Page 24 of Lethal Torture
“In regard to your questions,” Mak says politely, “even I can’t give you the full brief unless you agree to take the job. Standard practice, you understand.”
I glare at him.
“In the meantime,” he goes on, entirely unmoved, “what I do know is that Zin needs a forensic security overhaul of her operation, including those in her close circle. That means the investigation has to come from outside.”
I turn away to pour myself more Scotch, partly to avoid being drawn into their conversation. More because, to be honest, I fucking need it.
I had no intention of taking this job.
I accepted Mak’s invitation to come here tonight because I like a challenge and because it sounded like a bit of fun.
Yeah, sure, Macarthur. That’s all it was.
I catch Dimitry looking at me and scowl in his general direction, which only makes him grin wider. I’d tell him to go fuck himself, but the problem is, I like the prick.
That doesn’t mean I’m under any illusions as to who, and what, he is. What they all are.
And intriguing as I might find it, their bratva world isn’t mine.
Nor are their women, Luke.
Besides, I didn’t leave the armed forces just to start taking orders in someone else’s organization. I’m just a bloke from rural Australia who wound up in a British uniform, holding a gun, and realized he was good at it. Now I get to pick and choose where and for whom I point my gun, and I like it that way.
Not to mention the pay is a hell of a lot better.
The sums of money that appeared in my account after Miami and Myanmar would be enough to have me surfing West Australian breaks for the rest of my life, if I chose to.
Problem is, you never do seem to choose that, do you, Luke?
Which brings me back to my current dilemma.
“You said when we got here that you weren’t interested in the job at all.” Mak tilts his head at me, clearly amused. “Then you said you have questions. Which is it?”
“Are these attacks coming from a rival bratva clan?”
When in doubt, go on the offense.
“Who said anything about bratva?” He lifts a sardonic eyebrow at me.
I lift one of my own right back at him. “Cut the shit, Mak. I want to know if I’m walking into a turf war.”
“Could be.” Mak lolls in his chair, obviously enjoying this far more than he should.
“We’ve known Zin a long time,” Roman intervenes. “Since she first took over her father’s operation.”
“Is that normal? For a woman to take over?”
He tilts his head wryly. “There’s nothing normal about Zin.”
You can say that again.
Mak leans forward. “Like I said, Zinaida will brief you fully if you take the job. Before then, any more information is off-limits.”
I know he’s throwing a line out. Mak knows I can see the bait.
We both know I want to jump on the fucking hook.
Swim away, Luke, you dumb bastard.
