“And what does that gain us?”
“Conor, use those IQ points. A spy!” She practically bounced on her toes. “I like this plan!”
“I need a favor.”
“When don’t you?” Conor groused.
“Brackton put his mom in a mental health institution.”
“Because?”
“She hired Taube to take out Daddy.”
“Better a mental health spa than Rikers, I guess.”
“I want her out of there.”
Conor frowned. “Why?”
“Because she’s Ilya Levin’s mom.”
Star held up a hand. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me that Graham Brackton, the Viseon billionaire, hedge-fund hedgehog, all-round Machiavellian cunt… was married to the sister of the Krestniy Otets of the Muscovian Bratva? Our known nemesis? The pig swill of all pig swill?”
“I am. I’m also telling you that Brackton’s kid from before he married Anastasia is in the same institution.”
“They have a family plan or something?” she sniped.
Conor rubbed his chin. “Why does the sister count?”
“We know her by her alias.”
Star shot me an expectant look.
“I Told You So.”
Her mouth dropped open, then she spun on her heel and prodded Conor in the chest. “You owe me a million dollars. I told you she wasn’t a CIA stooge!”
“I only pay out when you can prove it,” he taunted. “No proof, no payout. Those were your rules.”
“Fuck. Knew that’d bite me in the ass?—”
“If you two are finished...” I folded my arms across my chest. “…we have work to do.”
“Does Levin want to take outI Told You So?”
I snorted. “In the literal sense.”
“Huh?” Star scowled. “Hedoeswant to assassinate her?”
“No. He wants to take her out. Literally.”
At her continued confusion, Conor chortled. “Told you I was the romantic one in our relationship. Baby, he wants todateher.”
“More like fuck her, breed her, marry her. Not sure which order but yeah…”
“And what do you get for helping Levin?” Star inquired before gaping at me. “Let me guess—begins with ‘R’ and ends with ‘Ubies’?”
“Maybe.” A smile creased my lips. “But no. He wants to take out the Krestniy Otets.”
