Page 48 of Arranged Control

I take out my phone and send a quick text.I have an important client coming to your shop after close.

“Done. Talk.”

“So brusque. You must really be in a bad spot. Normally, you’re so chatty.” He stretches with a groan and leaps to his feet. “There’s a new killer in town. Which is very interesting since that happens to coincide with all your dead bodies.”

I lean toward him. “Who is it?”

“I can’t give you a name.”

“Then what use is this?”

“Just listen, darling, and stop being so impatient. Gosh, getting married really shoved a flagpole up your puckered little asshole.” He leans against the table and studies me shrewdly. “From what I understand, this person goes by the name Molchanie. It’s Russian for ‘silence,’ in case you’re a little rusty.”

“Sounds dramatic.”

“He’s straight out of Moscow, from what I’ve been told. Very good too and extremely expensive. Not many people can afford his services.”

“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 inweeksthanks 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