“Tick-tock, asshole.”
I clench my fingers around my phone and shove it into my pocket, ignoring the way the washer beeps. I grab my wallet and keys from the counter, stomp out the door, and lock up, not caring whether or not Zoya turns back up.
She missed her chance to come back, and now I’m busy handling the mess.
The messsheleft behind.
There’s no doubt in my mind as I climb into my car that this has something to do with Jonas, Zoya, or both of them. Even if it isn’t directly about them, itwillbe about them. I know how this will go. Cardona and Sharp probably heard about Jonas’s execution the moment it happened.
The same applies to Zoya.
My eyes wander to the glove box. A small pistol sits in there along with a Taser and a knife. Bringing a weapon would only take me so far before Felix’s boys fucked me up. It’s a nice thought, but it’s pointless.
Much better to show up empty-handed.
Skyscrapers fade to dilapidated cement, monuments of a time when this neighborhood once thrived. The same homeless men that play on the corner of the parking lot stand around a barrel, trading a bottle back and forth. Same decrepitude as always.
Which means I’ll be met with the same shitty attitude as well.
The beat-up building by the docks comes into view along with several men surrounding it. Sharp is standing on the porch with his hands on his hips, beaming like he’s just won the damn lottery. I park, step out of the car, and hold up my hands.
He barks with laughter as I approach him. “Vladimirovich, you old son of a bitch!”
“Sharp.”
He waves me up the steps. “All right, we don’t have all day. Let’s go. Patting you down now. Well, there’s definitely not a gunthere, is there, pal?” More barking laughter. A few chuckles from some nearby men. “Hand your shit to Tony over here and step right up.”
“Is this a meeting or a damn circus?”
Sharp cackles. Christ, is there anything he doesn’t find funny? I wonder if Cardona ever gets sick of that laugh.
“This motherfucker,” Sharp bellows while slapping my upper back. I want to knock that grin off his face, but I know better. So, I let him act friendly.
“Have a seat.” He snorts. “Vodka?”
Cardona sits at the table, thick fingers corded together regally as he reclines in his chair. He already has a glass of whiskey sitting in front of him. When I take my seat, Sharp sets a glass in front of me and pats my back way too hard again. I think he’s doing it on purpose, trying to get me to fuck up.
I’d be one less person for him to worry about, after all.
After sipping my vodka, I rest my hands on the table in plain view. I know the drill.
“Felix, it’s good to see you again.”
“Wish we could say the same, Kiril,” Sharp speaks instead of Cardona. “I’ll tell you straight—the news of Jonas’s death is spreading like wildfire.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Is that so?”
“Several of the older caporegimes from back in the day just surfaced. They came running and whining like stray dogs with their tails between their legs.” He pats Felix’s shoulder lightly, with more respect than he shows anyone else. “All of them ready to admit they fucked up and are asking for amends.”
I purse my lips thoughtfully. “That sounds like a good thing. So, why are you making it sound so bad?”
Sharp’s features darken. “We’re aware of your little girl shacking up with Jonas.”
I keep my lips shut, my expression blank, my focus on the center of his nose. No reaction means no guilt. This could go in any direction.
He smiles curtly while pulling his phone from his pocket. He unlocks the phone and holds it up for me to see, tapping the center of the screen to play the video already loaded and ready to go. Club music blasts through the tiny speaker along with a few drunken cheers. In the background near the stage, I see my daughter with her legs around Jonas, grinding to the beat of the music. It doesn’t take a genius to know what the hell is really happening in the video.
Grimacing, I turn away.