“No.” Fletcher’s brow knit. “Why?”
“Someone calling themselves the Curator managed to get an unsanctioned exhibit displayed in the Crystal Palace. A type of alchemological device, no less.” Without waiting to be prompted, Kane relayed the conversation he’d had with Price earlier today. The threat that the inspector had delivered, and how authorities believed the device was connected to the theft of the necklace. “Price knows you were involved, Fletch. If this doesn’t go well, you could be dragged into it.”
Fletcher exhaled in resignation. “When did this happen?”
“Price left moments before you and Zaria showed up.”
“And if we hadn’t shown up, were you still planning to tell me about this?”
The question landed like a gut punch. “I hadn’t given it much thought. I was still trying to wrap my own head around it.”
A pained expression crossed Fletcher’s face, and Kane knew his answer hadn’t been the right one. He hurried to correct his blunder. “If it comes to it, I’ll make sure I’m the only one who gets arrested.”
Fletcher let out an incredulous, choking laugh. At least, Kane thought it was a laugh—it sounded like his friend was being strangled. “You seriously haven’t learned a goddamned thing, have you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You don’t? Kane, all I’ve ever wanted is for you to treat me likean equal. We’re supposed to be a team. That means no secrets, especially when those secrets affect me. Would you truly have decided to tell me about Price and this Curator? Or were you going to leave me in the dark all over again with no idea that my life might be in jeopardy?” Fletcher shook his head without much conviction. The fight seemed to drain out of him as he went on. “I’m tired of it. That’s why I didn’t come talk to you before now. I knew this would happen. You’re determined to deal with everything on your own, because you always think you know best.”
“Fletch, that’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
Though the temperature in the room hadn’t changed, Kane’s entire body went cold. The pressure had become a tightness, squeezing, suffocating him. “I don’t have an excuse for what happened with Ward. You’re right; I should have told you the truth from the start. But this new development? I don’t know if I would have come to you. Not because I wanted to deal with it alone, but because I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with it. I didn’t think you’d want anything to do withme. I wasn’t about to bust into Moore & Sons and force you to help me figure this out.”
“And what was the plan if you couldn’t figure it out?” Fletcher said dryly. “If the coppers showed up one day to take me to prison? Was I just supposed to find out then?”
“I don’tknow!” Kane exploded, the words a rasping scrape. “I guess I didn’t know what the right move was. Obviously I never do when it comes to you.”
Fletcher didn’t appear to have an answer to that. Kane was breathing heavily, his teeth set. He hadn’t lost his cool like this in days—not in a way that made him feel so vulnerable. He’d hadoutbursts of rage and violence, sure, but that was different. That was expected of a kingpin.
In the parlor, the raucous noise carried on, oblivious to their conversation. Fletcher spoke just as the charged silence grew unbearable. “I honestly don’t know what to do with that, Kane. Being friends was easy, natural—at least for me. I never had to think. I didn’t realize you were having such a difficult time of it.”
“You know that’s not what I was trying to say.”
“Then whatwereyou trying to say?” When Kane didn’t respond immediately, Fletcher sighed. “I know you sometimes struggle to empathize with other people. I accepted that, because I know Ward didn’t make your life easy. But I thought we were always honest with each other. I was always honest with you, anyway. So it hurts to know you didn’t feel you could do the same. Ithurts, Kane, okay?”
Despite what Fletcher had said about him struggling to empathize, Kane knew exactly how his friend was feeling. He felt that pain like someone had injected it right into his bloodstream. It was worse than the agony of a blade to the skin. Worse than Ward scratching blackx’s into Kane’s forearm to mark his disappointment.
“I’m sorry,” he said, but his voice held nothing of that pain. It was a hollow admission—an echo that sounded wrong to his own ears. He’d fought so hard to empty himself out these past few days, he wasn’t sure he knew how to sound genuine anymore.
Fletcher could tell. He beheld Kane for a long moment. Then, finally, he said, “I’m going to help you. Just so we’re clear.”
It was the last thing Kane had expected. “What?”
“The Curator. I’m going to help you find out who it is, because I’m not interested in getting arrested. Anddon’t,” he tacked on, “tell me you can make sure that doesn’t happen. We both know it’s not true.”
“I didn’t think you’d be interested in working with me, either.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t look like I have much of a choice. There’s no point in trying to figure this thing out separately.”
Relief and misery warred within Kane, fighting for precedence. Relief that Fletcher was even willing to consider helping him; misery that he so obviously wasn’t happy about it. Kane shifted closer to the stairwell, lowering his voice further as a crew member strode by with a respectful nod in his direction. “I meant it when I said I was just trying to give you space. I can see now that wasn’t the right thing to do.”
What more was there to say? He wanted to beg Fletcher to forgive him. Wanted to convince him he had never been sorrier about anything. If doing so would make Fletcher believe it, Kane would have ripped out his own heart and set it, still beating, in his friend’s hand. But none of those things would help. If he let his walls slip too far down, he might not be able to put them back up. He’d spend the rest of his miserable existence crouched among the pieces as they slipped through his fingers like sand.
“I did want space,” Fletcher admitted. “I mean, I think I did. But this is more important. So what’s the plan?”
Kane couldn’t count how many times he’d been asked that question since the day he met Fletcher. Until last week, his friend had always trusted him, and with good reason. He always had a plan. It was a given—a statement of fact more than a personality trait. The sky was blue, Fletcher was tall, and Kane always had a plan.
