Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“What else do you know about him?”
“Only what I told you, unfortunately. Molchanie’s one of those mysterious killers.” He waggles his eyebrows and wiggles his fingers. “All very spooky.”
“How is this supposed to help me?”
“Ah, ah, ah.” His smile fades away. Underneath his jovial attitude is a snake ready to strike. “I give you information. What you do next is your problem. Not mine. You aren’t thinking of going back on our deal, are you?”
I slowly push to my feet. He watches me carefully, sharp eyes following like a spider stalking prey.
“Oliver, I wouldn’t dream of going back on a promise to you.”
He brightens again. “Wonderful, darling. I’ve had some trouble in the recent past. You know, new clients who don’t understand how all this works.” He gestures vaguely toward a patch of soil that looks like it was recently dug up. “Had to dispose of one such problem only a few days back. Really ruined my day.”
We talk of nothing much on the way back through his cluttered house. Oliver’s in a good mood now that he’s getting his scarves. But I’m too busy sifting through what he told me.
The thing with Oliver is nothing he says is ever by accident. If he passes along a piece of information, there’s always a purpose behind it. Sometimes that purpose is simply because it was specifically bought and sold; other times, that information serves some other greater master plan he’s working on. The Nose is always sniffing around and working on some new scheme.
Which is why him mentioning this Russian hitman is so disturbing.
The Morozovs wouldn’t send a killer against their own allies. Ruslan’s making way too much money on our arrangement to jeopardize his position.
Which means there must be some kind of rival bratva involved.
Professional Russian killers don’t travel all the way from Moscow unless there’s a very good reason.
Only it’s all shrouded in mystery so far. Oliver clearly thinks this Molchanie is my problem, or at least involved in what’s happening somehow. And if he thinks it, then it’s probably true.
“Nothing’s ever simple, my friend,” Oliver says from his doorstep. He scrapes his shoes against a welcome mat. “Except for scarves. Beautiful hand-woven scarves. Ah, those are a man’s dream.”
“Glad you’re happy with our deal.”
“Happy? Darling, I’ll sleep soundly for the first time in weeks thanks to you.” He wiggles his fingers. “Bye-bye now. Good luck finding your killer.”
He slams the door in my face.
At least one of us is in a good mood.
Chapter 16
Alina
Istand in the back corner of Sistine folding the same stack of shirts over and over again, not really paying much attention to what I’m doing.
It’s a quiet day. At least Finn isn’t lurking around scaring away our customers. A big man with a neck like a tree trunk stopped by a couple of minutes after we opened to introduce himself as my personal guard. He has a thick Scottish accent and didn’t seem like the type to talk much. I haven’t seen him or his team since, which is exactly what I wanted.
I don’t feel safe though.
The note’s in my pocket. I keep touching it as I fold and fold and fold. There are too many unanswered questions, and the more I worry at them, the thicker and heavier my anxiety becomes.
“You know, eventually those shirts are going to crumble to dust.” Kira peers at me from the front counter. She’s frowning slightly.
“What do you mean?”
She mimes tossing dust into the air. “You’re stress folding again.”
“Again? Do I do this a lot?”
“All the time. But this one’s a doozy. I think you’ve been back there for like an hour now.”
I stare at the stack of shirts. “It’s not perfect.”
“It never will be at that rate.”
I force myself to unclench my jaw and step away from the folding table. Kira watches as I come around and slump down onto a stool set out behind her. There’s nobody in the shop except for us, but I feel like I’m being watched all the time.
“Can I tell you something?” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “It’s a huge secret.”
“Oh, yeah? A naughty secret?” Her eyebrows wiggle up and down.
“No, not a fun one, unfortunately. Just the normal boring type of secret.”
“What’s going on?”
I take the note from my pocket and smooth it out on the counter. She stares at the paper, her lips tugging into a deep frown as she reads it, flips it over, and reads it again.
“I found that a couple nights ago. I have no idea where it came from. There was a noise downstairs in my apartment, and when I went to check it out, that note was waiting for me.”
“Seriously?” She stares at the paper like she might be able to see some kind of incriminating DNA. “That’s insanely creepy.”
“I know, right? I don’t understand who would write something like that.”