Page 55 of Kissing Danger

“Ow. Ow. Stop. Let go.” He batted ineffectually at my hand. “What? People are supposed to think I’m in charge. That’s the whole point, right?”

“Yes.” I twisted his ear hard enough to shake his whole head, waiting until his flesh turned a painful red, then let him go. “But it seems like you’re starting to believe it as well. What is this nonsense? Secret dealings with the Vidales family I could almost understand. But Interpol? You’re trying to bring the law down on me?”

Zaur didn’t answer, just rubbed at his abused ear, and scowled at me like a chastised child.

I could feel the weight of so many shocked expressions as everyone in the room stared wide-eyed at me. I didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with them, so instead, I knelt beside Deacon and untied him.

“Sorry about this. I didn’t realize things had gotten so out of hand.”

Deacon massaged his wrists and gently touched the back of his head. “It’s fine. I’m— Ow!” He flinched when his fingers made contact with the back of his skull.

Pulling his hand away, I checked the area for myself. There was a tender spot on the back of his head where he’d obviously been struck, and a small cut to his scalp oozed crimson. It was a small wound, less than half an inch long, and wouldn’t requirestitches, but the sight of Deacon’s blood still made me snarl with anger.

Glaring over my shoulder, I caught the eye of the man who had forced Deacon to bow earlier. He was one of Zaur’s favorite lackeys and the man was used to a certain level of privilege. However, he now seemed to sense that his privilege didn’t extend as far as he thought, and his gaze shifted toward the floor in a show of submission.

“So let me get this straight,” Deacon said, unconcerned by the wound on the back of his head. “This guy,” he pointed toward Zaur. “Is the leader of the Chechen Mafia. But, not really, because you…” His finger swung toward me in accusation. “Are actually in charge.”

“I’ll explain in a minute,” I said as I helped him to his feet. “Let me take care of things here first.”

Deacon still didn’t look happy, but he at least didn’t argue so I was free to address my brother.

“What is this about, Zaur?”

Crossing his arms, Zaur hesitated and refused to look directly at me. The two of us were similar in appearance, which wasn’t surprising considering our father’s strong bloodline. The biggest difference was our age. He was over a decade younger than me, closer to Deacon’s age than my own. To make up for it, he was always trying to make himself appear older with finely tailored clothes and a full beard.

I’d tried to tell him so many times that no matter how he styled himself, his attitude and posture would always give away his age, but he refused to believe me.

It sometimes baffled me that people honestly believed he could lead anything, let alone one of the top Mafia families in the world. He had his uses. Since everyone thought he was the one in charge, he was good at pulling strings. It had come in handy when I needed to get myself and Deacon out of police custody as soon as possible. However, making his own decisions had never been Zaur’s strong point. That was why we had agreed to this arrangement in the first place. So, he could enjoy the privileges of power without having to actually bear the weight of leadership.

I didn’t say a word, and just continued to stare at him in a silent demand for answers. The tactic had worked when we were children, and it still worked on him now.

In less than a minute, his resistance crumpled.

“I’m tired of being your figurehead.”

Other than our ages, one of the other differences between us was our height. I had a few inches on him, and I used them to my advantage as I confronted him.

“So, you want to be the one in charge now?”

“No,” he shouted, fists clenched at his sides. “I want you to take your position as the leader properly. No more skulking around in the shadows. You’re the one in charge, so you should be the one under everyone’s scrutiny. I’m tired of being your middleman and relaying your orders. Relay them yourself.”

My laughter bounced around the penthouse with such a sharp edge, it was a miracle I didn’t cut the paint from the walls.

“You spoiled bastard. Have you really grown so lazy that you can’t even handle the illusion of leadership anymore?”

“Hold on,” Agent Belden cut in, nearly stepping between us. She realized this was a bad idea just in time to stop herself, but still dared to jab a finger into Zaur’s shoulder. “We had a deal. You promised to hand Sterling over to me so long as I left your organization alone.”

Zaur rolled his eyes again, and this time I almost joined him.

“I lied, obviously.”

“You—” she started to argue, but never got further than a single word. For once Zaur and I were on the same page. Zaur pulled out his own gun and we both shot the agent at the same time.

Two bullets hit her square in the chest. She froze, confused about what had just happened.

A drop of ruby red blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. Wiping it away, she stared at the red stain on her fingers for a moment, brow furrowed in concentration. Then, like someone had flipped a switch and turned her off, she dropped dead to the floor.

I gestured at her with my gun, giving Zaur an incredulous look. “Really. You made a deal with Interpol?”

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