CONOR
"Yes," said Grace, staring at me. A frown marred her features. "Did you talk to her? Is that why you…" She trailed off. "Conor, did you kill my mother?"
"No," I said. "But another hitman did. She stole from Grigori Petrov, Grace. He's not the forgiving type."
She sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at her hands. I wish I could absorb her pain. I hated the idea of her suffering. When she finally looked up, she was clear-eyed. "I don't have any tears left to shed for Mom. She regretted having me, and told me that every day of her life. She'd disappear for weeks at a time. I learned to take care of myself." She held out her hands in a pleading gesture. "If we find the drive and give it to your boss, will he leave me alone?"
I shook my head. "He's paranoid. When he finds out I didn't kill you, he'll send someone else. For both of us."
