Page 9 of Deadly Obsession

“You know I can’t let what happened with the Italians go unanswered.” Declan slid a cool gaze to Ivankov’s son, who hadn’t gotten up from the booth. “Someone has to pay.”

“My daughter is dead. Isn’t that payment enough?” Ivankov gritted out.

“Your daughter is dead because you placed your bets on the wrong man instead of remembering where your loyalties lay. But don’t worry. I won’t take your son. I want him to watch and to remember.”

At the flick of Declan’s wrist, two syndicate men rushed forward and gripped Ivankov by the arms, shoving his right hand onto the table and forcing his wrist down until his fingers were flat against the white tablecloth. When Ivankov’s son shot out of the booth, Aidan pivoted, aiming his weapon at the kid’s chest.

“Come here, boy,” Declan said smoothly. “I want you to get a good look at the cost of betrayal.”

When he didn’t move, Aidan lunged forward to grab him by the shoulder, shoving him into a chair and leveling his gun at the kid’s temple to keep him in place.

“Falcone,” Declan said almost conversationally, turning in his chair. “Do you still carry knives?”

Falcone silently reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded knife, placing it in Declan’s outstretched palm. Declan turned it over in his hand, pressing the mechanism that had the blade flipping out. It wasn’t long, but it looked lethally sharp.

Declan tapped the point on the table between each of Ivankov’s fingers before laying the sharpened edge against his pinky just underneath a small gold ring with the Bratva crest on it. Declan pressed the blade down until Ivankov yelped and blood welled from the cut.

“Don’t,” Aidan said, pressing the muzzle of his gun against the boy’s head when he shifted toward his father.

“Your loyalty is not to the Bratva.” Declan pushed the blade deeper, and Ivankov struggled against the hands holding him. “It’s not to your son, not even to yourself. Your loyalty is to me.”

He shoved the knife down until there was a thin snap, and Ivankov screamed as the blood pooled under his hand and soaked into the white tablecloth, leeching out in thin tendrils.

“Because without my father’s intervention twenty years ago and without our protection since, you would be dead. Let’s hope you never forget that again.”

When Declan pulled the blade back, glistening with blood, Ivankov’s finger lay severed on the table, the small, gold ring glinting in the light. Declan wiped the blade clean on a napkin and handed it back to Falcone. When he stood, the men released Ivankov, who clutched his hand to his chest, sniveling.

“Don’t make me come back here again, Ivankov. I have better things to do.”

Aidan followed his brother to the door, gun still raised. He let the others file out and made sure he was the last one to step out into the bright light of late morning.

“Brogan,” Declan said into his mic. “Watch to make sure they don’t do anything stupid.”

They jogged back across the street and into the alley without speaking. The men who’d come as backup climbed wordlessly into their car and drove off, leaving Aidan, Declan, and the three Falcone men alone in the alley. The tension was palpable, but no one dared break the silence. That had been a warning for Falcone as much as it was for Ivankov.

“Wh—” Aidan was cut off by the shrill ring of Falcone’s phone.

“Cara mia, what…an accident? Where?” Aidan didn’t like the way Falcone’s voice became strained. “Is anybody hurt? Where are you?”

Declan’s phone suddenly rang, and Aidan glimpsed Evie’s face on the screen before he answered it. Whatever his wife was saying had Declan gripping Aidan’s shoulder and backing toward the SUV.

“They were in the car together,” Declan shouted at Falcone before climbing behind the wheel. “Stay there, love. Breathe. I’m on my way.”

“What happened?” Aidan demanded as they peeled out of the alley to honks and rude gestures.

“I don’t know. She said someone hit them.”

“Hit them? On purpose?”

Declan’s fingers tightened on the wheel as he weaved in and out of traffic. “I don’t know,” he said through gritted teeth.

Aidan wondered at the strange tightness in his chest. It’s not like he needed to twist himself up over a fender bender. In fact, if something happened to Viv, he was off the hook. This could be his lucky day.

They weren’t far from the accident, and when they pulled up, Aidan realized he could hardly call it a fender bender. The entire passenger side of the minivan was mangled, the sliding door caved in so severely it left a gap between the door and the frame. Glass littered the street.

Aidan jumped out after Declan, scanning the area. He didn’t see any other mangled cars. So the one that had hit them must have driven off. Hit and run. Could have been for any number of reasons. Maybe it was a kid or a drunk who didn’t want to get caught.

When Falcone screeched in behind them, it didn’t take long for Aidan to hear more pounding feet on the pavement. Julia stumbled out of the driver’s side door, looking a little shaken but no worse for wear. Falcone ran to her and scooped her into his arms.

---