, the action requiring considerable effort. Her body was shaking. “As well?As well?Did youknowthose men were coming here to kill Cecile?”
Kane shook his head, frowning. How could she ask him that? “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I’d known. I promised Cecile safety.” The woman’s current address had been in one of Ward’s many logbooks—the kingpin kept track of everyone with whom he’d ever had a meaningful interaction—though he’d never mentioned her in Kane’s presence. She’d been perplexed when he showed upat her door, then fearful, but Zaria’s name had been the key to her cooperation.
“You were standing directly outside the church!” Zaria raised her voice until it echoed throughout the stone enclosure. The sound was an assault on Kane’s ears, and he couldn’t help his wince. “You let them in!”
“I didn’t let anyone in,” he said, surprised to hear the words come out evenly. “There was a third man with them, and we got in a fight. But don’t worry; he’s dead now.”
“Oh, excellent,” Zaria snarled. “Soyoukilled someone as well. Really excellent.”
“I didn’t exactly have a choice.”
Zaria shook her head as if trying to clear it. She ran her fingers through her hair, smearing Cecile’s blood across her face, though she didn’t appear to notice. She turned away from Kane. Her gaze was fixed on the wall, or perhaps something in the middle distance. It took another moment for him to understand that her shaking wasn’t the result of shock or distress.
No. She was furious.
“You.”Zaria spun back around, pointing a vibrating finger in his direction. “You had something to do with this. Do you know what that man said to me before you shot him? He asked me if I regretted working with you yet.”
Kane went rigid. He became aware that his gun was still raised, which likely wasn’t helping; he lowered it. “He mentioned me by name?”
Zaria gave a wild sort of scoff. “Don’t act surprised.”
“Tell me exactly what he said.”
“Just what I told you. He said, ‘Regret working with Kane Durante yet?’”
Kane’s blood iced over. Only a limited number of people called him by his true surname. People who knew him as himself, and not one of the many roles he played for Ward. He narrowed his eyes. “If I wanted you dead, Mendoza, I would have done it myself. And I certainly wouldn’t have missed.”
He knew at once it was a foolish thing to say. Zaria lunged, closing the space between them, and shoved Kane hard against the crypt wall. His back collided painfully with stone, and he was too startled to do anything but blink as her arm formed a barrier across his throat. She jammed the barrel of her revolver into his stomach, not dissimilar to the way she had that day in the pawnshop.
“Don’t try to deny it. You’re somehow connected to whoever’s trying to kill me.”
“That’s—” Kane cleared his throat in an attempt to force the words out. “That’s not true at all.”
Zaria was past listening. She shook her head, hair whipping from one side to the other. “Cecile isdead. She stepped in front of me, and now she’s dead. The only person besides Jules who’s ever bothered to give a shit about me.” She cut off, swallowing as a tear slipped down her cheek. “I was so grateful you’d found her, did you know that? For one single,stupidsecond, I thought everything might be okay after all.”
The pain in her voice was sobering, and it took another moment for Kane to register her words. “Cecile stepped in front of you?”
“That’s what I said.” There was a sharp jab in his ribs as Zaria shifted the revolver.
His jaw tightened until it was physically painful. It all made sense now: her desperation to believe this was his fault. That he had been the one to lead those men here, and that Cecile had died as a result of somethinghe’ddone.
Because if it wasn’t Kane’s fault, then it was Zaria’s. She didn’t want to blame herself, so she was blaming him, no matter how illogical that was.
“You can say you don’t believe me,” Kane forced out through clenched teeth, “but I’m not the one who can’t deliver on commissions. I’m not the one people want dead. Not enough to act on it, at least.” He offered her his bitterest smile. “Cecile is dead because someone’s afteryou. Because she gave her life to protectyou. And I know that’s a lot to digest, but don’t try to pin it on me just because you can’t bear to accept the truth.”
