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“He’s not very hurt,” Anton says. “Just a little. He got you good.”

I cringe when I think about last night. Some idiot was calling out to a group of women. It wasn’t anything too crazy. The man was drunk out of his mind. The women turned, laughed, capable of handling it themselves. But then Mr. Savior Complex went over there, got in his face, provoked a swing, then handled it. We both got busted up. But he got the worst of it.

“I’m sure you explained to him that it benefits neither of us to go to the police,” I say.

Anton smiles thinly. “You should relax.”

Yeah, I know that.

I glance at the envelope, then grab it and shove it into the top drawer. Rachael and Mikey – the mother and son duo I saved from some sadistic prick back in DC – are gone now. Rachael and I had nothing beyond my desire to save her. I saved her—the end. Understandably, she wanted to put some space between her, Mikey, and what had happened. They’re living on the West Coast now, as far as she could get without leaving the country.

“You’d tell me if anything important was happening in DC,” I say.

“Yes, you know this,” Anton says, sounding confused.

Then what is in that goddamn letter?

I had friends in DC, other Bratva men I’d shoot the shit with. But after what went down… blood or no blood, I used the boss’s future wife against him. I sided with the enemy. I did it to save two innocent lives. But does that make it right?

Anton and I head to a real estate meeting. We’re trying to buy the building and preferably the land too, instead of renting Vanta’s space. It’s boring, tedious legal work, the type Maksim excels at. I have to focus harder with my head throbbing from a hangover.

My last one for a while. Let’s hope that’s a promise I can keep this time.

As our driver takes us back to Vanta, I study my second phone. We’ve got a new contact, Iris. A bold and confident contact.

Last night, she was giving me a piece of her mind. It’s stuck with me.

What sort of woman agrees to a gig like this, only to get all righteous about it?

But Celeste is proving to be good at her job. She’s vetted three other spies successfully.

X: Has the cold light of day changed your feelings about this?

Iris replies a few minutes later.

Iris: I think the women who work for you deserve to be safe.

I swallow. She’s right. No one has put it to me like this before.

X: If something has happened, you need to report it through the official channels, Iris.

Iris: So it takes something happening for you to make changes?

I laugh quietly, shaking my head, looking out the window at the bright beach life of Miami. This woman… she’s overstepping big time. Yet she’s also right.

X: Did Rafael hurt you?

Iris: He could have easily grabbed one of us last night. Someone else had to intervene.

X: At least you know enough to be vague.

Iris: I’m not an idiot, thank you very much.

I grind my teeth.

X: No, you’re a natural spy, clearly. If you have all the answers, suggest something that doesn’t involve throwing a possible resource out of my club?

Iris: Door frisks, CCTV stickers to remind people we’re watching them, and a bouncer in the VIP section.