Chapter 28 Kane
KANE
LATER THAT EVENING, KANE, FLETCHER, ZARIA, AND JULES ALL sat around the table in Kane and Fletcher’s living area.
Perhaps it was the enormity of what tomorrow would bring, but Kane felt as if most of the tension had faded. Jules and Zaria sat on one side of the table, he and Fletcher on the other. Everyone watched him. Waiting for him to outline the plan one final time.
Zaria’s eyes met Kane’s through the candlelight.
Her hair was loose around her shoulders, waves framing her jaw and collarbone.
She still looked rather sickly, skin pale and cheekbones hollow, but her gaze was unflinching as ever.
Kane could still taste the panic he’d felt upon finding her unresponsive on the floor of the workshop.
It had risen in the back of his throat like bile, bitter and gag inducing.
He couldn’t lose her when they were so close to pulling off the heist. He needed her expertise. He needed her intelligence.
He needed to kiss her again.
He wasn’t finished with her. Not even close. But Zaria Mendoza was not—could not be—for him. Especially when he was going to betray her so very soon.
What if you simply gave her what you promised?
An especially frustrating corner of Kane’s mind kept posing the question.
He could steal the rest of the jewelry, he supposed, and avoid going back on his deal with Zaria, but it was just too risky.
His focus was on saving Fletcher—that was the reason they were doing this.
He wasn’t going to thrust that into jeopardy by stealing the entire goddamned Waterhouse display.
A missing necklace could be overlooked, but a missing exhibit could not.
He’d already sold the jewels they’d stolen from the widow, having never intended for them to enter the walls of the Crystal Palace.
What did it matter if Zaria hated him more than she already did?
“Okay,” he said when he could bear the silence no longer.
“We go to the palace shortly before noon tomorrow—that’s when the queen and prince consort are meant to be arriving, and they’re each to make a speech.
That’ll draw the attention of the masses.
We’ll pay our fare like everyone else and enter through the main turnstiles.
Fletcher will already be inside, having gotten Price to place him as close to the Waterhouse display as possible.
The queen’s entrance is his cue to plant the atomizing adhesive on the window. ”
Fletcher nodded once, his mouth a straight line. “Price knows the plan. He’s not going to interfere.”
Kane didn’t expect him to. They’d made it very clear what was at stake should the sergeant decide to turn on them.
“Once we get inside, things might get dicey. I wouldn’t be surprised if tens of thousands of people attend.
In a way, that’s a positive, because it means more distractions.
Nobody will be paying attention to us. Zhao, are you in, or are you only here for the hospitality? ”
This he threw at Jules, who was surveying him with considerable distaste.
The boy was fiercely loyal, evidenced by the fact that he was here at all, but he made no secret of the fact that he detested Kane.
Jules appeared to be getting along with Fletcher, at least; the two had shaken hands when Jules and Zaria arrived, while Jules had avoided Kane’s outstretched arm like the plague.
Kane frankly didn’t care whether Julian Zhao liked him or not, but it was irritating to be the only one making an effort.
“I’m in,” Jules said stiffly.
“And if anything goes sideways,” Zaria said, chiming in for the first time.
“Jules and I won’t be sticking around.” She placed an easy hand on Jules’s forearm.
Kane’s eyes latched on to it, that expression of obvious ease between the two of them.
Acid stung the back of his throat, and he struggled to choke it down.
Though he knew Zaria’s relationship with Jules was purely platonic, a petty, immature part of him resented the other boy.
But what was the point? Kane would do what he needed to, and then Zaria would be gone, never again speaking his name unless it was to curse it.
“Nothing is going to go sideways,” he snapped, an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there prior.
“I’m confident we’ll get into the Crystal Palace with no issues.
Once inside, we obviously have to seek out the pianoforte.
We know where the Broadwood exhibit is going to be, and I’ve mapped out the most efficient route.
I’ve allotted fifteen minutes to get from point A to point B.
” He turned to address Zaria, his stomach flipping when she arched a brow at him.
“Ideally, we get there before the queen’s speech commences.
Once we get the explosives, you and Jules will take them, and I’ll deal with the rest. Meanwhile, Fletcher will ensure he’s in position.
“When the queen starts speaking, you’ll release a single vial of the aleuite.
Fletcher will start to evacuate everyone away from the Waterhouse display, and as he does, you’ll release the second vial.
We’ll have to find a place where you and Jules can stay out of sight.
Once the smoke spreads, that’s when I swoop in to start picking the lock.
All being well, it should only take me a few minutes to get to the necklace.
” Six minutes, to be precise. “I’ll hand the rest of the jewelry off to you and Jules,” Kane added quickly, aware that he had almost forgotten to mention the other items. Luckily, neither Zaria nor Jules appeared to catch his slip.
Kane wouldn’t pass the jewelry off, though.
He would utilize the fog to lose Zaria and Jules, escaping with Fletcher and the necklace as fast as possible.
Once they figured out he had swindled them, they were welcome to linger and attempt to take the rest of the Waterhouse jewels, but he didn’t envy their chances of success.
“At this point, the thirty-six minutes required for the atomizing adhesive to react should have passed. The glass of the window will have begun to disintegrate, but nobody should notice with the aleuite smoke. The moment we’re outside, you release the third vial.
We blend into the panicking crowd and disappear. ”
“It sounds simple when you put it like that,” Zaria said, a note of dubiety in her tone.
Kane inclined his head. “It is. As long as everyone sticks to the plan, we shouldn’t encounter any issues.” At least they’d better not. There were only two spare minutes for anything he hadn’t foreseen.
“I don’t think it sounds simple at all,” Jules grumbled. “There seems to be a lot of guesswork going into this.”
Kane clicked his tongue. “Contrary to popular belief, Master Zhao, I am tragically unable to predict the future.” The words came out more harshly than he’d expected—his voice twisted them into a drawl. “Now, would you stop scowling at me like I burned down your fucking house?”
Jules’s eyebrows shot up, his thin shoulders tensing. For a moment, Kane wondered if the boy would rise, but he only said, “I wouldn’t put it past you.”
The words were laced with vitriol, and they rolled off Kane’s back like nothing. He allowed a smirk to grace the sides of his mouth, then caught Zaria glaring at him in his periphery.
Coward.
Fletcher put a hand on Kane’s arm, leaning across the table to address Jules. “I know it’s stressful, but if we all stick to the plan, there’s no reason it shouldn’t work. Try to trust us.”
He sounded so genuine, so sincere, that the crease between Jules’s brows smoothed over. “I trust you well enough. It’s him I don’t trust.”
That was obviously directed at Kane, who rolled his eyes. “Look, I don’t want to get caught, and I’m assuming you don’t, either. You can trust me enough to ensure that doesn’t happen.”
“He makes a point there,” Zaria said, sharing a meaningful look with Jules that Kane was unable to interpret. Irritation tugged at his insides.
“All right. Any more questions?” It came out sounding like a threat, and he wasn’t surprised when nobody said a word. Despite Jules’s apprehension and Zaria’s incessantly tapping fingers, Kane knew they had placed their confidence in him. They had no other option.
“We’ll be going, then,” Zaria murmured, rising to her feet in a single fluid movement. Kane stood at the same time, unable to help himself.
“Wait,” Fletcher said, suddenly serious. “There’s something you two need to know.”
Zaria hesitated. Though it was Fletcher who had spoken, she stared unblinkingly at Kane as if daring him to elaborate.
Kane stared back. God fucking damn it, Fletcher. This—telling Zaria about Ward—felt riskier than everything they planned to do tomorrow. If she decided to back out, they were in trouble.
She won’t, Fletcher had assured him yesterday when they’d discussed this very issue yet again. She’s not like that. She’s more determined than she is afraid. And once we get Ward what he wants, he’ll forget all about her.
His friend had better be right.
“Whatever it is you don’t want to say,” Jules put in, eyeing Kane as if he could see right through him, “just say it.”
Kane gritted his teeth until his jaw hurt. He cut a sidelong glance to Fletcher, who gave a marginal incline of his head. Finally, he locked gazes with Zaria. “It’s Ward.”
Confusion marred her delicate features. “What?”
“Ward. He’s the one who wants you dead. I had no idea, and I still don’t know the reason.”
Zaria blinked. Kane got the sense she was fighting to wipe her expression clean. “How can you be sure?”
“He told me.”
Jules took a step forward. “You son of a—”
Fletcher leapt between him and Kane, laughably out-sizing them both. “It’s the truth,” his friend said, his Irish accent more pronounced now that he was riled up. “Kane only just found out. Neither of us had any clue. We’re telling you now so you go into tomorrow knowing all the risks.”
Zaria still hadn’t looked away from Kane. He was almost positive they were thinking the same thing: that what happened at the church had been because of him, no matter how indirectly. A muscle ticked in Zaria’s brow, and she lifted her chin. “Why tell me at all? What if I decide it’s not worth it?”
“You won’t.” It was Fletcher who had been convinced she wouldn’t back out, but now, looking her directly in the eye, Kane knew it was true.
She needed this. It was her only hope of saving the pawnshop, of saving Jules.
Something soured in his stomach. When Zaria came away from this with nothing, there was a good chance Jules would be forced to join Ward’s crew.
It was unfortunate, but so what? He wouldn’t necessarily die. And better Jules than Fletcher.
Zaria scoffed. “You think I have no sense of self-preservation.”
“No,” Kane said. “I just know you want it too badly.”
She exchanged another look with Jules, who looked about ready to do something violent and inadvisable. When she spoke again, her voice held a note of fear. How odd that Kane was familiar enough with it to notice. “You really don’t know why Ward wants me dead?”
He shook his head, fighting to ensure it looked genuine.
Why was it so much harder to lie to her?
“All I got from Ward is that he hated your father and seems to think you can’t be trusted.
That’s why those men had their faces covered—they knew I would recognize them.
As long as you stay with Fletcher and me, though, we can protect you.
Anyone who works for Ward knows better than to mess with me. ”
It wasn’t wholly true—Abe Walker had tried, after all. But Kane had established what would happen to anyone else who made the same mistake.
“We just thought you needed to know,” Fletcher said seriously. “It’s your life, after all.”
Zaria shot Kane a hard, meaningful look. He felt laid bare by the accusation in her dark eyes but forced himself to nod.
“Well,” Jules said, sounding vaguely disgusted. “I suppose it’s too late to back out now anyway.” He leveled a finger at Kane. “Count yourself lucky that we plan to get the hell out of this city after tomorrow. Otherwise, there’s no way we’d be risking our necks for this plot.”
Kane said nothing to that. He led Jules and Zaria to the door and leaned against the frame, arms crossed.
“Good night,” Zaria said coolly, sweeping past him.
Almost of its own volition, Kane’s hand snapped out and took hold of her arm.
She stared down at it, frozen, before her eyes snapped up to meet his. Jules was already a few strides away, a lone figure against the night.
“We need to talk.” Kane forced the words out with difficulty. They sounded strange. Guttural. “Alone.”
Zaria snatched her arm away, a tendon straining in her throat. “We have nothing to talk about.”
“I think we both know that’s not true.”
The evening wind was vicious, and it whipped Kane’s collar away from his neck as he waited for Zaria’s response.
He could feel Fletcher’s eyes on his back from inside the house, but he didn’t care.
By now Jules had backtracked and waited, immobile, in the middle of the street. Tension pulsed in the air.
And yet Kane didn’t know what he would have said.
What he would have told her, what difference it would have made, had Zaria not turned away.
Had she not scoffed in the face of his last statement, the ghost of a bitter smile curling her lips.
Perhaps he would have asked if she regretted it, that kiss.
Perhaps he would have told her that he didn’t.
Perhaps he would have apologized in advance.
He might have told her something that surprised them both if she hadn’t said merely, “Good night, Kane.”
By then, it was too late.