AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His nostrils flared. “You didn’t think to share that with me?”
“I’m not a member anymore,” I retorted. “I stepped back—” Before I could give Kuznetsov insight into why I’d done that, I broke off, muttering, “I’ll tell you later if you really want to know.”
“BDSec is one of Europe’s biggest hacktivist groups,” he snapped. “Of course, I want to know the backstory of how you came to be one of its founding members.”
“It was years ago!”
“Are you still friends with them?”
I glowered at Kuznetsov’s interruption. “Yes.”
“They would be amenable to helping you?”
Minerva and Ovianarwouldhelp if I went crawling on my knees to them.
I didn’t say that though. “If the justificationandthe payment are big enough.”
Slowly, he nodded. “Good.”
“What is the job?”
“It’s actually twofold.” Kuznetsov paused to take another sip of his drink.
From how heavy his eyelids were, I got the feeling he shouldn’t be mixing his pain meds with alcohol.
“Start at the beginning,” I prompted.
“I have another granddaughter. Her name is Lyra.”
“I have a sister?” I shrieked, jerking to my feet so quickly that my chair toppled back and onto the floor.
Conor immediately snatched at my fingers and held me in place. The feel of his hand around mine was surprisingly calming and, in this situation, I needed all the help I could get.
Behind me, he dragged my chair upright, then he ordered, “Sit down, Star. Let’s not make this situation even worse.”
My calm disintegrated into dust. “He’s saying I have a sister and I didn’t know about her—”
“I did not say that, child,” Kuznetsov growled. “I said that I have a granddaughter. She is your cousin.”
This news was as bad as the time I’d been stabbed in the abdomen.
“My mother had siblings.”
What else had she kept from me?
“I had a son.” Kuznetsov stared into his glass as he swirled the red wine around the base. Soon, his head was moving with the motion. “His name was Aleks.”
“Was?” Conor asked quietly, his fingers still locked around mine.
Kuznetsov shot him a glance. “Yes, he’s dead.”
Out of nowhere, Conor straightened up so fast he nearly bounced on his seat. “It wasn’t—”
The old man sniffed. “No. Your band of Irish hooligans didn’t kill him.”
“Oh. I just figured that might be why I was here.”
“Who did?” I slipped in.
