Page 91 of Stolen Mafia Vows
“You want to watch it happen,” Ilya presses, gauging my reaction.
“No.” My voice is impossibly steady. “I want a fake passport and safe passage to Europe.”
He smiles. “What makes you think I will do this for you?”
“Do you love Olivia?”
His eyes narrow briefly. “I don’t see what?—”
“If you love her, you’ll do anything to keep her.” This is what Eoghan made me believe anyway. “I’ll create the distraction, while you and Olivia go ahead and take what you want from their empires. Then you let me go.”
“It isn’t that simple, Emily.”
“Sure it is.”
Panic is gurgling underneath the surface. If I don’t get him to agree now, I’ll backtrack on everything I said and hand control back to my unpredictable captors. Whatever happens at the event, one thing is certain: I can’t let Olivia and Ilya win.
“You’ve already laid the foundations.” I hope he doesn’t realize that I’m buttering up his ego. “I’m only the cheese inside the mousetrap.”
His expression is unreadable. “I’ll run it past Olivia.”
“Does she make all the decisions?”
“Don’t push your luck, Emily.” I swear he growls like a dog, or perhaps I haven’t yet erased the sound of the guard dogs snarling at the bottom of the tree.
“So, you’ll get me a passport?”
“I’ll think about it.”
A frisson of excitement sends my pulse racing, but I can’t get ahead of myself.
I’m playing with lives here. I feel bad for Sienna, Victoria, and their babies, but I’m confident that my captors will be no match for the Murrays and the Byrnes combined. Olivia is deluded enough to believe that Caleb will leave Victoria for her, and Ilya’s doubts about her intentions will be his own downfall. They’ve set their sights on the golden prize without considering the mountain of steps they must climb to get there.
“One more thing.” I smile. “I’ll need something to wear.”
20
EOGHAN
Stunningthe guard dogs is easy.
For some unfathomable reason, Emily’s captors are behaving as if they’re in the Caribbean. For the past twenty-four hours, I’ve watched Ilya Kuzmin swim, play tennis, drink cocktails, and eat caviar and shrimp on the decking. I’ve watched his partner sunbathe in a variety of runway-worthy swimsuits, a wide-brimmed hat shielding her face from the sun’s rays and the cameras.
I’ve also watched Emily limp around the decking, keeping her distance from her captors as if they’d forgotten that she exists.
Mistake number one: they’ve clearly convinced themselves that she won’t try to escape a second time.
Mistake number two is even clumsier: they’re waiting for me to make my first move at the charity event planned for tomorrow when all the Murrays will be gathered in one place.
I’ve watched their CCTV footage, rerouted to my tablet by my cousin Liam, until my eyes water, searching for a signthat they’re one step ahead of me. I can’t rule it out, but I’ve seen nothing to convince me that they’re taking this seriously:
Mistake number three.
Because I am. That’s my wife they’re using as a pawn in whatever game they’re playing. I’d gladly hand over my father’s empire to the Murrays in return for Emily’s life, but these people are simply trying to piggyback on the hard work of other families.
Only a skeleton crew of Byrne foot soldiers remains in Ireland to ensure that our business continues to run smoothly. Everyone else is here in New York. Along with every other gangster who has ever owed me a favor.
They all know the score. We are not at war with the Murrays; we’re here to free Emily and see that the bratva gets the message: mess with the Byrnes, and you’ll wish you’d picked on someone else.
