Page 25 of Resurrection

She makes a frustrated noise and glares at the wall behind me. Her hand strays to her hair. She crosses her arms and then focuses on me, searching for something. “A long time ago, you told me—”

“Too many years ago.”

“But if people don’t change…”

“There was a moment, I’ll give you that. Two roads diverged in a wood.” I smirk. “I chose the bloodier one.”

“Don’t have to be flippant about this. I’m being serious.”

“Me too. I’m a lost fucking cause. You can’t reform me, remake me, change me. There are two things I do really well. You’ve already experienced one of them.” I lean in so my lips are close to grazing her ear. “And the other one is killing.” Then I brush past her and make my way to Jay at the front of the building. After a minute, her heels sound behind me.

Valeriya is a skinny-ass blond Russian with eyes a similar shade of piercing blue to mine. She’s also a fucking liar.

“You’ve had three weeks.” Carys crosses her legs on the oversize recliner. “Three weeks and you’ve discovered nothing?”

We’re in Valeriya’s apartment in an upscale neighborhood, and the place is much nicer than it should be on her salary. Her necklace and earrings catch the light when she turns her head. They’re too real for her pay grade.

“No, I’m sorry. Nothing.” She shrugs as though Van de Berg Ammunitions didn’t lose a shit-ton of money.

I run a hand down my face and glare. One good threat and this woman would spread her knowledge like butter on bread. There’s not a doubt she knows something. Whoever took the weapons and ammo must have more clout than Carys and is therefore worth Valeriya’s loyalty. The realization pisses me off.

“Can I?” I growl.

“No,” she says, tight-lipped. “You may not.”

“Who is he? And what can he do?” Valeriya recrosses her long legs and examines her chipped nails.

“Kill you,” Carys deadpans.

Valeriya’s startled gaze flies to mine. A sly smile crosses her face. “You would not do that in this country. My father—”

“I don’t give a shit who your father is. Someone stole a warehouse full of material. You think I wouldn’t put a bullet in your head? I’ve killed for less. Google Finn Donaghey and thank your fucking stars she’s got me on a collar… and leash.”

Carys sucks in a deep breath. “Don’t google him.” On her feet, she stares at Valeriya. “I’m coming here tomorrow. You need to reconsider where your loyalty lies. I want something concrete—a direction—a name.”

Valeriya rises to her full height. Without her heels, Carys would be dwarfed by her. “I tell you. I know nothing. Tomorrow will not change that.”

“There are other ways to make someone’s life difficult other than murder.” Carys runs her hand along the back of the leather recliner she just vacated. “Money is a powerful motivator. If you want to keep your money, and I don’t just mean whatI’vepaid you, reconsider your attitude.”

“You can’t touch my bank accounts.”

Carys narrows her eyes and opens the purse she has clutched in her hand. She removes a slip of paper and passes it to her. “Those account numbers? They’re yours, sweetie. I’ve got lots of friends in lots of places. You want to be broke? Fine by me.”

Valeriya stares at the page for a moment, her mouth a tight line. “I know nothing.”

“That necklace.” Carys points her index finger at Valeriya’s neck and then her earlobes. “And those earrings say otherwise. Maybe you don’t understand enough, but you do know something. Get me enough by tomorrow.”

“What time?” Her voice has lost the insolent confidence of earlier.

“First thing in the morning.” Carys walks to the front vestibule and opens the door to Jay, who has been standing watch. “I’m recovering weapons or I’m recovering cash. Your choice.”

Christ. She is so fucking hot right now I have to keep my hands deep in my pockets to stop myself from grabbing her around the waist as we exit the apartment. I’ve never seen her do business before. Her playful sense of humor, her softness, the way she sees me in ways no one else does, lure me in. But this—her cool control—almost puts me on my knees.

“How’d it go?” Jay asks as I close the door behind me.

“Snakes in the grass,” I mutter.

She laughs. “Valeriya will come around. No one wants to be poor in Russia.”

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