Page 16 of Sweet Deception (Irish Kings #4)

Black-and-white tiles greet my feet as I flip on the light and call Maya as quickly as I can from the burner phone Mrs. Guseva gave me.

Her last text confirmed she was safe, but that was before those armed men showed up at my apartment, and I have about a dozen messages from her. I need to ensure she’s still all right.

She picks up on the first ring.

“Nika, are you okay?” The concern in her voice is bright as the light in here. “Your apartment complex was all over the news. What’s going on?”

“I honestly have no idea.” Swallowing, I hold my elbow with my empty hand. “But I think it’s related to Lucy.”

“Oh, no.” Maya sounds muffled, like she threw her hand over her mouth, the way I’ve seen her do so many times.

“You need to keep lying low. Wherever you are, stay inside as much as you possibly can.” A small amount of relief froths through me. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“I was so scared. You weren’t picking up, no matter how many times I called.”

“Don’t worry.” Wow, I sound so fake. “I’m fine.”

Ha! Maya knows me too well to believe that.

“Lucy’s in way more trouble than we thought, isn’t she?” Maya’s voice cracks. “There’s no way we’re going to be able to?—”

“Hey.” I poke around the bathroom silently, trying not to focus on the obvious. “Don’t start doubting me now. We’re making progress.” I tell her about the messages that came through my alert board, the ones that seemed to link a few other abducted women to that same modeling agency.

“It’s a front?”

Even though she can’t see me, I nod vigorously. “And this Sophia Kovaleva woman, whoever she is, is the face of it.”

“Yeah, she has to be.” Maya pauses. “You know, after Lucy was taken, I started going over all our conversations. I keep coming back to that big event she mentioned…the modeling summit that Sophia Whatever’s agency was getting her into.”

Maya’s talked about this before, and just like that first time, my intuition radar beeps off the charts.

A modeling summit is the perfect cover for a human auction. But I haven’t shared that worry with Maya yet. We can try to locate the “summit” without shoving horrifying visuals of Lucy on an auction block into her head.

Thankfully, even though I will, she doesn’t linger on the idea.

“And what about those other mafia families?” Her voice thins with fear. “They’re not the ones who came after you, are they?” I can almost picture her clutching the phone too hard, pacing, wild with worry about her little sister and now me too.

I didn’t think of it, but Maya’s right.

Darren came after me tonight, and he’s mafia. Maybe the men who had my apartment surrounded were mafia, too, even if they weren’t in cahoots with the Gallaghers.

My mind floats over the other families I’ve been researching.

I sigh. “You mean the Kings? Or Red Hill?”

The rattle of a lock unlatching registers, and I abruptly end the call and whirl around.

My heart plummets to my feet when I find a bright-eyed Darren standing there.

“How—” I stammer.

He holds up a key. “This is my house, not yours.”

In a single, fluid, and distressingly powerful motion, he grasps my arm and plucks the phone right out of my grip.

“Who were you talking to?” His face is cold, flat, and agitated.

I swallow but don’t speak.

His sharp eyes flash with anger. “Who did you call, Veronika? Did you tell them where you are?”

The murderous expression on his face loosens my lips. Yes, I want to keep him on the ropes, but pushing this man over the edge would be a potentially fatal mistake. If he snapped, I doubt anyone in the nearby radius would survive.

“Just a friend of mine.”

His fingers fly around my throat in the same second my phone starts vibrating in his hand. Maya. She’s calling me back.

I’m not breathing as he presses down on my neck with his giant hand.

“You’re going to talk calmly to your friend as if I’m not here.” He hits the green Accept button without another word and puts Maya on speaker.

“Nika?” Her voice bounces through the bathroom. “What happened?”

“Sorry. The call dropped.” I try to keep my tone normal. “Anyway. Forget about the families. They don’t matter.”

“But what if…” Maya sniffs. “What if they’re the reason she’s gone?”

This is such a difficult conversation to have with Darren’s laser-beam eyes incinerating my face and one of his hands around my neck. “We’re going to find her. I promise.”

“Yeah…” Even though I’m in some deep shit, relief clangs through me at the dash of hope in her tone.

“Get some sleep. We’ll talk soon.”

The call ends, and I check Darren’s expression for a reaction.

We’re back to serial-killer blank.

The dangerous energy emanating off him doesn’t cease, even when his hand slides from my throat to my shoulder and squeezes.

“Any other calls you need to make?”

“No.” I meet his gaze head-on so he can see the sincerity in my eyes.

“Did you make any other calls before this one?”

I shake my head. “You can check my call log if you don’t believe me.”

Darren eyes me up and down with that same heavy once-over he gave me at the wedding reception. Fear and familiarity zip down my spine.

“What?” I demand, determined not to squirm beneath his analytical gaze. “You want to check my pockets too?” I gesture to myself with mocking, wide-eyed innocence. “Not exactly room for too many secrets in this outfit. I came up here to call my friend. That’s all.”

Unconvinced, Darren’s eyes continue to rake over me slowly, assessing. Testing. Scouring for lies. I hold his gaze, understanding this is a crucial moment.

“Prove it.”

I raise my chin, fighting the urge to jump back when he releases my shoulder and starts circling me again. “How exactly would you like me to do that?”

“Strip.” When my eyes widen, his lips curve into an unsettling smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You offered to let me check, princess. So let’s check.”

My heart hammers against my ribs, but I keep my voice steady. “Here? In the bathroom?”

“Problem?” Darren leans against the doorframe, blocking my exit. “Unless there’s something you’re trying to hide.”

Tired, annoyed, and knowing he’s already seen, touched, kissed, and licked everything, I quickly strip down to my bra and panties and do a three-sixty, dropping my hands to my hips when I’m done.

Darren stares at me with that terrifying, remote, appraising look—I’m really starting hate that—then says, “There are clothes in the drawers and in the closet. Feel free to shower and help yourself.”

He spins on his heel and stalks off, leaving me flabbergasted.

What the hell was that? Hospitality?

I drop back to rest against the wall, blood frozen, lips parted and panting.

Now what? He confiscated my phone and with it…any chance to contact the outside world. What’s he going to do with me next?

Sit me in a chair, bright lights blaring, and start questioning me again? Maybe tie me up and…

The door closes with a hard thud , followed by the snick of an engaging lock. I shove off the wall and rush into the bedroom.

That bastard locked me in here.

I pound on the door while shouting his name.