Savage Hearts (Queens & Monsters #3)(89)

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.”

He smiles again, a thing he seems overly fond of doing. “Don’t you love a good romantic drama?”

Glowering at him, I say, “I love a good murder.”

“Ach. You’re no fun.”

“How do I know any of this is true?”

“Call Pakhan. He’ll fill you in.”

“Why would he want me as his successor? I killed his cousin.”

“The kid was an asshole. Everybody thought so. And you’ve been incredibly loyal and efficient. Plus, you have that do-gooding side. He thinks you’re up for the job.”

“Do-gooding side?”

“Sticking up for your little brother who was getting bullied. Trying to save prostitutes with generous donations of cash. Alina’s knee. Only a few of numerous examples.”

“How the fuck do you know about any of that?”

His smile is smug. “They don’t call me the man who knows everything for no reason.”

With the exception of Declan O’Donnell, I’ve never known anyone I’d like to kill more. “Why didn’t Pakhan just tell me all this himself?”

“I had to vet you.”

“Vet me?”

“Stop repeating everything I say.”

“If you’d make any sense, I wouldn’t have to.”

Killian exhales a short, annoyed breath. “Look. I’m the leader of a multinational organization. A clandestine group of thirteen men who specialize in espionage, geopolitics, guerrilla warfare, and advanced spycraft to thwart global terrorism. We’re the real power behind the thrones. Don’t make that face at me, you bloody grand gobshite.”

“It’s just that this is a fascinating yarn you’re spinning. Please, continue.”

He mutters something in Gaelic. “As I was saying. We’re all working undercover in some capacity, masquerading as mob kings, corrupt politicians, shady business tycoons, you name it.”

“Uh-huh. And the point of all this masquerading?”

“Saving the world.”

Unbelievably, he says that with no trace of self-consciousness or awareness of how ridiculous he sounds. His hubris is staggering.

I decide to play along with his insanity. “What do you call yourselves? The Avengers?”

“The Thirteen.”

I snort. “Sounds like a boy band.”

“Fuck you.”

“Let me guess—you came up with that winner?”