Page 67 of Arranged Control

“Hey! I was enjoying that.”

I storm over, pull her into my arms, and kiss her hard.

She seems surprised but doesn’t fight it. I kiss her and keep her there, feeling the warmth of her, so relieved that she’s okay it’s almost painful.

“What was that for?” she asks, a little breathless when I finally let her go. “Is my cleaning kink starting to rub off on you too?”

“No, that’s not it. Actually, a little bit, but that’s not what this is about.” I kiss her again, trying to make myself calm down. “Stay here, okay? I need to sweep the apartment.”

She finally seems to notice my worry. “What’s wrong?”

“Just stay here.”

I slip away and keep my gun at the ready as I go from room to room. I’m extremely slow and methodical about it. When I’m satisfied there’s nobody lurking nearby, I finally put my gun down on the counter, still within reach.

I slump into a chair at the kitchen table. Alina sits beside me, rubbing my back. “What’s going on?”

“I went to speak with that contact I mentioned.”

“The one who wanted the scarves? Oliver, right? He comes into the shop sometimes.”

“He’s dead.” I stare at her grimly and place the note down on the table. “And I found this in his hand.”

She’s shaking as she reads it. Her face turns pale. “Is this real?”

“It’s real,” I confirm.

Her eyes meet mine. I see my own horror reflected in hers.

“It’s the same handwriting,” she whispers.

Chapter 21

Seamus

Ipark outside of an old, abandoned sporting goods store in the middle of a quiet strip mall. I cut across the bridge and follow the Belt Parkway to Brighton Beach. It’s nearly three in the morning, and the area is dead. I leave the engine running, since I figure Molchanie knows I’m here already, and let the heat blast from the air vents for another few seconds. I hold my fingers in the warm air before checking to make sure my gun’s loaded.

I’m very aware that this is a bad idea.

Any other situation, and I’d never agree to meet like this.

I’m on Molchanie’s turf. They can choose how this goes down. It’s their trap to spring if that’s what they want. Except this is about Alina, which means I’m willing to take more risks than I might otherwise be comfortable with.

That’s what it means to be a husband.

Something I’m learning the hard way.

I finally kill the engine and get out. It’s a crisp fall evening. The leaves are starting to turn. People are fucking crazy for foliage.Never seemed all that great to me, but I’m a city boy. All I ever cared about was money and power.

Even all that faded over the years.

Money’s no issue anymore. Back when I was proving myself in the early days, money stood in as a way to show that I’m not just a soft, spoiled member of the inner circle. I figured if I outearned everyone, nobody could say I didn’t deserve everything I have.

Power followed. The more I brought in for the clan, the more responsibility my father handed over. Now I run almost all the street operations for the Whelan clan. There aren’t many people in the organization more powerful than I am.

None of that means much to me anymore.

Instead, I drift. Go with the flow. Bend, twist, and bend some more. Find the wind and tumble on.