Page 60 of Stolen Empire
"You tell them you don't trust gifts. You tell them you'd rather find a way to earn the money yourself. That opens the door for them to offer you work."
She watches me approach, her posture tense.
"They’ll never believe that line of crap."
Katya is smart, but I know this crew.
These idiots would eat poisoned bread if an elderly woman gave it to them.
"They will."
I stop in front of her.
"Because every word you say will be backed by documentation. Every claim you make will have proof. That's why we are doing this. That's why I don't leave anything to chance."
Katya sighs hard and lets her eyes drop to the ledger again.
It seems like she's still wrestling with this, and I have no other way to convince her it will work than to just pull the trigger and go for it.
But her job isn't to believe me.
It's to obey me.
Which is what she'll do because she gave me her word.
"Come," I say, turning toward the door.
"We need to walk the card room before tonight."
Katya stares out the window with her hands folded in her lap as I drive us across town toward the card room where my men have already scouted and informed me it's safe and empty.
I focus on the route, deciding on alternate exits in case we need to extract her quickly for safety, but there is no unsettled feeling in my gut about this.
I think I fully trust her ability more than I would some of my own men who've been with me for years.
Rolan would tell me that's a dangerous thing, that I'm thinking with my dick, but my gut's never wrong.
When we arrive, the building's empty.
The card room doesn’t open for another three hours, which gives us time to prepare.
I unlock the side door and lead her inside to the small room.
A single round table sits in the center, green felt worn thin from years of use.
Cameras are mounted in two corners, angled to capture the table and the door, but they're currently off.
A hanging lamp lets cool light puddle over the playing surface, leaving the edges of the room in shadow.
It's just the creepy sort of place that criminals thrive in, and from watching Katya's body language, I can tell it puts her on edge.
"This is where you'll meet them," I tell her, walking the perimeter.
"The game starts at eight. You'll arrive at seven thirty, early enough to seem eager but not desperate."
She stops at the table, running her fingers over the felt.
"Who else will be here?"
