Page 46 of Possessive Mafia Bodyguard

“He wasn’t being accused of anything.”

I inhale deeply and release a shaky breath. In for a fucking penny… “Is Leonid Ivanov trafficking women and children from Russia and Eastern Europe?”

“No. Do you have any idea⁠—”

I raise a finger to her lips to hush her, and she cuts off mid-sentence. “Does he have any evidence that Aiden Kavanagh is involved in illegal trafficking?”

She hesitates, her eyes distant. “No, but I heard Victoria say that the Irish…” Her voice trails off.

“The Irish have what?”

“She said the Irish have been sucked in by the Petrovs…”

The pieces are starting to slot together. “The Petrovs wanted us to believe that Leonid Ivanov is guilty.”

It all makes fucking sense now. Tamara and I were at the docks on the same mission that night: we were both trying to get information on the trafficking operation.

“You’re not working with them?” Her eyes have softened, and I can see the woman I fell in love with gazing back at me.

My cock can see her too. “No, we want to stop them. Only, we thought that your Pakhan was guilty, and I was so fucking scared that you’d get caught in the crossfire that I’ve been trying to figure out…” I puff up my cheeks and release another shaky breath. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to protect you.”

“I can protect myself.”

“I know, sweetheart, but there’s no harm in doubling up.”

Her expression remains serious. “If you knew Leonid, you would understand that he would never⁠—”

Voices sound from inside a room further along the corridor, and I open the door closest to us and drag Tamara inside with me, shutting it behind us gently.

The room is small and stuffy, and when my fingers locate the light switch, I realize that we’re in a storage closet, the shelves piled high with cooking equipment and cleaning products. I press a finger to her lips as the voices pass by the door. Her heartbeat is racing beneath her leather jacket. But her eyes don’t leave mine.

“You were saying…” I prompt.

I’m reluctant to let her go. I haven’t been alone with her in over a week, and her body pressed up against mine has reminded me of just how much I’ve missed her. It isn’t about the sex, although I could spend the rest of my life fucking her and die the happiest man on the planet. It’s about getting to know her. Tamara. Not the woman employed as Leonid Ivanov’s enforcer but the woman hiding inside the shell.

“I should go. Leonid⁠—”

“Can take care of himself for an extra five minutes.”

She chews her bottom lip, and I drag my thumb across it, leaning closer. “He might not always follow the law,” she murmurs, “but he would never get involved in trafficking.”

“I believe you.” My lips brush hers, heat traveling straight down to my loins.

“No, you don’t understand why he hates it so much.” Her eyes are pleading with me, and my chest cracks open a little wider for her, if that’s even possible.

“I’m listening, mo féileacán.”

I cup her face with my hand, and she nuzzles my palm with her cheek. The gesture is so tender, so sweet, that I would lie down and die for her right now if that’s what it would take to gain her trust.

“What does that mean?” she whispers.

“My butterfly. That’s what you are, my butterfly.”

Her lips curve into a small perfect smile. “You think I’m fragile?”

“Not at all. I don’t think butterflies are fragile either. How far do you think my arms would carry me if I tried to fly?”

Her smile grows wider.