Page 27 of Dance of Ruin

“What the fuck does this Obsidian Syndicate have against my family?”

I truly don’t expect him to know. Mario has “low-level dipshit foot soldier” written all over him, and I doubt he knows dick-all about any master plans these assholes might have. But I ask anyway, since when hedoesn’thave an answer, he’ll just feel more indebted to me for any further questions I have.

Welcome to how my brain works, constantly.

But then Mario surprises me.

“The Syndicate?” He shakes his head. “Against your family? Probably nothin’. They just get paid to do other people's dirty work.”

My jaw ticks. “I don’t suppose you’d have any idea who paid your friends in this case to set off that bomb?”

He shivers. “All I know is that they call him the Politician. They do a lot of work for him—at least, they did,” he mutters, looking away.

Oh, really.

“Don’t be a cock tease, Mario. You can’t pump me up with that first part and then leave me with blue balls.”

He flinches as my hand jerks out and grabs the collar of his t-shirt.

“What the fuck do you mean theydid, past tense?”

Mario sucks on his teeth, his eyes doing another paranoid sweep of the bar as his voice drops lower.

“Look, I really don’t know much?—”

“That's pretty fucking obvious, Mario. Keep talking.”

“This guy, this Politician dude, he tried to cut ties with them, you know? But, I mean, I think there’s a contract and shit, and the Syndicate, well, they don’t like it when people back out of contracts.”

Mario is quickly becoming one of the most interesting people I know.

“Whois he,” I snarl.

“I—I don’t know!” he whispers. “But I have something! To barter with!”

He starts to reach for his pocket, then freezes when I draw back the hammer of my gun with a metallic click.

“I refuse to believe you’rethatstupid, Mario. Both hands on the table.”

His face pales. “Okay, okay, no problem, Mr. Barone. I just?—”

Suddenly, before he can utter another word, his eyes bulge and he jabs a finger past me.

"That’s him!" he blurts. "That’s the guy!"

I turn my head slowly.

The shitty old flatscreen TV mounted over the bar is tuned to one of those 24-hour news channels, some talking head droning on about funding initiatives and urban redevelopment. Scrolling text at the bottom reads: “Congressman Leonard Kim accepts POTUS nomination for Secretary of Housing and Urban Development.”

“That’s the fuckin’ guy!” Mario squeaks.

I go still. Fury throbs inside me as I stare at the screen. Slowly, I pull my gaze back to Mario.

“That’sthe Politician?”

He nods eagerly. “Yeah! Hundred percent.”

My eyes narrow. “Congressman Leonard Kimpaid the Obsidian Syndicate to blow up a car outside my fucking home?”

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