Page 59 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation

The moment’s odd, a little tense, a heaviness in the air that probably comes from the fact Ava wears my ring. But as I shift into professional mode, I don’t think he’s lying. And the moment between them is real.

As is whatever threat he’s hinting at.

“What happened?” I ask, cutting my eyes to Cal for a moment. “Sell me a reason for us to help.”

“Someone shot at my son, tried to run him off the road as he drove in from JFK. My men caught someone trying to break into our grounds, and the shooter had the same tattoo as the guy they caught.”

“So seek out the leader of the Lev group,” Cal says. “You wanted a neutral third party to offer protection for you and your guests that night. We did that. We’re done.”

Now Romanov looks at me. “But you’re not, are you? A neutral third party. Seamus here married Ava.”

“What’s that to you?” I ask.

Romanov stares at her a long time. “I was close to her father and stepmother.”

“Close doesn’t make anyone family. We don’t want to be enemies or allies. We don’t play in your pool and you don’t play in ours.” Cal takes another drag of his cigarette.

“I get that, I do. But I was hoping…” He pauses. “We seized a haul of… well, it doesn’t really matter what we were after, but it was heading to someone named Hank, a name that rang a bell. But the place for the delivery was empty, unlived in.”

“Like a front,” I say, unease filling me. Like what some people use when they worry about trouble breathing the same air asthem. Like some of the Irish, the Serbs, the Poles. “Why go there?”

“The name tipped us off. And there was Semtex in the haul we took. So, since the house was in an Irish part of Queens…”

“Not our problem.”

“It might end up being.” Romanov finishes his vodka and stands, cigar clamped beneath his teeth. “Considering Ava here.”

Something violent moves through me, but it’s only the merest flicker of Cal’s gaze that steadies me.

“We’ll keep an eye out. If we hear of trouble,” Callahan says, “we’ll let you know.”

“Thank you.”

When he’s gone, Cal just looks at me. “My office.”

“I think I’ll take Arnold and Clawzilla for a walk to see Harry and Luce.” Dec eyes up Ava, as though he’s unsure what to make of her. But he just shakes his head. “Tor might join you in the office. Ava, you can carry the cat.”

“No.” While it’d get her out of my hair, I’m not letting her have that kind of freedom.

Declan’s a lot more dangerous than he seems under his boyish charm and boundless energy and dubious gift of gab, but I don’t know if he’s ready to deal with someone as duplicitous as her.

She’s nothing like Harry or Lucie.

“No,” I say again, “my bride’s staying here. We can’t stand being apart.”

“Right, and I’m Lil Bo Peep.” Dec chuckles.

I point at the dog and cat who are suddenly standing near the stairs, like they heard the word “walk” from wherever they were.

Those fucking animals.

I catch the slight curl of Ava’s lip, like she can’t stand pets. Another mark against her name, another reason for me to mistrust and despise her.

“Upstairs,” I say to her. It’s not until we’re on the second floor of the brownstone and her eyes flicker to Cal’s open office door that I clarify my intent. “Our room.”

“There’s noour.”

But I just grit my teeth, push her inside, pull the door shut, and lock it. Ignoring her curses and death threats, I run down the stairs to Callahan’s office alone.