Page 13 of Claimed By the Bratva Brothers

“That’s right.”

There’s a glimmer of recognition and familiarity in Smith’s eyes. I’m no mind reader, but I can tell he knows my father. He proceeds to play his part, making me feel a tad uneasy. “I hear he’s planning a run for state senate,” Smith says. “And that Mr. Bowman is one of his fiercest supporters.”

“I guess. I’m not involved with my father’s political campaign.” All of a sudden, a long forgotten memory pokes at my brain. “Can I ask you something, Agent Smith?”

He simply raises a brow in response.

“If I remember correctly, Mr. Bowman was a federal agent before he moved into the private sector. Right here in Chicago.”

“That is correct. He was the director of our field office before he retired,” Smith confirms. “I was one of his agents at the time.”

“So I assume you know him well.”

“I’d take a bullet for the man.”

“Who’s running the field office now?” I ask.

“I am.”

I find that interesting though I’m not sure why. The more information I gather, the more accurate any situational test will be on my algorithm. I do this often, and it has helped me develop some pretty interesting and realistic scenarios.

“Do you have any suspects regarding Mr. Bowman’s disappearance?” I continue with my own line of questioning, which gets me a wry smile from Smith.

“Miss Phelps, perhaps you’d like to consider a career in law enforcement?”

“Oh, no,” I chuckle softly. “I’m simply curious. Mr. Bowman is a friend of my father’s. I know my father is very worried about him.”

“We don’t yet know if he simply left of his own accord or if he was taken. There’s been no ransom demand,” Smith says. “I do think we’ll hear something soon, though.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Mr. Bowman was heavily invested in taking down every organized crime family in Chicago, and one of the reasons why he’s been so supportive of Councilman Phelps’s run for senate is because of his dedication to eradicating organized crime,” Smith explains. He then takes out a business card from his jacket pocket and gives it to me. “Please call me if you remember anything else about that day. Even if it seems insignificant.”

“Will do.”

He gives me one last nod and leaves. As soon as he’s out of sight, I feel like I can breathe again. The adrenaline soon wears off, and I’m left shaking like a leaf, my mind darting every which way as I try to recover some focus. But I can’t.

I can’t be implicated in any of this.

Once I’m done in the literary fiction section, I move over to biographies. There are a few new titles that need to find their place among the existing books, and I need something to keep my mind busy until my shift ends. But there aren’t enough titles in this whole damn library to pull my focus away from Ivan, Max, Artur, and the conversation I just had with Agent Smith.

My body remembers every delicious moment of being with the guys. It relives and responds to each second as soon as their faces, their bodies, pop into my head.

I just wish it was only the delicious afternoon I had to remember them by, not the kidnapping of Jack Bowman that comes attached to it. Or the payoff attempt. That was insulting

“You look ridiculously sexy,” Artur’s voice startles me as if summoned by my thoughts.

I almost fall backward as I spin toward him, but he catches me. His strong arms snake around my waist, and I lose my breath as I meet those grey eyes of his once more. His lips are curled into a playful smile that rattles me to the bone, sending my heart on a galloping race as I try to ascertain what’s going on.

“What are you doing here?” I manage as he gently lets me go.

I feel hesitation in his release, and as he takes a step back, I notice he’s not alone. Ivan and Max are right behind him, looking just as sexy and intimidating as the first time I saw them.

“I’m digging the naughty librarian look,” Artur quips. “You should’ve worn this the other day. Not that I had a problem with the power suit, that obviously did a number of its own on the three of us.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask again, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hesitation as I nervously look around. “The FBI was just here, are you insane?”

“We know,” Max calmly replies. “It’s why we decided to stop by for a minute.”

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