Savage Hearts (Queens & Monsters #3)(95)

“Swear to god.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“I’d say holy shit again, but it would be redundant.”

“I know. It’s remarkably bizarre.”

After a moment spent readjusting my brain, I chuckle. “Look on the bright side. We finally have something in common.”

When her eyes fill with tears, I’m horrified. “I swear I didn’t say that to be mean.”

“I know.” She sniffles, looking down. “But it’s true. And for the past few months, I’ve been crucifying myself for all the ways I’ve failed you as a big sister.”

Lord, this drama queen. My sigh is heavy. “Dude. The only time you ever failed me is when you stole my boyfriend.”

She jerks her head up and stares at me. “What? I did no such thing!”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t!”

I scoff. “I don’t know what kind of revisionist history you’ve created in your head, sis, but you definitely did.”

Indignant, she leaps from the bed and glares at me. “Who? When?”

“Really? You really want to get into this now?”

“Yes! Right fucking now! Start talking!”

Okay, here’s the Sloane I know. The bossy, impulsive, confident Sloane who once seriously considered getting the words “Pussy Power” tattooed above her cooch.

In a way, I’m relieved. That other weepy Sloane creeps me out.

“Chris. My twenty-first birthday party.”

Frowning, she thinks. “Your twenty-first birthday party was at that club in San Francisco. Chris was that tall guy you were dating who had that weird lazy eye.”

I say sourly, “I see it’s all coming back to you now.”

“I never dated that guy.”

I lose my temper and bark at her. “For fuck’s sake, Sloane, you told me you were dating him!”

She folds her arms over her chest and looks down her nose at me. “Baloney. You must’ve been high at the time.”

“Uh, no, I was on the phone with you after hearing from my girlfriend that she thought she saw the two of you together. You admitted it.”

“That’s ridiculous! I’d never date a guy with a lazy eye!”

“Man, I really wonder about your priorities.”

Ignoring that, she insists, “Do you have any idea how many guys named Chris I’ve dated?”

I mutter, “I’m guessing the number is in the thousands.”

“Exactly! Jesus Christ, Riley, I’d never do that to you! Never!”

We glare at each other, until her face crumples. “You don’t believe me.”

I warn, “Don’t you dare start crying on me, you frickin’ wimp. I’m the one who should be bawling here, not you.”

She bites her lip and blinks a lot. I want to jump up and smack her. A knock on the door distracts me.

“Can I come in?”

It’s Declan. My heartbeat goes into overdrive. I jump from the bed and yank open the door to find him standing there with a pained look on his face, like he’s constipated.

“Did you arrange the flight? When am I leaving?”

He glances at Sloane. When he looks back at me, he says, “I need to tell you something, lass. You should take a seat for this.”

I wave him off. “I think better on my feet. Just tell me what’s happening.”

He glances at Sloane again. It makes me nervous.

“What?”

“You two are so much alike.”

Crap, not this broken record again. “Yeah, I keep hearing that. What’s happening?”

“May I come in?”

I step aside and let him into the room. He goes straight to Sloane and gives her a hug and a kiss, then brushes a thumb over her cheek, gazing tenderly down at her. It looks like he’s about to start spouting poetry.

I throw my arms into the air. “Any day now!”

He turns to me with Sloane tucked under his arm. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

I look at Sloane. “Does he not know his life is in danger?”

She wraps her arms around his waist and gazes up at him. “You should probably just get straight to it, honey. I like you better without stab marks all over your body.”

He shrugs. “All right, if you insist. Malek is the new head of the Russian Bratva.”

That leaves me breathless.

So there it is. The reason Mal wanted me out of Russia.

I recall his hypothetical question about keeping something precious close though it would be dangerous and wish I’d bashed a pan over his head to force him to talk to me.

A mistake I’ll never make again.

Shaking off the tidal wave of emotion that’s threatening to overpower me, I say, “What happened to Pakhan?”

Declan lifts a brow. “What do you know about Pakhan?”

“That he makes questionable fashion choices including wearing real fur and pinky rings. What happened to him?”

Declan lifts his other brow, so now he’s staring at me in open astonishment. “You met him?”

“Yeah. We had dinner together. He’s really sweet. What happened to him?”

“He has cancer. He’s decided to make Malek his protégé.”