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Donnacha
Aisling’s on me like a seagull on fries when the doors slide open to the penthouse. “Don! What the hell happened? Where have you been? Where’s Romy? Every time I come up here, she’s not here and—”
My men dragging Mak out from behind me makes her stop in her tracks. Her jaw swings open, eyes popping out of her head. “Oh, no. No, no, no,” she whispers, walking backward until she trips over an armchair. “I don’t need to see any of this. Oh, god.”
“Relax.” I clip over my shoulder, and my men get to work unlocking Mak from the chair. They drag him by the elbows and dump him on the sofa. “I’m not going to hurt him.”
Mak’s eyes slash up at me in disbelief. “You’re not?”
“Aisling, get this kid a glass of water, then get the hell out of here.”
She stutters for a moment, then scurries away. She drops a cup of water on the coffee table, giving the glaring blond kid a wide berth. With a shake of her head in my direction, she disappears into the elevator.
I jerk my chin toward the kid. “If I take those cuffs off, you gonna try to swing at me?”
“Won’t know unless you try.”
Despite everything, his shit-talking makes me smirk. I can see why he and Romy are friends. I rub my hand across my jaw to hide it and sink into the armchair opposite him. While my men unlock the handcuffs weighing down his arms, I take the chance to really assess him. My wife’s best friend and former roommate. Sandy blond hair, pale skin. Would be boy band–worthy if it wasn’t for that angry scar interrupting his eyebrow and the bags under his eyes. They look too heavy for a kid his age.
“Tell me what you know about Belsky.”
“Already told you,” he quips back, rolling his wrists. “He’s an asshole.”
“Yeah, kid. Gonna need a bit more than that.”
He studies me, lips pursed. Then he greedily gulps on his water like he’s never had a drink in his life.
“You ever heard of the St. Nicholas Orphanage?” I shake my head. He huffs. “Didn’t think so. When the Bratnovs ruled this city, it’s where they’d dump all the kids produced from their sordid affairs. The idea was that they’d leave you to rot there until you were eighteen. But there were always these…recruiters hanging about. Associates of the Bratnovs—we called them Vultures ’cause that’s what they were. They picked the prettiest girls to be whores, and the strongest boys to become sixes.” He glances up at me. “That’s the lowest ranking position in the Bratva.”
“For some crazy reason, I know how the Mafia works,” I say dryly.
He flashes me a cheeky grin. “Just checking.” The nerve of this kid. “Anyway, Romy learned to fight ’cause she didn’t want to become a whore.” His whole face darkens at the mention of her name. “One of the best fighters I’ve ever seen.”
A hiss escapes my teeth, and I grind my molars to stop a wry smile from stretching across my face. “That’d explain a lot,” I mutter. “Carry on.”
“Belsky was one of those Vultures. Had his eye on her since she was twelve. Every time he’d see her in the courtyard, he’d promise her the position of a fighter.” He laughs bitterly, then bites his bottom lip. “The lying bastard. One night, he came into the dorms looking for her. Tried to get into her cot and do things that no grown-ass man should even think about doing to a young girl.”
Suddenly, her words swim around my head. I don’t like being touched. The memory slashes an angry wound across my heart, and the thought of that slimy cunt touching her makes me want to burn this entire city down. But I clench my fists to keep my emotions in check.
Mak continues. “He didn’t realize I was in the cot next to her. Always was, ever since the other Vultures started slipping into the dorms at night too. Long story short, that’s how I got this.” He points a swollen finger at the scar on his forehead. “He beat the shit out of me.” He shrugs. “I was only sixteen. But if I had a crack at him now…” His nostrils flare. “Fuck, man. I can’t believe she’s been working with him all this time behind my back.”
I’m beginning to see why.Although rage swells in my chest like a helium balloon, I keep my composure, knowing I need to get as much information out of this kid as possible.
He takes a deep breath and carries on. “When you guys killed the Bratnovs, the orphanage got shut down real quick. They chucked all the kids out on their asses, and it was a mad scramble to find work. I’d just turned eighteen, so I was preparing to leave anyway, but Belsky made sure none of the associates still knocking around after the fall would touch me.” He scowls and adds, “I managed to meet a patsan from the St. Petersburg Bratva while he was on business over here. He promised me I’d be a six for a year, tops. Yet here I am, still smuggling diamonds and weapons in backpacks on red-eye flights.”
I twist my ring around my finger, mulling this over. The St. Petersburg crew is no joke. “Do they know about Belsky’s plans to take over the city?”
“Course. They talk about it all the time. News travels fast around the families, and they’ve been keeping a close eye on him from the motherland. He’s been doing this for a decade, you know? That’s what my pakhan is so fascinated by. On the continent, those guys see what they want, and they take it. Belsky is a new breed. He wasn’t born into a family. Instead, he bankrolled a lot of the Bratnov’s businesses, and that’s how he was connected to them. Paid for drug shipments from the Vargases, diamond shipments from the Van der Boors. They were fascinated by how he’s playing the long con.”
When he stops talking, I let the room fall into silence. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I watch him as he drains the water, then looks around expectantly. One of my men glances at me from the corner, and I nod to him. Get him another.
“Why are you telling me all this, kid? Do you have no loyalty to your Russian brothers?”
He snorts. “Why are you asking me all of this?” A fresh cup of water lands in his hands. Over the rim, he adds, “None of this shit is relevant to you.” Gulp, gulp. “Seems like you’re interrogating me as a way to put off what you know you need to do but won’t, which is kill Romy.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard.” Realizing he’s overstepped the line, he shifts in his seat and lowers his tone. “I saw how you looked at her down there. She’s worked her way under your skin, and now you don’t know how you’re going to dispose of her without hurting yourself.” He leans forward, peering at me. “I’m well aware of who you are, Mr. Quinn. If your men hadn’t bundled me into a car so viciously, talking about how you’ve married my best friend, I would probably let you know that I kinda admire you. You’re ruthless. And I know a man like you wouldn’t keep this traitor alive unless you loved her.”
