Page 80 of Sexting the Pakhan

“I’ve seen smarter men do worse,” Stepan says.

“I’m not one of your dock idiots.”

“No,” I say. “You’re a captain. That makes this worse.”

I stand and walk to the window overlooking the warehouse floor. Below, work has slowed. Men pretend not to look up. They knowAnton is here. They know I am here. By morning, every man in the east side will hear some version of this.

That matters.

If Anton betrayed me and I do nothing, I lose more than shipments.

I turn back. “Who had access to the old drop list?”

Anton breathes out hard. “You know who.”

“I want to hear it.”

“You. Stepan. Me. Miro. Two dead men and one retired bookkeeper in Brighton who can barely remember his own name.”

“Miro says he never saw the library entry.”

“Miro says whatever keeps him breathing.”

Stepan’s eyes narrow slightly. “Careful.”

Anton ignores him. “You want a mole? Look at the men who benefit when I’m gone.”

“Names.”

“Miro gets my routes.”

“Miro is too lazy to arrange this.”

“Lazy men can still be greedy.”

“Who else?”

Anton hesitates.

I see it, but I don’t try to drag it out. He’s a desperate man, and a desperate man is capable of anything, or betraying anyone.

Anton leans forward as much as the restraints allow. “I’m telling you, Ruslan. Someone is pushing this toward me because it’s easy. Because I’m close enough to the accounts. Because my cousin is an idiot. But I didn’t move the book, and I didn’t pay those men.”

“Then why run?” I ask.

“Because I knew your men weren’t just looking for me to bring me to a party,” he says, his eyes a little wild now.

“You’re a captain. You could have called me.”

“And say what? I think I’m being framed, please don’t shoot me?”

“That would have been better than running.”

He looks away. The answer is in his face before he says it.

“There’s more,” I say.

Anton’s cheek twitches.