Page 216 of Inferno

So I sit down on the leather couch and pull Charlotte onto my lap.

My eyes go wide, and I jump up, taking Charlotte with me as Conan swipes every damn item off my desk and onto the floor.

Glass smashes, whiskey pours out onto the ground, and my blood fucking boils.

He pulls out a map that spans the entire desk and finally makes eye contact with me.

“Why the fuck did you just do that?” I shout, throwing up my hands.

Conan steps back and grins like a little kid. Except it ain’t cute on a six-foot-six beast, covered in tattoos.

I’ve seen him cave enough skulls in with his bare hands that I can’t see him as mylittlebrother anymore.

At this point, I’m lucky the bloodthirsty maniac is on my side.

“I’ve always wanted to dramatically clear a desk and make a plan using a map. You know, like in the films.”

I look at Finn, who is just as clueless as me, and I glance down at the shards of glass near my feet.

“Most people want to clear one to fuck. Not for maps.” I keep my tone serious, despite dying on the inside looking at the confusion on his face.

“No. I disagree. Keep the fucking out in the woods and the maps on here. Much cleaner.”

That gets Finn, who bursts out into a fit of laughter.

“I’ll bring you back some sanitizer from the hospital, Con. Didn’t realize you had a thing for cleanliness.”

“Shut up. The map.” Conan jabs his finger on the wood.

“You’re lucky I don’t stab you with that glass, brother,” I tell Conan, letting the shards crunch under my boot as I step towards him.

Finn pushes between us and jabs his finger to Russia on the map, right where the red circle is.

“Don’t suppose you have a pen ready for this, Conan?” I bite back a grin.

I can’t let him know right now that I actually find him funny. I need him to engage the survival part of his brain rather than the clown.

“Don’t need one. All up here.” He jabs a thick finger into his temple.

“Great.”

Looking down on the map, I’m distracted as I see Charlotte intently studying it.

“So, he lives about an hour out from that location.” She presses her finger down on an area south, and Finn marks a cross.

“Good,” Finn replies.

“This location suggested, do you know of any ties? Drago didn’t.”

She chews on her lip.

“No. Closest I’ve been is about twenty miles west. But that was to take down the remaining men of Ivan.”

“Volkov?” I ask.

“Yup.”

“How active are they?” Finn asks.

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