Page 94 of City Of Thieves
“I’d tell you a lot more about her and my mouth, if you weren’t pointing a goddamn gun at my head.”
That slams the brakes on his humor. “You know, she begged me not to kill you last night.”
I laugh. “You couldn’t shoot a moving target without glasses these days, old man. I’m not so easy to put down.”
He smirks at the balls on me, but his gun doesn’t lower an inch. “She said you saved her life in London, so I’m giving you a three second head start for that.”
“No harm is going to come to her when I’m around.”
“Bold words from a man who walks in the shadow of death.”
“Strong words, when you mean every fucking syllable,” I grit out.
He pauses. “Tatiana also told us about the trade, so I’ve been expecting you. Didn’t realize it would be quite so soon. Just tell me one thing... Are you here to save my granddaughter’s life or to ride off into the sunset with that painting, yelling ‘Hi Ho Seven Million Fucking Dollars’?”
“Not interested in the money, Sanders.”
But I am interested in your daughter’s happiness.
His gray eyes narrow to slits. “Are you going to screw this up, Marchesi? Because if you do, I’ll get more than creative... I’ll carve you a new face.”
“Do you kiss your voters with that mouth?” I ask, echoing his quip. “Tatiana trusts me to do right by her. I suggest you follow her lead.”
There’s a pause. “I want him to suffer for what he did to her.” Regret and anger start threading through the tension. “I know all about your reputation, Jersey Boy, but I need you to turn the heat up a couple of thousand degrees and get savage. You hear me? Make him sweat. He needs to leave this earth on his knees, begging for her forgiveness.”
I nod. “He will. I can promise you that.”
We stare at each other for a moment.
“He’s a twisted fuck, Sanders. He dug his claws in deep. There’s nothing you could have done. She would’ve left at eighteen anyway, even if you’d had a hundred bodyguards watching her.”
His expression hardens. “When I want your absolution, Marchesi, I’llneverask for it. Take a look in the mirror next time you want to give an opinion.” He glances at his watch. “My wife’s due back, so it’s time for you to leave. I’ll have someone package up the painting and deliver it to your car within thirty minutes.”
“How do you know where I parked?”
“Black Ferrari Roma. License plate number—”
“You reallywereexpecting me?” I say, grudgingly impressed.
“I have eyes on you constantly. Now, fuck off.”
I start backing into the waiting elevator carriage.
“And Marchesi…?” He appears in front of me, his face working with an unreadable emotion. “Good luck.”
It’s only when the elevator doors close again that I realize neither of us lowered our guns for the entire conversation.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Renzo
Some saydéjà vuis a glitch in time, a fleeting moment where the past and present collide. Others claim it’s a neurological response to trauma and stress. As I tread a familiar route down Ninth Street and Fifth Avenue towardsElysium, I decide it’s neither.
It’s closure.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
This is where it all started, and this is where it’s going to end.
