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“All my answers are final.”
“Then I hold YOU responsible, Adrik. It will be YOUR head.”
“Come and get it.”
I hang up the call.
Sabrina is sitting cross-legged on the bed. The book she was reading lays flat on her lap. She’s pinching the skin between her thumb and forefinger, hard enough that her nails dig in.
She certainly heard my side of the call, and possibly Lev’s as well.
“How does he know?” she asks.
“He doesn’t know for certain, but he’s sure enough.”
“What’s he going to do?”
“I don’t know. Put a hit on me, maybe.”
“We should go to Rostov-on-Don right now, today,” Sabrina says at once. “Kill him before he can kill you.”
“I can’t. I’ve got way too much shit to do here. We’re going to need a new source—we owe orders to Franko and the Markovs, not to mention our own dealers.”
“You won’t need a new source if you’re dead.”
“Sabrina, please,” I cup her chin, tilting up her face to look at me. “Give me some credit—I’m not that easy to kill.”
She’s unsmiling, her eyes huge in her strained face.
“You’re not invincible, either.”
I kiss her softly on the mouth. “Yes I am. As long as I have you.”
She doesn’t look convinced, so I continue: “Look, I’ll keep an ear out. Threats aren’t action. Lev is pissed right now, but that doesn’t mean he actually believes that Zigor is worth starting a war over. We’ll wait and see what he does.”
Sabrina chews on the edge of her lip, too hard.
“Don’t,” I say, touching her lip with my thumb. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Why are you taking the heat for Jasper?” she says. “He fucked up bad.”
“That’s what it means to be the boss—I’m responsible for what Jasper does. Besides, there’s power in the pack. I’d rather fight Zakharov with seven of us than give up a brother.”
She’s frowning, her dark eyebrows giving poignant expression to her face. I want to smooth out the little lines of worry. I want to take all her fears away.
“You wouldn’t turn Jasper over to be tortured and killed. No matter how much you hate him.”
“I don’t hate him,” Sabrina sighs. “And no, I guess I wouldn’t give him to Lev. Not really.”
“Good.” I smile. “Then for once, we agree.”
* * *
For a week,nothing happens. I think maybe Zakharov will let it go. Zigor was his only son, but I’m sure he was a hinderance to Lev’s business as much as a help. Zakharov spent a lifetime building his small horde of money and influence. He’s still only a bit player. Revenge could cost him everything.
Then Mykah calls me. Though Apothecary is neutral ground, Mykah and I have been friends a long time. We were at school together—not only at Kingmakers, but also in St. Petersburg, in our middle and senior classes. He often passes me information, and I do the same for him.
“Bad news, my friend,” he says without preamble.
