Page 210 of Nothing More

Another nod, this one approving. “I don’t know how much Raven’s told you…”

“Misha’s here. He’s alive. Mercy is…”

“Yeah, Mercy’s given him a once-over. Even got him to sing a little. It’s good news all around: he gave up the dirty detective, some wanker named Paulson, apparently partnered up with Dixon’s old Vice partner. She’ll take it from here dealing with him, get your name cleared.

“Also, Devin got in touch with Kozlov.”

His stomach cramped hard, and he thought he might lose soup all over his lap. “Andrei?”

“Yeah. He’s naming his nephew Ilya the new Pakhan in New York.”

Toly tried and failed to hold back a disgusted sound.

Fox twitched a wry grin. “Yeah, I know, he’s a wanker – but he’s the reason we found you, and he wants to make peace with the Dogs. Andrei even gave the truce his official blessing.” All traces of a smile vanished. “But he’s got one request.”

Which was why Toly donned sweats and a thick hoodie the next morning, and eased his way down the staircase at seven o’clock, clutching the banister for dear life while his girlfriend steadied his other arm. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insisted, all the way down, though his voice was strained.

“Uh huh, and you listened so well all those days at the office when I insistedIwas fine.”

“You weren’t fine.”

“Uh huh.”

Out back, Devin was waiting in the four-seater ATV, motor running, his breath puffing white in the early morning chill.

“Morning,” he called, grinning. “Raven, love, I think you’d be better off–”

“Staying in the house like a good little woman?” she asked with a snort.

“Don’t make it sound like a punishment.”

“I’m not. I’ve had enough violence for a while. You boys go.” To Devin, once Toly had hauled himself up into the seat. “Take good care of him.”

“Good Christ, Mother Hen,” Devin said, laughing. “Let the chick fly a little, will you?” He peeled away too fast, slinging gravel, and Toly had a glimpse of Raven with her arms folded and hips cocked in the rearview mirror. “I love the girl, but she’s turning into a right buzzkill. You sure you’re up for that?”

Toly sighed. “Yes.”

The trail leading to the shed was steep, twisty, narrow, and studded with rocks. Toly held tight to the grab bar and gritted his teeth. Each jolt and bump sent fresh cracks of fire burning across his lacerations, and set all his bruises throbbing.

“Sorry, sorry,” Devin sing-songed, but didn’t slow.

By the time they parked in front of the shed – dinky little Home Depot building with moss on the shingles and spiderwebs in the window frames – his head was buzzing, entire body pulsing with a pain that had spread to every corner. But he heaved himself up, and wobbled forward, and rather than offer an arm, Devin nodded and said, “Good man.”

The door to the shed stood open, and within glowed the weak light of camp lanterns. Toly hesitated, and not because he was weak, and tired, and hurting. Once he crossed the threshold, there was no turning back; no undoing what he was about to do.

Devin sidled up to him, and said, almost gently, “There’s no shame if someone else does it, lad. It doesn’t have to be you.”

Toly forced himself straight, ignoring the darts of pain in his feet, and heaved out a breath. “No. It does.”

A shadow filled the doorway, and then Mercy Lécuyer’s massive form ducked out into the light, stripped down to nothing but a stained wifebeater and jeans, toweling blood from his hands. He had the sort of smile that lit up rooms, and magnetized everyone in them; he employed it now, all bright gladness edged with sociopathic violence. “Hey, man, there you are. Up and on your feet. Feeling better?”

Toly was never going to understand how someone could do what Mercy did andsmileabout it. “Yeah.”

“Le top. You ready for this? Your date’s waiting.” He jerked his head toward the interior of the shed, and Toly’s stomach cramped again.

“Yeah.”

Mercy stepped fully out and gestured gallantly for him to enter.