Page 27 of Reckless Seduction
This woman is a fighter.
“Tell me who put a hit out on our sister.”
This must be the woman Jimmy Burlosconi had been hired to kill. What an idiot. Anyone with half a brain would have stayed far away from the contract, no matter how much money was put down. Not only is she obviously involved with the head of the DashkovBratva, but she is also a Kavanaugh.
What a fucking idiot.
“Very well.” Liam inclines his head at me. “Then you may call me Liam. Seamus and Kiernan, you obviously already know.”
Cue heated cheeks.
“They did kidnap me,” I point out somewhat jovially to deter attention away from the embarrassment creeping up my neck.Does he know what the twins have done to me?Kiernan pinches the bridge of his nose and groans quietly next to me, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair. If they expect me to be intimidated or frightened, they are in for a surprise. I’m not some wilting flower or damsel in distress, and I sure as hell am not going to be cowed by the amount of power sitting at this table.
I will, however, crawl under the table at the first sign of a sexual innuendo.
Even Superman has his Kryptonite.
“Indeed.” The corners of Liam’s mouth turn up slightly. At least I amuse him. That is better than annoyed or aggravated. “This is my eldest daughter, Avaleigh.” He motions to the woman sitting across from Seamus, who winces at the use of her name.
“Ava is fine.” She sighs as she puts her hand on theBratvaleader’s shoulder. “This is my husband, Matthias Dashkov.”
Ah, yes. I remember hearing about the Dashkov wedding. Lucille, who had been the journalist covering the extravagant event, had gone on an immediate sabbatical after the wedding turned into a massacre. Elias Ward’s daughter, Libby, had been brutally shot, and several others had lost their lives as well. If it wasn’t enough of a showstopper, the FBI rolled in during the aftermath and arrested the surlyBratvaleader for murder.
Those charges were false, of course. Matthias Dashkov has been getting away with murder for years. He wasn’t about to be caught on camera killing his rival. They just needed a reason to hold him. I wonder why? I covered the arrest, but since it led nowhere, the story ended up dead in the water. Even the FBI refused to comment on why they had let him walk out.
I could ask him.
“We’re acquainted.” Matthias shoots me a dark look. Nope, I will not be asking him anything at all. But then again, even if I don’t want to get eaten, that doesn’t mean I can’t poke the bear a little.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” I tilt my head. Even sitting, I have to angle my chin up slightly to look him directly in the eyes. The man is tall.
The Russian smirks dangerously.
“Detective Monty Belgrade told me all about your invested interest in the fire at the shipping port not that long ago,” he lazily explains, as if it is somehow common knowledge. “And your interest in the explosion at the Ward stables. Both times, you’ve tried to muscle your way into the investigation and into interrogating the freed women. He thought that it was something I’d want to be aware of.”
Fucking Monty.
Never trust a cop whose name sounds like it comes straight out of a bad eighties television show.
Several weeks ago, there had been a fire at the Port of Seattle, where investigators found containers of kidnapped women along with drugs and weapons that were smuggled from overseas. Not long after that, the Ward stables, where Lina had been investigating the trafficking ring, also exploded and caught fire. More than a dozen women were there as well. I’ve been attempting to get an interview with the rescued women since the incidents but have been blocked at several turns.
Someone, no doubt Dashkov, had completely annihilated Elias Ward’s shipping containers down at the port. The ones that hadn’t been blown to smithereens had been holding the women and illegal contraband.
They had to have come from Elias’s stables, which meant that one of them might have seen Lina. When the stables also blew, I tried to find Lina, or someone who had seen her. Again, I’d been blocked at every turn for a chance to talk to any of them. I even used my father’s name.
That had not gone over well.
“Should have known he was dirty,” I sneer. “Especially with a name like Monty.”
Dashkov chuckles. “He’s not as dirty as you think,” he tells me, nodding his head in thanks to his wife as she hands him his plate. Yum, BLT sandwiches. My favorite. “Monty is actually a very good cop.”
“If you say so,” I snort, making a grab for a few slices of bread. Seamus smacks my hand away. “Hey.”
The asshat doesn’t bother to respond. He simply sweeps my plate away and grabs the slices of bread himself to begin layering a sandwich.My sandwich.I want to remark about how I can plate my own food, and I’m not some child, but one scathing look from him stops my complaint dead in its tracks.
Great.
“I do,” Matthias continues, amusement written across his face as he watches my frustration mount at having the twins make my food.
