Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“I said I’d be back for you. And now it’s time. We’re going to take down Romanov—together.”
The old anger that she’d never quite escaped rose, threatening to drown her. She made herself let go of her gun and drop her arms to make sure she didn’t do something regrettable, like shoot this damn fool who’d decided to walk into her life to throw her past in her face. “Maybe I’ve gotten over it and moved on with my life.”
She hadn’t. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to move past what Dmitri Romanov had done. She’d spent the last twelve months poking at the few people on the force who’d actually still talk to her, but no one could—or would—answer her questions on why it was taking so long to build a case against the Russian crime lord who ruled the city.
He’d never see trial. Not for what he’d done to others, and sure as hell not for what he’d done to her.
Four years. An eternity and no time at all. Cops had long memories, and there wasn’t a single one in the NYPD who thought she was innocent. How could they when the evidence was so damning?
So, no, she hadn't gotten over it.
Aiden’s green eyes flicked over her face, taking in every response, though she’d long ago trained herself not to give anything away. “I don’t believe it.”
“I couldn’t care less what you believe.” There were several reasons the head of one of Boston’s Irish organized-crime families would be in a shitty little bar in New York seeking her out, and none of them were good for her. Charlie turned to him, taking in the slight tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there when he’d first shown up. Don’t like being told no, do you?
Well, too damn bad for him. “For the last time, why are you here? Why me?”
* * *
Aiden O’Malley figured he should be grateful Charlotte hadn’t pulled the gun on him that she kept touching like a security blanket. He hadn’t really thought she’d fall all over herself to agree to help him—especially since she hadn’t called him once during the last twelve months—but her cutting through all his bullshit didn’t bode well.
He’d never had a problem getting people to do exactly what he wanted—whether he needed to force them or they only required a subtle nudge—but he couldn’t do that with Charlotte Finch. He needed her to agree to help him of her own free will, or a vital part of his plan would fall to pieces.
It had taken him twelve months to get his dominoes in place and ready to knock down. The balance of power between the three Boston ruling families—the O’Malleys, the Hallorans, and the Sheridans—was as stable as it would ever be. The feds had backed off enough that he could breathe. Even Dmitri Romanov had been lulled into a false truce at the chance of bringing down a new player in the game.
The Eldridges.
They couldn’t have timed their power grab better if Aiden had conjured them himself. All of it added up to a confrontation he knew he could win—if he played his cards right, he could remove the threat of both Romanov and the feds in a single strike.
But to do it, he needed Charlotte.
So he weighed his odds and, after careful consideration, decided being blunt was his best option. “You’re familiar with the Eldridge operations.” She’d worked the organized-crime unit in the NYPD, so there was no way she didn’t know about them, at least in passing, but she wasn’t going to trust him if he didn’t slow-play this.
If she was smart, she wouldn’t trust him even then.
Her step hitched almost imperceptibly. “They’re run by Alethea Eldridge and her daughter, Mae. Scary, scary ladies, who have a habit of making their competition disappear, though no one has ever been able to put together enough evidence to pin anything on them. Their main income is from drugs—heroin mostly—though they dabble in gunrunning and human trafficking when it suits their purposes. They’re small players in the overall New York scene.”
“Not anymore. Romanov has made a deal with them—a deal he has no intention of following through on.” Or so said the dossier Aiden had gotten from Jude MacNamara. Yes, he’d sold his sister Sloan for information on his enemy—a weight he’d never truly be free of. It didn’t matter that Sloan had chosen Jude. If Aiden had paid better attention, she wouldn’t have been put in that situation to begin with.
He wouldn’t allow it to happen with his youngest sister, Keira.
He didn’t trust this unexpected opportunity from Romanov any more than he trusted anything in life, but he’d be a fool to pass up the chance to put his plan into motion.
“How could you possibly know what Romanov intends?”