Page 168 of Emperor of Wrath

EPILOGUE

ANNIKA

“I’m going to state for the record—yet again, I might add—that this is a terrible idea.”

I ignore the voice in my ear as I twirl the diamond blade in a perfect circle around the suction cup. With a tiny cracking sound, I’m in. Slowly, keeping pressure on the suction button, I pull my arm away.

The big circle of glass comes away clean.

I grin as I set everything aside and then use the whisper-quiet sander to dull the edges of the brand spanking new hole in the skylight.

“Hello? You heard me, yes?”

“Yes, I heard,” I sigh to Freya. “Settle down. I’m in.”

It’s not traditional to commit felony larceny right before your own second wedding celebration. But it’s not traditional to have a second wedding celebration, either.

And I don’t mean a second one like you’ve gotten divorced and this is having another try at marriage. I mean a second celebration of the wedding you already had. With the person you’ve already been married to for a few months.

But when have I ever been one for tradition?

“Hey, I don’t want to be late. That spread looks nice,” Freya murmurs.

It should be. Someone spent a fortune on it. And that “someone” is Yelizaveta Solovyova, aka the White Queen.

The woman who used Valon Leka’s services for much of her “shipping logistics.”

And also the woman to whom Valon owed a fuckload of money, Valon having tried to double dip by selling her merchandise to the Cosa Nostra.

Yelizaveta, apparently, does not play around. When she found out Valon owed her somewhere north of forty million dollars, she put the screws to him. That’s why he was pushing so hard to work with Sota and Kenzo: he needed their money. Or more likely, he needed their merchandise so he could sell that to the Cosa Nostra and pay the White Queen off.

Considering she was ready, willing and able to have Valon’s brother killed to motivate Valon to pay her?

Yeah, I might rip off the Yakuza, too.

On paper, for political reasons, it’s Kir who’s footing the bill for Kenzo and I’s second wedding celebration, seeing as how the first was a bit of a disaster. But it’s technically Yelizaveta who’s paying.

I’m fine with that.

As to why Valon was trying to get rid of Kenzo and Sota? Well, that question is still unanswered. Kenzo’s friend Tetsuya, who just so happens to be the new Kyoto chief of police—totally coincidental, I’m sure—thinks it was a move by a rival Yakuza family. There’s evidence that someone within the Yakuza world was willing to pay the cash-strapped Valon to get it done, but no one’s claimed responsibility yet.

Probably a good thing, given that the Mori-kai is now unquestionably the most powerful family in Kyoto, with inroads being made into Tokyo, too.

But I digress.

I test the supports of the pulley system, then clip my harness in, step over the edge of the skylight, and lower myself into the dark penthouse.

I’ve spent months trying to track this item down. I’ve talked to antiques dealers worldwide, bribed underground resellers on four continents, and looked into every rumor.

Turns out the fucking thing never left Kyoto at all.

Freya’s already disabled the alarms, the heat sensors and the lasers. So once my feet hit the floor, I can move fast. I unclip and bolt into the bedroom. Tempting as it is to swipe the Degas on the wall over the safe, I did make a promise to both Kir and Kenzo: no more theft.

Okay, I’m making a small exception for the task at hand. But a thirty-million-dollar painting? That feels like…overkill.

The wealthy private collector who lives here is out of the country for the next week, but still. I’m on a time crunch. That said, the safe is insanely easy to crack, and I’ve got it open in less than a minute.

I grin as I lay eyes on the little silver necklace resting on a display block.

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