Page 60 of Ruinous Need

“Bring them in.”

Merc flops onto the couch like he owns the place. Like he’s unafraid of me.

“Have you recovered from that bout of insanity, V?”

“Not really.” He chuckles at the look on my face.

“Is she here?” Ben asks, a note of urgency in his voice. I nod my chin upwards. “In my room.”

“V, she’s in danger. So are you, if what we’ve guessed is correct.”

I size them up. They wouldn’t be here, warning me, if they hated me. Or maybe they would, if they were trying to plant false ideas in my head and double-cross me. I push the paranoid thoughts away.

These are my friends. I am not my father.

“What’s going on?”

“I knew I recognized her the first night I met her. I just couldn’t place where. You don’t go to the Council meetings of the Bratva anymore, do you?”

I shake my head. I stopped attending when Semyon assured me he had it under control and that my talents were better used seeking vengeance against the old guard, smoking them out of their hiding places.

Merc and Ben look at each other. “Then you really don’t know. Has Lisette been safe? Who’s been coming after her?”

“The Irish,” I say, careful not to give too much away. “And other people have been looking for her at the dance studio where she used to teach.”

The way they’re looking at me has my hair standing on end, but I will myself to remain calm.

There’s something like a note of sympathy in Merc and Ben’s eyes and I hate it. They’re looking at me like I’m weak, like I’m out of the loop.

“We shouldn’t be telling you this. In fact, wedidn’ttell you this.”

Ben gives me a hard look until I agree. “The Don’s son called a meeting tonight.”

“Romeo?” They nod.

Romeo Cavillini. The heir to the Italian mafia. Just waiting around for his dear old dad to kick the bucket.

“Cut to the chase,” I grit out, resisting the urge to pin them against a wall. “Where does Lisette come into it?”

“The men following you. Sniffing around. It’s not just about Semyon and blackmailing him through his fiancée. It’s abouther.” Merc is wringing his hands.

Ben takes over. “I recognized her from the ballet. That’s where Semyon saw her for the first time, don’t you remember?”

I do remember, vaguely. She was performing — Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring.“Keep talking.”

“But he wasn’t alone. It was the bid for unity, to bring peace. The one that backfired. All of the heads — the Irish mob, the Italian mafia, the Bratva, even the smaller players like the Albanians and the Greeks. They went to the ballet, sitting in the same box, making deals, jabbing at one another. And Lisette was performing.”

I don’t like where this is going.

“You know how these things are.”

I do. Put the most powerful criminals in the city in a room together and you create the most toxic, dangerous dick-swinging contest imaginable.

“And they’d all been, uh… impressed by Lisette.”

“Impressed.” I clench my hands into fists.

Merc and Ben glance at each other. Ben, normally calm under any conditions, starts to talk faster as though he wants to get this over with and get out of there as soon as possible. He’s always had a good self-preservation instinct.