Page 63 of Marked

The guy on the screen looked to be in his mid-thirties and was not at all what I expected. He was gorgeous––in a bad boy sort of way––dressed in a tailored, three-piece navy suit, which highlighted his steel-blue eyes. Thick, jet-black hair fell to the top of his shoulders and his beard was more of a five o’clock shadow.

“You’ve got a bit of drool on your bottom lip, Lanie.”

I flipped Keaton off.

“Vlaschenko was born here in the States. He lived with his mother in Philadelphia and they both traveled back and forth to Russia several times a year to spend time with his father. Twenty years ago, his dad, who was the Pakhan atthe time, along with his mom were gunned down on the street near St. Petersburg. From what my sources tell me, Zak believes the Bolotovs are responsible for their murders.”

“Why in the world would a guy with this much power risk it all by meeting with the FBI?”

Noah’s point was valid. Involving the feds when you could simply pick them off one by one didn’t make sense. The Russians have done everything to stay off our radar, yet this guy was essentially putting a big target on his back. For what?

Nelson continued, “Zak doesn’t just want to take over the Bratva. He wants to destroy it from the inside out. What better way than to turn their entire operation legit right under their nose. It’s like a big F you to the family who made him an orphan. Cooperating with us is just a bonus. At least that’s my working theory.”

“Your theory? You don’t know any of this for certain?”

“No, Keaton, I don’t. Not a hundred percent anyway.”

Continuing on with his mini interrogation, Noah posed the question we were all thinking. “Where does the gray part come in?”

Duncan, who’d quietly stood at the back of the room, came forward. “This operation is not sanctioned by the FBI. In fact, Waverly was specifically warned to keep her distance from Vlaschenko.”

“Can we cut to the chase?” I looked between Waverly and Duncan. “You’ve been talking in circles for the last ten minutes. What exactly would we be helping this guy do?”

The hair on my neck stood on end when Waverly joined us at the conference table, focusing all of her attention on me. I had the distinct impression none of us were going to like whatever she was proposing.

“Intel shows that Vlaschenko has requested numeroustimes for a face-to-face with Machail Bolotov. So far, every one of those have been denied. The reason I was instructed to stay out of Bolotov’s business is because the Department of Justice has issued several warrants for his arrest. The DoJ feels their racketeering charges trump my murder for hire. I disagree. Problem is, no one’s been able to find him. He disappeared from their radar a few weeks ago.” She folded her hands on the table in front of her. “But we believe there’s a way to get him to come out of hiding.”

“How?”

“By dangling a carrot in front of him.”

“What carrot?”

Goosebumps broke out all over my body. From the look she gave me, I had the answer before Duncan voiced it. This wouldn’t go over well.

“You.”

Noah exploded, “No fucking way!”

He flew out of his chair so fast, it collided with the wall behind us. Keaton was instantly in front of him, talking in a low voice, trying to calm him down. I was too stunned to move, or maybe impressed was a better word. Waverly was willing to put her job on the line, her career, in order to keep me safe. Yes, part of keeping me safe involved putting me smack-dab in the middle of danger, but I had to give her props. It was a solid plan of action. Unfortunately, the odds of convincing Noah of the same were slim to none.

“Find another fucking way,” Noah roared.

“You know this is the best solution,” Duncan returned.

Koen dashed across the room, but neither he nor Keaton could stop what happened next. My Cowboy, the love of my life, grabbed the front of Duncan’s shirt with one fist and swung with the other. He was either monumentally foolish orinsanely brave. I was leaning toward the former, considering our supervisor had six inches and about thirty pounds on him.

“You only get one, Noah, and that was it.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure your jaw broke my knuckle.” He opened and closed his fist, flinching with the movement.

“Good.” He shrugged. “Have Lanie teach you how to throw a decent punch and that wouldn’t happen.”

“Better yet.” I finally moved. “Let me make my own decisions instead of flying off the handle like a hormonal teenager.”

“She’s got you there, brother.” Keaton clapped him on the shoulder.

“Nobody asked you.”

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