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Spider jerked his head for Slayer Barbie to move back. “Keep an eye on Batman.”
She nodded and walked over to Zaq. He gave her a crooked smile and raised his hands in an I’m-harmless gesture. Her back was to me, but something in the way she tilted her head made me sure she’d smiled back.
Jesus, the man could charm the skin off a snake.
Spider lowered his head. “A warning,” he murmured. “The Crow flies crooked.”
“Excuse me?”
His eyes slit. “Let’s not play games, okay? I know who you are and why you’re in the city.”
I stilled. “Oh?”
“Don’t worry. The others bought the lie that you’re Batman’s thrall. But information is my business. Knowing things no one else knows pays for this cozy crib.” He indicated the cavern, his mouth bent in a self-mocking smile.
I hesitated. But Spider had put himself out to deliver the cryptic warning—and I wanted to know more.
“What do you mean, ‘the Crow flies crooked’?”
He dipped his head so his mouth hovered next to my ear, so close I felt his breath, cool and dry. “Your boss is out of control. She’d sacrifice anyone or anything for the cause. Even the famous Reaper.”
A chill tripped down my spine. My stomach churned uneasily.
He’s lying.
Crow was like a mother to me. A hard-ass, tough-love mother, yeah—but she’d been there for me when no one else had.
“And you’re telling me this because—?”
He shrugged. “I make more money when things are stable with the syndicates. Your bosses are fucking that up for me. So, this time, the info’s on me. Next time, you pay.”
“Understood.” Suddenly, the cavern’s dank air was oppressive.
Zaq had been staring at us, brow lowered, his stubbled jaw tight. Now he returned to the cavern and took my arm.
“We’re done here,” he told Spider. “I’ll transfer the money to your account ASAP.”
The underworld lord stuck out a long-fingered hand. “A pleasure doing business with you.”
Zaq shook it and hustled me back into the cavern.
We took the subway back uptown. When we arrived in the Bronx, the sun had risen. Zaq pulled me to the side before we entered the squat.
“You go ahead. I need to go back to Manhattan.”
“To do what?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Can’t—or won’t?”
His face was drawn, his shoulders slumped in tiredness. He massaged the bridge of his nose. “Won’t, then. And don’t give me that crap about trusting you—unless you intend to tell me what Spider told you.”
I pressed my lips together. I felt as tired as he looked, and hollow inside.
“No. It’s a lie, anyway. It makes no fucking sense.”
“All right.” He turned to leave but I caught his arm.
