Page 9 of City Of Thieves
Where the fuck have I heard that before?
Three months’ worth of conversations spin through my mind—one in particular. A crisp October afternoon framed with stretched black limos and a cloyingly sweet scent.
“Ride with us, Renzo.”
I glance down at my sister’s tear-stained face as she leans out of the rear passenger side door. She’s looking at me the way she always did at Nero.
Like she would her hero.
But the devil doesn’t ride a white horse, and he sure as hell doesn’t ride in his family’s limo to a burial he caused.
I shake my head. “I’ll meet you there.”
Rosalia lets out a sad sigh that drives another stake through my black heart. “1499 Patterson Avenue.”
I tighten my fist, crumpling the paper in a haze of rage. “This is Rosewood Cemetery.” I remember following my family’s limo there after the funeral.
“The deal was for Oleg’s location,” he answers in a bored tone. Reaching into the open drawer, he produces another apple. I watch in silence as he slides the same knife out of his pocket and pops the blade. “Now you have it.” He gives me a slow, vicious smile. “Apparently, my brother made one too many sloppy business deals. May he rest inpieces…”
Everything goes black.
No sight. No sound. No conscience.
Charging forward, I snatch the knife out of his hands, reveling in his shock as I press the sharp blade against his jugular. “Did you kill your own brother?” When he shakes his head, I tighten my grip. “Then who took him out?”
“I do not know!”
“Think harder.”
“I do not know,” he repeats, all the color draining from his pudgy cheeks. “Oleg and I were brothers by blood, not by choice. Like I said, he indulged in messy ventures and made too many enemies.”
“Butyouprotected him from me,” I accuse. “Youhid him atYama, andyouhad me exiled.”
“Thieves’ Code,” he states matter-of-factly, as if I’m not seconds away from slitting his fucking throat. “Regardless of how little I cared for Oleg, Bratva protects their own.”
“Nice try, but not good enough.” I press the knife harder against his skin, reveling in his yelp as a bright red bead slips down his neck. “Maybe losing another finger might jog your memory.”
Vasily’s heated eyes drop to his lap where the four remaining fingers on his left hand curl into a tight fist.A reminder of what his pakhan did to him in retaliation for our last altercation.
“Mudak,” he mutters, before quickly adding, “you are still looking for this ‘Atonement’ painting, yes? The one you and your brother were selling the night he died?” When I say nothing, he drags his gaze up to meet mine. “Apparently, it became—how do you Americans say—lost in transitand has turned up for auction in London this Friday. From what I hear, there is a particularly high interest coming from Russia.”
“Bratva?”
The bastard chuckles. “Nyet. A Bratva brother would not bother to bid on something he wanted. He would simply take it. This buyer is an outlier—one who prefers to remain nameless.” He glances up at me. “Much like my late brother’s business partner.”
I clench my teeth.Information that would have been useful days ago.“And how would you know that?”
“The painting? I told you already, Oleg was sloppy and liked to brag. As for the auction…” His voice rattles as he attempts to gesture at the office’s portrait-lined walls. “I have an appreciation for fine artwork.”
Trusting one Belov has already ended with blood on my hands. Trusting another would be the definition of insanity. Still, this is only the second lead I’ve gotten since Nero died, so despite the risk, I can’t ignore it.
If there’s a chance this nameless, enigmatic Russian could be the man who walked into his hotel room that night, I have to ensure our paths collide—on my terms.
My gaze flicks toward the stacks of money still scattered across his desk. “You want to pay me, Vasily?” I challenge. “Then get me in on that auction.”
“It is an exclusive market.” He swallows, then freezes, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the blade. “The painting you seek is reserved at five million. To even secure a seat at that auction house, you need credit checks, an International VIP account...”
“Then get me all of that shit.”
