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My mind flashed back and forth between an older, lawyerly looking woman in a suit with brassy blonde hair and a pinched face to some woman who looked like she’d jumped off the screen of a post-apocalyptic world where every moment was life-or-death—short-haired, gaunt-faced, sinewy armed, utilitarian and masculine in dress.
I hadn’t imagined anything close to the reality.
A stern lawyer or dystopian warrior princess, she was not.
Gorgeous was the first word that came to mind. Followed by young. Or, at least, younger than I had figured. With the reputation she had when I had asked around about her, it seemed unlikely that she would be younger than forty. But, in reality, I figured she was maybe just barely in her thirties.
She had a short, compact frame with gentle, but generous curves, long, gleaming dark brown hair, almond-shaped brown eyes, and a delicate face.
She looked a little rough, pain clear in her eyes, makeup smeared, steps a little stiff and uncertain.
The effects of the drugs still having a grip on her system.
But still… beautiful.
Her voice—even when threatening homicide—was soft and soothing, and I figured that was something that worked in her favor in a negotiation, being able to calm both parties, soothe over frazzled nerves and raw feelings.
And she very, very clearly did not want to be there. Against her will. Facing me.
And, that was fair enough. I did have a reputation that preceded me at times. If she knew anything about crime in Greece, she would know I usually had my hand in it. And a reputation for being swift and ruthless when someone crossed me.
Then again, I’d been told about some of the deals she’d negotiated, and the men were the filth of the Earth.
But maybe because she’d done it in an official capacity with backup.
Or maybe she was just pissed about not being asked directly.
Both made sense.
Neither mattered to me.
She was going to do this job.
“She’ll be in a better mood once she gets some coffee,” Fenway said when she went below deck to change. “I did warn you she could be a little feisty.”
“A kitten is feisty,” Bellamy corrected. “Miller can be more like a panther or mountain lion.”
I imagined a woman who worked in her profession, who was surrounded by men in her office, had to be tough to get by.
Tough was good.
Tough was what I would need her to be.
Because the man who had my brother? He was someone who could give even me nightmares.
“Excuse me,” I said, moving to stand, deciding I wanted to try one more time. To genuinely get her interested. If all it took was money, that was fine. I had more than enough. I could always make more.
But by getting her on-board willingly, motivated by something she really wanted, she would work harder.
Even knowing she was gorgeous didn’t prepare me for the gut-punch of desire when I opened the door to the room to find her standing there in just a bra and panties that left half of her round ass showing.
It was immediate, overpowering, making visions of grabbing her and rolling around on the bed with her flash in front of my eyes. That would be one good way to do away with some of the stress that had been choking me for the last five days.
Five days.
I had no idea what he was going through, what was being done to him.
For five fucking days.
“How long has he been hostage?” Miller asked, chin lifted, refusing to cover up. Which I respected, but was finding it damn near impossible to focus.
“Five days today.”
“And who has him?”
“Atanas Chernev.”
The way her lips parted at the name, and head fell back a little, told me that she knew exactly who I was dealing with. And how bad this was.
“The heroin drug lord of Bulgaria, Atanas Chernev?” she asked for clarification.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure he has your brother?”
“I got a video. Yes, I’m sure.”
“How did he get your brother?”
“He goes to school in Athens. He was supposed to be safe there. I had men there. No one should have been able to get him. But he did.”
“What does he want from you?” she asked, gaze direct.
“He wants to be able to operate in my country.”
“Your country.”
“Yes, mine. No one operates in Greece without me knowing. From the dealers down to the neighborhood bookies. I have the final say on who does—and who does not—work in my country.”
“Why don’t you want him to operate in Greece?”
“Because he can’t be trusted. Because I can’t trust him. Because that shit is doing enough damage already, I don’t need someone ruthless like him pushing more of it into hands, ruining lives, families.”
“Now, to get your brother back, are you willing to give on that issue a bit?”
“Not as much as he wants me to.”
“This is the part where I should tell you that the smartest thing to do is to let my boss and his team come in. I am only part of the package deal you can get there with Quin. Negotiations are important. But I don’t think I need to tell you that if they don’t go well, you need a backup plan. You need to be able to extract your brother safely.”
