Page 163 of Blood & Snow

"With what?"

His brow furrows as his eyes narrow on me.

I have his full attention now and I don’t like the feeling.

"The Sokolov Brotherhood's taken my cleaner."

"Your cleaner." His tone is flat.

"You mean the girl?"

"Yes."

Leonid's quiet for a moment.

His dark eyes study me, reading every line of tension in my body.

He sees too much.

He always has.

Since the time I was just a teenager who pushed his narcotics on the streets he has been able to read me like a fucking book and I hate it.

"Why do I care about a cleaner?" he asks.

"Let her die like the vermin we're exterminating."

I can tell I've interrupted him.

I can see his fingers twitch like they want to get back to work.

Any second he's going to tell me to get the fuck out and I'm going to have to obey, and my plan to get his help has one shot at working so I hit him with my best punch right out the gate.

"Because she knows things," I say.

"She's been to our safehouses. She's seen our operations. She knows names. Locations. If they break her, she'll talk."

"Will she?"

One eyebrow lifts, his gaze goes black as night.

I've hit the target.

I can see the wheels turning and my plan falling into place.

"Everyone talks eventually, sir, even hardened men who've been tortured before. And she's not trained."

My shoulders square, chest puffed out, and I pray he doesn't say to bomb the building and her with it.

Leonid stands and walks to the window, where outside, snow falls in thick flakes, covering the manicured lawn.

He watches it for a long moment, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You're lying," he says matter-of-factly. And he doesn't look at me.

"I'm not," I snap, and I know it's my first mistake.

Being emotional over this is a dead giveaway that he's right and I'm not being honest with him.