Page 67 of Claimed By the Bratva Brothers

“You believed me then, and you know, deep down, that you still believe me now,” I say. “You fell into his sweet honey trap, I get it. I would’ve too, if I planned on devoting my life to making the world a better place. You want to believe him, and you see all these good things that he does. Charity, social justice, calling members of Congress out to show more consideration toward his constituents, but even you know that they’re all just photo ops while he continues meeting with unsavory monsters behind closed doors. You must’ve seen it for yourself by now.”

Shelby lets a heavy, shuddering sigh roll from her chest. “I understand that politics is a dirty game, Lyric. I also understand that if you want to do some good in this world, you have to make deals with unsavory monsters as you call them, in order to get your agenda at a table where it has the best chance to be turned into reality.”

“What you don’t understand is that my father’s agenda is a pure work of fiction,” I tell her, discreetly pushing a USB drive across the table between us. “My algorithm can prove it. I can link every decision he’s ever made to a consequence that directly benefitted him or his cronies while it ultimately screwed over the very people he claims to serve. Every tax cut, every incentive, every bill and regulation he passed through the city council all leads back to him, his and his friends’ business interests. And there’s no one he’s tighter with than Jack fucking Bowman, who benefitted the most.”

“That’s bullshit,” Shelby snaps, but I insist and force her hand to close around the USB drive despite her initial resistance. “They’ve only known each other for a couple of years, ever since the Bureau decided to pay closer attention to the Chicago Bratva.”

“No, you’re wrong about that. It’s all there. Proof that they go way back and that they have been working together on a variety of projects for decades.”

“No.”

“Yes. Believe me, or don’t. Everything I’m telling you is backed by evidence. If you don’t have eyes to see, you’ll say it’s all purely circumstantial. But I know you, Shelby, I know you won’t let yourself be blinded by your own emotions. You’re a brilliant woman, and I love you to bits. I trust you’ll do the right thing with what I just gave you.”

A frown casts a deep shadow between her brows as she gives me a doubtful look. “And what is the right thing, Lyric?”

“You’ll know. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that you will know.”

I think she already does, but she isn’t ready to accept that the reality she has built for herself in my father’s company isn’t real. It hurts, and I can see the pain dulling her gaze. She shakes her head but tucks the drive into her pocket before tossing a few bills on the table. “I’ve heard enough. Be careful, Lyric. I need to get back to work. Your father has a massive fundraiser to host tonight.”

“Shelby, I—”

“No, I’ve heard enough!” she snaps. “You tell me that I already know this and that. Well, let me tell you something you already know but aren’t ready to admit yet. Your father may be flawed, but he is fundamentally a good man. He may be a politician, but he really is working for the people. He’s determined to change this corrupt system. What really pisses you off is the fact that he and I have gotten closer. Too close for your taste, and that’s insanely hypocritical of you. You get to hook up and screw three older dudes at once, but I can’t experience something real and sweet with just one older man because he happens to be your father.”

“What?”

“Let’s call it what it is,” she says, then walks away.

I’m left staring at her, watching her stomp out of the café. Minutes pass, and I begin to doubt myself and the motivation behind what I just did. I’ll admit, I’m not exactly a fan of Shelby and my father getting together. But that’s not my issue.

My problem is that his downfall will likely hurt Shelby.

I stare at the Sokolov mansion from behind the wheel of my rental car. It would’ve been too risky to drive here in my own vehicle but I don’t believe I was followed. They haven’t been answering my calls or text messages. I tried calling their office more than once, but their secretary didn’t know what to tell me. To say that I’m a tad concerned would be a massive understatement, given the circumstances.

I’m supposed to give them my algorithm results—a USB copy like the one that Shelby got. I gave it to her first as a courtesy. What if she…

“No, she wouldn’t,” I mumble to myself.

We may have our skirmishes and disagreements, but Shelby would never betray me. There’s something else going on here and I need to figure out what it is, so I cautiously drive around the block a couple of times before pulling into the alleyway behind the house.

It’s odd, I soon realize, that there isn’t any security detail around.

They were supposed to have at least a couple of guys posted outside, visible for any surveying Feds to see. But it’s eerily quiet as nighttime falls over the city with its dark blue blanket of stars and half-moon hanging lazily in the eastern sky.

I don’t like this.

My instincts tell me to turn back. I should go home and wait for Max, Ivan, or Artur to text me or call me. The Bureau is watching this place, though I’m confident they haven’t spotted me yet. I stare at the back gate for a while, struggling with my own indecision, fingers lingering on the wheel while the engine hums idly.

A knock on my car window startles me. “Oh, shit!” I yelp, then exhale sharply as I recognize the police uniform. “Sorry!” I roll the window down and give the patrol officer a shy smile.

“You’ve been sitting out here for a while,” he says. “Do you need help?”

The name on his tag says O’Donnell. My stomach churns. I feel like a kid who got caught casing the candy store, even though I had no intention of committing any crime.

“Hi, Officer O’Donnell. No, I’m fine. Sorry, I was just stopping to text a friend of mine,” I laugh nervously. “You don’t want me texting and driving, do you?”

“A friend of yours?”

“Yes, sir.”

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