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“You have balls, Mr. Rogan,” Yuran said in a heavy but understandable Russian accent. Sean knew it was fake. Yuran was Russian, but he’d been born and bred in the U.S.A.
“So I’ve been told.” He didn’t sit until the bodyguard motioned for him to do so. When he did, the guard moved to prevent him from suddenly leaving.
“Do you know who I am?”
“More or less.”
Yuran said, “Your brother put a hit out on me ten years ago.”
“You must have come to an agreement. You’re still alive.”
Sean had no idea which brother Sergey Yuran was talking about. It could have been Liam, since Liam was in Europe, but Liam wouldn’t have put out the hit. He’d most likely have killed Sergey himself, if he felt strongly about it, but Liam didn’t feel strongly about much of anything. He didn’t see Duke putting a hit out on anyone, even a cold criminal like Yuran, but Duke had surprised him in the past. Kane? The most likely.
But Sean didn’t ask. He knew whom to get the answer from later.
“Why do you come to speak to me?”
“Roger Morton was killed last week in Alexandria. Friday night, around midnight, take or leave.”
“If I had killed Mr. Morton, there would be no body to find.”
“I have no doubt. I didn’t think you killed him. He was in D.C. to meet with someone regarding a special business opportunity, similar to the business he ran with his dead partner, Adam Scott. You might know him as Trask.”
Sergey laughed heartily. “Ahh, Trask. He let women control him. Just because you kill a woman doesn’t make you a man. I suppose it was—what do those God people say? Divine providence? Fate?—that had one of his girls killing him in cold blood.”
Sean had to use every ounce of control not to react to Yuran calling Lucy one of Scott’s “girls.” Whether Yuran knew anything about Lucy or not, Sean didn’t know, but he didn’t want her on his radar. Yuran was watching Sean like a hawk while pretending to be more interested in the scantily clad female bartender working behind the bar.
“Why you come to me?” Yuran asked, sipping his drink. “Why risk your life? I could kill you and no one would find your body. It would be extremely satisfactory to send your head overseas.”
It had been Liam. What was he up to? Ten years ago? But that was a story for another day, because Sean had to focus on finding Morton’s killer and making sure that Lucy wasn’t in danger.
“Your name popped up as a former associate of Trask Enterprises. I’m not interested in your business. I’m only interested in finding out who Morton was meeting in D.C.”
Yuran was quiet, assessing Sean with a blatant interest, running through every possible scenario in his head. Sean knew because he often did the same thing.
“I have no reason to help you, Mr. Rogan.”
“Of course you do. It’ll be your good deed for the year.”
“I don’t do good deeds.”
“Might as well start now.”
He knew something. Sean felt it in his bones. Yuran stared at him for over a minute, then said, “I didn’t kill Roger. He wasn’t worth a bullet. But I did hear about a new venture. It wasn’t Roger asking, however.”
When Yuran didn’t continue, Sean barely restrained himself from prompting the Russian. There had been a subtle shift in the bodyguards behind him, but Sean didn’t feel that the threat level had been raised.
“Word came down from a scumbag named Ralston. I heard he was spreading the offer far and wide, and I don’t appreciate competing for business. I had Johan follow up—” Yuran looked at Mr. Big Guy. “What did you learn, Johan?”
“Ralston was full of shit.”
Yuran smiled. “Someone put the word out and used Ralston to do it, but when I showed interest, it dried up. Frankly, Mr. Rogan, if I may be blunt, I wanted to gut the prick for wasting my time. But I have a heart.”
Sean smiled and Yuran smiled back. Coldly.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Yuran.”
He stood. Big Guy didn’t budge until Yuran nodded so faintly Sean almost missed it.
