“Beg pardon?”
“Zaria. Are we going to tell her Ward’s the one who put a target on her back?”
Kane thought of Zaria upstairs in his bed, undoubtedly still awake. She never looked well rested. He imagined confusion and fear contorting her delicate features, and how her jaw would solder tight when she realized the very person trying to kill her was inextricably connected to Kane. She’d been right, hadn’t she? Cecile’s deathwashis fault.
He hated himself for what he said next.
“I’m not sure we should.”
Fletcher’s face contorted. “Why not?”
“She knows we work for Ward. If she finds out he’s behind this,she’ll be even more hesitant to trust us. There’s the threat of her pulling out of the deal entirely.”
“It’s her life,” Fletcher objected, lowering his voice. “Don’t you think she has the right to know?”
Kane tried not to flinch. “The Exhibition’s in six days. If she backs out, we’re fucked.”
“Yeah.” Fletcher pressed his index fingers into his temples. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. It just feels wrong.”
Kane clenched his teeth against the guilt that threatened to overwhelm him. If Fletcher understood why keeping Zaria in the dark was the better option, would the same apply when he learned what Kane had been keeping fromhim? Or would he look back on this conversation and feel even more betrayed?
He should come clean to Fletcher now. There might not be a better opportunity. If something went horribly wrong, and if all their planning amounted to nothing, then Fletcher needed to know he was in danger.
“Fletch?” Kane broke the silence, the single syllable quivering in space. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Fletcher tilted his head, eyes wide and clear. It was evident in that look how much he trusted Kane. How he waited, expectant and unconcerned, no part of him anticipating the bomb that was about to drop. “Okay.”
It was theokaythat undid him—as if Fletcher were expecting Kane to unravel, not the other way around. All at once, Kane’s conviction evaded him. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say the words. They were going to get this necklace one way or another, and Fletcher would never have to know. That was what Kane had been counting on from the start, wasn’t it?
God, he was one sick son of a bitch.
“I need to sleep in your room tonight,” Kane said, scrambling for something to say. “I didn’t want Zaria going out, so she’s in my bed.”
Fletcher snorted. “Hell, Kane. You made it sound like you were going to confess a sin. I don’t think you need to be embarrassed about having a girl in your bed if you’re not in there with her.”
The guilt was suddenly too much. Kane lurched to his feet, fully aware of how erratic he must look, and grabbed his coat where it hung beside the door. “I’m going to take a walk.”
Fletcher stood. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No,” Kane said too quickly. “No,” he repeated, steadier the second time. “I just need to clear my head. Don’t wait up, okay?”
Fletcher followed him to the door anyway, his step light, still skeptical. “You’re not going to visit Ward, are you?”
“Hell no.”
“You sure?”
“I promise.”
One side of Fletcher’s mouth slipped up in a wry grin. “Yeah, but it’s easy for you to lie.”
It was clearly a joke, but Kane couldn’t bring himself to return the smile. It felt like someone was sawing his insides apart with a rusty blade, and he immersed himself in the sensation, knowing he deserved it.
“Not to you, Fletch,” he said quietly. “Not to you.”
ZARIA
THE NEXT DAY, ZARIA WAS IN A FOUL MOOD.
