Page 75 of The Kingpin's Call Girl

I look around the bed and see she’s been writing something on a pad of hotel paper. Taking notes?

I lean over and squint at the little scribbles—a few lines about broom making and a list entitled “fireside/hearth implements” followed by “andirons,” “tongs,” “trivet,” “cauldron,” and “spits.”

Brooms and hearths? What is this, Halloween shit?

I should wake her up and throw her out, but I guess she did stay up playing nursemaid all night, not that I needed it.

And who knows, maybe I’ll fuck her again. I tuck her in and leave.

I take a shower, fix myself coffee,and call Orton.

He’s over in a flash with an update on Storm. Somebody drugged him, but he’ll be fine in a day or two.

“Also? Aleksio got back to me. He appreciated the offer to assist and is convinced Lazarus did the Poconos killing and that he’s still alive. And he wants to send Razvan after him.”

“Razvan Bektashi?”

Orton nods.

Razvan is a notorious Albanian hitter who moves unseen in the darkness like the gears in a clock, a lethal hunter who can change his appearance so effectively that nobody knows what he actually looks like. He’s picky about his jobs, too. He would’ve never taken the Tucumayo job, for example. He would never go after a young girl like that.

But Lazarus? Everybody wants Lazarus dead.

“Razvan Bektashi,” I say, impressed.

“That’s where we come in. Razvan wants a face-to-face with Aleksio somewhere neutral, ideally in New York, being that Lazarus’s last known location was upstate. Aleksio thought you could facilitate.”

I nod. That I can do.

Sounds come from the room. She’s stirring awake. We switch to Latin, a language we were forced to learn in Tucumayo.

“Debemus id hic facere,”I say.We should do it here.

We love the Milaga Hotel for meetings. So many exits, so many hideaways. It’s a fucking rabbit warren.

I send him back to his room with instructions to work it out with Aleksio, and then I order up a pastry cart.

Not five minutes later, he’s back with the meeting arranged.

He shares the plan in Latin: They’ll secure the perfect room, provide detailed maps showing both official and hidden exits. Five of our men will be positioned discreetly, while Aleksio will bring his own security—including his brothers.

Will Razvan send people to do scouting? There’s simply no way to know. There’s very little known about the man aside fromhis eerie competence and deep reverence for Albanian customs. Like Orton, he’s the type to throw a match after every kill. Probably big on the prophecies, too.

“It’s good that we are doing this,” Orton says.

“Pueri a mortuis revocati,” I say. Everyone needs a friend. Especially boys back from the dead.

Orton leaves without a word. The door closes behind him.

She comes out, finally.

The sight of her wearing my shirt...fuck.My chest tightens as animal instinct floods my veins. I want to whisk her off her feet and carry her back to bed. Shut out the world so that it’s just the two of us. We’d fuck and feast and fuck some more. Maybe later do crossword puzzles or something stupid like that.

What. The. Fuck.

Just the concussion talking.

“Time to go,” I say.