I sit up, too, shoving my pillow behind my back. “I know,” I say. “Tarasov’ll come back saying it isn’t enough. But at least I’ve bought us more time.”
Kate gapes at me as if I’ve admitted handing over scores of homeless virgins to a known rapist. “Wait. You actually gave him a list of transactions?”
“It was the least harmful thing I could do.”
“Jaysus,” she mutters, scrambling for her phone on the nightstand. “You’ve ruined everything!” Before I can stop her, she’s placing a call to her father.
I clamp my fingers around her wrist. “No,” I say.
She rolls her eyes like an exasperated teenager. I pry the phone out of her hand as Lynch answers, his voice bleary with sleep. “Kaitlín?” he asks, before I end the call.
“Give it back!” Kate demands, shoving at my side.
I hold the phone beyond her reach. “Wait,” I say. “Stop. Just think a minute.” When she pauses for a heartbeat, I go on. “What will your father do if he finds out I’m working for Tarasov?”
“He’ll cut off your bollocks and drop them in his fishpond,” she snarls.
I suspect that isn’t too far from the truth. But I continue to plead my case. “And Tarasov would do worse, if he didn’t getsomething tonight. Feds would be at our door before morning. I had to keep you safe.”
Her phone buzzes—her father calling back.
“Tell him you made a mistake,” I say. “He can go back to sleep.”
“I’ll tell him?—”
“Kate,” I say, loading all my power and control into the single syllable. I hand her the still-buzzing phone.
She stabs at the glass screen. “Sorry, Da,” she says, with a fierce scowl at me. “My finger slipped. I meant to ring someone else.” His complaint is loud enough for me to hear. “Sorry, Da,” she says again. Then, when he continues: “Sorry!”
She ends the call with a vicious jab. Glaring at me, she snarls, “You don’t understand what you’ve done!”
“Then explain it to me.” I’m confident that once she actually considers all the facts, she’ll realize I chose the best option.
“The document you gave that shitehawk… It has deposits and withdrawals, right?”
I nod.
“Along with dates.”
Another nod.
“So Tarasov can see when Da took in specific amounts of money.”
“For the last three years.”
“That Russian arsehole will know precisely how much I’ve been propping up the Crew!” she rages. “He’ll know I’ve been the only thing keeping the clan in the black for at least three years!”
“I didn’t think—” But I don’t get a chance to complete the sentence.
“No,” Kate shrieks. “You didn’t. But you can be sure Tarasov’ll make the truth public now. To his own men, just to see Da mocked. And to the Crew, to prove Da isn’t fit to lead.”
She shoves aside the covers, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. Anger has pulled her face into tight lines. And I know at least part of her rage is actually terror of what will happen next.
I can’t pull back the file now. I’ll have to figure out some way to defray Tarasov’s use of the financials. Keep him from sharing the file. Dilute the impact of what I’ve done.
But for now, I need Kate to understand she’s physically safe. She needs structure. Control. The Russian will never, ever get to her in this room.
I reach the door before she does. “You sleep in this room,” I say, blocking her with one arm.
