Page 107 of Kingmakers, Year Two

“Sorry,” Ares says again, wincing. “I just meant . . . well, you know.”

Now he’s even more off balance, which I think is good for me. I want him feeling guilty.

“Ozzy and I were working on a project. Something we want to sell to the Princes and the Romeros. Something to help Zoe. You want that, don’t you Ares? You want to help Zoe? You’re good friends, aren’t you?”

Ares shifts in his seat, glancing at me in a guilty way.

“We’rejustfriends,” he says. “I hope that’s clear. We never?—”

“Of course not,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder a little too hard. “You’re just buddies.”

“Right.”

“Definitely.Anyway, you agree that Zoe is a fucking treasure, one that Rocco Prince does not deserve. So I’m sure you’ll do anything you can to help her.”

Ares narrows those baby blues at me. He’s kind of a Boy Scout, so I don’t think he’s gonna like this next part,

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Nothing too onerous. First, I need you to get me the contact information for the Malina.”

Ares’ head gives a convulsive jerk. That’s about the reaction I expected when I mentioned the Ukrainian Mafia.

“Why would you think that I’d have?—”

“I know your family has Bratva connections in St. Petersburg.”

“What are you?—”

“Ares. You know I know everything. So cut the shit. Your dad’s inactive but not unconnected. I know he can get me that number, I’ve got a phone right here so you can call him. You don’t even have to wait for Sunday.”

Ares stares at me, his lips tightly pressed together.

After a moment, he says, “I could ask him. But I think you’re making a mistake.”

“Why is that?”

“You don’t want to do business with the Malina.”

“I know what they are.”

“You don’t know. Whatever you think, they’re ten times worse. They have no honor, none at all. The schemes they’ll use are several sewer-levels below what you could possibly imagine.”

“They’re only gonna form a limited part in the plan. I’ve considered the risks. Thank you for your concern,” I tell Ares, firmly.

I have to use the Malina, there’s no other choice. So there’s no point arguing about it. They’re the only ones perfectly situated for everything I need.

“What’s the second thing?” Ares’ arms are folded across his broad chest now, and I can tell he’s even less excited for the second request.

“This one’s even easier…I just need you to drive a boat.”

“What boat?” Ares frowns.

“One to get off this island.”

Now his expression is past a frown—it’s all the way to absolute negation.

“No,” Ares says. “I can’t do that.”

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