Page 55 of Marked By the Mob

Artur raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. He pulls a laptop from the side table and opens encrypted files containing intercepted communications between Baltic traffickers. Eduard moves to the map wall, his fingers tracing routes we know Volkov uses for moving assets across borders.

I settle into the chair behind the desk and watch Emma work. She’s methodical, sorting documents into categories I don’t immediately understand. Her hands move quickly, flippingthrough pages and setting aside anything that mentions Baltic connections or American assets.

“The FBI tracked the auction through financial transactions,” she says, still focused on the papers. “Shell companies that repeatedly surfaced in trafficking investigations. Most of them were registered in Eastern Europe, but the money always flowed back to accounts in the United States.”

“Which accounts?” I ask.

She finally looks up, her eyes meeting mine. “That’s classified.”

“You’re officially dead,” Artur points out from across the room. “Pretty sure classified doesn’t apply anymore.”

Her jaw tightens, but after a moment she nods. “Three primary accounts. All registered to different holding companies, but the beneficial owners were impossible to trace. The Bureau suspected they were fronts for organized crime, but we never had enough evidence to freeze them.”

Eduard moves closer to the desk, his gray eyes thoughtful. “Do you remember the company names?”

Emma closes her eyes, her brow furrowing slightly as she recalls. “Baltic Logistics was one. Meridian Holdings was another. The third was something with ‘International’ in the name, but I can’t remember exactly.”

“Apex International,” I say quietly.

Her eyes snap open. “How do you know that?”

“Because we’ve done business with all three.” I pull one of the financial folders closer and flip it open to a page marked withour own transactions. “Not directly. But our shipping networks intersect with theirs at multiple points.”

The implications settle over the room like a weight. If the same companies connected to Krystal’s disappearance are also tied to our operations, it means the auction network runs deeper than any of us realized. It means we’ve been operating adjacent to the same system that destroyed Emma’s life without fully understanding the scope.

“Fuck,” Artur mutters, leaning against the wall. “We need to map this out completely. Every connection, transaction, and every time our routes crossed theirs.”

For the next several hours, we work. Emma explains how the FBI approached the investigation, which financial patterns they flagged, and which shell companies repeatedly surfaced in their analysis. Her knowledge fills gaps in our intelligence, while our criminal contacts provide information the Bureau never accessed.

She starts noticing patterns we missed. The way certain shipments always moved through the same ports. How specific holding companies only activated during particular months. The timing of transactions that coincided with known auction events.

At some point, the dynamic shifts. Emma stops standing across the table like an opponent and instead leans beside me while reviewing notes Eduard translated from the ledger earlier. Her shoulder brushes mine as she reaches for a document, and I catch the clean scent of her soap with a bit of floral accent.

My hand finds the small of her back, resting there as I point to a passage in the ledger. She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans closer, her breast pressing against my arm as she reads.

The awareness between us thickens. Eduard notices first, his gaze flicking between Emma and me before settling on her ass in those fitted jeans. Artur sets down the laptop and moves closer, his dark eyes heated as he watches her bend over the desk to examine a map.

“Emma,” I say quietly.

She straightens and turns, her gray-green eyes meeting mine. The sharp focus from earlier has softened into something else. Something that makes my cock harden against my zipper.

“We should take a break,” Eduard suggests, his voice rougher than usual.

Emma’s breathing quickens. She knows exactly what kind of break he means. For a moment, I think she’ll refuse and pull back into that guarded space she retreats to when things get too intense.

Instead, she reaches for the hem of her sweater and pulls it over her head.

The black lace bra underneath makes my mouth go dry. Her breasts are full and perfect, the peaks of her nipples visible through the delicate fabric. I stand and move around the desk, closing the distance between us.

My hand slides into her hair, tilting her head back as I claim her mouth. She kisses me back with the same intensity she brings to everything, her tongue meeting mine as her fingers work the buttons of my shirt.

Eduard moves behind her, his hands finding her waist as he pulls her back against his chest. His mouth finds her neck, and she gasps into my kiss. Artur joins us, his hands sliding up her thighs to the button of her jeans.

We strip her slowly, savoring every inch of skin revealed. When she’s finally naked between us, I lift her onto the desk, scattering papers across the floor. She doesn’t protest. She just spreads her thighs and pulls me closer.

I push inside her with one hard thrust and she cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders. Eduard’s hand finds her breast while Artur’s fingers work her clit, and within minutes she’s coming apart, her inner muscles clenching around my cock as she screams my name.

I follow her over the edge, my release hitting hard enough to make my vision blur. When I pull out, Eduard takes my place immediately, flipping her so that her upper body is on the desk, her legs spread as she stands on shaky limbs. He enters her from behind, his movements slow and deep. The new angle makes her moan, her hands bracing against the desk as he drives into her with deep, powerful strokes.