Page 6 of Reckless Seduction
The surprise on my father’s face when Vasily Ivankov darkened our doorstep, alone and unarmed, had been earth-shattering.
That one had balls of steel, which was the only reason my father heard him out rather than simply shooting him and dumping his body in Lake Union.
Another sister.
At first, I thought the man was trying to blow steam up our asses, but there was no denying the truth when he pulled out her picture. Fuck. Ava could be our triplet. We look that much alike, with our ginger hair and vibrant green eyes.
Then he told us a story.
Her story. As much as he knew, anyhow.
Where she’d been. How she’d gotten there, and it made my blood boil. Still does.
In the Kavanaugh family, we have one saying.
A statute we live by.Fola roimh gach ní eil.
Blood before all else.
She’d been Elias Ward’s prisoner. Locked away, believing that the family she had didn’t care about her.
They beat her.
Used her.
God knows what else Ward did to her before handing her over to Dashkov as a fucking bargaining chip to save his pathetic son’s life.
Cac. Fuck.
Elias Ward was lucky he was already dead.
“We do have a slight problem, though.” I clear my throat, setting down the towel on the bar as I turn to face my father. “Someone saw us take out Jimmy.”
My father pauses in his cleaning, looking at me askance.
“Did you take care of them?”
I duck my gaze away from his, heat blooming up my neck in shame, but I’m not second-guessing what we did. It was the right thing.
“No,” I admit, swallowing back the lump in my throat as I prepare myself for his disappointment. “She’s… Kiernan’s taking her upstairs.”
Leaning back against the bar opposite me, he crosses his arms against his chest, eyebrows raised expectantly.
“It’s a woman?” he asks. I bite my lip and nod. “If you keep her, you know what is expected,” my father warns me, his gaze hard and serious.
“Yes, sir.”
“You and Kiernan will be responsible for keeping her in line.” He turns back to finish putting away the glasses. “She needs tounderstand this lifestyle and what she’s given up in exchange for her life. If she escapes and goes to the cops, it’s on your heads.”
“I understand.”
“Good.” My father gives me a curt nod, but I breathe easier when I don’t see any disappointment in his eyes. Simply a warning. “Now, bus those remaining tables. Natalie had to leave early. Text your brother and tell him to report to me later when he is finished getting the girl settled in.”
And just like that, I win.
Sort of.
I smirk at the thought of training her to be the perfect mafia match. My hands on her porcelain skin, punching, caressing, tweaking. Will she take my punishment with regality, or will she fight me? Fight us? God, I love a good fight, but there is something sweet about a woman who submits.
