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“I have a sharp knife in my hands,” I comment casually, making Agatha throw a dirty look my way.
Both men stare at Sarah and then at me before Ian introduces himself. “You must be Sarah. I’m Ian. We talked over the phone.”
Sarah’s eyes light with recognition. “Oh, hi! You sound much nicer in person.”
Ian chuckled and then gestures towards his companion. “This is Zayn.”
Zayn nods at her. “Hello.”
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Sarah slides out of her seat and comes to stand beside me, and I like it. “Sarah’s going to be staying with me for a while.”
I look at her. “I’ve already told them about Bryan.”
Sarah nods, the smile draining from her eyes, and it kills me to see the bright look in her eyes, replaced by grief. I put down the knife and drag her into my arms, my chest to her back. “I think one of the Street Serpents was casing her building, so it made more sense to relocate her immediately.”
Zayn nods. “Smart. But they’re not stupid, either. They’ll find out.”
“Not if she lays low. Or sticks by my side.”
Zayn runs a hand through his hair. “One of their men was found dead yesterday, so there is going to be enough intergang politics to keep them distracted for a while. If she stops asking questions, it’s likely that they’ll forget about her.”
Sarah asks, “How does he know so much about them?”
I shake my head. “We try not to ask.”
“Who was it?” I ask. “The man who died.”
Zayn shrugs. “A relatively low-level member, Dominic.”
“That’s the guy who tried to drug Sarah,” I say, my blood running cold. “How did he die?”
Zayn narrows his eyes and then glances at Sarah. “I’d rather not say. But I find that interesting.”
Sarah presses herself closer into my form. “I mentioned the drug part to Roy, but I didn’t give any names.”
I could hear the fear radiating from her. “You don’t think he…?”
I instantly assure, “It wasn’t your fault. It was most probably some fight gone wrong.”
However, I don't believe that. It was too much of a coincidence.
Zayn speaks up, “Either way, one of their men is a frequent visitor to my club on East Side River. He likes to ramble when he’s drunk. Shouldn’t be much of a problem getting him to talk.”
Ian grabs Agatha’s bag from her protesting form and slings it across his body, his hands tucking into the pockets of his pants, pushing the trench coat back. “I can track your brother’s financials, Sarah. Latest credit card activity, phone activity, GPS location.”
Agatha beams. “Ian’s a hacker.”
“Good job not making me sound like a criminal, Agatha,” is Ian’s dry response.
When Sarah glances up at me questioningly, I assure her, “He’s not. He’s a Crisis CEO. Hacking is just something he excels at on the side.”
Zayn strolls over to the counter and twirls some of the boiled noodles with a fork and puts them in his mouth. “I know a few Russian hackers who would disagree.”
When Ian perks up at the sight of food, I growl, “Leave. Sarah’s had a rough couple of days. She needs to eat and rest.”
Zayn gives me a sober look. “I’ve also had a couple of rough days. I think I ought to stay and eat.”
