Not my beverage of choice, but my throat’s so dry I’ll drink anything.
We sit in silence, staring each other down, until the server returns with two steaming cups, the liquid inside a molten topaz that reminds me of Brody’s eyes. My stomach churns.
“Cheers.” Rostov raises his cup before taking a sip. His mouth purses at the taste. Must be bitter.
I pick up my own cup and sniff, my nose instantly scrunching. Marshmallows coated in cigar smoke and rolled in dirt. That’s…a bizarre scent profile. I sip the coffee anyway and nearly gag.
Nope. I’d rather die of dehydration.
I set the beverage down and slide it just far enough away that I’m not inhaling the aroma with every breath. After all, the murderous Russian across from me did buy me a drink. I’d hate to appear rude.
“I want to know who killed Angelica more than anything, but not enough to sell my family’s soul to the Russians.”
Grigori tilts his head like a puppy. “Even though they shipped you across the country? They cannot be bothered with you.” He sucks down the rest of his chicory coffee in one big gulp and gives me another smile, his bleached teeth shiningunpleasantly. “It might as well have been you who died that day. They treat you like a ghost and pretend Angelica never existed.”
My heart squeezes. “How do you know how they act?”
“Because if they really cared, the men who did that would already be dead.”
I want to argue with him…but I can’t. He’s not wrong. I’ve spent ten years trying to uncover who killed Angelica with exactly zero assistance from the Gallaghers.
Grigori folds his hands on the table before bending forward like he has a secret to share. “This is what I can do for you, Miss Gallagher. I will give you the names of the men who took Angelica. They did a few jobs for me back in the day. I can point you to their doorstep. And you will help me take down the Kings, the family that pushed you aside. To make the trade fair, I will add five million dollars to the deal. One for each man who killed your friend. You will not want for anything for the rest of your life.”
The offer is…too good.
And five men? I only remember two.
Even if I didn’t clue in on my own, Brody taught me how mafia men behave. If I reject this Russian outright, I’m dead.
I lean back, putting more distance between us. “And what am I supposed to do with these names? Angelica’s murder is a cold case. Even if I hand the police the guys on a silver platter, they won’t do anything.” In an attempt to disguise my wavering voice, I take another sip of my disgusting coffee. I don’t want this man to view me as weak.
Grigori shrugs one silk-clad shoulder. “The police are an option. But so am I. Whatever you desire. If you want me to take care of them, it would be my pleasure. They will suffer a fate worse than death. I have done many things in my lifetime, but I draw the line at involving children.”
My eyes bounce from Grigori to the street and back, my mind spinning.
If I agree to this, I’m hopping from one mob man’s bed into another, figuratively speaking. I’ll seal my life inside a criminal organization. A different one, but still. This would be a lateral move at best.
Or I’m signing my death warrant, because he clearly intends to kill me as soon as he secures that hard drive. Just like Declan, this man sees me as a pawn. A means to an end.
Grigori Rostov rises and sets a business card on the table.
I don’t glance at the little square of paper, but I can picture his name across the top withRussian Mob Bossunderneath, along with his cell phone and a fax number. I almost crack a smile. I must have watchedAmerican Psychoone too many times.
“Contact me when you decide.” Sliding his hands into his jacket pockets, he glides back a few paces.
He’s pretending to give me a choice. The same way Brody did.
Unlike with Brody, though, I recognize the trap.
I leap up, bumping the table with my hip and tipping chicory coffee all over the metal surface in the process.
Grigori pauses and tilts his head.
I suck down warm winter and exhale my fear. “Okay. I’ll get you the drive.”
He nods. “Good call. Please come with me, Miss Gallagher.”
Before I obey, I glimpse at his business card.
