Page 80 of Forbidden Vows

“What about you?”

“I’ll be okay; I promise.”

“Ciara…”

“No, Eileen. I love you, but I can’t go with you yet. I owe it to you and Dad to at least try to fix this, ideally without getting myself killed in the process. I’ll be in touch, one way or another. Just go before that goon sees you. He checks up on me every ten minutes or so.”

I give her a nod as I squeeze her hand, then let her close and lock the door as I carefully make my way back to Paddy’s room. She was genuine. I felt it. I felt her fear; I felt her regrets. For a moment, it was like I had my sister back.

We still have a long way back to a proper reconciliation, but first, I need to remove that wretched stain that is Sergei Kuznetsov from our family.

I find Ian waiting for me, hiding in the shadows. We hurry back to the car and quietly leave the area as I tell him everything I learned. Ian listens intently, one eye on the rearview mirror at all times, making sure we aren’t being followed by anyone.

Sadly, the farther we get from the Donovan mansion, the safer I feel.

“I’ve got a few contacts within the NSA,” he says as we leave my old neighborhood altogether. “I can reach out and see if they have any information where Sergei is concerned.”

“You think maybe we can get some dirt on him?”

“At least something to present at the next Bratva council, for sure. Or, even better, perhaps we can supplement whatever the NSA is cooking up against him with information and leads of our own. If Ciara can get into his vault, we could lock it in completely.”

Hopefully, before the bloodshed begins. I think we are all aware that the doomsday clock is ticking now that Kuznetsov has control over my family. The Irish will probably try to fight back, but Sergei is quite notorious for his way of handling rebellions of any kind. I’ve heard stories from Ian and Anton—stories that make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Tommy Benedetto!” I exclaim as I walk into my husband’s home office to find Tommy by the window, nursing a double scotch. “What brings you here?”

“A buddy of mine from the NSA texted me,” he says.

I’m momentarily speechless as Anton gets up and takes me in his arms, planting a firm kiss on my lips. “I’m glad you made it out of there in one piece.”

“I asked you to trust me, and I’m glad you did,” I reply, then look at Tommy. “What’s your deal with the NSA?”

“Ian doesn’t know that my contacts in the NSA rank higher than his,” Tommy chuckles. “I’m here to help.”

“How so?”

Anton motions for me to take a seat on the sofa. He joins me, his knee glued to mine. I welcome the comfort of his presence and his touch. After the day I’ve had, being close to my husband is pretty much like hugging the sun.

“Well, my buddy confirmed that they’re looking into the entire Kuznetsov family. The circumstances of their deaths—”

“Whoa, whose deaths?” I interrupt.

“Two of Sergei’s siblings. Possibly three. They’re trying to open a line of comms with the Russian Secret Service, but it’s murky waters. It’s been hard to get reliable intel across these days,” he says.

Anton frowns. “I thought Sergei’s older brother passed away and that the others went back to Russia.”

“Who’d wanna leave the cornucopia that is the Chicago Bratva to go back to Moscow where the market isn’t as profitable?”

“I figured they were oligarchs. That social class does well over there.”

“Sergei isn’t as good at managing his family’s finances as most are led to believe, and his daddy wasn’t any better,” Tommy replies. “There’s a reason why they were never able to dethrone the Karpovs. Come on, man, how come I know more about the Kuznetsovs than you?”

Anton chuckles. “You’ll have to forgive me. Your NSA friend is clearly better informed. So tell me, what are we dealing with, exactly?”

“Sergei’s brother, Anatoly, was fished out of the river about four months ago. Another sibling, Jakub, is off the radar completely. The NSA is currently trying to track him down. They’re close to establishing a partnership with the Russians on this, provided they extradite Sergei.”

“As long as he’s out of the Bratva here, I’m good with that,” Anton decrees, and I nod in agreement. Anything is better than nothing at this point.

“Therefore, whatever you have on Sergei and his family, anything at all, any kind of dirt, send it my way and I’ll pass it on. There won’t be miracles overnight, but if they can share information with the Russians, they might be able to pick up a paper trail, something to help them nail the bastard down.”

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