Page 130 of Ivory Oath

“Weeks—months—years of my life spent on this business strategy. Buildings were burned and purchased to make this deal happen. Millions of dollars invested with some of the most powerful men in the world standing behind this shipment.” I shake my head and grab the man responsible for tonight’s fuck-up by his bloodied collar, lifting him onto his toes. “And you sold the info to Christos for twenty fucking grand?”

Raoul suspected a rigger on the cargo ship was to blame immediately. We paid him fifty thousand—more than his annual salary—to falsify the shipping reports. Then James turned around and pocketed another twenty to sell everything he knew to Christos Drakos.

“He tortured it out of me,” he whimpers, looking from me to Raoul. “I didn’t want to tell him.”

“Then you shouldn’t have told him,” Raoul intones simply.

I drop James on the floor. He falls on his already-broken femur and screams. It doesn’t matter. No one is around to hear him. No one who will save him, anyway.

I pace around him. “You’re lying to me.”

He pulls in his good leg, trying to draw himself in tight. Like the fetal position will save him. “I’m not! Christos tortured me! He?—”

“If he’d tortured the information out of you, you’d be dead,” I growl. “You would have given him what he wanted and he would have snipped you like the loose end you are. He wouldn’t have paid you off.”

His eyes go wide and I know I’m right.

“What happened,” I explain slowly, drawing a knife out of my back pocket, “is that you got greedy. You thought you could make even more money by working as a double agent.”

He shakes his head. “No. I wouldn’t?—”

“You would. You did. The question now is, Why?” I slowly carve the knife through the air and the dramatics are paying off. James can’t look away from the blade.

Finally, he snaps. “My son!” he blurts. “He’s sick. My son is sick. He needs treatment and it’s expensive. I thought—I thought I could make enough money to heal him.”

“A sick kid?” I frown. “Was there a cat stuck in a tree, too? Or maybe there was a bomb under the hospital and Christos would kill all the invalids if you didn’t tell him about the shipment.”

“I’m telling you the truth!”

“No, you’re not,” Raoul drawls behind me. “You are single with no family in the city. No wife, no children. You’ve worked on the ship for six months and were on construction before this. Originally from Atlanta. Your parents are Harold and Janine.”

He blinks at Raoul, dumbfounded. “How did you?—”

“We chose you because you have no ties to the city.” I kneel down, the knife wedged under his chin. “We chose you because no one would miss you. Because you are expendable.”

“Please. Don’t.” He’s shaking. The smell of urine fills the air and I wrinkle my nose, but don’t draw away.

I sigh. “Poor James. You were hand-selected because you would be easy to kill and dispose of if it came to it. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what it’s come to.”

Tears stream down his cheeks. “Please… you can’t.”

“Remember your fake son—the one who’s dying? Well, I have a real son. And a real wife. A family, James. Tonight, you put all of them at risk.”

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I didn’t know.”

“I know.” I nod, tossing the blade behind me. It clatters across the floor. “But now, you do.”

He looks hopeful for a second. Then I drive the heel of my boot into his nose and give him every ounce of what he deserves.

54

VIVIANA

Sending Raoul to the bar without me was a strong choice. Especially because I actually really wanted to go.

A night celebrating with Mikhail on some glitzy rooftop somewhere? Yes, please. Sign me up. Even if the closest I can get to a drink right now is juice and soda water, I want to go out. I want to stop feeling like a mole person and spend a fun night with my husband.

But not like this.

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