Page 94 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation

“Fuck, Seamus, don’t be so rough,” I say. Then my brow furrows. Those hands aren’t his. Neither is the pine and wood scent of the man who jumped me.

I struggle, but whoever it is has me locked against him, and he slams me into the tree, the rough bark scraping against my skin.

“Quiet,” the man growls.

I try to push him away, fighting harder, kicking out as far as my legs will go.

He stomps on my calf, sending dizzying pain spiraling up through me, my leg deadened from the force.

“If you don’t behave, I’ll let the cartel eat you. They work girls into all kinds of situations and you’re pretty enough to serve on your back. The fucking Murphys need to die. They’re in the way. Kill them or let my people do it. Meet me at midnight outside your home. And yes, I know where it is.”

“I’m not killing anyone?—”

“You’re not Pakhan yet, and if my boss has his way, you never will be, except in name only.”

I force my fear and fury down, twisting it to work for me. “I hate the Murphys, but they’re hard to kill. You know this, or you’d have done it.” I pause. “Who are you? Who’s your boss? I can make a deal. But not for one year.”

“Not good enough.”

My heart thumps hard as pain throbs through me. “There’s a will.”

“Which means,” he says, “there’s a way around it. I want the Murphys out of the way.”

“What’s your boss’s name?”

The man grunts, letting me go as he stumbles into me. I turn.

He staggers up, reaching for something in his coat as I glance up. Seamus. Of course it is. Holding a brick he’s pried loose from the edge of the flowerbed.

The man starts to run and I trip him as Seamus smacks him in the head, sending him down to the ground.

A shout goes up as a bullet whizzes past. I dive down. The man’s alive. He’s breathing. I only know that because I’m trying to get the gun he was reaching for.

A brick clatters and I bite down on my fear, then realize Seamus launched it into the air.

Thank God. Thank God Seamus isn’t dead.

There’s another man coming toward us fast, gun pointed out. I grab the downed man’s gun and line up the shot before pulling the trigger.

The gunman falls.

“Run, Ava.” Seamus doesn’t give me a choice as he grabs my hand, sweeping me up, and we run.

It’s not until I’m hauled upstairs and thrown at one of his brothers who drags me into the neat living room of Romanov’s townhouse that I give in to the shaking.

I look around. I don’t see Seamus. Romanov is there with two of his men. He glares. To my right is Callahan. He’s looking at me with interest.

“Before my brother gets back,” he says, “do you want to tell us who that was?”

I open my mouth to answer but Romanov cuts me off. “I told you there’s trouble and it’s about the Volkov Bratva. What do you think that party at the club was about? Welcoming Ava? Word is out. An Irishman and an heir who isn’t full Russian in charge means it’s open season.”

“Does it?” Callahan asks. “If her bratva was huge and holding mega power and clout, maybe. But then again, all big organizations have enough protocols in place to take care of who comes next. Volkov was looking for a cousin or male relative. But it’s essentially hers. And her husband’s. Her father’s lawyer, the one who handles all relevant documentation, says so. Unless you know different?”

Callahan narrows his eyes at Romanov. “And the Irishman in question is my brother. We’re not to be underestimated or screwed with. No one should dare ever fault our part in it, nor the fact with Ava here at the official helm in twelve months’ time, the bratva’s current business will run just as smoothly as it does now.

“Am I missing something?” He pins Romanov down with a stare. “You still haven’t told us why you were seen with the cartel or the man with the scar. Hank, wasn’t it?”

He’s good, and even though I know I should be furious at what he said, for some reason, I’m not.