Page 23 of Possessive Mafia Bodyguard

“He chickened out of completing the course.” Connor nods in the direction of the retreating golf cart, a smile on his face.

“At least he doesn’t expect you to let him win because he’s the boss.”

Connor laughs out loud. “He’d see straight through it anyway.”

We walk towards the hole so that Connor can increase his lead further. Golf has never been my forte, give me a wrestling match any day, but I’m not here for the game.

“Sicilian don connected to the Pakhan’s wife on the hole in front of us,” he keeps his voice low. “He’s with the police commissioner and Chad Chalmers the politician. Andrej Ivanov was here earlier. We saw two suits, potentially Russian or Eastern European when we arrived, but didn’t recognize them.”

“Foot soldiers?”

Connor shakes his head. “My guess is a rival family from the way they shook hands with Ivanov. Dour faces and not an ounce of compassion between the lot of them.”

“Maybe they want in on the action.”

Back in Dublin, when I was old enough for Seamus Kavanagh to train me for the bodyguard role he had in mind, I gave him an ultimatum: he took on me and my brother or neither of us. It could’ve backfired on me, but I already knew that if the Kavanaghs didn’t want us, someone else would. Someone who deserved us more than our pisshead of a father who’d already devoted his life to Mr. Guinness and Mr. Jameson.

It turned out that Seamus Kavanagh had an eye for folk’s strengths. He saw the same loyalty in Connor as he saw in me, but more than that, he recognized my brother’s sharp mind and attention to detail. It’s how we ended up in Chicago together.

And neither of us has ever looked back.

Well, Connor hasn’t.

I went back home one last time once we’d both found our niche within the Kavanagh mob. Our pa was passed out on the living room couch in a stinking puddle of his own urine, surrounded by empty bottles and leftover food the mice wouldn’t even touch. He didn’t hear me come in; he didn’t hear me leave.

He would never hear anything again; I made sure of it. He would never hurt anyone again either.

“I need your help.” I peer around the green to make sure no one is within earshot.

“Go on.” Connor keeps walking and I match his pace.

“Ivanov’s enforcer. I need to find a way to keep her safe.”

Connor doesn’t miss a beat. “Does the enforcer have a name?”

I smile to myself. “Tamara.”

“Does Aiden know about this?”

“No.”

I need to figure this out before I speak to my best friend. If I can go to him with a plan, I know that he’ll do everything in his power to make sure she isn’t involved when shit goes down. If I go in blindsided by whatever this is that’s going on between me and Tamara, he’ll want to help, but he’ll put his own interests first because he’ll see me as the weakest link.

“I will tell him… when I’m ready.”

“Okay.” Connor’s eyes are on his golf ball which landed on the putting green, giving him an inevitable hole-in-two. “What does she know about their current operations?”

I can already hear his brain shuffling facts and opportunities around like a deck of cards. “I can’t be certain, but I don’t think she’s aware of the trafficking.”

My brother turns his cool blue eyes on me. “You’ll have to give me more than this. If you’ve drawn conclusions, I need to know how and why.”

So that he can look at the situation objectively, which is exactly the reason why I’m talking to him rather than Aiden.

“She was at the port last night. We…”

A lopsided grin tugs at one corner of Connor’s mouth. “You fecking kissed her, didn’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”