Page 68 of Savage Lover

Dante is silently looking over the blueprints, his dark eyes darting from page to page.

“This is Page’s bank,” he says quietly.

“Guessed it first try.”

“You’re planning to rob him?”

“Not him, exactly. Just whoever keeps their money at his bank.”

“You know he deals with some serious people. You’re not stealing from a bunch of doctors and lawyers.”

“That’s why I’m going to keep this one anonymous. I won’t leave a business card like I usually would.”

Dante doesn’t crack a smile.

“Raymond’s no bureaucrat,” he says. “He gets his hands dirty.”

“Dante,” I scowl. “Are we the baddest motherfuckers in the city or not? I’m not scared of Raymond Page. Or anybody else who keeps an account there.”

Dante thinks, silently.

“What’s the take?” he says at last.

“Substantial. Eight figures. And that’s not including the Winter Diamond. I think Kristoff stashed it in the vault. Nobody knows except me.”

The St. Petersburg Bratva liberated that particular gem from the Imperial collection at the Hermitage Museum, eight years ago. I don’t know if Kristoff bought it or stole it from his brothers. But I guarantee if the other Bratva knew where it was, they wouldn’t leave it in Raymond’s hands for long.

The diamond alone is probably worth fifty million to the right buyer.

“One score. And we can fund our entire project on the South Shore.”

Dante shakes his head slowly. “That’s risky,” he says.

“Large-scale construction is one of the best ways to wash dirty money,” I say. “The Russians do it all the time.”

“You could make a lot of enemies.”

“Only if I get caught.” I grin. “Besides, we’re hardly swimming in friends right now. How much worse can it get? We’ll still have the Griffins on our side. As long as we leave their lock-box alone.”

“You’re not going to bring them in on it?”

I shake my head.

“I don’t think they’re into breaking the law in person anymore. They’ve got an image to maintain.”

“Not you, though.” Dante smiles.

“No. My reputation is about as bad as it can get.”

Dante looks over my papers again. I don’t interrupt him—there’s no point trying to rush my brother. He likes to think things over.

But his thoroughness extends further than my patience. Eventually, I say, “So, are you in?”

“No,” Dante says.

“Why the fuck not?”

He crosses his arms over his massive chest.

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