Page 53 of Sweet Ruin

He chuckles. “My name is Kane Makov.”

“Ah. You say that very impressively. Should I recognize it?”

He bobs a shoulder. “Some people do.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but it means nothing to me.”

Finally, I get a flash of dazzling white teeth as he grins. “It will. Very soon.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I am the pakhan of the Makov Bratva,” he says slowly, “and I am the man to whom your husband owes four million dollars.”

I’m not one to brag under normal circumstances, but I do feel like I’m generally a pretty smart person. I learn fast. I listen well.

But at the moment, considering that these are extremely abnormal circumstances, my brain is opting to process information at the speed of a dial-up modem with a rat chewing on the cables.

Let’s take it one chunk at a time.

Pakhan. I know maybe nine Russian words and six of them are pastries. But I’ve seen enough television to understand that it means he’s the head honcho.

I also understand that a man usually doesn’t announce himself as the head of a Bratva while clutching my wrist in his fist unless he means for me to be scared.

On to the next part: four million dollars.

When I pictured V Haven Holdings, LLC, I was imagining a beige office park in Jersey with a fern in the lobby.

Not…

Him.

A green-eyed Adonis with a whip-smart tongue and a cruel twist in his smirk.

“Are you here for him?” I whisper as the terror slithers up my throat.

He nods. “I was.”

“‘Was’? But… what changed?”

“You did,” he answers.

I shake my head to make sure I heard him right. “I don’t understand.”

“I came here tonight to ruin him,” Kane murmurs. “But you stepped in and did a much better job.”

There’s a whine and then the motor pumping the inflatable snowman next door suddenly dies. Without it, the night is even quieter than it was.

“So what happens now?” I squeak out. “You go in and get him?”

Kane shakes his head. “I’m not going in.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s nothing left of him in there.” He nods at the window. “You finished it. The man’s soul is gone. Money’s a different conversation, and it’ll happen when I choose.”

“Great.” My teeth are starting to chatter. “Then we’re done, and I’m going to go walk into the ocean. Metaphorically. Well, mostly metaphorically.”

I make it one step past him.