Page 147 of Captive Ruin

We’re outnumbered two to one, but I’m guessing Koval doesn’t want to die tonight any more than we do.

The man himself is in a booth against one wall, two of his goons flanking him.

At fucking last.

I take my time studying the man who’s responsible for all of this. Amelia. Bastien. The millions he’s cost us.

Koval is heavyset, grey-bearded, maybe fifty years old, some of his muscle going to seed. He watches me with intelligent eyes, and no hint of emotion. He’s dangerous, but then so am I.

“You’re a difficult man to track down,” I say as I approach.

“And you’ve been busy.”

“I assume we’re here to talk.” I slide into the booth, giving the men a hand signal that makes them draw back and fan out. “If not, everyone is going to die.”

“Are you so keen for death, Mr. Van Wyk?”

I smile coldly. “My wife died over a year ago, Koval. Life is less appealing after that.” Half of that is true, but he doesn’t need to know which half. I want him thinking I’m unstable, focused on me, and underestimating the importance of Amelia.

“Very sorry,” he says with indifference. His fingers tap on a thin folder lying on the table, drawing my eye to it, like it’s somehow relevant. But I’m not interested in his power plays.

“You asked for this meeting,” I say. “What do you want?”

He shifts in his seat. “This was… all an accident,” he says, waving his hand to take in both his men and mine. “We did not intend to hit your Los Angeles deal, and Serranto was a fool.”

“It’s gone a long way beyond that.” I lean back against the leather booth. “You’ve been disrupting our business and costing us millions.”

“You’ve been killing my men.”

“Yes, I enjoy it.” Except I don’t. Not when it keeps me from my Little Stray.

His eyes flash. “Do you really want to escalate this? Up until now, we’ve played by the rules.”

“As have we.” I head that threat off early.

He nods, conceding the point. “It has been noted. Still, some are less forgiving than I am.”

“You think you can win if this—to use your word—escalates?”

“No, Mr. Van Wyk, I do not,” he says frankly. “But neither will you. Which is why we’re having this meeting.”

“Then I’ll ask you again: what do you propose?”

“A truce is in all our interests, don’t you agree?”

“How would that be achieved?”

“We will withdraw all conflicting business interests and you will stop targeting us.”

That’ll keep Bastien happy.

“If you do, we will.”

“We will, but with one condition,” he says, leaning forward. “We want you to put someone inside Cadrion.”

I scoff. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, we are. This is no longer about Fournier, Mr. Van Wyk. This is about you.”