Page 95 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation
If Seamus said it, my temper would flare. But his brother?
I don’t hate him like I do Seamus. Do I trust him? No. I don’t trust anyone, not really, but…
I turn and study Romanov.
There’s a vibrancy to him, but not a pleasant one. He looks ready to combust from the heat making perspiration pebble on his forehead, and he pours himself a drink using small, jerky movements.
He’s nervous.
Or guilty.
“I already told you it’s not the cartel alone,” Romanov says. “Now everyone who wants clean smuggling wants an in with Volkov. I’m not saying the entirety of New York’s organized crime syndicate is wanting in, but those who turned up have an interest. They’re watching. Like I said?—”
“A girl and an Irishman mean it might be up for grabs.” But the expression on Callahan’s face is implacable. “And this Hank?”
“Your brother mentioned that name at my mansion.” Romanov takes a deep swallow. “Since then, I’ve heard it again. But only linked to the Lev group, which it seems has changed, according to word on the street. It’s more?—”
“International?” Callahan asks as his brother, Torin, comes in from another room with another one of Romanov’s men.
“One way of putting it,” Romanov says.
Torin looks at me but speaks to Iosif. “I think Hank’s a code name. Any thoughts?”
He shakes his head.
My chest is so tight with a tangle of emotions. Fear and hate, they’re the main two.
“Since when did the cartel want to use Russian routes? Work with the Italians? I remember Dad saying they stick to themselves. What kind of deal do you have with the cartel?” I ask.
He glowers. “I don’t have a deal with them. I met with them to tell them I have no control over you or the Volkov Bratva. They know I’ve used your shipping routes and they want girls moved. Fast. Without a trace. Guns, too. Drugs. I told them no.”
“The guy who grabbed her didn’t have a scar,” a voice says behind me. Tight, dark, full of anger. “Cleanup did the best they could with the man my dear wife here shot, but I’m sure there were witnesses. It’s broad daylight.”
“People around here know not to talk,” Romanov says.
Seamus is standing there, glaring, bristling with outrage in basketball shorts and a damp t-shirt.
I think I actually start to salivate. What the hell’s wrong with me?
“As I said, I didn’t meet anyone with a scar. If there was someone within the cartel like that, he didn’t come in. The talk was over and done within minutes. Yes, they wanted to know about working with me. I said no. Then they left.”
“Your wife’s right, Seamus,” Callahan says, eyes on Iosif. “The cartel is insular and doesn’t tend to work with others unless it’s something big and a way to take over.”
“See?” Iosif tosses back his drink, then pours another. “I warned you to leave the bratva be. You’ve got the cartel sniffing around now.”
Seamus walks over to me and hooks a hand around my upper arm. “Mikey’s outside, so I think I’ll take her home. I’ll see you there, Cal, Tor.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to say a thing, just drags me out, and I’m about ready to shoot him, except he took the gun. And it amazes me I only notice it now. Not that I thought I was holding the gun the whole time, but in the melee of me shooting, us running, me being shoved at his brother, I never noticed him grab it.
Like the jewels.
Like my missing crest.
And I wonder…
“Get the fuck in the car.”
The door is open and he pushes me in.
