Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

DECLAN

The entire drive to the club is spent thinking about Quinn and how fucking stubborn she is. With every block that passes, I find myself growing more concerned that she isn't going to adhere to the single rule I left her with. After pushing the Bluetooth button on the steering wheel, I transcribe a text message to her.

I was, and am, very serious about not leaving the house, Quinn.

Her response flashes across the screen almost instantly.

QUINN

Really???

Because it kind of came across like you were joking and didn't mean it.

My fingers flex around the steering wheel, and I hit the button on the touchscreen to dial her number. I don't give her a chance to speak when she answers the ringing phone, immediately snarling, "Qui?—"

"Relax, Dec," She interrupts me with an exasperated sigh. It's so obnoxious that I can practically hear her eyes rolling. "I got it. We won't leave, and I'll guard your little treasure like she's my own. Just know this is something that I want to discuss with you later."

"My rules aren't up for debate," I snip.

"Well, that's good because I said I plan to discuss them with you," she retorts, oozing with sass. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a very important princess tea party to return to."

The line goes silent.

Did she really just fucking hang up on me?

I am fuming when I pull into the club. I slide out of the Suburban and slam the door shut, only to be met with a deep, hearty laugh. "Things going that well?" Liam stands by the parked car beside me with an amused smile. He gestures at his car and instructs, "Get in. I could use some help, and you look like you could beat the piss out of someone."

He isn't wrong. For as long as I can remember, Quinn has had a way of getting under my skin, unlike anyone I've ever met.

"Where are we headed?" I inquire as Liam pulls from the lot.

Weaving through the city traffic and heading toward Brighton Beach, he answers, "I got a lead on how to get to the Pakhan."

In the hour it takes him to get to Brooklyn, I repeatedly pull up the security feed on mycell phone to check the cameras. Each time, I find Quinn and Fiona in the apartment, laughing and having fun together.

"You gonna watch that thing all day?" Liam asks, eyeing the livestream on my phone. "It's Quinn. You know you can trust her with Fiona." As much as I hate to admit it, I know he's right. I'm the one who has repeatedly failed her; Quinn has never given me a reason to have any doubt in her.

Liam pulls his Maserati to the curb, which stands out like a sore thumb against the Chevys and Nissans parked along the street. He gestures toward asmall coffee shop. "This way." I follow him inside, past the counter, and straight toward a backroom.

The windowless office is dimly lit, the few flickering fluorescent lights flashing over the cheap wood paneling on the walls. A grotesque, portly man with gray hair and an unkept beard sits behind a wooden desk covered in papers. The thick air is full of overwhelming scents, the coffee, cigarette smoke, and baked goods doing nothing to mask the rank body odor of the man before me. Smoke billows from his mouth with every word he speaks. "To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from not one but two Evans brothers?"

"Cut the shit, Akim," Liam leans in close, and I can't help but wonder if he is holding his breath. "You know why we're here. We want the Pakhan, and rumor has it you will succeed him. It's in your best interest to cooperate."

Stepping closer and leaning over the desk separating us, my stomach churns at his increased scent. "Just tell us what you know—we don't have to make this an uncomfortable situation. Understand?"

Akim's eyes dart between us, and he swallows hard. "I might know things, but I'm going to need some assurances."

"Assurances?" Liam questions.

"I need you to do something for me." He cocks a brow as he takes a long drag of the cigarette hanging from his lip. "Prove to me that you're going to uphold your end of this deal and that you won't double-cross me once you get what you want."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me?" I huff. "You want us to work for you ?" The room falls silent except for Akim's heavy breathing, only further polluting the air flooding my nostrils.

"One of my guys ran off with one of my whores." Akim pauses as he crushes the cigarette butt into an ashtray before pulling afresh one from the near-empty pack on the desk before him.

"You want us to bring them back?" Liam asks.

"Her. Bring Kira back. Her sweet little cunt hasn't worked off her debt to me yet," a wicked smirk spreads across his face. "Kill Luka. I have no use for disobedient soldiers who think they can fuck my girls for free."

I shoot a glance at Liam, hoping he tells this disgusting slob to go to hell, but he doesn't. "That all?"

"I have one other small ask," he speaks slowly, his accent more pronounced, "but after you bring me back my Kira." Liam nods, and I'm ready to crack him for committing us to this job. "Rumor has it they are hiding out in Chinatown."

Akim slides a photo across the desk until it's before me. On it is a beautiful young blonde. She barely looks old enough to buy herself a beer. Swiping the photo from beneath his hand, I tuck it into the pocket of my jacket without taking a further look at it. Deepening his tone and raising his voice to be heard outside this office shouts, "Now, get out of my office and get the fuck out of Brighton!"

I bite my tongue until we are back in the car, immediately unloading on Liam once the doors are shut. "You can't be serious about working with that fat fucking slob! Or putting him in charge of the Bratva."

"Fuck, no!" Liam spits, gunning the engine. "The minute I get what I want, I'm going to cut his throat and watch smoke billow out of him like a fucking chimney."