Page 3 of Seek Him Like Shelter

Of actual human beings.

Women, it seemed like. And likely girls.

Lord knew there was only one reason women and girls were trafficked into a country.

“You are costing me money,” Dimitri said, voice getting rougher, a little more accented in his anger.

“I’m working on it.”

“Work harder,” Dimitri bit off. “Or there will be consequences, da?”

There was a pause.

“Yeah. Yes. I’ll see the district attorney tomorrow,” the senator insisted. “But I need proof that—“ he started, but Dimitri had already ended the call.

“Shit,” the senator said, and I could hear his footsteps go into his office, then back down the hall.

I wasn’t sure I released my breath until I heard the elevator doors chime as they opened, and swallowed up the senator.

What the hell?

I mean… what the actual hell?

I didn’t know if it was the painkillers or the adrenaline, but the migraine had started to ease. Not completely, but enough to be able to think straight again.

I stayed in the bathroom for another couple of minutes, wanting to make sure the senator was out of the building before I finally moved out, powering down my computer, grabbing my cell and my purse, and heading for the elevators myself.

I didn’t know what to do with this information.

All I knew was I needed to get the hell out of there, get some space, some room to think. Maybe some sleep. Then I could figure out what my next steps would be.

I didn’t realize, of course, as I exited the building twenty minutes after my boss that the streets weren’t as empty as they looked, that someone was watching me.

That I had now become a target.

CHAPTER TWO

Elian

I was usually the first one at the gatherings at Renzo’s, the boss’s, house. Hell, I used to be the one checking the levels of the liquor, ordering the food, and making sure there were clean glasses and plates to use.

But the music was already thumping and the chorus of voices and laughter met me before I even made it to the door.

I tamped down the thoughts that I was slacking on the job, reminding myself that it was Renzo himself who took me off my usual duties, and put me on this new gig.

Watching the Bratva.

The Russian mafia.

We needed to know what they were up to.

Because all signs pointed to them trying to make moves to take over Brooklyn. Which was our territory. Always had been, always would be.

So long as I didn’t fuck up my job.

I’d like to say that the pressure wasn’t getting to me. Problem is, that’d be a lie. I was having trouble sleeping, worrying that I was missing something, that my organization would suffer because of it.

“Hey!” a group of men greeted me as soon as I moved inside. “Where you been?” they asked, welcoming me into their circle.

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