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“Actually, you’re right. They’re going to help me though.”
“With the Sparrows?”
“Yeah. Like, hardcore.” I rubbed my nose. “I have a lot to tell you, Cin. Sorry I didn’t call to catch up. The last two days have been insane. I only got let out yesterday—”
“Let out? So youwerebeing imprisoned. I got a text message from Maxim Lyanov telling me you were being kept in the dungeons of Petrovsky Palace. We blew the fucking place up only to learn there aren’t any dungeons there! Talk about a shit show. I’m nothing without your hacking skills, Star. Don’t ever leave me like that again.”
I had to laugh. “What got caught in the blast?”
“A couple of people, unfortunately. No deaths though. Just scrapes. We burned down a few trees in the neighboring park, but that couldn’t be helped. Oh, and they won’t be cooking out of that kitchen for a while.”
“I’m surprised Lyanov got in touch with you.”
“No more than I was. He got knocked out by the blast—”
Conor, having heard most of the conversation secondhand, chimed in, “The Moscow Bratva has dethroned him as Pakhan because of that rescue attempt. His brothers in New York said they were going to evacuate him and take him back to the city. I don’t know if they managed it or not.”
“They did,” Cin answered. “He’s recuperating in Bellevue Hospital. He doesn’t lead the Bratva anymore. They’re calling themselves The Forgotten Boys. I think it’s like Peter Pan but turbocharged and with knives.”
Guilt speared me. “Shit. I promised to cement his ties with the leadership, not destroy them.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll have more power this way and he won’t have to answer to Russia,” Conor reassured me. “The moment his brother told me he tried to rescue you, I said we backed him to the hilt. He doesn’t need Moscow anymore.”
I stared at him, feeling that weird heartburn start to flare up again.
Why did he have to keep saying shit like that?
Absentmindedly, I patted his shoulder in gratitude then rubbed my chest where the ache was getting stronger.
That was all I needed—to have a fucking heart attack in Dubrovnik!
“Okay, so who tried to kill me?”
“Remember Muñoz?”
“I’m assuming we’re not talking about the NFL player,” Conor said dryly.
“No,” I said with a snort. “He’s a merc.”
“A dead one now.”
“Aww, thanks, Cin. What did I do this time?”
“He was acting on his own.”
I lifted a brow. “Jesus, he must have been really pissed about Piraeus.”
“What happened in Piraeus?” Conor whispered.
“I shot him in the ass.”
He snorted. “Only you.”
“It was a good shot!”
“It was also ten years ago,” Cin drawled. “That man knew how to hold a grudge. Anyway, I’ve got jet lag. Do you think you can manage not to get captured, shot, or arrested within the next six hours so I can catch up on some Zs?”
My lips twitched. “What would I do without you, D?”
