Page 65 of Unforgiving Saint (Starukhin Bratva)

I nod, knowing what I have to do next.

Raymond D’Artello’sbusiness is in an isolated, rundown commercial building in Secaucus, not far from Route 3. Sweating in the humid summer heat, I watch the building from a distance for two weeks, learning the schedule of everyone who goes in and out. Sunday dinnertime is the safest night to break in, and I wait across the busy highway in a strip mall parking lot until no one is on the premises.

I run across the highway, carrying a duffel bag of tools, but the building is too easy to break into. I force the lock on the steel door with a crowbar and look around, using the flashlight on my phone. There’s no alarm system. Obviously, not a lot is invested in securing the operation. Standard gray shelving lines the cinder block walls, stacked with stolen packages that no one has even bothered to conceal with a tarp.

“My God,” I laugh to myself. “How dumb can they be?”

The office door is unlocked, and in seconds, I’m searching through files on laptops and in cabinets. But something doesn’t add up. There are several passports belonging toRaymond D’Artello,with a different photo in each one. Then it hits me—D’Artello either doesn’t exist, or if he did, he’s long dead. This is worth whatever is in those boxes out there. I start taking pictures of the phony passport photos, knowing the identities of these men will be useful to the Starukhin. I practically laugh out loud when I hear a small noise behind me.

I pull my gun, expecting to use it, when I see the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I lose my breath, staring into her golden hazel eyes. Her dark auburn hair is a color I’ve never seen. Her beauty is accentuated by a touch of light makeup. A shirt carelessly buttoned and slim jeans show off sexy curves. But what really gets me is that feline smile.

One look, and I know she’s nothing to be trifled with.

Frozen in place, I stare at her as she stares at me. Her gaze flicks down my body in a sweaty T-shirt sticking to my chest, then returns to my eyes. Smiling, I lower my gun. She must be an admin who’s forgotten something. Maybe her purse or her laptop.

“I won’t hurt you,” I smirk. “But only if you don’t try anything.”

She takes a step toward me. “And what do you think I’m going to try?” Her voice is smooth like Italian silk, and I swallow hard.

“Just sit down in that chair.” I wave my gun toward the only chair in the room. “I’ll tie you up so you don’t get in trouble with your boss.”

She laughs as if she doesn’t care but sits down anyway. “He won’t give me any trouble. You’re a funny thief,” she chuckles and glances at my open duffel bag. “Have you tried the safe?”

“I’m not interested in your boss’s money.” My voice catches when she crosses her hot legs slowly.

“Neither is my boss,” she smiles.

“What’s your name?”

She hesitates a second, then says, “Aria. And yours?”

“Zakhar,” I foolishly tell her, but the Lanzzare can do nothing now. I have the proof Gennady needs. Besides, I already have a reputation with them. They know my name.

Aria asks me not to tie her up, but I’m not taking that chance.

“Give me your boss’s number.” I stare at her, tied up without shame. “And I’ll call him and tell him where you are.”

Aria holds out her hand for my phone and taps the screen. “Such a gentleman.” She smirks. “Do you treat all your captives like this?”

“Only the obedient ones,” I reply.

Aria hands my phone back, holding onto it a second longer as I stare into her eyes. “You promise to call?” she asks.

I nod, taking a deep inhale of her spicy perfume. “I promise.”

After I’m safely back in Manhattan, I check my phone. The number is there, but all the photos from the job are gone.Fuck. How did she do that? I was standing there watching Aria. I sigh,Yeah, you dumbass. I was watching her eyes, not watching her hands. I should leave her sitting there, but I can’t. I call the number on a burner and instantly recognize her voice.

“You have reached the phone of Aria Genovesi. Leave a message.”

Genovesi. Smirking, I leave a message. “No message. I’ll call back.”

First thing in the morning,Gennady texts me to meet at Tanya’s penthouse in the city. Staring in the mirror, I straighten my tie and think up excuses for being almost empty-handed. I check my reflection again and, for once, care how I look, just in case. You never know—I might see her again.

Aria. She is like music. Maybe it won’t be so bad to string this out a little longer.

“What did you find out?” Gennady asks as soon as I shut the office door.

“It’s what you suspected.” I toss a package marked with one of our shipping labels onto his desk. “But the office was locked. I need more time to locate Raymond D’Artello.” I pause. I knowwho Raymond D’Artello is. She’s the hottest woman I’ve ever met. “How should I deal with him?”

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