Page 91 of Tamed Enemy
“Then I think you can do it too. Because if there’s one thing I know about you,a chroí, it’s that you aren’t afraid to do the hard work to get whatever you desire.”
I lean my head against her knee. She rests her hand on my smooth, orderly braid. I close my eyes and think as loudly as I can:Thank you, Granny. I love you.
We’re still sitting like that when Mrs. Watson bustles in. Her hair looks exactly as it did when she left. “Ready for a wash-up?” she asks Granny. “And then to bed?”
Granny sighs. I take her hand and kiss her palm. She closes her fingers the way she did when I was a child, keeping my kiss from flying away.
“Goodnight, Granny,” I say, forcing myself to stand. “Goodnight, Mrs. Watson.”
“Sleep well,” Granny says. “I’ll likely still be sleeping when you leave in the morning. But I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
It’s hard to swallow, but I manage a nod.
I find Cole sitting in his office, frowning at his computer. “Come to bed,” I say from the doorway.”
He shakes his head. “Too many things to review.”
Collapsing in one of the chairs across from his desk, I say, “There isn’t anything left to check.”
“A con this size, there’s always something. We pulled this thing together too fast. We haven’t considered all the options.”
“Options for what?” I try to sound reasonable.
“Picking up Tarasov, for one thing. There are too many variables out of our control.”
“He goes to evening service at St. Basil every Sunday. The Sawgrass team have been practicing for the past week. They were experts at this before we ever brought them in.”
“What if he takes a different route? We’ve only had him under observation for three weeks.”
“You’veonly had him under observation for three weeks.Ilived through the Dogfight. The Canton Crew tracked every move that shitehawk made for years.”
Tarasov never misses church. Da always said that was the fecker’s biggest weakness. But every time Da tried to exploit it, his plan fell apart because Canton men weren’t disciplined enough to follow through. Sawgrass, though, can manage.
As if he’s reading my mind, Cole says, “Tarasov could have another mole inside Sawgrass. He could be tracking everything we’ve set up.”
“After the way Best handled Collins? Besides, Best is driving the lead car himself.” He told us that’s the least he can do, after Brooklyn. I’m inclined to agree.
Cole shakes his head. “The interrogators have to be fast on their feet. If Tarasov gets even a hint the guy asking questions isn’t a lifelong expert on organized crime, he won’t say a fucking word.”
“That’s why I’ve spent the past fortnight training Richardson and Bennett. They know their roles, inside out. At this point, they know more about the bratva than most pakhans.”
“We should have gone with someone who’s lived this shit.”
“I’velived this shit. And I’ll be coaching Richardson and Bennett, in their ears the entire time.”
Rebecca Richardson and Corey Bennett make the perfect team. They’re both ex-FBI, so they already speak the same language. Richardson is young enough to be Bennett’s daughter. She’ll play good cop, a woman Tarasov will think he can manipulate. Bennett will be the hard-nosed bad cop. The pair of them have been quick studies.
Cole and I have debated this point more than any other. We couldn’t use anyone I know from the Canton Crew. Even if we could identify a man we were certain Mam hasn’t corrupted, we can’t risk Tarasov recognizing anyone from Baltimore.
That’s also why we can’t go with any of the mobsters Cole has learned to trust over the years. Braiden Kelly, the Philadelphia captain. His wife and Clan Chief, Samantha Mott. Connor Boyle from New York. They’ve all been on the front page of newspapers.
“Tarasov could get his hands on you.”
There. Finally. That’s the real fear, the one Cole can’t shake. And I know how to answer, because I’ve been terrified of the exact same thing.
“He can’t,” I say. “He’ll be chained to a feckin’ table. And I’ll be hidden behind a two-way mirror. Tarasov isn’t some movie supervillain. He can’t read minds. He can’t see through walls. He’s a self-important mob boss with an over-inflated sense of hisown power. But when we’re through, he’ll have a target on his back so large and so bright it will be visible from the moon.”
When Cole goes back to frowning at his screen, I rise from my chair and circle to his side of the desk. Placing my arms around his neck, I kiss his temple, beside his ear. “Come to bed,” I say again.
