“So? Where should I start?”
“Your name.”
“Killian.”
“Last name?”
“You get a last name if we decide we’re not going to kill each other.”
“If I wanted you dead, you already would be.”
He smiles. “That’s my line. I like you already.”
“What is this about?”
“In a nutshell, the future of nations.”
He says it with a straight face, as if I’m supposed to have any fucking clue what that means.
“Uh-huh. Sounds important.”
“There’s no need for sarcasm.”
“Are you one of those annoying people who can never get to the point?”
“And now you’re insulting me.” He shakes his head. “When Pakhan said you were short on charm, he wasn’t kidding.”
Fighting the urge to take his skull between my hands and crush it, I say slowly, “Get. To. The fucking. Point.”
His tone dry, he says, “Since you asked so nicely.” He reaches over, picks up my cup of coffee, and takes a sip. “Hmm. That’s quite good.”
I’m about to smash a fist into his nose, when he says, “Pakhan has cancer. Pancreatic. He’s got a few months left, if that.”
It sets me back onto my heels. I sit with that piece of information for a moment, digesting it in silence.
Killian watches me with eyes as sharp as a hawk’s.
“Why isn’t he telling me this?”
“He will. I mean, if you’re still alive by the time that conversation occurs.”
“Threaten me again and see what happens.”
He casually lifts a shoulder. “It’s not a threat. It’s a fact. If this meeting goes sideways, you’re a dead man.”
I chuckle. “You might be the stupidest person I’ve ever met.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to be afraid, but I’m telling you the truth. I’m very good at what I do.”
“Not as good as I am.”
He smiles at me like you’d smile at a baby. “Okay. Moving on. Are you still planning to try to kill Declan O’Donnell?”
“Try?” I repeat through gritted teeth.
“That wasn’t an insult. I just need to know where your head’s at.”
I growl, “You have exactly ten seconds before I lose my patience and send you to meet your maker.”
It could be my imagination, but I think this son of a bitch wants to roll his eyes.
“Pakhan recommended you as his replacement.”
I almost fall off the stool.
“Oh, look,” Killian says, amused. “Godzilla is surprised.”
I manage to repeat, “Replacement?”
“Aye, but here’s the rub, Malek. Pakhan isn’t doing what you think he’s doing. That job he’s got? Big boss of the Bratva? That’s for show. What he’s really doing is far more important. Stop squinting at me, it won’t help you understand anything better.”
After a moment, I say, “If this is a fucking joke, I’m not finding it funny.”
I get the condescending smile again. “You do seem to be lacking in the sense of humor department, but no, it’s not a joke.”
We stare at each other. While I decide what to say next, he drinks more of my coffee.
“So you’re the one who told Pakhan about Riley.”
His voice warms. “Ah, yes. Riley. I’d like to meet her. I think she and my wife would really get along. They have a lot in common. Juliet’s the daughter of a man who tried to kill me several times. One of my worst enemies. Oh—you might’ve heard of him. Antonio Moretti? Does that ring any bells? He used to be the head of the Cosa Nostra in New York, but he’s dead now.”
He chuckles. “Dead like I am, I mean.”
The longer this conversation continues, the more liable I am to burst a brain vessel.
“Pakhan was very concerned that he’d misjudged you when he heard you’d kidnapped Riley. He didn’t take you for a rapist. Thought it was out of character. Needless to say, he was relieved to discover the wee lass was not only unmolested, she’d taken quite a shine to you.”
“Unmolested?” I say, astonished. “Shine?”
He waves a hand dismissively.
I’ve seen Riley make the exact same gesture when she thinks I’m being a pain in the ass.
“You saved her life. Your brother’s murderer’s soon-to-be sister-in-law. A man you’d vowed to kill for revenge. It’s all very Shakespearean, don’t you think? Like me and Juliet.”