Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
I nod. “Aye, my Uncle Cormac was the last one who fulfilled that tradition, but it was a one-time deal and not one we continued.”
“But it’s sort of an American term, isn’t it? Tribute.”
My eyes narrow. “Aye.”
She nods, thoughtfully tapping her chin. “Who do you know in America?”
“We have some friends in New York,” I say quietly. “They’re Russian Bratva, but American Russian Bratva. The Romanovs. Mikhail Romanov’s the head. Zoya’s related.”
She nods. “Yes. What about Boston?”
“Why do you ask about Boston?”
“Because there’s a long history of Boston Irish.”
“True. The Rossis. We know the Rossi family, but they’re Italian mafia.”
“Right. That was the man with blonde-gray hair who was there the day of the bombing, wasn’t it? His sister’s Marialena Rossi. She’s a friend of a friend of Bridget’s.”
I nod. “Aye.”
“Okay.” She submerges lower in the bath once again so the warm water laps up to her chin. “Oh, this feels good. Have you seen anyone from America recently?”
“Aye, lads who came by and tried to lie their way into The Craic.”
“Hmm. Interesting. Why would Americans even know this place existed?”
Erin’s piecing things together. I can see it in her eyes—the way they dart back and forth, calculating. She’s connecting dots I hadn’t even realized were there. The American terminology, the Boston connection, the timing of it all. Her mind works like a fucking machine, cataloging every detail, cross-referencing information I didn’t know she had stored away.
It’s brilliant, terrifying, and sexy as hell.
My phone dings with a text, and I immediately tap it, assuming it’s Declan.
It isn’t.
The terms and conditions have been laid out in our initial contract. As per our agreement, the tribute payments will now increase to every two weeks. Your next is due in six days
I blink at the screen and scowl. “Jesus Christ, I swear—”
Her eyes open wide. “What?” She takes a little washcloth from a shelf and starts washing her face and her arms, eyeing me thoughtfully. “What is it?” she asks warily.
I notice the way her fingers tap, even on the water’s surface. One, two, three, four.
I show her the text.
“How can they do that?” She shakes her head. “It’s almost as if they want you to find out.”
“Aye,” I say. “Or almost as if they want me to not pay.”
“And if you don’t pay, they’ll find a way to take your sister.” She squeezes the bridge of her nose and exhales.
“Aye. And there’s something I haven’t told you.” I sit on the commode, still clothed. I feel like I need to be ready, though for what, I don’t know.
She props herself up on her forearms at the edge of the tub, studying me as I tell her what a bollocks situation we're in.
“Every time payment’s due, something terrible happens. Something—it’s almost as if they’re trying to sabotage me.”
“Of course they are,” she says. “Who wants millions of dollars when they can have an actual kingdom? Makes total sense.”
God, I love the way she thinks. I love watching the way her mind works, the way she doesn’t try to sugarcoat or trivialize anything.
My phone dings with another text. And this time it actually is Declan, with file upon file of information.
“Okay, alright,” she says, nodding. “Show it to me. Give me some time. I want to take a look at it and see what I can find.”
I hand her the phone, watching as her eyes scan the information with laser focus.
This was the lass who aced every exam in school, got torn apart by the others for being too clever, and always handed in five pages when three were required.
Her brain is a fucking weapon, sharp and deadly, and I’m goddamn hard again just watching her.
She scrolls through documents, her fingers tapping that rhythm again. One, two, three, four. Financial records, shipping manifests, communication logs. Since Declan doesn’t know about the tribute, I kept neutral and only asked to see information that dealt with our adversaries and alliances.
Now Erin’s absorbing it all, filing it away in that magnificent mind of hers.
“Jesus, no wonder you got perfect marks in school,” I mutter. “You’re so fucking brilliant.”
She smiles. “Yes, this makes a lot of sense,” she says to me, not even looking up.
“What does?”
“It’s not someone here in Ireland, no… You have rivals, yes, but they’re too wise to how powerful you are here. And they know that if you found them out, you would destroy them. Right?”
“Right.”
“And then there are people like my da, who want to fortify themselves with your connections.”
“It’s a strange thing about connections with your da,” I say to her, shaking my head. “I’m not quite sure how he benefits.”
She gets a distant look and bites her lip.
“Erin,” I say warningly. She gets that look when she’s hiding something from me. It’s almost childish, vulnerable in a way that makes my chest tighten. “What is it?”