Page 170 of SINS & Riley
I keep my tone flat. “Pretty sure if you’re asking, she got away.”
That wipes the smug grin clean off his face.
“I’ll tell you what, Andre.” My voice hardens, steady. “Since I’m going to die anyway, I’ll make you a deal. Remember those gold bars of yours that went missing last year?”
He freezes mid-sip. “What about them?”
“I know where they are.”
He smirks into his drink. “That’s a fucking lie.”
“I assure you, it’s not.” My voice cuts sharp. “I know exactly where they are because I’m the one who took them. If I die, that little secret dies with me.”
His eyes narrow, drink swirling slow. “So you’re offering me my own gold bars. In exchange for what?”
“The chance to bid. On myself.”
He hesitates, and I press in. “You offered Declan ten mil for my head. I’ll double it. And tack on your precious gold bars.”
He pushes a brittle chuckle through his cutting grin. “That’s quite the offer.”
His eyes sweep the room, pausing on two full rows of Keenans. He lifts his glass in a salute, a smug toast to them, before he tips his glass back and drains it.
“No deal, Zver. Don’t get me wrong—I like money. I like gold even better. But I’ve got a whole Irish clan who’d rather have your head than mine. And—” he leans in, breath sour with whiskey and non-existent dental hygiene “—something tells me you left a few of those bars in Tuscany.”
The words hit like his precious gold, slamming straight into my gut.
Fuck.
54
ZVER
The crowd stirs, restless, smelling blood.
Andre turns to leave.
“One more thing.” I grind the words out, dangling one last carrot in front of the bastard’s face. “I still have the Black Necklace. It’s yours. You don’t even have to save me. Just give me one thing.”
He tilts his head, eyes glinting. “And that would be?”
“Tell me what happened to Antonio D’Angelo. Before I meet my maker.”
He studies me, long and hard, then strolls so close, we’re eye to eye. His voice is a razor’s cut at my ear.
“You’ll never know how fucking close you were.”
The words hit like a sledgehammer, crushing bone, splintering straight through my chest until there’s nothing left of my heart but shards.
My mind claws at every word—how close? What does it mean?
Where is my father?
But I don’t let him see the blood in the water.
I bury it deep, let Zver take the wheel, and burn everything else to ash—fear, grief, every flicker of emotion—until there’s nothing left.
Nothing but ice behind my eyes and one big, fat fuck you, asshole.
