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Petrov chuckles, leaning against the fireplace, his hands buried in his suit pockets. Niall doesn’t trust Petrov’s causal stance, shifting his own to move closer to me.
I don’t blame Niall’s twitchiness. Petrov might be barely thirty, but he’s a lethal bastard. I don’t know his history, but he made waves in the Boston Underworld when he was named one of Igor Andreyev’s Two Spies. As the Obskchak, a part of his job is to keep the peace between the Boston Bratva and the other underworld organizations.
“I’m here to see Yahontov. It’s a meeting that doesn’t concern you.”
Amusement flits across Petrov’s face. “If a Fitzpatrick is here to see one of the Avoritets, it concerns me.”
Arrogant shite. “It’s about the poker tables.”
He waves his hand dismissively. “My whole night was about the fucking poker tables. I have no idea what grown men see in a card game.”
Well. That’s insulting. “Just because youhave no skill.”
A smirk appears. “I have great skill. It makes it much less fun when you look around, and all you see are people’s hands written across their faces in large numbers.”
“I’ve always found that the most fun part.”
“You would. That’s all you Irish seem to want to do. Drink whiskey, play cards, and throw fists.”
“It’s a nice way to approach life.”
Niall stiffens as Yahontov walks in through the archway from the dining room.
“Lucky.” He nods to me, standing beside Petrov, who casts him a lazy glance. “My apologies for last night. I should have disciplined outside the gambling hall.”
Shoving to my feet, I wave his apologies away. “You’ve already made your apologies to Seamus. I don’t need to hear them too. I’m here about next Wednesday.”
Yahontov hesitates, sighing as a look of resignation crosses his face. “I will stay away for as long as you require.”
“Not at all. I’m here to offer a dedicated table for you at your usual time.”
Petrov looks impressed before he tucks the sentiment away behind his usual deadpan demeanor. Yahontov is more emotive, relief flooding his face as a smile tugs at his lips.
“You are too good to me, Lucky.”
“I’ll expect you to remember this when the time comes.”
Both Russians offer sharp nods, Petrov straightening out of his slouch. “Consider it noted.”
Nodding, I hold out my hand, Yahontov and then Petrov shaking it. Niall walks sideways as we leave the room, his eyes never ceasing their sweep of the area until we are buckled into his SUV, pulling away from the curb.
“See, that wasn’t so bad. Was it?”
Niall glowers across the car at me. “Feck off, Lucky.”
Smirking, I turn my eyes to the road out the windshield. I mostly enjoy winding Seamus and Paddy up, but the Reaper is a fun target too.
Chapter SIX
CONNOR
Standing from the table, I collect my breakfast dishes, crossing and placing them in the sink as Andie is washing up the pan she used to make the eggs.
“It was delicious, lass,” I rumble. A hint of pink touches her cheeks – as it often does when I compliment her cooking or baking –I’m a sucker for punishment, so I enjoy putting it there, even if it’s torture to walk away.
Andie continues to wash the dishes, picking up my plate. I head out through the back door and into the cottage with a suppressed sigh. It’s just my luck that the only lass who piques my interest these days is the one completely off-limits.
Stepping into the cottage, I close the door, firmly turning my mind away from Andie, standing a handful of yards away washing dishes and focusing on the room in front of me.
