Page 18 of Triplets for the Russian Boss

“Bonnies Summers.” I reach down and pick the glowing cigarette of the floor. “That’s my real name.”

“I believe you, Bonnie. Don’t sound so doubtful,” Kostin replies, sitting down again and returning to his jarringly calm state. “I just want you to be honest with me, from now on. I don’t like liars.”

“You could also be honest with me,” I reply, taking a drag and reveling in how distracting the smoke is in my lungs.

“I’ve been honest,” he replies. “I don’t lie.”

“You’ve told me nothing about who you are, or what this is about.”

“That’s not a lie,” he replies. “That’s deciding that you’re better off not knowing anything, until I have you figured out.”

“There’s not much to figure out, sadly. I’m just a girl with an affinity for the club life and money,” I say.

He shakes his head. “But you know me.”

My heart leaps, but I try to keep a calm face, just like he is. Two can play at this game, but I suspect he has had more practice. Even in the club, he had the upper hand, and I’ve been honing my craft there for almost a year.

“I know your name is Kostin,” I say. “I’ve seen you before.”

“Where?”

“I don’t remember,” I reply, trying to keep a straight face. I’m afraid he’s going to blow up on me again, maybe even flip the table. I grip my cigarette tighter.

He rubs his chin, stubble scratching like Velcro. I can see the light fling of ash and skin cells spraying off into the hanging light.

He takes a deep breath through his nose. “Bonnie, do you know that I’m part of the Russian Mafia? In fact, I’m the leader of my Family, and I take this business very seriously.”

My eyebrows crease down between my eyes so hard that a nerve goes haywire in my scalp. I have to press my fingertips into my skull to get it to stop, and my cigarette singes my hairline.

Of course, Kostin isn’t a police officer. I haven’t seen a police officer built like a tank, with more ink than a squid, and an accent thicker than his biceps. No, Kostin isn’t a cop; but right about now I sure wish that he were.

If that were the case, I’d be going home to my boys after this interrogation. As it stands, I don’t think that’s going to happen.

“Clearly, you weren’t aware,” Kostin says, leaning forward. “Let me tell you a few things about myself, darling. I’m normally a nice guy, easygoing, and I like to have a good time. But there’s time for work and there’s time for play, and this is time for a lot of profoundly serious work.”

I soak in his words, as the cigarette burns down between my fingers. I can’t tear my gaze from his beautiful blue eyes. They’re drawing me in, like fresh water on a hot summer afternoon. I could drown in those eyes.

“The Mafia is nice to people who stay in line and, unfortunately for you, that line is razor thin,” he continues. “I want your word that you’re not going to squeal.”

“I won’t,” I breathe, trying to sound convincing. I want nothing to do with this. I want to move far away, out of Florida and to some remote location so that my boys can be safe. I don’t want to see Kostin, or another strip club, ever again.

“I need a way to keep an eye on you,” he replies. “Your word isn’t really good enough, since you refuse to tell me where I know you from. You’re going to have to join the Mafia.”

I laugh. “Do I look like someone who is suited for the Mafia?”

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

“I’ve never even shot a gun before,” I say, in utter disbelief.

“You won’t be shooting guns, Bonnie. You’re going to be working directly for me, and you’re going to be doing everything that I say. You’ll be paid, of course.”

I raise an eyebrow. Now, this is interesting.

“Why the invitation?” I ask, dreading the answer. “Why not just kill me?”

He chuckles. “More blood means more questions. Perhaps it was silly for me to kill a man in cold blood like that, but one is easy to sweep under the rug. A sleazy club owner doesn’t get much attention from the cops. A beautiful woman, like you? Now, that’s a news story.” He pulls a cigar from his pocket and places it between his pearly teeth. “Besides, I have other plans for you.”

“What plans?”

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