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That’s got my attention.
“Who?” I bark out.
“The Russian mafia.”
I almost can’t control the laugh threatening at my lips. Of course it’s the fucking Stepanovs. The biggest threat to the Connolly empire. The world isn’t big enough for us all, and we’ve slowly been picking them off, one at a fucking time.
Thebratvawill use her any way they choose until the debt is paid.
My second reaction is more knee-jerk. It has to do with a deal our fathers made when we were young, and Serenity and I meant to honor. The thought of the Russians having her? That has me gagging for a fucking battle.
“How did you slip away?” I ask Serenity.
She turns those baby blues on me full force. And there I see the first glint of steel that always made up her hard core. “Nathan said there was no point in trying to run because they were coming in right behind him. I made up that I wanted to gather some things first…then I jumped out the window and made a run for it. I ran as fast and as far as I could to the one person I know can protect me—you.”
My first response is that I don’t want involved. Not with her, her family or the fucking Russians.
But then I back the fuck up.
Taking down the Stepanovs has been my family’s number one MO. If I can somehow use Serenity against them and possibly take down the entire den of wolves? I’m going to fucking do it.
It only takes me a second to realize that I’ve made up my mind to help her.
I don’t want to think too hard about my other reasons.
I must be fucking crazy. My brothers are going to bust my nose—again. And while I’m bleeding, my old man will jump in and finish the job.
Why am I doing this? It’s a way to hurt the Stepanov family, in particular, Sergei. More of the snake chopped off. Eventually there won’t be enough to continue slithering through this city.
I study Serenity. God, she’s even more beautiful standing here shaking with fear. I feel myself growing hard for her…for the way she trembles.
I could take her, and she couldn’t stop me.
But even if I do, she can never be mine.
Chapter II
Serenity
My first impression of Heath Connolly is he’s not the same boy I knew.
Before life got hard and my father turned informant on the Irish mafia to save his own skin. When I was passed to the family of a friend, given a couch to sleep on and the scraps of food the family didn’t eat.
Before I was forced to do anything to survive—even offer myself to the man of the house, which pretty much ended any hope of fulfilling my father’s agreement to the Connollys to wed Heath.
I cut my eyes over him.
And I thoughtIwas a hard bitch. Looking at Heath, I can see he’s endured much worse.
He’s even more gorgeous than the day I last saw him. Those brooding good looks of a boy too old for me back in high school have turned into the devilishly handsome appearance of a man.
Few could ever tell the blond-haired, blue-eyed Connolly triplets apart, but I could. There are subtle differences—some I can’t even put to words—but I’d know Heath from a mile away.
If blindfolded, all I’d have to do is hear his deep, rough voice. The tone used to light up my world. I had nightly fantasies to the memory of that voice.
Now it’s cold, hard and brutal.
He braces his legs apart in a don’t-fuck-with-me stance. I have no prayer of hurrying him along in his decision to help me or not. Right now, I’m certain he’ll throw me out on the streets. If he does, he’ll be signing my death certificate.
