“You don’t have any neighbors,” Zaria couldn’t help pointing out.
Fletcher cast his gaze skyward. “It’s thepremise.” Belatedly, he noticed the large bag on her shoulder. “What the hell have you brought?”
“Nothing. It’s a long story. Can we talk?”
He lifted a brow. “Sure. Say whatever it is you came to say.”
“Can I come in?”
“Are you serious? It’s early, and more to the point, I’m not interested in your company.”
“It’s a sensitive matter, and you’re the only one I can turn to. Trust me when I say I would have preferred to go anywhere else.” She bit the inside of her cheek, making more of an effort to curb her impatience. “Please, Fletcher? I promise it won’t take long.”
There was a pause as he considered this, blue eyes roving her faceas if to gauge her intentions. Whatever he saw there must have convinced him, because he released a long sigh, then stood back to grant her entry. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that, so you’d better make it quick. I’m rather busy.”
“Thank you,” Zaria said with feeling, stepping inside before he could change his mind. She let her bag drop to the floor as she removed her coat and put it in Fletcher’s proffered hand; despite his umbrage, he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself from being polite. “What are you busy with?”
“I fail to see how that’s any of your business.”
“Forgive me for trying to make polite conversation.” While Fletcher dealt with her coat, she went to perch in a chair by the fireplace. A painting of a wintry landscape hung above the smoldering flames, and in the far corner of the room was a dusty pianoforte. The sight of it sent a pang through Zaria’s chest. She quickly tore her gaze away, letting it rest on Fletcher as he came to sit opposite her and crossed his long legs.
“Go ahead,” he said. His tone was polite, his posture stiff. Between him and Kane, he had always been more even-tempered and less inclined toward snark. At the same time, though, it was obvious he didn’t want Zaria here, and she couldn’t entirely blame him. It was a testament to his good nature that he’d let her in at all.
“It’s about Kane,” she said, regretting her bluntness when Fletcher failed to conceal his wince. “Sorry.”
He thrummed his fingers in his lap, tilting his head so that it rested against the back of his armchair. Zaria saw it, then—the anguish. Maybe he was like her: easily distracted when someone or something was out of sight, but seamlessly thrust back into misery the moment a specific topic was broached. She knew what it was to feel emotions crash over your head like a bucket of cold water, the intensity somehow tenfold once you were reminded of them.
“Have you seen Kane?” Fletcher asked. His voice remained casual, but his fingers had stilled.
“No. Have you?”
He shook his head, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “That’s why I stayed here. I thought he might… I don’t know. Come try to make amends, I suppose.”
Zaria recalled Fletcher’s face that fateful day in her workshop. The pain of betrayal etched across his features, and how his hurt permeated the air in the moments before smoke replaced it. But she also remembered the fear in his tone when he’d snarled Kane’s name—his obvious terror that he was about to see Kane killed by Ward’s hand. No matter how he’d been wronged, Fletcher still cared for his friend. “He probably thinks you don’t want him to find you.”
“Maybe I don’t.” Fletcher’s hand formed a fist in his lap, knuckles whitening. “Forget it. WhataboutKane? If he’s after you, you ought to know I won’t be able to stop him.”
Zaria forced a swallow. Once she’d seen Moore & Sons looming up ahead, a plan had solidified in her mind. It was probably a terrible one. Certainly it was foolish. But it was the only plan she had, and it relied on Fletcher’s cooperation. “Kane has Jules.”
“Has him in what sense?” Fletcher’s confusion was palpable. “Like, as a hostage?”
“Yes. Well, not exactly. I’m not sure.” Zaria proceeded to describe the ultimatum Ward had given George, and when Fletcher indicated his knowledge of it, she went on to describe what had happened at Mirko’s last night. Her heart clenched merely relaying it aloud. How many hours had Jules already been gone? She was failing him. Shehadfailed him, and it made her sick. “It’s all my fault, Fletcher. Kane wouldn’t give a damn about some threat Ward made to Jules’s father if he wasn’t so angry with me for double-crossing him. He knowshow much I care about Jules. He knows this is the easiest way to make me suffer. The thing is, Jules doesn’t deserve to suffer alongside me. None of this is his fault.”
Fletcher uncrossed his legs. The light from the dying fireplace played in the strands of his hair, casting it in gilded patches that shifted when he moved his head. “So Kane has Jules working for him now.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Well, he didn’t kill him. That’s something. Still, it’s not a great time to join a kingpin’s crew. A change of leadership always results in some rockiness.”
“Thanks,” Zaria snapped. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.”
Fletcher shrugged, reminding her that despite his milder disposition, he was as much a criminal as Kane. In his world, people died all the time. “It’s just the truth. Quite a few people aren’t happy about Kane taking over. There was even a plan to dispose of him, though I understand he dealt with that fairly effectively.”
Right. That was the bloody scene Maisie must have been referring to last night. “How do you know all this?”
He shot her a disbelieving glance. “I was part of the crew, Zaria. Did you think Kane was the only other member I knew?”
“Sort of,” she admitted. “Neither of you ever mentioned anyone else.”
