Page 75 of Clash of Sin and Secret

“Fuck you, Zane. It wasn’t like that,” Tucker says on the other end of the phone.

“Both of you stop.” Jack takes the phone out of my hand and sets it on the desk beside the mouse. “I’m hooked into the traffic cameras. Tell me what they were driving and which way they went. Come on, boys. Let’s find our girl.”

Scottie

Sitting in what I can only imagine is a vampire coffee shop, I wait to meet the man who had my father killed. Leaving me here with a black canvas bag over my head cranks my anxiety up with each passing moment. The shuffle of feet, the gentle shushing of doors swinging over the floor, the knowledge that people are moving around me, but not interacting with me.

With my senses on high alert, it’s very unnerving.

It’s also making my stomach growl. I’d swear I’m in a Starbucks or a Tim Horton’s. I’ve never been a coffee drinker, but the smell is amazing.

“Could I get a peppermint tea or a hot chocolate?”

Is that why they brought me here? Does Lazarus Kaza do his dirty dealings in the local java joint? It doesn’t seem like a very likely hangout, but vampires are weird and the older they get, the more skewed their sense of logic becomes.

I tense when someone steps behind me, firm hands squeezing my shoulders. “Apologies,bella.” The man who speaks tugs the canvas bag off my head and I blink against the sudden flood of light.

That voice.That smooth as silk, educated, old-world cadence resonates in my mind and dread seeps into my veins.No. It can’t be.

He steps around me and settles into the seat across the table. When I meet his gaze, my breath hitches.

It is him.The jet-black hair slicked back, those piercing blue eyes—Russ Fusco. The man who held me hostage in New Yorkfor what felt like an eternity. My skin prickles with revulsion and fear.

“What are you doing here?” My voice wavers despite my effort to sound strong. Confusion floods my mind, mixing with panic as I fight to grasp how this could happen again. “What do you have to do with Lazarus Kaza?”

He leans back in his chair, a lazy smile curling his lips. “I have everything to do with him, Scotland. You knew me as Russ Fusco, others know me as Lazarus Kaza.”

The truth of what he’s saying strikes me like a blow to the gut.

The mastermind behind everything—the true-blood vampire responsible for siring a turned army, for orchestrating chaos across Toronto, and for killing Francesco and my father is the man who haunts my dreams?

“Why go after Francesco? Is this because he and Da bested you in New York? Was killing them some kind of payback for them saving me?”

He chuckles softly, a sound that makes my skin crawl. “No one has ever bested me, bella, certainly not Francesco.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

He leans forward. “I’ll admit, him involving the Erebus brothers was irksome. They shut down what was a very lucrative funnel of income, but I accomplished what I set out to do in New York, so I was not ‘bested’ as you say.”

“Well, bully for you.” He chuckles again and I grit my teeth to control my spiraling emotions. “Well, you failed to kill Zane and seize the diamond dagger, so you’ll never take Toronto. You might as well pack up and get the hell gone.”

His crooked smile is cocky, his amusement obvious. “I don’t need to kill Zane to take Toronto. In fact, I’d rather not kill him.”

I blink at him in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“I do need the dagger, though.” He shrugs casually, as if we’re discussing the weather instead of his murderous intent.

“Well, you won’t get it.”

Russ leans forward, his eyes glinting with malice that sends another shiver racing down my spine. “We’ll see about that.”

Daeva strides in carrying a rosewood box that gleams under the shop’s lights. She’s got the pomp and strut of a woman who thinks she’s the hottest of the hot shits. I hate her. I want to grab a spoon off the counter and shove it straight through her eye socket.

Unfortunately, my hands are still bound and there are four vamp guards between me and the cutlery stand.

Daeva sets the box on the table in front of me.

Lazarus’s gaze softens when he looks at her—a look filled with something like admiration that makes bile rise in my throat. “Grazie milla bella.”

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