Page 112 of Beguiled

If this was all an elaborate plan by Mikhail, he was mirroring what he’d done with the Irish before. Pitting one crime syndicate against the other. I’d need to have a long chat with Sean about the fighters. My guess was the dead man had fought at the Strike Zone at least once or twice. Sean might not come to every fight, but he’d keep track of who stepped foot inside his club.

“Why is someone dead set on killing me?”

Her question was honest and asked without much if any emotion. It also deserved an honest answer. With a slight tilt of my head, that’s exactly what I gave her.

“Because you belong to me.”

CHAPTER 24

Stash

“Looks like you had a round with Tyson,” Roman said as soon as I stepped outside into the light. He’d seen me after a fight, my face almost always bloody. But not usually with my own blood.

“Except he’s dead.” Before leaving the house, I’d grabbed additional magazines of ammunition as well as a few tools so I could gain access to the two apartments. In addition, I’d brought with me a fingerprinting kit. The asshole who’d attempted to send me to my maker hadn’t worn gloves.

Most crime syndicates didn’t waste time trying to hide their members’ identities. Unless their sole job was a hired hitman. The attack on Saige had amateur written all over it.

Why bother trying to make the other girl’s death appear as a suicide? Tawny’s name still didn’t ring a bell, but the first call I’d made when stepping outside had been to Dimitri, waking him from a dead sleep.

He remembered the girl’s name. That was a step in the right direction.

I pressed the tip of my tongue against the split that continued to ooze blood. A small price to pay for taking out my rage. “The other asshole doesn’t look much better.” Pavel approached, shaking his head. “We found the vehicle. And a car that smashed a mailbox. Both on the street behind us.”

“Good,” I told them while heading toward the body with my men following. At least six had already shown up, the need for them to protect my premises only the second since I’d moved to New York. As I’d done before, I crouched down by the body, my soldiers doing the same. “He was trained, including in martial arts.”

“Maybe one of the fighters.” Pavel suggested.

“I’ve already thought of that. I’ll need to get a list from our Irish friend.” He wasn’t wearing the ballcap. Maybe he’d left it in the SUV. I unzipped his jacket, searching for anything that could identify him.

I had no intention of stripping off his clothes.

“I don’t recognize him,” Roman muttered.

When I stood, the other two did as well. “I didn’t think we would.” I pulled out my phone, taking a couple of photographs. “But I might know someone who does.”

“He could be any nationality,” Pavel added.

Which meant nothing. “I have a guest, a young woman who was at the Strike Zone the other night. Pavel. You will stay with her inside my home until I return. Roman, coordinate with the other soldiers. They’ll be keeping watch on the exterior. Ms. Mitchellwill be my guest for some time. I want her fully protected, including driving her to and from work when necessary.”

“Where does she work, boss?” Pavel asked.

I didn’t like to expose my private life, but I had no choice. “With me. She’s my financial analyst.”

The two men looked at each other. They’d yet to see me with a woman. Roman had been supplied by Dimitri, Pavel coming with me from Moscow. As far as both men were concerned, I was nothing more than a damn priest given my lack of interest in women.

“Yes, sir,” Roman answered for both. ‘What about our friend here?”

“Have our friend and his ride deposited into the Hudson for a nice long voyage out to sea.”

I could tell both men were surprised. Why? Because I wore Clark Kent glasses? The idea amused the hell out of me. “Pavel. The car in the wreck. Have it towed to our favorite mechanic. I want it in top shape when it’s returned.”

“I’ll handle it, boss.” Pavel grinned because he thought he knew me. On day one of stepping foot inside my father’s house, he’d been brought in as my personal bodyguard. He’d seen me through every stage of coming to terms with accepting my father’s role in my life.

From rage to despondency, throwing irrational tantrums and spending way too much time in the arms of a woman. Then all that had stopped cold turkey. And they thought my brother Mikhail had gone nuts. I was certain the jury was still out about me.

Mikhail. I’d thought of him one too many times in the last few weeks. I’d ignored the ugly thoughts, but they were continually creeping into every moment. Maybe karma was trying to tell me something. To tell the entire Chertov family something important.

I shook off the thoughts for now.