Page 106 of Hunt Me
Fuck.
I couldn’t get Bristol off my goddamned mind long enough to put a plan together on how to handle O’Shaughnessy.
Standing straight, I let out a deep breath and scrubbed my hand across my jaw. I hadn’t even shaved for three days. What the fuck kind of hold did this woman have over me?
I’d let my guard down. I’d admitted we had a past together. A past. What the hell was I saying? The truth was ugly and damning. The beautiful woman had crawled so far under my skin I was no longer the same man.
Because I cared about her.
My laugh was strangled. The truth was a tough taskmaster.
But business and the family had to come first.
I glared down at the mess I’d created, annoyed with myself. Throwing a damn temper tantrum wasn’t going to change what had occurred.
After glancing at my watch, I headed from the office toward the den. I’d given my lovely guest and the sketch artist enough alone time.
Alessandro had been tasked with discovering the hacker. If he was good as I’d been told, I’d learn something in the next twenty-four hours.
What I’d learned over the years was that time was usually of the essence. With Sergio’s death, the black book stolen, and evidence of our supposed illegal activities surfacing, it was truer than ever now.
I’d also made my decision on how best to handle Bristol.
At least the Pakhan in me had determined the best course of action.
The man had other thoughts and desires, but they would come second.
The Bratva always came first.
Hence the reminder I’d given myself three times during the hour Bristol had spent with the sketch artist.
Now, my patience was wearing thin while my hunger had yet to be sated.
“Thank you for your assistance, Jacob,” I told the gruff man as soon as I walked into the room. He was a low-level soldier, but from what I’d heard, his skills were exemplary. I’d watched him in action for a few minutes, curious how he’d coax her for information.
Bristol had remained nervous, constantly fidgeting as she tried to remember details about the man she’d seen in Sergio’s house. I’d left only when she’d finally relaxed.
As soon as I’d all but dismissed the sketch artist, she turned her head to stare at me. Yes, we were tethered together in a twisted manner, but the passion and limited trust from earlier had ceased the moment we’d left the bedroom.
No longer was I her hero. I’d returned to the status of her kidnapper. That was in both our best interests. If she hated me, she’d be more likely to provide the assistance I needed without her father suspecting anything other than his daughter changing her mind.
I would need to keep an eye on Bristol at all times. I’d dispatch different soldiers to watch over her, ensuring not only her compliance, but also her safety.
There’d been another overdose, the two young men seen on video leaving Kazimir’s casino the night before.
I expected Jack to give me a heads-up call any time this morning to warn me narcotics was sending a detective my way.
Jacob began to gather his things, giving Bristol one last opportunity to look at the sketch. She nodded and he headed toward me, tearing the paper from his sketchbook.
“This will be the only copy,” I told him, quickly glancing at the pad to ensure he hadn’t used carbon paper.
“Yes, sir. As requested.”
“If anyone asks, you don’t know anything. Am I clear?” Given there was a strong chance that someone inside my organization was a traitor, the search for the bastard in question would need to be handled carefully.
And expeditiously.
“Yes, Pakhan. I was never here.”
