Page 167 of Dirty Damage

I shake my head. The pieces don’t fit. “He was CEO andpakhan. Why give that up to be someone else’s errand boy?”

“Boredom?”

“No. There’s something we’re missing.”

Something that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Something that whispersdangerin a voice I’ve learned never to ignore.

Oksana eyes the coffee cart like it holds the answers to all life’s mysteries. “Fuck, I need a drink,” she mutters.

She strides for the exit—and nearly collides with Artem in the doorway. They exchange terse nods as they pass, and then my oldest friend joins me, his face grave in the artificial light.

“What do you have for me?”

Please let there be something salvageable in this fucking mess.

The look on his face tells me there isn’t.

“Nothing good. Boris has been running a shadow organization. Making moves against you for the past year. Like he knew you were coming for him and wanted to cut you off at the knees.”

My hands curl into fists. “Who?”

“They were behind the motorcycle chase after your engagement party.” He pauses, and something in that pause makes my skin crawl. “And one of their members is Drew Anton.”

“I fucking knew it.” The vindication is the best feeling I’ve had in hours. But there’s something off in Artem’s tone, something that makes me ask, “How did you find out?”

Artem’s shoulders slump. The look he gives me is part guilt, part resignation. “I did some digging. Based on information Sutton gave me.”

The world stops spinning for a heartbeat.

“… Sutton?”

He won’t meet my eyes. Not a good sign from a man who’s faced down death at my side. “She… she didn’t tell you?”

There’s a twitch developing in my left eye. “What was she supposed to tell me?”

Artem pulls out his phone. Cues up a video. Hands it to me. “This is surveillance footage Sutton found.”

I see Drew Anton on the screen. I’m not sure if it’s the sight of him or Sutton’s name in Artem’s mouth that makes my jaw clench.

“Shefoundfootage of our enemies? How the fuck did she?—”

“Maybe you should talk to her, Oleg.”

“Sutton’s had plenty of chances to talk.” My voice is deadly calm now. The kind of calm that comes before storms. Before bloodshed. “I’m asking you. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Goddammit.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I thought she’d have told you by now.”

“Artem. Spit it the fuck out.”

He meets my eyes finally, and what I see there makes something cold settle in my chest. “Drew and Sutton have been in regular contact. For months.”

The silence that follows his words is absolute. Complete.

It is the silence that falls in the eye of a hurricane, when you know the worst is yet to come.

I stare at Artem for a few silent seconds.

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