Page 96 of Possessive Mafia Vows

If Sasha Bogrov finds out what’s been going on, there’ll be nowhere for my brother to hide.

For a large man with the hugest hands I’ve ever seen, Patrick’s thumbs are flying nimbly across his cell phone’s keypad. He peers at me with a smile.

“I’ve arranged for a friend to meet us at Dublin airport. He’ll take us to Sinead Duffy.”

We find Sinead Bogrov nee Duffy in the spa at Lough Eske Castle.

Patrick’s friend, a giant of a man with a scar puckering his top lip and a missing front tooth, gains us entry to the spa, whilst ensuring that the staff allows us some privacy for our ‘surprise reunion with the cousin we haven’t seen in years’.

“Sinead Bogrov?”

Her face is buried in the hole at the head-end of the massage bed, a towel covering the lower half of her body. The room is bright, airy, and serene. Relaxing music plays through an invisible speaker. The temperature is perfect, conducive to falling asleep while the masseuse works her magic on strained back muscles.

Her shoulders bunch up, and I almost feel sorry for spoiling the massage before it has even finished.

Almost.

She rolls over, covering herself discreetly with the towel, and slides her legs gracefully over the side of the raised bed.

Sinead Bogrov is an attractive woman. Her hair is darker red than Sienna’s, thick curls framing a pale freckled face, and clear blue eyes the color of the sea on a summer’s day. Her face is makeup free. Flawless. I’d guess her to be in her mid- to late-thirties, but she is obviously a woman who takes care of herself.

“You know that I can have you removed from here in a heartbeat.” Her Irish accent has been tamed, but there’s no mistaking the gentle lilt.

“Yet you haven’t.” Patrick holds her gaze. “Because you know that it would get back to Sasha, and the less he knows about what goes on here the better. Am I right?”

Her eyes harden. “What do you want?”

“My brother Cash has been arrested for a murder he didn’t commit.” I step in. “You know that he is innocent.”

A flush appears high on her cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking ab?—”

Before she can finish, Patrick twists her arm behind her back and tilts her neck sideways, his fingers hovering over the Vagus nerve on her throat.

The blue eyes grow stormy, but she doesn’t lower her gaze or beg him to stop.

Patrick nods for me to continue.

“We know that you were with Cash the night that Luca Benito was murdered.”

“So, what do you want me to do about it? Stand up in court and confess to fucking your brother while my husband was growing his empire? Do you really want to be responsible for Cash’s death?”

Her voice cracks when she speaks his name out loud. I might be wrong, but I believe that she cares about him, and Cash’s silence, even though she could provide him with an alibi, indicates that he might feel the same way about her.

Or perhaps jail is simply a better option than death at the hands of her psychopathic husband.

“That’s not the reason why I’m here.”

She blinks several times, trying to figure out what comes next. “I’m listening.”

“The woman I love has been abducted by someone who is working for your husband. She is being held somewhere in Ireland.”

“Ireland is a big fucking country, you know.” There’s the Irish accent I was waiting for.

“But who better to tell me where she might be than Sasha Bogrov’s wife?”

Her chest rises and falls with the effort of breathing, while Patrick’s hand is around her neck, and her arm is forced behind her back. “Sorry, I can’t help you. I’m sure you can find the way out by?—.”

Patrick applies pressure to her throat, and she groans out loud.

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