Page 64 of Cruel Juliet

“Take it however you want.” I tip my glass towards him. “I deal with you, you deal with me. No loose ends.”

After a moment’s pause, he does the same. Our glasses clink together.

“And if you’re swiped off the board, the traitors don’t get my money.” He nods appreciatively as he drinks. “Smart.”

“Necessary.”

“Either way, that’s fine by me. I never cared much for your entourage. You’re the man I’m in business with. Everybody else, I don’t know and I don’t trust.”

Good.I’ll have Ivan spread the word among thevory.Our newest cash cow is happy to play ball—so long as I’m the one on the other side throwing it.

From now on, killing me means killing the most profitable branch of our business. If this isn’t enough to make cowards like the Sidorovs think twice moving forward, then I’ll just have to pump them full of lead. Like I did to Boris’s idiot brothers.

We move on to the details. Future shipments, people to cut out of the business. Lykov is a real wolf, and he’s got no mercy for anyone moving in on his territory. Another thing I can respect.

The conversation is sharp and efficient, but every pause reminds me I’m sitting here while Sima is home alone.

After our latest scare, I hate having her out of my sight. I need eyes on her—myeyes. My hands, to catch her if she falls.

By the time all the kinks are ironed out, I know our deal is secure. It may not be paper and ink, but my partner’s word and mine will be enough. With Misha, that’s all I need.

Luckily, it’s Misha who rises first. “I’m afraid I have to cut this short. I’ve got someone to meet later.”

Relief stirs in me. I nod once and shake his hand. “Go. I’ll be in touch.”

“So will I.” His grip is firm. “And if I don’t hear from you?—”

“You’ll hear from me.” I let myself smirk. “Don’t go knocking on the competition’s door just yet.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, brother.”

We walk out of the club together. The cool night air feels heavy, thick with tension I can’t quite name. I start to say, “I’ll see you nex?—”

Then it happens.

The quiet splits apart. The rapid crackle of gunfire rips across the lot.My instincts snap into place before my head even catches up.

“Down!” I bark.

I grab Misha by the collar and drag him down hard behind his car. We hit the pavement. He grunts and clutches his arm.

Blood seeps through his jacket. I twist my head around and see it: the bullet caught him in the chest. He’s hurt, badly.

Fuck.

The gunfire continues. Bullets rip into the side of my car, tear through the panels.

The driver in Misha’s car jerks, blood spraying across the windshield before his body slumps sideways. Another man gone in seconds.

“Blyat’,” Misha snarls. He drags his own weapon from under his jacket. Wounded or not, he’s furious right now.

My right hand is on my gun, too, but the left one grabs his.

Misha glowers at me, but I don’t back down. I’m not letting my newest business partner bite the dust because he’s too pissed to realize he’s out of commission.

“Stay down,” I snap.

Misha doesn’t look too happy with my command. But when he tries to move, his face twists into a grimace. His wound must be worse than he thought.