He gave a heavy sigh. “Fergus’s future wife was in danger, and Nikolai Volkov doesn’t allow anyone to threaten the people he cares about.”
She gave a puzzled shake of her head. “Who is Nikolai Volkov?”
“The second to the head of the Russian bratva here in London,” Declan dismissed calmly.
As if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on Fawn by so casually mentioning the name of a prominent member of the Russian criminal organization that very often ruled over the underworld in the major cities around the world!
Including London, apparently.
Not that Fawn knew a lot about the bratva, but it was still enough for her to realize that if you wanted to live, you really didn’t want to upset any of them. Or any of their family. Or the associations they had alliances with. Or, apparently, the people they considered friends.
Which, it seemed, that was what the members of the Wynter family were to this Nikolai Volkov.
Fawn had lived in London for six years, and never once had she heard a single mention of the name of this Russian mobster.
Which was why she’d also had no idea of Declan’s knowledge or connection to a member of the Russian bratva when she’d agreed to take this job.
Would it have made any difference to the outcome if she had?
Truthfully, the extra money Wynter Security was paying her was just too good for her to refuse. Even if it now seemed the family was somehow involved with the Russian mafia!
Her eyes narrowed. “You said someone followed us here?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Someone connected to the man who shot me.”
“The man I’m now suspecting might have met this Nikolai Volkov, or some of his men, at least, shortly before he died?”
A nerve pulsed in Declan’s tightly clenched jaw. “I’m not condoning their violence.” He held up his hands in the universal sign ofI wasn’t involved. “But the man who shot me signed his own death warrant when he decided to start shooting on the streets of London. Nikolai won’t tolerate such reckless behavior in his city.”
“Unless he sanctions it, I’m guessing.”
“Yes.”
“Was the man a member of a rival Russian bratva that now wants revenge?” She’d once read that those organizations wereusually headed by different families in different cities and very often felt a loyalty toward each other.
“Not exactly,” Declan hedged. “Shall we go through to the sitting room and sit in more comfortable seats?” He shifted awkwardly.
Fawn glanced down at their two empty plates, their conversation having been so intense that she hadn’t even realized she and Declan had consumed all the stir-fry as they talked. Declan was now obviously feeling the discomfort of having sat for too long in these straight-backed leather seats.
“Of course.” She stood to remove their plates and put them in the dishwasher before following him through to the light and airy sitting room.
Declan made himself comfortable on one of the couches. “What you need to know right now is that Linus, after many hours of checking surveillance cameras, etc., has managed to identify the man who followed us today.”
Fawn watched him from the doorway. “As who?”
“Boris Koslov, the brother of the shooter.”
She felt a sinking sensation in her abdomen. “Is he sure?
“Once Linus had facial recognition of the driver following us, it was only a matter of time before he was able to connect a passenger who arrived at Heathrow Airport two days ago to that man. He also learned that this Koslov is a foot soldier for one of the bratvas in Russia.”
“Oh.”
Declan nodded. “Once Linus had that information and the number on the license plate, he was able to track Boris Koslov.We now have a pretty extensive file on his movements during the past two days.”
