Page 27 of The Russian Retribution

“I know that look,” comes a familiar voice with a sharp tang of Irish curling over those words. “Not sleeping?”

Lifting my head, I come face to face with Cormac Gifford. The last time we saw each other like this we were at The Black Ox—a bar famous for being the only neutral ground in all of New York— and he was accusing me of murdering his older brother, Brenden.

How long ago that feels now.

“People like us don’t sleep,” I murmur, tipping the paper cup in my hands back and forth.

“They don’t drink shitty coffee either.” He lifts one hand and offers me a coffee bought from one of the local stores nearby.

“Is it poisoned?”

“You’re in the right place if it is.” He smirks. “But no. It ain’t.”

Abandoning the swill in my own cup, I accept his peace offering and we walk to sit at a nearby table. “I’m surprised you came.”

“Given how we left things the last time, I knew you wouldn’t reach out unless it was important.”

“And you came alone?” I lift one brow.

Cormac smiles slyly and drinks his own coffee. “As alone as you are.”

So he has guards nearby just like I do, hidden in the crowd and mingling around so as not to draw attention to themselves. I expect nothing less from Cormac. The man tore the city apart searching for his brother’s killer and then his girlfriend. I respect it, even if accusations flew in my direction for a while. Someonesending flowers along with death condolences didn’t help the matter.

“How long has it been?” Cormac asks. “The months feel like years these days.”

I shrug. “Six months? Give or take. I heard on the grapevine that the Italians were behind yourissue.”

Cormac’s brow dips and he drags a hand through his auburn hair, sending it all on end. “In a manner, yes.”

“Unfortunate.”

“Indeed. So, what’s this about? You didn’t call me here to reminisce and I have to pick up Evelyn and Saoirse soon.”

“No, I didn’t.” I sip the coffee, an act that shows I trust Cormac for the moment. “How is your little girlfriend, by the way? She caused quite a stir.”

Cormac snorts and then laughs loudly. “She’s fine. Better than fine, actually. Thriving.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Which…” Cormac sets his cup down and his large hands clasp together. “She’ll want me to say this so… I’m sorry.”

My stomach knots slightly. “Huh?”

“I’m sorry I came down so hard on you all those months ago when I was sure that your loan sharks had something to do with my brother’s death. Without you, I never would have found Holly, so… I am sorry.”

“I can’t blame you,” I reply. “Our families have been at odds ever since my father snatched you off the street when you were little. So… I understand.”

“I heard what happened to him.” Cormac tilts his head. “Is that what you need help with? His killer is still out there, aren’t they?”

“Yes, but that’s not what I called for. I need something else.”

“Alright.” Cormac returns to his drink, watching me over the edge of his cup as he sips. “Talk.”

“Your family has a lot of dealings, I know that. I’m interested in your dealings with the pharmaceutical drug trade.”

“Maybe we do,” he says, lowering the cup. “Maybe we don’t.”

I fight the urge to narrow my eyes. “I want to make a deal.”

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