Page 20 of No Promises, No Lies

“So you took her?” Liam interrupts.

“I thought she could be useful. The heat was coming down and I don’t know?—”

The truth is, I don’t know why I did it. I turn away from my brother, glaring up at the portrait of our father on the far wall.They’ll call me weak for this.It was imperative I play this right. I’m not weak. I have no problem shedding blood when a job requires it.

But then I sawher—the terror in those steel-blue eyes. Even for a stripper, she just had this innocence about her. I should’ve let Jimmy take care of her then, but that was before she ran—straight into my arms—and fuck if I didn’t want to push her away.I drain the last of my whiskey.

“Is that why Jimmy’s texting me, asking if you’ve put a bullet in the dancer yet?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, giving it a little shake in my direction.

My grip tightens on the glass, and I know Liam sees it.

“What’s the plan Ace? You know we got practice starting back up?—”

“I know,” I bite back, a little too harshly, and pour out another glass of whiskey.

I don’t have time for this.Any of this. There’s enough heat on me as it is without incurring the ire of the shit stain that is my cousin Jimmy Reilly. Add to that how we got no leverage on the Bratva despite our efforts. We’re in deep shit.

“There was nothing in his office.”

Liam’s jaw clenches. He knows as well as I do what’s at stake. “Could you have missed it?”

I shake my head. “No, Jimmy turned it over pretty good.” I consider for a moment. “Perhaps the informant fed us bad intel.”

Liam’s face sours a little. “I don’t know Ace, the info was pretty solid. Something important to Adrik was supposed to be in his office. It should have been obvious.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” I snap irritably. “Now I’ve got no leverage on Kostalov and a party favor in the form of a stripper tied up in the back of the warehouse.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Maybe…you should question the stripper.”

That catches my attention. “About what?”

He holds up his fingers, ticking them off. “First off, that girl is too fucking pretty to just be a stripper. Second, if she was waiting in Adrik’s office, maybe she’s like, for the VIPs? If she’s close to him, she could know what was supposed to be in there that was so important. Or, third, if she is just your run-of-the-mill stripper, a lot of Bratva go to the club. She could still know something we could use.”

I consider it, though it’s unlikely. Sometimes dancers hear or see things, which can be useful. But if she had seen anything of any real significance, the Russians would have already taken care of her themselves.

My ringing phone interrupts my thread of thoughts. I grind my teeth as I look at the caller ID, bringing the phone to my ear. “What?” I bark into the device.

“I need to know you took care of the girl.” Jimmy’s anything but quiet, and his voice, even over speaker, carries loudly enough that, by the way Liam sits up, I know he can hear him too.

I hum softly, buying time. “I’ll take care of the girl when I’m done with her.” My words hold a dangerous edge, daring him to push me.I may not have been playing around with the Irish mob too much over the past couple years, but that doesn’t mean I don’t outrank Jimmy’s ass.

Jimmy’s gruff demeanor cracks with a laugh. “So that’s what you’re after? Alright Ace, have fun with your shiny new toy, but clean up after you break it, yeah?”

“Tell Koen to call me.” I don’t wait for his response before ending the call, anger a live flame under my skin.

Liam eyes me with caution, knowing too well how fast I can let the anger take control. “Now what?”

I empty my glass, slamming it back down before I straighten. “I’m gonna go talk to the girl.”

“Play nice.”

My lips twitch as I head for the lockers. “I’ll go easy. It’s not like she’s Bratva. She’ll probably beg to tell me what she knows.” A strange thrill shoots through me at the image of the petite blonde on her knees.

I have to take an extra minute to clear my head of the image before entering the hall where the interrogation cells are.It’s silent in the hall. No crying. No screaming.Strange.

It’s a grimy little room, with cement walls and a drain on the floor in the middle of the room.

Her eyes are on me as soon as I enter. A soft blue—almost gray in this light—and I could get lost in shade of blue if it not for the overwhelming despair I see reflected in them.

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