Page 93 of Guilty as Sin

“Alright, good. The longest she’s ever gone without food is five days. But that was a while ago, and she was pissed. What’s she mad at you for, anyway?”

“None of your goddamn business.”

“Alright, guy.” Connor holds up his hands. I glower at him for so long that he starts to get antsy, dropping his hands to tap his fingers against his thigh.

“Would you like to know what I’m mad about?” I ask.

“I mean, I assume it’s marital or whatever. You’re prolly mad at Cora bec⁠—”

“I’m mad at you,” I say, deathly calm. Connor gulps audibly, and I take a step toward him. “Would you like to know why?”

“Not… really?” he squeaks. This might be too easy.

“Seven’s men showed up to the drop last night.” I take another step forward.

Connor backs up, but he’s stopped by the wall. One more step, and now I’m close enough to lunge at him. I plant my stance wide, barring him from making a run for it.

“Up in Wicker Park. You know, the drop we told you about. The time and the place. Seven’s men showed up.”

“I— That’s not—” he stammers. “You said it was in his territory, right?”

“It was.” I say it like a proud teacher, pleased that he’s catching on. “The thing is, there was no drop. It wasn’t real. And the only person we told about it…”

“I— You can’t mean⁠—”

I take a half step closer, and Connor’s pointed chin quivers like he’s ready to cry. I begin a slow, benevolent smile down at him.

Then Finn’s voice comes through my earpiece.

“They’re here.”

“Fuck,” I spit.

Connor flinches back, his head banging into the wall. I flick my earpiece’s microphone on.

“Good,” I tell Finn. To Connor, I say, “Seven’s men are here.”

His pale eyes go wide, then wider still when I hand him my Smith & Wesson loaded with blanks. I cover my microphone and speak right in Connor’s face.

“You wanna prove you’re not a fucking traitor, you shoot every Vanleusen man you see.”

This makes him swallow hard and regrip my gun. At best, I’ve armed him with something to throw. Against men armed with every assault weapon Seven’s money can buy. Whether Connor passes or fails this test, there’s a good chance he won’t make it out alive.

“I’m going downstairs,” I tell him. “I jammed the elevator, but they’ll be able to break in through the emergency stairs.” I point out the stair door, then turn and stride away.

“Cora!” Connor starts banging on her door again. “Cora, open up! Seven’s men are here, it isn’t safe!”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Almost touching, how much he cares. At any rate, I doubt he’d risk shooting down the door.

“Jesus,” Finn says over the radio. “He sent a goddamn army.”

“Blackbird, you got eyes?” I ask. “What’s the count?”

I grab a towel from the bathroom as I wait for our sniper to answer.

“Forty-nine,” he says.

Goddamnit. Seven thinks he’s so fucking clever.