Semua Bab MY BESTFRIEND’S BROTHER, MY RUIN: Bab 81 - Bab 90

"Are you still looking for a ghost, Ignatius, or are you ready to face a woman who refuses to die?"The voice echoed through the limestone throat of the sea cave. It was wet. Jagged. It didn't sound like Vesper, the polished corporate shark. It sounded like something dragged from the silt.Ignatius stopped. The beam of his flashlight cut through the rising mist, hitting a cluster of jagged stalactites. Water dripped. Drip. Plink. Drip. The tide was coming in. Fast. The salt air stung the raw skin of his neck."Vesper." Ignatius shifted his grip on the Glock. "Come out. Raffy is worried. He’s been receiving messages from a dead woman’s phone.""Worried? No." A silhouette moved behind a pillar of rock. "He’s thrilled. He’s sitting up there in that white house, watching his little sensors, waiting for the climax. Is this the part where the loyal dog finally puts the stray out of her misery?""You shouldn't have come back." Ignatius stepped onto a slick ledge. The ocean surged below, a bl

"Am I late for the show?"Rafferty’s voice cut through the hum of the industrial fans. He stepped into the safe house, his leather shoes clicking on the concrete floor with the rhythm of a ticking bomb. He wasn't wearing his island linen. He was in a black suit, tailored so sharp it looked like a weapon. Behind him, the heavy steel door stood wide open. A line of black SUVs idled at the curb, their strobes painting the alley walls in rhythmic pulses of red and blue."You’re early," Vesper said. She stood by the console, her fingers tapping against a glass of scotch. "I expected more of a struggle. A motorcade? Really, Rafferty? You’re making it too easy for the snipers.""Snipers require a budget." Rafferty didn't look at her. He didn't look at the six men with rifles. He walked past the guards as if they were furniture. "And your board members are currently experiencing a liquidity crisis. It’s hard to pull a trigger when your bank accounts are being digested by a virus."Ignatius gr

"What time is the meeting with the architects?"Ignatius sat upright in the silk sheets, the morning sun hitting his face. He didn't flinch. He didn't squint. He looked at the balcony doors as if he expected a tray of black coffee and the morning briefings to appear. The swelling around his eye had subsided into a sickly yellow bruise, but his gaze was clear. Terrifyingly clear."What architects, Ignatius?"Rafferty stood by the window. He hadn't slept. His suit was wrinkled, his tie hanging loose around his neck like a noose. He held a glass of gin, the ice long since melted into a lukewarm pool."The ones for the new wing. You said we were expanding the library. To make room for the first editions." Ignatius swung his legs out of bed. He stood up. He didn't stumble. He didn't reach for the wall. He walked to the wardrobe and pulled out a fresh white shirt. "We're late. You know how Father gets when we miss the opening bell.""Father is dead, Ignatius. He's been in the ground for twe

"Where do you keep the silver, old man?"The voice was like gravel grinding in a blender. It didn't belong on the island. It didn't belong in the jasmine-scented air of the garden. Ignatius stopped dead, his pruning shears mid-snip. A man stood near the sagging east fence, a jagged scar running from his ear to his jaw. He held a snub-nosed revolver. He looked like the mainland had spat him out specifically to poison this view."We don't keep much silver out here," Ignatius said. He didn't drop the shears. He didn't raise his hands. He just tilted his head, a small, welcoming smile touching his lips. "But the sun hits the water just right this time of day. It looks like silver. Are you thirsty? It’s a long walk from the docks.""I ain't here for the view, freak." The assassin stepped over a flattened hydrangea. "I'm here for the debt. Leo's debt. Twelve years of interest adds up to a lot of blood. Who are you? The help?""I'm Ignatius. Leo is... well, he's resting. But I can get you a

"You're going to the mainland, Ignatius."Rafferty didn't look at his brother. He focused on the leather handles of the duffel bag. He shoved a handful of antidepressants and a clean suit into the dark interior. His hands shook. The storm was already chewing at the edge of the island, the sky a bruised purple that smelled of ozone and wet stone."I don't like the mainland, Raffy. The buildings are too tall. They block the sun."Ignatius stood in the doorway of the bedroom. He was wearing the apron again. He’d cleaned the blood off it, but a faint, rusty shadow remained near the hem. He looked like a man waiting for a bus that would never come."It's not a vacation. It's a clinic. St. Jude’s. Top-tier. They’ll fix whatever is rattling around in your head." Rafferty zipped the bag. The sound was like a bone breaking. "They have doctors. Real ones. Not like the hacks I hired to keep you quiet.""Doctors don't have lemon cakes." Ignatius stepped into the room. The floorboards didn't even