Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Ivan’s all bollocks and no brains. He’s been loafed in the head a few too many times to count, and all he’s really good for at this stage is muscle. I’d venture a guess that the circus would be better suited to him than the Russian mafia.
I take up a seat on my blood spattered desk and cross my arms.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Ivan?”
A grunt comes out of his barrel-shaped chest as he stabs a meaty finger in my direction.
“Alexei tells me you are protecting the girl.”
Fucks sake. These guys and this fucking girl.
“Ye didn’t need to come all the way down here to confirm that. I would’ve told ye over the phone.”
His buzzed head rattles sideways in disgust.
“She is a liability,” he spits.
“Not to me, she isn’t.” I meet his gaze. “But I didn’t do her father in, either.”
His nostrils flare and I’m surprised there isn’t steam coming out of them. This bloke reminds me of a much bigger and dumber version of Donovan. No telling how many bodies he’s had to put in the ground to cover up his hot-headed agenda.
“She tell you this?” Ivan asks.
“Nah,” I reply. “Saw the police report. Ye left your fucking brand right on his forehead for the world to see, champ. If ye go down for this, it’s because of your own genius, not the girl.”
He curses at me in Russian, calling me a filthy dog. Probably doesn’t have a clue I know exactly what he’s saying. I don’t like this prick. Part of me hates him on Mack’s behalf. It was his temper that set into motion the events that molded her into the person she is. The girl who had to fend for herself on the streets at the age of thirteen. All because this cockhead couldn’t handle his ego.
“I want her dead,” Ivan says.
The muscles in my body burn with a rage I’m not wholly accustomed to. I’ve half a notion to pummel Ivan into the bloody floor and add to the mess. I feel protective of Mack. Too much so. I need to cop on to myself and remember the big picture here.
“It’s not up to you.”
He glances at me and shrugs. “How much will it take?”
“Nothing. It’s non-negotiable.”
He doesn’t blink. Or move. His eyes are dull and he isn’t listening to a goddamn thing I’m saying. I doubt very much he’ll back down on this. If Viktor knew he was here, he’d have his nuts. But Ivan knows I won’t rat him out.
“Tell me why ye want her dead,” I insist. “She saw nothing. Knows nothing. So why?”
He shrugs. And there it is. It’s the principle for him. Mack is the reminder of the father who beat him in the ring. The one he could never measure up to. Watching her fight triggered his ego.
“Ye need to let it go, Ivan,” I warn him. “For the sake of the alliance. The girl is under my protection now, and nothing ye say will change that.”
His eyes pinch together and his arms set to twitching. He’d like to off me too, no doubt. If it were any other day, he might’ve even considered trying. I’d be glad to tell him the feeling’s mutual. Ending this prick for Mack would bring me nothing but warm fuzzies in my chest. But with the way things are right now I can’t.
He legs it towards the door, but pauses to look back at me.
“Consider it forgotten,” he says. “But you should keep a close eye on this girl. At least with me, her death would be swift. I can’t promise the same for the others.”
Chapter Seventeen
Mackenzie
Having Ronan around to babysit me all day meant that I couldn’t check out Lachlan’s house like I wanted to.
Doesn’t really matter though. I highly doubt he has anything here. The place is pretty sparsely decorated, with only the basics. The few things I did get a chance to look through- his bedroom and his medicine cabinet- held nothing of importance.
So instead I use every one of the nine hours that Lachlan is gone to annoy the hell out of Ronan. I can tell he wants to be here just about as much as I want him here. He’s a soldier, I think, but he’s by no means the lowest on the totem pole, I know that much. Lachlan wants him with me for a reason. He trusts him not to touch me, and also, probably, to protect me. However, it’s obvious by the permanent scowl on his face when he’s around me that he thinks his services could be put to much better use. He’d rather be out there on the front lines, protecting Lachlan I’m sure. It’s typical of the men in this sort of mafia organization to have a brotherly bond, but I suspect that Ronan and Lachlan’s runs deeper. That’s something I’d like to investigate further, but I doubt he’s going to give much up. He’s too smart for that.
I grill him with questions, most of which he doesn’t answer, and then I try to get him to run me to the store. The only way to liven this party up is with some booze. He mutters something about not going anywhere while the Armenians are on the loose and then goes back to reading.
On a whim, I ask him a silly question to try to get a rise out of him. But I’m surprised by his response.
“So what do you think of Sasha?”
His brows shoot up and he glances at me like I’ve just uncovered one of his dirty little secrets. Hm, what an interesting development this is. He adjusts his collar as though he’s suddenly getting hot, and the slightest tinge of pink creeps over his cheeks. Whooda thunk that the cranky Irishman has a thing for one of the dancers?
“She’s pretty, huh?” I push.
He shrugs. “I guess. As pretty as the rest of them.”
“She’s wicked flexible too,” I egg him on. “Have you seen her on stage? Holy shit, that girl’s gotta’ be a freak in the bedroom.”