Page 44 of Sinful Bride

Whatever it is, I reach up to grab him by his hair, pull him closer, and kiss him.

Pasha growls and kisses me back. For a moment, I want him to climb on and give me the kind of massage we’re both aching for.

But responsibility takes over. He pulls away, and I let him. Because I need to.

“Be good.” He wags a finger at me before departing.

I sigh. It was nice while it lasted.

17

PASHA

“Ms. Cora is on Line One, Mr. Chekhov.” Jack, my new assistant, greets me by his desk with a stack of paperwork and a few handwritten messages. “I tried to inquire as to what it’s about, but she says you’ll know.”

Fuck me. Cora Brennan is the last person I want to talk to right now.

Unfortunately for me, she has information I need.

“Pasha, darling. Long time, no see,” Cora purrs into the phone when I step into my office and answer.

“Getting married and having a baby does that to a man. What do you have for me?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. Scott’s been completely on edge since your arrest?—”

“False arrest.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Either way, something has him backed into a corner and he’s not budging. I even tried slipping him a few hints to go run out and play, if you know what I mean. He didn’t bite.”

I don’t like the sound of that. She knows about all his affairs, so why wouldn’t she know about his dealings?

“And you’re saying this has something to do with my false arrest?”

“Well, the timing is pretty damn convenient, wouldn’t you say? I don’t have information to confirm or deny a correlation there. Just… watch your back. Now more than ever. Okay?”

Again, I don’t like what I’m hearing. It’s a waver in her voice. A flicker of fear.

Cora Brennan is never afraid of anything.

“You, too.”

That’s about as much as I can stomach with her. I hang up, but no sooner have I ended the call than does my phone ring again. The name on the screen doesn’t ease my worries even a little. “Steppa. What’s going on?”

My vor doesn’t sound pleased. “Unmarked police cars everywhere, sir. They’ve got a five-block radius around your building, and a three-block circle around the penthouse building. I’m sending you a picture now.”

I open up the attachment in his text and squint at the screen. Sure enough, I see plainclothes cops strolling around the sidewalks I call mine.

Blyat’.

“Does my mother know?”

“Nothing’s been said to cause alarm, but we did mention to Mrs. Chekhov that staying inside for the time being would be best. She seemed to understand.”

I nod. “I’ll cut things short here at the office. Check your messages; I’ll let you know when I’m home.”

“You got it.”

I send Makari a text to shut down the shooting range and lock up the storerooms for our legal stock. Even if the feds stopped by, they would never see the illegal operations unless they started digging behind false walls and beneath stone floors—but it pays to be vigilant.

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