I feel sick. Kiro is out there, undefended. Her old man was our only way to find him.
She squints at the clock, trying to focus. “Um…he’ll be at his restaurant in two hours. You can find him there.”
I straighten. “You really think he’ll show up there after all that’s happened?”
“Eggs…zactly.” She folds her arms on the table and lays down her head. She’ll pass out soon. “He has to,” she says dreamily. “He has to show he’s in control. He will definitely, absolutely, positively be there. That is his way.”
“What restaurant?” Yuri asks.
“Agronika,” I say. “On Fourteenth. Old-school Albanian joint. Kind of his office meeting room. I could bring him the finger. He’d never expect it.”
“Bring the princess’s severed finger to the king in his throne room,” Viktor says. “I like it.”
“Are you guys crazy?” Currie barks. “You’re all bananas!”
Mira’s eyes are drifting closed.
“Time for bed for this one,” I say, pulling her up out of her chair.
“What the fuck? Your ankle!” Currie says. “You’re going to have permanent damage. You’re looking at a life of hell with that.”
“We’ll deal with it after we find Kiro.”
He grumbles. He doesn’t think Kiro is alive, but I know he is. I feel Kiro alive out there—I always have.
I get her to her room and into bed.
She smiles, then she seems to remember something and frowns. “I have to get away from you,” she says.
“I know, baby.” I tuck the covers around her.
“I don’t want to sleep.”
“Close your eyes and count to twenty. Then you’ll wake up fresh with annoying energy to get away from me.”
She smiles. “Can I just close my eyes?” she asks. “And not count?”
“Fine,” I whisper, wanting nothing more than to get under the covers with her.
She closes her eyes. “It’s nicer,” she says. “To not count.”
“I agree.” I tuck the blanket all around her arms. She’s dozing off. I press my thumb onto her lower lip, remembering.
When I limp back out, Viktor’s making coffee. “I spoke with my network. We picked up one of Lazarus’s guys. Lazarus has been running down information on Kiro, scouring for leads on him, but you know what he hasn’t been doing?”
“What?” I ask.
“He has not been searching for the old man.” Viktor looks at me significantly.
I frown. “Find the king, rescue the king. That should be his priority.”
“Unless Lazarus is making a move on the king,” Viktor says. “Nikolla is old. In boxing, you deliver the body blows before you try for the knockout. You soften your foe. Perhaps we softened the old man up for Lazarus to knock out. Lazarus wants to be king.”
I nod. Viktor would know.
Viktor would have seen this kind of thing a lot—the Russian gangs are famously cutthroat. Leaders don’t tend to last.
“Whatever Lazarus has planned, Kiro’s in danger. Because Lazarus will want that prophecy off the table.”
“Why?” Yuri asks. “Surely Lazarus doesn’t believe the superstition? Lazarus, he is not one of the old ones from the mountains, is he? Tito said he grew up here. Surely he does not believe—”
“It doesn’t matter if he believes,” I say. “He knows other people do. The Dragusha brothers rising together is a thing. Trust me.”
“Like Bible stories,” Tito says. “The clans are all about the fucking superstitions. The sleeping Dragusha king. The three brothers rising up. I knew about that shit when I was four.”
“Whoever kills a Dragusha brother has a psychological edge,” I say. “And if we can all stay alive, we have the edge.”
Yuri nods. He gets that. Crime is all about psychological edges—way more than other businesses.
The three brothers together will rule. Fucking Miss Ipa with her fingernails like red arrows, pointing at our little faces. Apart they are weak, together they are strong. They will take everything.
The old crone has been dead for years now, but the damage was done with that prophecy of hers. Probably why Aldo Nikolla split apart my family in the first place. He wanted to be the one to lead instead of me and my brothers.
“The brothers together,” Viktor grumbles. “We brothers would be together today if not for her.”
I nod.
“If Lazarus could kill a Dragusha brother and Aldo Nikolla in the same week…” he says.
“Bingo,” I say.
Viktor frowns. “Bingo?”
“A game. Never mind.” I look at the clock. Ninety minutes before the old man arrives at the restaurant. “They’ll never expect me to show up there,” I say.
“They won’t expect it ’cause it’s cray,” Tito grumbles.
I hold up my hand to silence him. “We have his daughter as insurance.”
“Dude, if Lazarus is there, us having Mira won’t matter. Lazarus doesn’t give a shit about Mira. He’d kill you both just for fun.”
Too true.
“Maybe courier the finger,” Tito says.
I shake my head. “I want to give it to him. Look in his eyes.”
“I’ll back you,” Viktor says.
“Screw that. One of us needs to stay alive to find Kiro,” I say. “Plus, I’m the one who was studying him all these years.”
“But what if Lazarus is making his move? How will we know if Lazarus’s guys are in there?” Viktor asks. “We don’t know his people anymore.”
Viktor has a point. Konstantin and I focused on Aldo, not Lazarus.
“I will not let you walk into a nest of Lazarus’s guys,” he says. “I’ll put you in the trunk if I have to.”
“No, you’re right,” I say. “We need to know what people are Lazarus’s. We need insight that’s more recent than those old photos.”
Viktor tips his head, waits for me to say it.
“Right. Mira.” I turn and limp toward her room.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Currie’s up and blocking my way. “She needs to sleep.”
I take his shirt in my fist. “And now I need to wake her up.”
He sees I’m serious. He growls and moves aside.
I head down the hall, hand on the wall. I open the door and go into the darkened bedroom. She’s lying there pretty much how I left her, perfectly tucked in. I sit next to her on the bed and rest my hand on her shoulder. “Mira,” I whisper. Nothing. I shake her. “Mira.”
“Huh,” she says.
“Wake up.” I shake her again.
She resists, but I shake her a few more times, and that does it. She rubs her eyes and regards me woozily. Her sleepy eyes widen in horror the moment she remembers. “My finger!”
“Shhh. Nothing happened—you’re okay.” I tighten my grasp on her arm. “Okay?”
She begins to shake. She’s all fucked up and crying now. Drugged out of her mind.
“You’re okay. I’m here.” Which is laughable when you think about it. An oxymoron. “Move over.” She doesn’t comply, so I shove her over. I get in and wrap my arm around her. “Shh.”