Page 124 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation
“I can’t use Seamus or the Murphys. They’ll just take it from me and go after you.”
“Then they’ll have to die.”
“I have no love for them. I just want my sister back,” I say, trying not to shake.
“Good. Then use that key.”
“I don’t… I don’t know what it’s for.” I manage to stop myself from saying I don’t have it.
He sucks his teeth. “There’s an address with it. Go and all will be clear.”
“Don’t talk in idiotic riddles,” I snap. He hasn’t pulled a gun on me, and I think he needs me, but it’s still stupid to snip at him. “Iosif only gave me the key. I don’t think he wanted me to get involved.”
“Fucking bastard.” He lets me go and it takes everything in me not to run. “Use the key.” He recites an address and I recognize it as one of the Volkov storage places. “It’s locker forty-six. A big one.”
The lockers are good moneymakers, easy to use, and they come without risk because people in the know can store whatever they want. Cash keeps everything untraceable.
“What’s in there?” I ask.
“A bomb. You can take it or leave it along with the papers. Or you could earn my gratitude by removing the Murphy clan from this planet.”
“You mean blow them up?”
“Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”
Is he insane? I don’t want to do his dirty work, even if I did want them all dead. But I don’t. Not anymore. However, I don’t say that.
“I have no love for the Murphy clan. They want to steal my bratva.”
His eyes gleam and his smile widens. “So work with me. Take the bomb, lure them to their demise.”
“And my sister?”
“Do this,” he says, “get me the papers, and she won’t be harmed.”
“Give me a number.” I want to rub my arms so hard that I can practically feel bruises form, but I don’t. “This won’t happen right away. I need to use them to get to the papers. I need time to search.”
“You have until three a.m. tomorrow.”
“Give me a number,” I say again.
“I have yours. I’ll be in touch. Use that key.”
“And if I double-cross you?” I force myself to ask even though I already know the answer as dread floods my veins.
“Then,” he says, “a small life ends.”
He pulls out a phone and opens it, then shows me a picture of Tatiana and a woman.
“I think we understand each other,” he says.
“Yes,” I say, “I think we do.”
He turns and crosses the road, then gets into a car. I watch as it drives off, and all my senses burst into life.
I wait there for what feels like hours, but it’s probably only minutes.
“You know, sweet thing, you forgot your gun. Did you kill someone for me?”
