AllFreeNovel
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“You won’t.” I mean it.
Five minutes later and Sean is holding a stack of port records and I’m watching his face intently. I can tell he’s working something out in his head.
“Care to share?” I ask coyly.
He considers me for a while before answering. “Popov has been a worsening pain in the ass for a while now. Your ships match up with some interesting events that have happened recently. I think Popov is trying to expand his operations into mob territory and doing a shit job of it.”
“How so?” I realize I’ve switched into reporter mode.
“Well, for instance, weapons trafficking. That’s traditionally an Irish operation, but guns are showing up that we certainly aren’t selling, and we sure as shite aren’t selling bloody rockets to MS13.” He takes a hearty drink of his whisky.
“Popov is in business with MS13?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Someone sold them some heavy weapons, and only a lunatic would trust those psychos with them. We wouldn’t. Hell, De Luca is an asshole but he’s not suicidal. He wouldn’t either.”
I remember back to the Spanish-speaking men I saw in the bath house. “I think he might be doing more than just selling weapons.” I tell Sean everything I remember about that day. “Why MS13 though?” I muse.
“Were any of your dead girls Latina?” Sean gives me an icy look.
Well, fuck. “You think MS13 is sourcing girls for him as part of their business deal?”
Sean nods. It seems reasonable to me.
He’s standing by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city. He seems deep in thought, and I leave him to it for several minutes. Finally, I break the silence.
“Sean?”
He turns to look at me.
“Are you going to kill me?”
He looks me up and down, with a slight smirk turning up the corner of his mouth.
“It’s a reasonable question, Sean.”
He flat out laughs. “It is. But I’ve never had anyone just casually ask me if I planned on killing them.” He comes to lean against his desk, next to me, his eyes searching mine. With his superior height, and the fact that I’m still sitting in his chair, he towers over me. The effect should be intimidating, but I’m oddly at ease with him.
“So, I would really appreciate an answer to that, ya know.” I’m not usually impatient, but I am a bit invested in this particular topic.
He smiles. “No, lass, I’m not going to kill you.” His smile turns almost mischievous. “But I still don’t know what the hell I’m going to do with you.”
“I suppose that’s fair.” I laugh. I pick up my empty wineglass and wander back to the kitchen.
When the hell did I get comfortable casually strolling through a gangster’s apartment? I refill my glass and walk out to the patio with the beautiful view of Central Park. On the other end from our dining area is a comfortable-looking outdoor sofa, which I promptly curl up on. I swirl the wine around in the glass, watching it almost slosh out before coming back into the center. It’s mesmerizing. I’m glad Sean isn’t planning on killing me, though it occurs to me that I never really thought he was, even if his mood can be a little… prickly.
I think back to the mind-blowing sex in the shower. No normal woman would jump a man’s bones minutes after someone else tried to rape her. There is absolutely something wrong with me. It was just so, so right. Exactly what I needed. I never thought I would getcomfortfrom sex, beyond the obvious physical rewards.
Fucking Christ, we didn’t use a condom.Goddamn it. I clearly remember thinking ‘fuck it’ at the time, a pure ‘holy hell do I need this man inside me right now’ moment. In hindsight, not the best plan. Thank God for birth control. A sudden mental image of Sean chasing around little mini-mobsters makes me snort.
I’m lost in my thoughts and don’t hear Sean walk up from behind me. He gently lays a fluffy throw blanket over my legs.
“Thank you.”
He sits next to me on the sofa, sharing my Central Park view. “You’re welcome.”
I finish the glass, when the bottle suddenly appears. “You brought the bottle?”
“I like to plan ahead.” His Irish accent accentuates the playfulness in his voice. “Why does this mean so much to you?” he asks me after filling the glass.
