I find myself smiling again. “Not a clue.”
She looks even more stunned. “Then why do you have one?”
“It was a housewarming gift from King. He said it made me look smarter.”
She laughs, and the sound lodges itself behind my ribs. “That might be true if you’d actually used it.” She takes another sip before asking, “I take it you’ve known each other awhile?”
I nod as I think about how to start. “I was fifteen the first time we met, which would’ve put him around nineteen.”
“So, a long time ago, Mr. I-Just-Turned-Forty.”
I give her a fake glare and she gives me a sweet smile.
“Okay so you were fifteen…?”
“I was fifteen and working for the Russians.”
“The Russians?”
“Russian mafia. Bratva,” I explain. No secrets. “I started as a runner, carrying money for them when I was just a kid. I
