Page 29 of Owned By the Mafia

I go to him. “They were driving a fast car. Maybe there are some traffic tickets we can check. I’ll see if the Italians have someone.”

Aiden stands. “Let’s go to the laundromat. There’s nothing left for us to learn here.”

We walk back toward my car. I keep an eye out for anything that looks suspicious, but there’s nothing, and no one, that draws my attention.

As we drive to the laundromat, my mind wanders again. I should let Dina know what I think. She’ll probably have a contact somewhere that can trace if a camera speeding ticket was issued in the area.

“What do you think?”

I look at Aiden. “Sorry, my mind is elsewhere. What did you say?”

“I said. I don’t think the Russians will be happy to see us at the laundromat. What do you think?” Aiden eyes me out. He and I both know it’s not like me to let my mind wander while we’re busy with something.

“I doubt it, but they know they can’t defy me. Volkov told them as such, so they’ll have to suck it up.” I pull into the road and find a parking space.

We climb out and walk toward the back entrance. Two burly Russians are sitting outside at a table. They both stand quickly, their hands on their guns.

I walk up to them without fear. “We’re here to inspect the crime scene.”

“What for? You Irish are useless.” The man’s accent is thick, and he’s twice my size in height and weight, but I raise an eyebrow.

“Because I fucking said so. Do you want me to phone Ivan?” I take out my phone to add weight to my statement, and the guy scoffs.

“Go in, see if we give a fuck. We’ve had nothing but problems since you Irish were hired.” They don’t sit back down. Instead, one leads us inside while the other keeps watch outside.

He leads us into the back laundry room. The metallic smell of blood faintly lingers in the hair mixed with fabric softer and clean sheets. Men are working here, and our escort speaks to them in Russian. I judge his tone and decide we’re not in immediate danger, but I still have my guard up. We look around and find the bullet holes in the machines and walls. The floor and appliances are still stained with blood, which is unsurprising since this isn’t a part of the laundromat that customers normally use.

“Clean this up, or you’ll attract the wrong attention,” I finally say before waving for Aiden and Callum to follow me back to my car. As we drive back to my offices, I glance at them. “What do you think?”

“The bullets came from standard handguns anyone can get their hands on and modify,” Aiden says, looking out the window to his right as we pass several buildings. “It’s not traceable, not really.”

“Do you think we can pull CCTV footage from surrounding stores and see if we can get our getaway vehicle?” I ask, turning back toward the office building.

“I can try, though that’s not really a connection I have,” Aiden says.

“I’ll get it,” Callum says. “Drop me here, and I’ll catch a cab and organize it.”

I pull over and turn to look at him. “Don’t let anyone know what you’re doing. This is between the three of us and Ronan.”

“Got it, boss,” Callum says, climbing out of the car.

I drive Aiden back to our offices, and we start by compiling a list of people that we definitively trust.

When Callum returns with the footage, I have him review it while Aiden and I discuss the men and women working for us.

Days pass by, and before I know it, it’s been a week of missing Dina but keeping busy. I would be lying if I said I didn’t jerk off to the thought of her at least once a day when I got to my apartment. It relieves some of my frustration but more than wanting to fuck her, I miss her. She’s funny and frustrating and sexy, and my heart is calling for her. Not that I would say such a sentimental thing out loud.

A week passes, and all I know is what a few little birdies tell me: she’s working closely with one of the Italian guys trying to root out the traitor.

To say I’m jealous is an understatement, so I throw myself harder into work, not wanting to think about another man leaning over her and catching a gander at her cleavage or smelling her wild hair.

It sends me into a fiery rage, and I take my frustration out on our lack of progress.

“For fucks sake.” I slam my fist onto the table. “This is fucking impossible. No one has a reason to betray Ronan.”

“Calm down, Robbie,” Aiden tries to placate me. “We won’t get anywhere if you’re in a mood every day.”

“And how moody has he been?”

---