Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
And John Finch would have just kept on living, doing what he did best—turning people against their friends and families. Part of him still couldn’t believe that his little brother was a fucking informant to the feds. The O’Malleys did a lot of terrible things, but they held family above all others. To betray family…
He hadn’t confronted Teague yet. He didn’t trust himself to even see his brother’s face without losing control. If Teague was still just his brother, it wouldn’t have been an issue. But he wasn’t just Teague O’Malley anymore. He was married to the head of the Sheridan family, which made any interaction Aiden had with him a potential political incident. They’d barely avoided a war up to this point, and he wasn’t going to be the reason that changed.
But he was only holding off the inevitable and he knew it. Eventually he was going to have to see his brother face-to-face and tell him exactly what Aiden knew.
Anger tried to choke him, but he fought it, focusing on the man he could make pay. John Finch. If he simply removed the fed, another would take his place. No, Aiden needed leverage to get Finch to back the hell off of his own free will.
Aiden had no illusions about what kind of man he was. He’d do unforgivable things to uphold his family’s power and keep those closest to him safe. He had done unforgivable things.
He was about to add one more to the list. “Let’s go meet this Charlie Moreaux.”
Approaching her on her own territory was a mistake. Even with Liam at his back, she would have home-court advantage. So they took up a spot just outside the door and waited. They’d timed their arrival to coincide with last call, and sure enough it didn’t take long before a scattering of people filed out of the bar, some weaving on their feet.
Fifteen minutes later, a woman exited alone. Aiden didn’t need Liam’s nudge to know that this was Charlie Moreaux, formerly Charlotte Finch. Despite her white blond hair, painted-on jeans, and downright sinful good looks, her blue eyes were a cop’s. She stopped when she saw them, taking both him and Liam in, in an instant. “If you’re looking for trouble, you’ve got the wrong woman.”
She shifted, and his gaze flicked to her right hand. “I suggest you don’t pull that gun on me, bright eyes.”
Charlotte frowned. “Who the hell are you?”
He weighed his odds of telling her the truth, and decided it was in his best interest to start things out correctly. “Aiden O’Malley. A pleasure.”
“Wish I could say the same.” She narrowed those gorgeous blue eyes. “I know that name…Isn’t New York a bit of a jaunt from Boston? I wonder what Romanov thinks of your trespassing.”
If he’d had any question about who she blamed for her downfall, the answer was in the way she practically spat the Russian’s name. Perfect. His initial plan had changed the second Liam had mentioned her potential connection to Romanov—now, a new plan solidified. Two birds, one stone.
He kept his hands at his side, doing his best to be nonthreatening, and went in for the kill. “Dmitri Romanov is no friend of mine, and with your help I can bring him down.”
She snorted. “I’ve heard that one before.”
“Maybe other men have promised. I can deliver.”
She cocked her head to the side, her long hair spilling over one shoulder. The sheer lack of pigment in her hair drew his attention to her blood red lips. While she considered him, he returned the favor, taking in her fitted white T-shirt and jeans that hugged every curve. And then there were those heels, the same color as her lips. The woman looked like…Fuck, if he was going to be honest, she looked like sex, with her smoky eye makeup and her stillness and the way she watched him like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to shoot him or fuck him.
“No.”
Aiden took a step forward and caught himself, retreating immediately. Crowding her would only result in her doing something like going for the gun she must have in the back of her waistband. He couldn’t bully her into agreeing. She had to do it because she wanted to or it wouldn’t work. “Give me a chance to change your mind.”
She hesitated, and he waited, giving her time to think about it. Charlotte finally glanced at the door to the bar and lowered her voice. “Look, I don’t know what you think you know about me, but even if you had the ability to take Romanov down, I can’t do a damn thing to help you. I don’t have contacts in the force anymore. I’m just a woman with a gun who’s better than average at poker.”
“That’s not all you are, and you know it.” She was the daughter of a fed with a specialty in organized crime, and her record when she’d been a cop was downright impressive. Every sign pointed to her having a keen mind and the ability to think on her feet. The woman was practically built for undercover work.