Chapter 23

Twenty-Three

Leaving Nikita in bed was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. That's saying a lot because I have had to kill a lot of people in my lifetime. I have had to put my life on the line for the ones I've loved.

Yet seeing her black hair flowing out over the pillow around her as the blissful look I know I caused rests on her face? I could have lived in that moment with her for the rest of my life.

Unfortunately, I still have work to do. I need to make the world safer for her. So I had to leave her lying in bed all alone, the blankets pulled up around her. It will be worth it when no one is stalking her anymore. When her father is out of the picture.

My line of work will always be dangerous, but eliminating the threats to her will always be the easiest part of it.

"Good of you to finally show. Callum said I should have expected you this morning. It's now"—Finn looks at his watch—"two in the afternoon."

"I had shit to handle. What has he given you?" I nod to the man he has strung up.

"Eh, they trained him well. He's not talking. I'm having fun playing with him, though." He smiles at the man, which only makes him cringe.

Finn is a bit unhinged, so I'm not surprised. It's one of the reasons I had him on her that day. I know without a doubt that he would do some shady shit for her. Hell, he once disemboweled a man for a fucking Klondike bar. I mean, it was a bet, but he still fucking got his damn ice cream.

I'm glad he's on our side.

"I figured as much."

I grab my burner laptop. The one I use in these situations when I might not want to keep it afterward.

Using my arm, I swipe Finn's many tools to one side of the table.

"Hey, be careful. Those are my babies."

"You use them to gut people and you're worried about me putting them in a pile?"

Finn scoffs. "That is their job. When they are not working, they deserve to be treated with respect."

Then he comes over, picking up his tools one by one and rearranging them on the table.

Demented, I tell you.

I continue to type on my computer until I pull up the footage from the diner. I've already looked at it several times, but it's time this fucker looks at it too.

Turning to the man, I point at the screen.

"You don't have to say anything. I can clearly see you right here." I pause the screen. "Next to you is Roger German. Behind him…" I unpause, then pause on the next two men. "That's Rico Fernandez, and then the man who I know to be your leader, Linus Peckofski. I know that you four started your own little band of misfits. I also know that you don't fall under any syndicates and prefer to work on your own. You can stop me at any point if the information I have is wrong."

I know it's not. I've hacked every single one of this man's financials, social media, hell, even the porn website he uses. I know where he prefers to buy his lottery tickets and exactly how much he spends on that juvenile body spray that smells like regrets. There isn't a thing about this man's life I don't know.

He doesn't know that, though. I can tell by the look on his face. I'll give him credit. Physical pain isn't the way to get to him. He's trained himself to endure. Mentally though? No one can truly prepare for mental warfare.

I click to another page. This one shows his bank account. "Looks like before you went to the diner, you stopped at the Quick Stop and ran your card for $17.89. Enough for a pack of cigarettes, a pack of gum, and a drink. Lemonade to be specific. Shall I keep going?"

I look up at him. He's paler, but still not ready to talk. He's getting the point.

Switching to another tab, I start clicking through the photos.

"This is Ella. She's your niece. She just turned four. She enjoys princess cartoons and butterflies. Her mother is Annabel. She works part-time at the grocery store as a cashier. She's unmarried and her deadbeat boyfriend bailed when Ella was born, taking all the savings she had." The next photo pops up. "This is Francine, also known as Frannie. Next to her is Ed. Your parents. They live in a little one-bedroom efficiency apartment in the Glendale project. Third floor in the South Tower. Apartment 3B. Francine and Ed go for daily walks to stay active. That's quite important to keep your health well. It would be a shame if that backfired on them."

My mouth tastes like ash as I speak the threat. There's no way we would ever consider hurting these people, but he doesn't know that. I can tell by the way he has lost all color.

"Don't hurt them. They have nothing to do with this," he growls.

"Oh I am well aware. I hate that I even had to invade their privacy. See, I have surveillance on them as we speak." I switch to the live view. "Francine is cooking some pasta dish. Looks delish. Ed is watching some daytime show. I think it's the one where they guess if he is the father or not. Little Ella is currently playing dress-up while Annabel folds clothes."

"Okay. You've made your point. You can hurt people I love. What do I need to do?"

"You'll turn on your friends so quickly?" I ask.

"They aren't even my friends. We just met through some people and found out we were good at the same thing. Running hustles. Doing odd jobs."

"So how did this job come in? What was the end goal?" I hate the way I tense waiting for the answer.

I can't kill this man. Not yet.

"Some guy came to the clubhouse. That's what we call the little beater house we got down on Lowe. We have no clue how the guy found us, but he promised to pay us fifteen million to complete a hit for him. I didn't want to do it. Neither did Rico. Linus and Roger agreed to do it before we even had a chance to talk about it. Linus told us to come as backup, and he would do the actual deed. We were just there as background players. We were supposed to cause a scene. Rob the place to make it seem like a robbery gone wrong while he did the task."

I punch him in the stomach, making him groan. He's already cut to hell and bleeding, but hearing him talk about murdering my woman so nonchalantly makes me want to punch him in the fucking throat. Gut him from top to bottom so slowly that he would feel every single ounce of pain.

I can't, though. Not until we get everything we need to know from him.

"What the fuck? I'm talking," he coughs out.

"That's my wife you are so casually talking about killing, so yeah, you got fucking hit. Tell me about the man."

"He was tall. I'd say about six-two. Dark hair. Like pitch black practically. He has it cut short. He's white, pale-skinned. He sounded American at first, but Linus tried to get more money out of him, and I heard him say something in another language under his breath. Sounded like Pridoorak? That's probably wrong."

I'm already typing it into the computer how it sounded. I focus on Russian first. I get a hit right away. Pridurok. Moron. He called the guy a moron. That was his slip. That's how we catch him.

"Who is the man with the package? Why was he there?" I ask.

"We thought he was just a delivery man. Linus was pissed he came in. He distracted her from coming back to the table. He was getting antsy to get the job over with. He noticed the man sitting across the street and knew you were sending men in every so often. He thought this was our window and needed it done quickly. The delivery man got in the way. Especially when the other woman screamed, startling us all."

Of course he wasn't related. At least as far as these guys know. Finn already talked to the delivery boy. He was just a kid who was paid five thousand dollars to wait for Linus to walk into that diner before delivering that package. The same man making attempts on my wife's life is also saving her. Stalking her.

"Anything else?" I spit out through clenched teeth.

"I can give you whatever you want. The address to the clubhouse. The phone numbers of the other members. Where they hang out. Everything."

"I don't need that, Frederick. I already know all of that. I'm one of the best hackers in the city. In fact, at this very second, I'm betting your friends are all being rounded up for their own interrogations. I'll be nice, though. Since you were the first to squeal like a little piggy, we will give you the best deal. You'll still die. You have to, but we will let your family live. We will make it look like an accident so they don't know what a scumbag you are. Instead of taking the money in your account for us, we will give it to them. Sound fair?"

He swallows hard. "Thank you, sir."

It's a shame. He has potential. If he wasn't a little shit who tried to kill my wife, I might even recruit him for our dock crew. You can't be in the family without being Irish or married in, but we have plenty of room in our adjacent crew who handles some of our dirtier tasks. Our expendable army.

Holding my hand out, Finn hands me a knife.

"This is for my wife." I stab him in the gut, letting him hiss with the pain.

Then I pull out my gun, pulling the earplugs from my pocket to protect my hearing.

"This is your mercy," I tell him.

Then I put a bullet between his eyes.

One down, three more to go.

Waking with a stretch,I can feel the smile on my face. My body is sore, but it feels so good. Especially since I know what caused it.

I frown when I realize I'm in bed alone. I wouldn't have minded another round with my husband.

My husband.

If you had asked me a couple of months ago if I would be happy to be married, I would have thought it wasn't possible. Yet right now, I am blissfully happy. I feel like I'm floating on cloud nine. Nothing can bring me down.

Turning over, I smile when I see a note, my phone, and that black credit card on the nightstand.

Picking up the note, I run my fingers over his scratchy writing. There's something so masculine about it. I love it.

Wifey,

I'm sorry I had to leave you. You look so beautiful sleeping peacefully. I'll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, decorate our apartment so it's less of a showplace and more of a home. One we can share together.

Your husband,

Declan

My heart is galloping in my chest. It's such a small thing. A little note that doesn't even really say much, but it says everything I need. He's in this with me. We are a team.

After taking a pit stop in the bathroom to clean up and change, I make my way back to the living room to study the area.

I know I said I wanted it to be more homey, but I've never actually had a home. I'm totally out of my depth.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I call Autumn.

"Have you finally come to your senses and realized that you are being ridiculous about avoiding me so you are going to come visit so we can have a girls' night and you can tell me all about why I heard about Declan going all possessive caveman because you were almost killed?"

She sucks in a breath at the end of her very long and rambling sentence.

"You going to let me speak?" I tease.

"I'll allow it."

"I'm not risking Emily. I haven't changed my mind on that. However, I do want your advice. Declan gave me a credit card and told me to make it feel more like home, only I'm not sure how to do that."

"So you want decorating advice? I think we need to conference in the others. I can totally help you cleanse your place and give it the right vibes, but I have a feeling my sense of style is way different than what you and Declan would consider homey."

"That's fine. I just didn't want to bother them."

She huffs. "You aren't bothering anyone. They love you like I do. Call them when you need stuff. That's what friends are for."

"They are your friends. I'm not sure they feel the same about me."

"You are stubborn as hell. Hold here."

I hear a click. After a moment, two other voices come on with Autumn's.

"Hey, Nikita. Everything good?" Cleo asks.

"This bitch just said the dumbest thing to me," Autumn starts.

"Please, don't," I argue.

"Oh, we are having this out right now. She doesn't think you guys want her in the friend group."

"What? Of course we do. You're one bad-ass bitch. You were willing to take on an army for us. You can't buy loyalty like that," Cleo starts.

Miya cuts in. "I had my reservations, but that had nothing to do with you. I've been burned pretty badly in the past. I have trauma that I'm still working through. I want you here, though. Besides, who else am I going to talk about Godzilla with? They don't watch shit like that."

I smile as I remember the conversation we got into at girls' night that had the other two looking at us like we were crazy.

"I don't want to be a burden. I never have," I admit.

"You aren't. You're one-fourth of this kickass group of Chicago queens," Cleo proclaims.

"Can me and Nikita really be queens? Our men are second in command," Miya muses.

Autumn chimes in. "A man doesn't make a woman a queen. Only she does with the heart she carries in her chest and the vibes she puts out in the world."

"Well said, Autumn," I tell her.

"To the Chicago queens," Miya yells.

We echo her.

"So for real, what are we doing here? What's wrong? Do we need to hurt Dec already? I thought for sure you were making progress," Miya says.

"No. Nothing like that. I just, uh, need to decorate our apartment to make it more homey, and I'm stuck."

Miya chuckles. "Is it a total bachelor pad? Beer cans. Dartboard on the wall. Gaming system hooked up to the television?"

"Worse," Autumn says.

"Way worse. It's empty. As if no one lives there," Cleo adds.

"I guess all the stuff that is here, Tristano bought for him. I don't know if he really likes it or not. He doesn't seem to care either way."

"Why don't you ask Tristano for help then?" Cleo asks.

I consider this a moment. "I could, but he kind of intimidates me. He's really sweet, but that high energy he has is out of control. If I called him, I'm afraid he'd be on a plane here and take the whole project over. I want this to be something I do for Declan and me, with maybe a little help."

"I get it," Miya says. "I have an interior designer we use at the hotel when we make changes. I'll send them over. You want them now? Trisha can probably be there in twenty minutes."

"Yes, please. Tell her I have no idea what I want, so bring whatever she wants."

"Got it," Miya replies.

"Thank you, ladies," I tell them, feeling like I found my tribe.

"No need to thank us," Autumn says.

"We always got your back," Cleo adds.

"You're one of the Chicago queens. It's an exclusive club that is a lifetime membership. There's no getting rid of us now."

I smile as we hang up the phone, feeling better than I have in a long time.

I go to the door, opening it to find Seamus on the other side.

"Can I help you, Mrs. O'Brien?" he asks.

"I have an interior designer coming by soon. Can you bring her up when she gets here?"

He frowns. "Declan said no visitors."

I think about it a moment. Then I pull out my phone and dial his number.

"Wifey, I miss you," he answers.

I smile. "I miss you. Can I have an interior designer come to the apartment? Her name is Trisha, and Miya recommended her."

"Of course, mo chroi. I'll let the guys know. They will vet her before she comes in."

"Thank you, babe," I test out.

"Babe, huh?" he teases.

"I need a nickname for you. I'll keep trying."

"I like the sound of hubby," he says.

"You're ridiculous. I'm hanging up now."

"Be good, wifey. I'll be home as soon as I can."

"Goodbye, snookums."

I hang up as I hear him laughing on the other end of the line.

Smiling up at Seamus, I tell him, "He said he would let you know it's fine."

"He's happier with you," he says suddenly.

Then he pales.

"Please don't tell him I said that."

"Your secret is safe with me."

Closing the door, I go to straighten up the apartment more. It's already clean, but I'm nervous. What if he hates everything I do?

Soon enough, there's a knock at the door. When I open it, I find a tall blonde who could be a model.

"Trisha?"

She nods. "You need to decorate?" she asks, looking around the apartment.

I frown. I'm not sure I like her tone. She seems bored. Almost as if she doesn't want to be here.

"Yes, as you can see, it's a bit sparse. My husband and I would like it to feel more like a home. I was thinking maybe some warmer tones. Burgundy, browns, creams. Like fall?"

"I guess that would work. At least in this area. What about the bedroom?"

She heads off to that area without waiting for me. I sigh, already knowing I'm going to have to get rid of this chick. I have no clue how Miya uses her.

"A double bed? How do you fuck?" she bursts out.

I feel my mask fall into place. This woman is vile.

"That's enough. I think it's time you leave."

"I'm sorry, Miss Smirnov. I didn't realize you would be so sensitive. I mean, you didn't even want to marry the man, right? Does he even fuck you, or are you just a charity case?"

I've charged at her before I can even think. I reach out, grabbing her hair, but she only laughs.

Then I feel a prick in my leg as my body loosens. Within seconds, my vision grows blurry.

"Sorry, girl. Your real man is waiting for you, and let me tell you, he fucks like a champ."

That's the last thing I hear before I pass out.