Page 64 of Mountain Mens' Curvy Obsession

My life is still on the line, except it’s not just my life anymore.

It’s my baby’s, too.

16

Nico

I’m summoned to Sheriff Mills’s office at an ungodly hour and in the utmost secrecy. My nerves and my reflexes sharp. I left my brothers in charge of Anya’s safety while I travel into town well after midnight.

After parking behind the station and trudging through the persistent snow, I make my way into the building and straight to Mills’s office.

“What is going on?” I ask my friend as soon as I find him standing stiffly by the window, suspiciously casing the street.

Seated in a chair across from his desk, a man nurses a double scotch. Bruises on his rough face are still healing, and the neck tattoos emerging above his winter coat speak of gang affiliations. I recognize the style and the defiant look in his eyes.

“This is Shane,” Mills says, looking at me. “He’s from New York.”

“I can tell,” I reply.

Shane gives me an amused glance. “You can tell?”

“That ink on the left side of your neck. Southside Hustlers,” I say.

“Ah, you know your crews then.” He sounds impressed.

“I’m from New York. Grew up around various communities, wandered into the wrong neighborhood once in a while,” I say, making myself comfortable on the two-seater next to Mills’s desk. “Learned to read people before I’d start any dumb trouble. What brings you to our neck of the woods, Shane?”

Mills takes a deep breath. “Detective Perez sent him over for his own safety.”

“Who’s Perez?” I ask.

“The lead detective originally in charge of the Dalton murders. Even after the Feds took over, he continued his own investigation on the side, off the books. Shane, here, has been keeping his eyes open and his ear to the ground over the past couple of years. Made a pretty penny from it, too,” Mills says. “But he got a little too close to someone who’s friendly with the Sokolovs. Asked the wrong people the right questions.”

“Next thing I know, I got a target on my back,” Shane scoffs. “They shot up my mom’s diner. Damn near killed my sister in the process. I had to leave my own city because of those pricks. Sent my family to Pasadena just to keep them alive.”

My blood runs cold as I look at him, then at Mills. “I take it you rattled Leo Sokolov,” I conclude, my tone low.

“And then some.”

“Because the investigation itself was off the books, and there are no charges pending against Sokolov or anyone else in his organization, Detective Perez couldn’t get Shane and his family into a WitSec program,” Mills adds. “So, when I reached out to see what’s been going on over there, as per your request, Detective Perez offered up Shane. Everything he knows. Everything he’s heard and seen.”

“And proof. I took photos, too. Wherever I could, I’d snap-snap-snap away like a tourist in the Big Apple,” Shane says and chuckles dryly.

Mills says, “I’m keeping Shane here for a bit. I’ll work out something more comfortable soon enough, but until then, I plan on debriefing him, and I figured you’d like to hear what he has to say.”

“Absolutely,” I reply with a broad smile. “My brothers and I would also be more than happy to further assist Shane, as well as his family, with the financial means to keep them out of the Sokolovs’ reach.”

Shane gives me a curious look. “You would?”

“Leo Sokolov is after someone I care about deeply. I need him to go down in flames, yesterday, if possible,” I tell him. “So, yes, I would.”

“Is this about the Asimov girl?”

The question hangs in the air, the sudden silence enveloping the room in glacial tension. The sheriff crosses his arms. “I never mentioned anyone from the Asimov family to you or to Detective Perez. What do you know about her?”

“Not much about her, specifically. Just that everybody in the city knows what the Dalton massacre was about. Leo Sokolov wanted to take over all of the Asimovs’ territories. The man is a psycho. Ruthless and greedy as hell. And without the Asimovs, he’s got quite the pull with the Bratva’s upper echelon. Those old-money Russians are way too stiff and traditional in that respect. Meanwhile, Leo’s popping old-money Russians, like the Asimovs, without a care in the world.” He smirks before continuing. “Except he didn’t get them all,” Shane says, leaning back in his seat. “Rumor has it, he missed a few.”

“A few?” I ask.

---