Page 16 of Sinister Intentions

Matt parked the car, and we got out. “So, the logger?” he asked.

I shook my head. The fewer people who knew, the better. Also, I didn’t even get to plant it on Jemma’s laptop, which was my own damn fault for losing my head. What was it about Jemma Donnelly’s presence and sassy attitude that fried my brain to the point where I could only see her?

This was irritating and infuriating. I always got what I set out to do.

But it wouldn’t keep me from getting definitive proof. And once I had that, whoever was behind it, be it Jemma Donnelly or not, would pay—with more than being forced to marry my brother.

I turned before mounting the helicopter and froze at the sight of someone in the distance leaning against a black SUV—watching me.

Someone I immediately recognized.

“Take the pup,” I said, handing the little thing to Matt, who looked disgusted for a moment but took him immediately.

“I’ll be right back,” I murmured while marching toward the unmoving statue.

So Ivan Zotov was the one having us followed.

Having us followed, watching us instead of threatening or even killing us.

Why?

I crossed the distance and looked around; there was a second black Mercedes—the one that had been following us—a little farther back, with men dressed in tracksuits lingering around. I zoomed back on the man in the black suit and stopped right in front of him. “Zotov.”

He bowed his head. “Salvini.”

I narrowed my brows. He looked completely relaxed as if he hadn’t just been following us, as if he wasn’t one of the most noticeable Bratva bosses out there.

His role and demeanor in Ireland at Donnelly’s side had left a niggling sensation in the back of my mind ever since. But his appearance here in the States? In Boston? That didn’t bode well.

He clearly had followed us since we left the Donnelly mansion. Was he in business with Craig Donnelly now, as well?

But then, why follow us?

I met his gaze head-on. “You got too much free time?”

The left corner of his mouth lifted slightly, the only reaction. “Probably about as much as you,” he said.

Revealing absolutely nothing.

What the hell did he want? His arranged marriage with Fiona Donnelly didn’t work out. Was he now here to establish an alliance with Craig Donnelly? What was it the Donnellys had that he wanted? “So you’re kissing up to Craig Donnelly now?”

He grinned. “Not exactly. Is that your reason to demand this arranged marriage? You need a new ally?”

I forced myself to release all the tension that had built up in my face. The last thing I needed was this asshole anywhere near my territory or my business. Or him second-guessing my intentions and motivations. “I suggest we keep our distance and don’t bother each other.”

He bowed, but he looked as if he really had to think about my suggestion.

Why?

What was it he wanted? The Zotov brothers were legendary players in the international market. Arms deals and coups destabilize the political situations in random countries, and everybody knew if you needed things to blow up and change on a large scale, the Zotov brothers were the ones to call.

But to my knowledge, they’d never operated in the US; at least, they never crept into our area of operations.

“Well, I can’t promise our paths won’t cross,” he said.

I stared at him and he at me. “You better make sure our paths won’t cross,” I said, then paused. “I don’t like people invading my personal space.”

He raised a single brow. “So you consider Boston your personal space, now? Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? The Donnellys aren’t family, quite yet.”

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