I recognized the setup because it was the same in Moscow and in every other city in the world. An older kid using the younger ones askrysy,as rats. He forces them to shoplift and takes the profits, and if one of them gets caught, then he can just walk away.
I turned back to Alison. She was still watching the kids. I frowned, bemused. What does she care? Shoplifting wasn’t exactly an FBI-level crime.
I took a slow, careful step away. This was my chance, while she was distracted. I could get away and actually have five minutes of blessed privacy with my brother.
But then I stopped. I had to know what she was doing.
Alison marched over to the kid in charge and grabbed his shoulder. He took a swing at her, and she swayed and hooked his leg, and he went face-first into the floor. She pinioned him there with a knee on his back. What the hell is she doing? Shaking them down, maybe? I could imagine that with a drug dealer, but this kid probably wouldn’t have much money. Did the FBI pay that badly?
Then she showed him her badge and started speaking into his ear, quiet and very, very serious.
I felt my jaw drop. Is she...GIVING HIM A TALK?! Like some cop in a wholesome Christmas family movie? The kid was nodding frantically. And now she was talking to the girl, probably telling her something like he won’t bother you again, and the girl was nodding gratefully and scurrying away…
I stared at her in amazement. All the cops I knew in Moscow were on the take. Even in the US, I’d always presumed most of them were corrupt, or at least just out for themselves. But apparently, I was being hunted by—the words tasted strange—an honest cop.
Alison got to her feet and saw me watching. She looked surprised that I was still standing there.
I gazed at her, shell-shocked. I still hated her: she was still one of them, one of the enemy, and she was still trying to tear down my whole world. But I’d always presumed that deep down, we were the same, just on opposite sides of a war. I’d never considered she might be...good. I braced, waiting for the attraction to flicker and die, now that I knew her character.
Except that isn’t what happened at all. The attraction fucking exploded like I’d just dumped a gallon of gasoline onto the fire. Every muscle tensed. My cock rose. I actually took an involuntary step towards her. I wanted her more than ever.
Her whole buttoned-down appearance made it even hotter. My vision telescoped in to the exact point, just in front of her bun, where I’d have to sink my fingers into her hair to rake the hair clips out of it and let her hair fall free. I could see tiny slivers of tan skin between the buttons of her blouse, together with scraps of her white bra, and Icould imagine exactly how her stomach would feel, warm against my fingers, as I slid my hands up and ripped that blouse open so I could cup her breasts…
Her goodness was a magnet. All I could think about was plunging deep, burying myself in her, filling her with bad. I’d fuck the good right out of her.
I felt my face heat.Chyort!Apparently, I had a thing for good girls.
Alison frowned at me, and I realized I wasn’t doing my usual scowl. I didn’t know what I was doing. I gave her a glare and turned away, stalking over to the food court and taking a seat.
She took a table in the corner, and I couldn’t help but look again. For a second, I was back in my office, caging her in my chair with my arms. Let me educate you, Agent Brooks. Except now, it had a whole new dimension. I imagined her over my knee, naked, moaning and squirming, breasts rubbing against my legs, long hair tossing as my hand rose and fell on her ass, teaching her a lesson?—
My view was suddenly blocked by a broad, muscled chest and an expensive waistcoat being tugged straight. I looked up into Radimir’s cold blue eyes. “We have our own nightclub. Fourteen bars. Membership at three different private clubs. Why do you always insist on meeting here?”
I coughed, embarrassed, and forced all thoughts of Alison away. Then I smiled at him. “Because it annoys you, brother. How’s Bronwyn?” He’d gotten married earlier that year.
Radimir grinned. He never used to smile. “Good,” he said with feeling. “Very good. I never thought being married would be so…” He shook his head, unable to find the words. “I’m going to surprise her. While she’s away this weekend, I’m going to build her bookshelves.”
“Bookshelves?”
“Bookshelves.” He spread his arms wide. “Big white ones. Floor to ceiling. The whole wall.”
I frowned. “I thought women wanted shoes.”
Radimir shook his head smugly. “Bookshelves.”
I shook my head in wonder. I couldn’t imagine ever being sobesotted with a woman. “It’s good to see you happy, brother. Next thing, you’ll be making me an uncle.”
Radimir held my gaze, suddenly serious. My eyes bulged, and I nearly spat out my coffee. Was he actually thinking about it? Him, a father?
“Let’s talk business,” said Radimir, quickly changing the subject. We both leaned in. “The Irish…” he began.
I sighed, then glanced at Alison over Radimir’s shoulder. She was too far away to hear us over the noise of the food court, and we were speaking in Russian. “I still think this is a mistake. I don’t trust them.”
Radimir put his elbows on the table and cupped one big, tattooed fist with his other hand. “They’re the only ones who can do what we need. Finn is reliable.”
A few months ago, we defeated the Nazarov brothers and took over their territory and all their operations. That left us with a problem: the Nazarovs handled most of Chicago’s drug trade. We didn’t have the resources to take it over, but we didn’t want to leave a power vacuum, either. The only option was to partner with another gang. Radimir had chosen The Irish Mafia, led by Finn O’Donnell
I scowled. “I don’t like them.”
