“You were supposed to leave, Lila from Rogue,” he murmured, his eyes scanning her face.
“Sorry?” she squeaked, her palm landing on his chest and digging in despite her efforts to stay unaffected.
“I wanted you safe. I still do, but now I also just want you.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “Night.” Again. “And.” Again. “Day.”
The room was silent then, as they drank each other in, first in sips, then in gulps, like oxygen they couldn’t live without. His hands roamed over her, touching, squeezing, caressing. And all her normally rational thoughts scattered like a flock of birds in a park. She melted into him, gambling once more, tangling her fingers in his hair, tasting him as he became more important than anything else in her world.
Then a buzzing sound broke through the haze of want, and Cian cursed as he pulled away. She reluctantly released him, and he reached into his front pocket, retrieving his phone. He looked at it, and his jaw tensed before his thumbs flew over the keyboard for a moment, then he shoved the phone back in his pocket and turned to her.
“I have to…” He gestured toward the door.
“Yeah, it’s fine. I should get back to my mom.” She moved to step around him, but he caught her upper arm in his big hand.
“Lila?” He leaned down, his lips nearly skimming her cheek. “I came here to talk about what needs to happen next with the Russians. They’re going to know I’m onto their arrangement with you—with Xavier.”
“Okay. You know how to find me.” She nearly laughed at that one. With his bodyguards protecting her, it was more like she was his prisoner than anything else.
“You didn’t let me finish,” he said. “I came here to talk business, but I think it’s past time we talked about other things.” One of his eyebrows lifted, and Lila dug her teeth into her lower lip.
“What other things?”
“This,” he said, pointing between them. “I didn’t think you’d be here after this long, but you are, and whether it’s for six more days or six more months, we need to talk about it.”
“You don’t have to, really. It’s fine, I get that we can’t—”
“Maybe we can,” he said huskily. “Maybe I’ve decided we need to. Let me see you next week—after your mom’s doing better. We’ll get some food ordered in at my place. We’ll talk. About all of it. The Russians. Xavier. Us.”
She knew she shouldn’t. It would only give her hope where there wasn’t any. Give her ideas where there were already too many. She sighed.
“Lila from Rogue,” he murmured, tucking a piece of her dark hair behind her ear.
“Okay.”
He grinned then. “I’ll have the boys bring you by at seven on Tuesday.”
Then he was gone, striding out the door and on to the next dangerous, insane thing in his dangerous, insane life.
Dammit, Lila thought as her heart ached. How could she be so smart and so stupid all at the same time?
“You sure you want to do this?” Finn’s voice came through Liam’s earpiece as he stood in the dark, leaning against the old brick wall of an empty slaughterhouse.
“Yeah. I need to know what they have going on in there.”
He watched the nondescript metal door across the street as two big men with slicked-back hair and cheap clothes exited and climbed into a dark Escalade before pulling away from the curb.
“You really ought to have someone with you, Liam,” Finn reprimanded. “You’d never allow Cian to do something like this. And he’d kick both our asses if he knew you were doing it.”
Liam watched the door for another moment, something pulling at him to get over there and find out what the Russians were hiding.
“Yeah, what Cian doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and I’m going to be in and out in fifteen. You can start timing me right about…now.” He disconnected the call and casually strolled across the street, watching the front of the old factory as he went. The windows on the bottom level were all blacked out, while the top floors were simply dark. It was impossible to tell if anyone was inside or not.
He walked along past the building, never breaking stride until he reached the corner where he turned, scanning the area to see if anyone was noticing him. There were very few cars around and no other pedestrians, so he felt pretty secure.
It had taken a fair amount of head bashing to get the location of the Russians’ hideout in town. He’d had his men running down leads for several days, but he’d found the place, and then he’d spent many more hours watching, waiting, logging the patterns of activity. The place was pretty much dead until around ten p.m. at night. There was a woman who came in late morning and left late afternoon. She had cleaning supplies and groceries with her, so she appeared to be some sort of housekeeper. The rest of the time, it was limited to changing security.
And between seven p.m. and ten p.m., the activity was at its absolute lowest. The guards he’d just seen would leave, and by his count, there was only one guy left inside. At ten, bouncers would show up and then customers. He wasn’t sure what they were selling inside, but he had a bad feeling it might be more than drugs, because customers were inside for a lot longer than a drug buy took.
When he hit the alley that ran behind the building, he quickly moved along the back wall until he reached the fire escape. He jumped up and grabbed the metal railing of the staircase and hoisted himself up onto the first landing, being remarkably quiet considering his size. Then it was up the steep stairs to the second floor, where he’d discovered a window slightly ajar the day before.
He breathed a sigh of relief to find it still not locked. But it was jammed, and it took him nearly five minutes to wedge it open far enough he could shimmy through. Liam wasn’t generally the kind of guy who shimmied, but desperate times and all. The room he entered was dark and smelled of mold and damp. He tiptoed through, finding the exit locked.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and produced a small lockpick kit. After a few moments to find the right-size tool, he felt the dead bolt begin to slide, and the door made a quiet click as the bolt retreated.
Liam listened for a moment, hearing nothing, before he opened the door and slipped out into the hallway.
The hall was only dimly lit and empty. Out here, the flooring was new and the walls freshly painted. The smell of lumber told him there had been some construction done recently as well.
He walked along, gun drawn, listening for any sign of life. When he finally reached another door, he stopped and pressed his ear to it. At first, he thought there was nothing, but then he heard a slight thump followed by a muffled voice. He couldn’t make out the words, but it definitely sounded like a woman.
He waited, listening—another thump, more of the same voice. He closed his eyes and let his instincts take over. Since he was sixteen, Liam had spent his life honing his body and his instincts. He was a warrior in every sense of the word, and if he didn’t trust himself, he couldn’t do his job, and he especially couldn’t be as damn good at it as he was.
Instinct kicked in, and he made the decision—stepping back, he lifted his leg and planted his boot along the edge of the door as hard as he could. The wood splintered away from the frame and swung open, slamming into the wall inside the little room, revealing a disheveled woman duct-taped to a chair.
Liam stepped through, expecting her to start screaming, although it wouldn’t have mattered much since her mouth was taped shut as well. But instead of panicking, she narrowed her eyes and tried to say something behind her tape prison. By the look on her face, it wasn’t anything nice.
He quietly shut the door behind him and moved toward her. She growled. Actually growled, and he paused, taking her in. She had long blonde hair, lank and wavy. Her eyes looked like a raccoon’s, with heavy makeup smeared around them. Her throat and chest were covered in bruises, some older, some newer, all ugly in spite of her beauty.
As his gaze traveled lower, he got a jolt south of the
waistband when he saw she was wearing nothing but lingerie of some sort, the satin and lace covering nothing more than the essentials. He couldn’t help the grin that broke out across his face. She was absolutely his type—blonde, busty and bare.
“Well, hello there,” he said, one eyebrow raised.
She struggled against her restraints, looking like she wanted to take a chunk out of him.
“Shh, shh,” he soothed as he knelt next to her. “Here’s how this will work—I’m not going to hurt you unless you force me to. I’ll take that tape off your mouth if you tell me what the Russians are doing here. I’ll take your bonds off if you tell me a few names, and I’ll get you out of here if you give me information beyond names. Like how many of these guys there are.” He paused and reached to push a strand of her hair out of her face. She growled again, but it wasn’t as aggressive, more wary.
“Do we have a deal?” he asked.
She looked at him, considering, then nodded slowly.
He gave her a quick grimace. “I’m sorry, but the only way to do this is fast and hard.” Her eyes widened in fear as he grabbed the end of the duct tape across her mouth and yanked it off in one smooth motion.
She kept her mouth closed and made a long sound of frustration. Where the tape had been, her porcelain skin was red and splotchy, but already, Liam could see more of her, and it was exquisite—high cheekbones, full lips, a perfectly proportioned nose. He tried not to stare and to keep his mind on the fact that time was ticking down and someone could come for this woman at any point.
“Okay, what is this place?”
She was breathing hard and her eyes were glossy with unshed tears, but her voice was a complete surprise. First, because it was raspy like a torch singer’s, and second, because her accent was Russian.
“It is hell,” she spat in answer to his question.
“Maybe, but I want to know what they’re doing here.”
“And who are you?” she asked. “Politsiya?”
He laughed bitterly. “No, babe, I’m about as far from the police as you can get. Now, what are they doing here?”
“Selling things,” she said bitterly.
“Drugs?”
She shrugged, the movement distracting him as her braless breasts jiggled with the motion.
“Probably.”
“And?” he prompted, nearing the end of his patience.
Her face paled, and she stiffened as she answered.
“People,” she finally ground out.
Fuck. Liam’s heart sank. His family had spent a few decades doing illegal things—gambling, smuggling, drugs—but they’d never once trafficked in human beings, and God help him, with Cian at the helm, Liam didn’t have to worry they ever would.
“So they’re bringing girls from Russia?” He moved behind her to tear the duct tape off her wrists. After her arms had been released, they hung by her sides as her voice wavered for a moment. It must hurt like hell, all that blood rushing back into her hands, but she didn’t break.
“Yes. They tell us we come to US for jobs. We fly on airplane, then when we arrive, they put us in a van and bring us here.”
He went to her front and began to work on the bonds that held her ankles to the chair legs.
“Who’s in charge, Petrov?”
“Sergei, yes,” she answered. “I don’t know how many other men, but there is one called Micael and one called Alexei.”
“Where are the other girls? How many?”
“Twelve. They keep us in one room downstairs. Then at night, they take us out—a few at a time.” Her jaw turned to iron, and her eyes got a faraway look. Liam swallowed, fully understanding what she wasn’t saying as well as what she was.
He took his jacket off and held it out. “Here. It’ll cover you until we can get you someplace safe.”
She reached out to take it, then stopped. “What about the others?”
His gaze snapped to his Apple watch—only about two minutes left until Finn called in the cavalry and started a war. “Babe, our time is running out. I’m sorry for the other girls, but I can’t take on the Bratva alone. We’ll get you out and then…” He shrugged, because he wasn’t going to promise he’d rescue eleven other women forced into sexual slavery. He wasn’t sure he was that good a guy.
She shook her head stubbornly, and he got a sinking feeling.
“No. I only go with my friend.”
Shit.
“Where is she?” he asked, even as he knew he wasn’t going to be able to take them both.
“Downstairs with the others.”
God, he’d never had much desire to be a hero, but right about now, Liam wished he could make this woman’s wishes come true.
“I’m sorry,” he said sympathetically.
She took a deep breath and then sat back down on the chair. “It’s okay. I will help myself. It is stupid to think man will do it for me.”
“Your choice,” he tossed off, even though he felt a sharp pang of guilt for leaving her here.
She just looked at him coldly.
He moved toward the door, sliding back into his jacket, but before he opened it, he twisted and looked at her over his shoulder. “Two more questions.” She didn’t respond, just kept staring at him blindly.
“What’s your name?”
“Katerina,” she said quietly. “Katya.”
He rolled it over on his tongue as he asked the next question. “Katya…what did you do to get put in here?”
She smiled, but it was grim. “I bit off the cock of the man who paid for me,” she answered.
Chapter 4
“You did what?”
Liam watched as Cian paced the floor of his penthouse.
“Told you,” Finn muttered.
“And you let him?” Cian stabbed an accusing finger at Finn.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t really have a lot of control over him,” Finn shot back, waving to Liam’s greater height and muscle mass.
“You should have alerted me!” Cian stopped in front of Finn and gestured like a wild man. “Hey, Cian, guess what? Liam is about to risk his life and a war with the Russians. I’m thinking maybe you should stop him.”
Liam snorted. As much as he loved his brother, in their world, the man was virtually a pacifist. Always looking for the safest alternative, the negotiation or compromise or back door. He admired it about Cian, honored it, and in fact had spent his life since adulthood protecting it, taking on the role of family enforcer so Cian would be spared. But it didn’t mean Cian was always right. Sometimes you had to take a risk, make a stand, do something that wasn’t the safe choice but would get results.
And dammit, he’d gotten results. They now knew exactly what the Russians were up to and where. As sickening as it was.
“What’s done is done,” he told Cian as he moved from his perch against the wall and sank into the leather sofa. “Let’s focus on what matters—the fact the Russians have started sex trafficking in our territory.”
“Tell me again about this girl you found?” Cian asked, arms crossed as he walked to the big windows that overlooked the Chicago skyline.
“She was Russian, but she spoke English well enough to get by. She said they’d lied to her and some friend, told them they’d have legit jobs, then when they got ’em here, locked them up and started bringing in the clients.”
“Damn,” Finn murmured. “It’s a hard world, but that’s harder than normal.”
“It’s sick is what it is. If a woman chooses to sell herself, that’s her business, but there’s no place for slavery in my town. Ever.” Cian’s tone was serious, and in spite of the pacifist tendencies, Liam knew his brother wasn’t a man to make empty threats.
“And this girl you found—she wouldn’t leave her friend? That’s why you walked away?” Finn asked.
Liam’s throat tightened, and his adrenaline kicked up a notch. It wasn’t as if he didn’t feel guilty. Of course he did, but what the hell was he supposed to do? Drag h
er kicking and screaming out of the place?
Well, actually, on the ride home, he’d realized that was exactly what he should have done. Slapped the tape back over her mouth, thrown her over his shoulder, and booked it. It was what Cian would have done. Or Finn. Cian because he wouldn’t be able to leave a woman in distress. Finn because his big brain would have realized she had more information that could be useful to them. It had taken Liam nearly half an hour afterward to puzzle that one out.
“Yeah,” he answered. “But I know I should have taken her anyway. Leaving her was a dumbass thing to do. She could have told us all kinds of useful info if we’d had time to question her. I only discovered what you can get from a terrified chick in five minutes flat.” He looked up at Cian, who was still pondering the skyline outside. “I fucked up.”
“You got out in one piece.” Cian turned around and looked at Liam fiercely. “That’s all that matters—ever. I feel for the woman, but as long as you’re in one piece, it was a success.” Then he pointed that finger again, this time at Liam. “But that doesn’t mean you should have done it.”
“Moving on,” Finn interrupted. Liam sighed in relief. Cian could lecture for hours. “What’s our next step here. The Russians are settling in, and people are going to realize it before long. It’ll erode our power base, make us look weak if we don’t do something. I assume you’re not going to let me go to the cops with the address Liam found out and info about a slave house?”
Cian began pacing again. “No. I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want any of us near the cops, that’s not an option. And it’s not going to do us any good to go up against them gun to gun. They’re a bottomless well of resources—an international organization.”
“We’re an international organization,” Liam retorted. “When was the last time you or Pop called on Dublin to help us out?” He raised an eyebrow at his brothers. “That would be never. And why the hell not? The Mexicans have friends south of the border in the cartels. The Russians have friends in Moscow and at banks all over the world. Why don’t we take advantage of our relations in Ireland? They’ve never hesitated to have us take their men when they get into scrapes over there. Hell, half our upper-level guys are hiding out from shit that went down in Dublin or Belfast.”
Brush of Despair (Dublin Devils Book 2) Page 4
