Page 2 of Wicked Duty
Darren and I go way back. He’s tossed me multiple jobs over the years, so when he reached out to see if I still freelanced for high-profile clients in need of protection, linking up was a no-brainer. For Darren Kelly, I’ll always be muscle for hire.
The chaise lounge creaks as I adjust my weight. I’m starting to wonder if getting involved in this—whateverthisis—was a bad idea. Pungent-sweet cigar smoke reaches my nose, and I flick another subtle glance in Shane’s direction.
That man is more than just the head of the Irish Kings.
He’s one of the most revered—as well as ruthless and dangerous—businessmen on the Eastern Seaboard. Darren hadn’t mentioned that “Uncle Shane” would be here today. Or that this mysterious assignment involved the Kings’ leader at all.
If I’d realized the Gallagher patriarch was somehow connected to all this, I wouldn’t have come. As I know from past experience, there’s no such thing as assisting the mobonce.
And there’s no favor that won’t come back to bite you in the ass.
Still, I’m already here. And I sure as fuck could use the money, so I might as well keep an open mind and see how this plays out.
Rory, the tech master, presses some buttons I can’t see on the lectern. Four bookshelves split apart to reveal a flat screen television set into the woodwork’s foundation.
He opens his laptop and begins fiddling as we all rotate in anticipation of the show. When he finishes, a video conferencing window pops to life on the screen, along with the blinking icon that indicates someone’s on hold.
Veronika shares a quick glance with Darren. “Oh good, she’s here.”
Shane gestures toward the screen. “Put her through, Rory.”
I straighten. I have no clue who “her” is, but I guess I’m about to find out.
In a matter of seconds, we’re all staring at a brunette woman with alert dark eyes and a nervous cast to her features.
Veronika’s the first to speak. “Maya, you know Darren.” She goes on to introduce the rest of us without specifying exactly who Maya is.
“We’ve gathered all of you here today to discuss our newest client.” Darren’s a pro at commanding a room’s attention, though that’s often because of his fierce energy more than his oration skills. He addresses me directly. “Lucy Marlow, Maya’s younger sister, is a burgeoning supermodel, and we want you to handle her protective detail going forward.”
Cold disbelief splashes my face. I shoot Darren an incredulous look, because,what the fuck?
“A model.” My flat tone hides another twinge of annoyance.
An unflinching Veronika meets my gaze head-on. “She needs a bodyguard. A good one. A lot of powerful players are after her, and we don’t want a repeat of what happened last time.”
Despite my knee-jerk reaction to the idea of guarding a snooty, shallow, empty-headed model, a burst of intrigue pierces through my skepticism.
I sit up taller in my seat. “What happened ‘last time’?”
“A few months ago, while pursuing work through a local modeling agency, Lucy got mixed up with a human trafficking ring operated by Sophia Kovaleva and Troy Sullivan.” Darren never minces words. “They planned to sell a number of women at a huge summit, but with Veronika’s help, we managed to bust up the party and shut the whole operation down.”
Damn. Was not expecting that. How the hell did Maya’s little sister get involved with a human trafficking ring operated by the Russian Bratva? And what did Lucy think she’d gain in exchange? Money? Influence? A leg up in a mediocre modeling career?
And Darren wants me to be this woman’s bodyguard?
I battle the urge to sneer. “Let me guess. Shutting down the summit didn’t make you any friends?”
“We originally believed Kovaleva and Sullivan’s Red Hill goons were the driving force behind the auction, but the event was actually meant to be Viktor Roguilin’s American debut.”
My jaw hits the floor when Darren drops thatname.
No wonder his uncle’s in the room.
Viktor Roguilin is more than a Russian mob boss. That powerhouse of a man heads an international crime network that makes the Irish Kings seem like a bunch of Martha Stewarts. Compared to Roguilin’s resume, Shane Gallagher might as well be an altar boy.
“We’ve been monitoring his operations closely ever since the summit’s collapse.” Veronika’s voice darkens with every word. “We found out he has modeling agency fronts all over Europe and Asia.”
Rory crosses his arms over his chest as he angles toward me. “From what we’ve gathered, he was trying to expand to the US, and he put the event in Kovaleva’s hands to manage.”
