Page 87 of Use Me, Daddy

“And why would the Orlovs be chasing you, sweetheart?” she asked, her tone cool but curious.

“You know the Orlovs?” I asked quietly.

“Yes. Now answer my question,” she continued, her voice turning a smidge harder.

“Because I’m with the Morozovs,” I blurted, my voice steadier now. “Aleksei Morozov. They ambushed us.”

The woman’s smile faltered a bit, her curiosity piqued. “The Morozovs, you say?”

Before I could respond, the door slammed open behind me, and three men barged in, their eyes wild and searching.

“There she is!” one of them snarled.

I stepped back, gripping the gun tightly, but the woman was faster. With a snap of her fingers, the pub erupted into motion.

Men and women who had been nursing drinks and laughing moments ago stood, moving with precision that spoke of years of training and experience. Within seconds, the Orlov men were surrounded, their weapons confiscated, their faces pale as they realized their mistake.

The woman stepped out from behind the bar, her heels clicking against the floor as she approached the nearest man. She tilted her head, her smile as cold as the steel in her voice.

“You’ve got some nerve, bringing Orlov business into my pub.”

The man stammered, his confidence crumbling under her gaze. “We—we were just?—”

“Just leaving,” She finished for him, nodding to one of her people. “Show them the way out. And make sure they don’t come back.”

Within moments, the Orlov men were dragged out the back door, their protests silenced by the efficient brutality of her crew.

When the pub was quiet again, she turned to me, her expression unreadable.

“Well, Amy,” she said, her voice smoother now. “Now that that’s handled, I want answers. How did you get caught up with the Orlovs and the Morozovs?”

I swallowed hard, still catching my breath. “It’s a long story,” I said, my voice shaking slightly.

The woman smiled, gesturing toward the bar. “Then you’d better start talking. And don’t leave anything out.”

I hesitated for only a moment before nodding, knowing I didn’t have a choice. If I was going to get Aleksei back, I needed all the help I could get—and this woman was clearly someone who could deliver.

“Whiskey?” she asked, her tone calm, almost casual.

“I think I need water first,” I replied, still catching my breath.

She smirked, pouring a glass and sliding it across to me. “Fair enough. But we’ll get to the good stuff soon.”

I sipped the water gratefully, my heart still racing. The woman leaned against the bar, her perfectly tailored suit unwrinkled despite everything that had just happened. She watched me carefully, waiting for me to speak.

“You’re not just a bartender, are you?” I asked, the words spilling out before I could stop myself.

She chuckled, the sound low and knowing. “Not even close. The name’s Murphy. Ada Murphy. Maybe you’ve heard of me?”

My breath hitched. Of course, I’d heard the name Murphy. The family was infamous in Boston—a powerhouse Irish mafia family with the type of influence that reached far beyond the city limits.

“You’re… you’re part of the Irish mafia,” I said, my voice quieter now.

“Part of it?” Ada repeated, her red lips curving into a dangerous smile. “Sweetheart, Iamthe Irish mafia. Or at least, I run it with my husband and my five brothers.”

As if on cue, the door behind the bar opened, and a tall man stepped out. He was broad-shouldered and imposing, his dark hair giving him an air of authority that rivaled Aleksei’s. His piercing green eyes swept over the room before landing on me.

“Ada, what’s all this?” he asked, his voice deep and steady.

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