Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
A soft mane of copper hair appeared under Radimir’s arm, and then a woman squeezed through underneath it. She was gorgeous, with big blue eyes and curves I’d kill for. Bronwyn. Radimir’s wife, as of six months ago. “Darling?” she said gently, “Gennadiy wouldn’t invite her here without a good reason.” She poured coffee from the pot into a mug. “Maybe it’s worth giving her a chance…” —she added milk—” ...to explain?” She pressed the mug into Radimir’s hands.
Radimir looked suspiciously at me, then longingly at the coffee. Apparently, he wasn’t a morning person. At last, he scowled and took the mug from his wife, stepping into the room at last.
Behind him was Gennadiy’s other brother, Valentin. With his longer hair and hauntingly beautiful face, I’d always thought he looked like an actor, or maybe the lead singer of a band. But he was the deadliest of all of them, the family’s hitman, with a body count at least in double figures. He skirted the table and took up residence in the corner, watching me closely.
There was the clinking of chains and the patter of many feet, and then Mikhail, the brothers’ uncle, arrived, together with his four dogs. Mikhail was older, with a little silver in his hair, but he still had the Aristov good looks, and he seemed to be the only member of the family who smiled. His dogs were beautiful: enormous Malamutes with white faces, gray and white coats, and big, fluffy tails. One of them cocked its head and blinked at me. Who this?
Mikhail sat down at the table, and his dogs planted themselves two on each side of his chair, alert and watchful. Bronwyn sat across from me and gave me a warm, encouraging smile. Valentin sidled over to the table and slid into a chair, silent as a cat. Only Radimir was left standing, glowering at me over the top of his coffee mug.
His wife turned and gave him a pleading look, and, as soon as he locked eyes with her, he just...melted. It was like the cold mask he wore slipped, and he was suddenly vulnerable. Bronwyn held out a hand, and he laced fingers with her, then sighed and sat down next to her, throwing little, loving looks at her. I’d never seen a man so besotted, and even though it was beautiful to watch, it made my chest ache a little. I’d never had anyone feel that way about me.
“Thank you,” Gennadiy told his brother solemnly. Then he turned to me. “Tell them.”
I laid it all out. How I’d been leading an FBI team tasked with bringing down Gennadiy. How someone had tried to kill me and frame him. How, when that failed, they’d ruined my career and forced me to go on the run.
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Agent Brooks,” Radimir told me. “But I don’t see why we should help you. You’ve been trying to put my brother in jail. You hurt our business.” He leaned forward. “You’re FBI.”
“She was FBI,” Gennadiy told him. “Now they’re chasing her. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. She saved my life. And she stopped me going to jail.”
Hearing him defend me made something inside me lift, and I had to work to not let it show on my face.
“I don’t like it,” said Radimir. “You forget what we are, brother.” He tugged the collar of his shirt away from his neck, exposing his Bratva tattoos. “We swore we’d never help the cops.”
“We’re not helping the cops, we’re helping her!” Gennadiy snapped. His brothers stared at him, and I thought I saw his ears redden.
Mikhail frowned, his easy smile fading. He began watching me the way you’d watch a scorpion.
“Look,” Gennadiy continued, “whoever’s behind this is one of our rivals. That’s why they framed me; they want me out of the way. They have someone inside the FBI: that makes them dangerous. Forget trying to help her: we need to find who this is and take them out, for our own sakes!” He looked at me, then at his brothers. “We’re all in this together.”
Radimir drew in a long, slow breath, considering. Then he nodded. Relief sluiced through me.
“It must be someone who wants you out of the way as well as us,” Mikhail told me, scratching the head of one of his dogs. His eyes hadn’t left me for a second. “Who—other than us—were you investigating?”
I hesitated for a second. Spilling who the FBI was looking into broke all the rules. But they were trusting me: I had to trust them. “Two families,” I told them. “The Cantellis and the O'Donnells.”
Gennadiy slammed a fist down on the table hard enough to make everyone jump. “Blyat’! The fucking Irish!”
Radimir planted his elbows on the table and cupped one fist in his hand. “It’s not the Irish,” he said firmly.