I was glad Niko hadn't come on the operation with me like he'd wanted. We'd argued about it, thrown punches at each other over it. He didn't like being told what to do, and I didn't want him there to show me up, so it never would've worked for a thousand reasons. I was glad for that. Otherwise, he'd be dead alongside all the others. At least this way, one of us would live.
Niko was the better choice, anyway. He'd been somebody once. He had our father's smile and had known him better thanme. While I lived with our father's ghost, he'd actually gotten to live with the man. He'd be better at carrying the Laskin name into the future than I ever was.
Stay alive, you fucking asshole, I thought at Niko, and at Fin, I thought about the three words I hadn't yet been able to say out loud.I love you, you Scottish brat. Sorry I was too stubborn to say it.
Then the lock on the door rattled, and EJ stiffened.
"Steady," I whispered. "Remember what I told you. Honor is for dead men."
The door went up on its rails and cold night air rushed in, followed by damp. Kastelani stepped in with two of his Italian friends. "Buonasera, signori Laskin."
He pulled a stool out of the dark with the toe of one shoe and sat. "I confess I did not expect the discount. I came to Ohio for one Laskin and I am given a matched set." He looked between us. "Brothers?"
"He's nobody," I said. "I told you that on the road."
"You told me a great many things on the road. You told me his name was Renko." He turned the swollen ruin of EJ's face toward the light with two fingers, almost gently. "And then this one told me it was Laskin. Both of you are so eager to correct the record. It makes a man curious which version costs him money." He let go of the kid's jaw. "Because I am not here for names, signori. I am here for what is mine."
"Then you came to the wrong garage."
"Did I?" He turned to me, and that was almost a relief. Every minute he was focused on me was another minute for EJ to change his mind about being a fucking hero. "Let me tell you a story."
"Fucking Italians and their fucking stories," I muttered.
"Very well, then. Facts. Four hundred of my diamonds are missing. Taken by your Russian friends. That's a significantamount. And my friends would like to know where they can recover their lost assets. Whether that amount is recovered directly or paid for in flesh and blood is entirely up to you."
He smoothed his lapel. "You're wondering how I knew you'd be on that road. You gutted my tailor and thought I wouldn't count my Thursdays. A shop goes dark three days before a shipment, Mr. Laskin, and I notice. I moved the plane, I put four men in a car, and you shot them for me. That is what your confidence cost."
I snorted. "Four hundred tiny ass diamonds. You really crossed an ocean and burned a dozen men over a bag of shiny rocks? Must be hard times for the spaghetti mafia."
I saw the backhand coming, but I still wasn't ready for it.
My head went sideways, and the bad shoulder lit up like someone had put a match to it. The room swam and came back. I worked my jaw, tasted copper, spat a red string onto K's shoe.
"There," I said. "Now I've cost you a little more."
He shook out his hand. The ring on it had opened my cheek; I felt the warm start of it down toward my jaw. "You have a small repertoire, Mr. Laskin. I had hoped for more from Volkov's right hand."
"Yeah, well. I’m here all night."
"I'll ask once more, like a gentleman," K said. "Where is Volkov holding my stones?"
"You're awful fucking desperate for some cheap ass diamonds," I pointed out. And then a thought occurred to me, one that explained everything. "Unless they're not your fucking diamonds."
Kastelani's jaw clenched, and he didn't answer, which told me I'd hit the nail on the head.
"They aren't, are they?" I pushed. "You don't fly into another man's city and start a war for diamonds you own. You write those off. You eat the loss and you live. But you came yourself,and you're bleeding men over it, and that's not a man protecting his money. That's not a man counting a loss. That's a man who needs these specific diamonds. You've got blood diamonds, and you're holding them for someone else. You're not the big, bad Italian mobster Fin thinks you are, are you? You're just the fucking bag boy."
He drew his fist back, and I braced for a hit that never came.
"No," he said, lowering his hand. He flexed his fingers and glanced at EJ. "I've been doing this all wrong, haven't I?"
"Hey!" I shouted. "Hey you Italian prick! Motherfucker, look at me!"
He ignored me completely and stood, going to tower over EJ. He took EJ's chin in his hand. "Who are you, sweet boy, that Aleksi Laskin would put his neck on the chopping block for you? You call yourself a Laskin, but I can find no record of you anywhere."
EJ swallowed.
"That's because he's lying," I said, hating how desperate I sounded. "He's just a dumb kid. He's a fucking cleaner. You don't want him. You want me. Come on, K. I'm the one who stole Fin out from under you. I'm the one who fucked up your operation. You look at me, goddammit!"
