I already intended to make the shitehawk pay. But the toll just got a little higher.
“Kate?” I look up to find Cole standing in the doorway. He’s freshly showered, his near-black hair standing in spikes from a rough toweling. He’s clean-shaven despite his bruised jaw, dressed in his usual summer clothes of a black cotton oxford tucked into matching linen pants. The dark brown of his eyes looks softer than usual, the gold flecks in their depths sparkling in the summer light that streams through the window behind me. “We have to talk.”
“About what?” I ask levelly.
He crosses the threshold and closes the door firmly. “About the two men in our basement.”
“One,” I say. “One man and one body.”
His lips narrow, but he doesn’t contradict me.
“And I’m not sure,” I say. “That Tarasov counts as a man. He’s a spineless slug. And soon he’ll be a body, too. So no. I don’t think we have anything to discuss about the two men in our basement.”
Cole eyes me steadily. “You have a plan.”
“Of course. Iplanon making Tarasov suffer. Iplanon keeping him hanging until he begs to be cut down. Iplanon making him pay for every single thing he ever did to me. And for all the things he thought he’d do to my sister.”
“I know the bad blood between the Canton Crew and the Tarasov bratva goes back years?—”
“This isn’t about the Crew. Da would never have approved what I did last night. Mam either. This is just between Tarasov and me.”
“The bratva won’t see it that way.”
“They will once I’m done.”
“Done doing what?”
For the first time, I flinch. “It’s better if you don’t know.”
“That ship’s sailed. He’s in my house. I helped you get him here. I’m the one who killed his fucking bodyguard. I can’t be in this any deeper than I already am. So what’s the endgame? What do you intend to do?”
I know the words I need to say. I’ve practiced them in my head, over and over, polishing them like a rock found on the beach.
But I shake my head because Cole shouldn’t have to hear them. I don’t know if he can stand my nightmares.
He crosses the room like he’s meeting me at the center of a tightrope. His fingers are cool as they cup my jaw. It feels indescribably good to turn my head, to rest the weight of my head against his palm.
He says, “Let me help you, Kate. Tell me what you’re going to do. Tell me why.”
I pull away from him, shuttering my heart against the flash of hurt in his eyes. Tucking my heels onto the chair beneath me, I hug my knees. Maybe the position offers me some comfort. But maybe I choose it because it puts a barrier between my husband and me.
I’ve hurt him. But he doesn’t leave. So I finally start to tell the story. I finally start to say all the secret words out loud.
“I told you the bratva took Breagha and me so they could pressure Da into handing over territory, into cashing out the Crew.”
Cole waits.
“But I didn’t tell you how it ended. How the exchange was made.”
Cole waits.
“The bratva men who kidnapped us were only soldiers acting on orders, keeping Breagha and me fed, alive. When Da didn’t jump at the chance to buy us back, the bratva had to recalculate our value. That required leadership. That meant Tarasov came to see us.”
Cole waits.
“Separate and conquer, that’s how you win a war. So Tarasov took me out of the Dark Room. He blindfolded me and he dragged me away. He took me to the Cold Room.”
Cole waits.
