Page 11 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation

The cousin killer. Fate destroyer. Future victim, I suddenly decide, by my hands.

This Murphy, my tormentor, glances away, then back to me before he says, “Wait here.”

It’s an order.

I don’t follow orders.

The moment he turns his back and steps away, I run like hell.

Because fuck him.

THREE

seamus

Of course she’s gone.

I finger the crest and the jewels I’m pretty fucking sure she stole. I’m dying to ask Romanov or Assisi about her, but for some reason I don’t.

There’s definitely a story here, because walking out the front door like she did is either the move of a guest or someone who’s used to the lifestyle.

The thugs we encountered weren’t, and I’m waiting with my brothers for the Don and the Pakhan to inspect the bodies in the wine cellar that’s never seen a drop of wine.

The look on Callahan’s face tells me he’s over this favor. And no matter how much money we make from this, it’s not a job he’ll want to repeat.

But as Declan heads out to meet up with our men, Torin walks over to me. “You got the tracker on her?”

I nod.

“Won’t last more than the night, if that, but if I can pick up a path to a home base…”

“Send me the live tracking data when you have it,” I say. The raven-haired beauty is trouble, and I need to learn exactly what trouble she is before I decide what to do with her.

Because I will find her again.

There are zero doubts about that.

I don’t like how tonight unfolded at all. Not the lack of numbers among the attackers, not the Semtex. Not her or the Paddy-style bombs.

It’s all a mess of loose ends—and nothing is gelling.

The cartel might send assassins, but they weren’t the thugs who showed up. The mafia might decide to ambush, but nope, it wasn’t them, either. And the Russians? Well, they might blow the shit out of everything, but they tend to work in larger numbers when I’ve seen them do that.

It could have been a feeler expedition.

My gut tightens.

Or something else.

As Cal would say, not my job anymore.

“Will do.” Tor hesitates, his gaze moving to the men and the bodies, then back to me. “Listen, be careful.”

I raise a brow. “Since when do you worry?”

His jaw tightens. “Since I don’t like the fact that you think the girl was here with the bombs and then ended up in the house. No one who’s out to blow shit up just waltzes back in and then out the front door. That, along with a less-than-stellar ambush team, and I’m just saying something’s up. Cal will tell you the same thing.”

“But is it our business?” I ask.