Page 237 of Sweet Ruin

“He can’t prove what we’re doing here,” I grit out.

“He doesn’t have to. Vetrov already has.”

I look up. “What?”

“Vetrov already has the assembly,” Niko repeats. He jabs one finger down in the green. “Osip’s had guys pulling deeds and title records like crazy. He’s got maybe sixty, seventy of these figured out. What he didn’t have was you ID’d as the puppet-master pulling all these strings. And what he really didn’t have was the last white square with a woman’s name on the deed and a reason she’s connected to you.” He lifts the finger. “Until now. Now, Boyd just sold him the bit that ties it all together. That’s all it takes. Osip can act decisively now.”

I feel anger awakening inside of me. That old, cold ferocity. I want blood. I’ve been a money mover for too long, but the way I came up on the streets will never leave my bones.

I can wield a knife, a gun.

I can gut Osip Vetrov.

The problem is, I’d have to get to him first.

Before he gets to me.

I glance up to find Niko regarding me with a strange look in his eyes. “Tell her,” he urges. “You have to tell her, brother.”

“No.”

“Kane—”

“Boyd is full of shit,” I snap. It’s true, albeit not the full story or even the relevant part of it. “He’d sell Vetrov a fairy tale for a few hundred dollars if he thought he could get away with it. I’m not going to walk upstairs and hand her a story based on shit that came out of that man’s mouth.”

“That’s not⁠—”

“Besides, it might be Osip testing me.” I keep going. “He knows we picked up his photographer from the gala. He’d love to know how fast I move when I hear rumors. If I get loud, he’ll learn something for free.”

Niko crosses his arms. “You know what else it is,” he accuses.

I do.

It’s the end.

Because there’s only one way that conversation goes upstairs. I tell Lilah that Vetrov’s people bought something from her ex-husband, and she asks what, and I say I don’t know yet, and she says why would anyone pay Connor Boyd for anything⁠—

And then I’d have to tell her the answer.

That I chose him. I singled him out, hunted him down, caught him in my trap.

Out of every desperate man in Brooklyn, I picked the one married to the owner of Lot 22. I set him up, gave him a loan he could never repay, and waited for him to fail.

Her husband didn’t ruin her life.

Her sister didn’t, either.

I did.

“I can’t,” I croak. “It’ll destroy everything we’ve built.”

Niko rises up and clips the table with his hip, sending it crashing over. The map flutters off and shit goes rolling everywhere. “Goddammit, man, you have to stop playing with⁠—”

“Guys? Is everything okay?”

Niko and I both turn in unison to see Lilah standing in the doorway. She’s dressed for work, her hair up in its customary bun, with a concerned expression on her face.

“Yeah,” I say at once, coming to stand in front of her. I put my palms on her upper arms. “Everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”