Page 12 of Heartfelt Pain
He’s right about that.
But information is just as explosive as bombs so I tread lightly. “For some reason I’m gathering there’s a bit more to it this time.”
His grin is slightly more sinister. “It is not vengeance and it is not retribution I seek.”
I cock my head to the side.
“But rather peace,” he concludes.
“And that can only be achieved with Cain Murray’s death?”
The Irish can be fun. They’re happy-go-lucky when they drink.
But believe it or not, I’d rather be trapped in a room with Lev Zimin than Cain Murray. He’s the type of guy all women should be wary of.
“It will only be achieved when he is dead,” Boris says.
“Why not run him off?”
Cain’s not in charge of the Irish but he’s high enough that his death would cause waves. It’s not unusual, though, to work out deals which see men sent to different continents.
“He could go back to Dublin,” I suggest.
Boris smiles, but it’s fatherly. Like I haven’t figured something out yet.
Men and their patronizing bullshit.
“I’ll see what I can do.” I’ve got plenty of qualms about the idea, but it’s better to placate Boris. That way I can figure out what the hell is going on before things get out of hand.
He nods, satisfied. “Lennie says you’ve got a book club going.”
Oh dear lord. Please do not ask me about the content of this month’s pick.
He laughs slightly like he already knows. “Do me a favor and invite Ads.”
We’ve got a nice little group going. Russet comes along and while it’s been a while Adeline sometimes pops in.
And Boris knows that. But I nod at his request before he turns to walk away. “I’ll give her a call.”
“What’s that about?” Isolde leans against the doorway, peering at Boris’s retreating figure. A rat scurries away from him and his shoulders remain square as he steps over a piece of trash.
“I don’t know,” I tell her honestly, walking in tiny circles.
“He worried about Len?” she asks.
“I think there’s another daughter on his mind.”
Isolde’s nearly invisible eyebrows lift. “Yeah, that tracks.”
I’m guessing we both share the memory of Adeline Akatov standing over Leopold Stuart’s body.
Vicious little killer.The thought ran through my mind at the time, but who was I to judge? Leopold tried to take our girl from us. We all wanted to put a bullet in his chest.
Good for her, putting in six.
“Ben says the Aoki’s are here.” Isolde jerks her head back toward the restaurant. “You ready?”
“I suppose.” I roll my neck, the muscles stiff and sore. I’d like another cigarette if I’m completely honest. But time is money.
