Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“You have an opinion. Let’s hear it.” He already knew what it was about—Olivia. Better to get it out there than to let Mark ponder on it and have the subject fester. Or, worse, talk about it with the other men and risk some distorted version of the truth getting back home before he had a chance to do damage control. If you told them first, you could spin this however you want.
No. Not yet. He had to talk to her first. He refused to do anything else.
Mark fell into an at-ease position. He’d done a few stints overseas, but when it came time for him to come home to Boston, he’d had a hell of a time adjusting to civilian life. It was Aiden who heard he was having trouble—from Mark’s cousin, Liam—and offered him a job. The O’Malleys weren’t exactly the military, but they sure as hell weren’t civilians, either. It turned out to be a weird limbo that Mark flourished in. The man focused on a spot just over Cillian’s shoulder. “If this woman is someone who might be putting your family in danger, then you should think long and hard about keeping them in the dark.”
Olivia wouldn’t hurt his family. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t a danger. It was a distinction he wasn’t comfortable thinking about, but that he’d have to face sooner rather than later. Cillian sighed. “I’ve got it covered.”
“If you say so, sir.”
Hell, Mark had to be really uncomfortable for him to start calling Cillian sir. There had to be something he could say to make this right. He thought hard. “I’m giving you my word, Mark. Nothing I’m doing here is going to hurt the O’Malleys.” He hoped.
“Good.” Something in the man relaxed a little. “In that case, I’m going to go relieve Grant.”
“Just make sure you’re getting enough sleep, too.”
“Sleep is for the dead, Mr. O’Malley.”
Cillian watched him walk away, wondering if he’d just made a promise he had no way of keeping. Coming out here hadn’t gotten them a pass on the danger—only a reprieve. They still had to figure out a solution that would keep Olivia off Dmitri’s radar and prevent a conflict between his family and the Romanovs. With the Sheridans and possibly the Hallorans backing them, they’d most likely win. But “most likely” wasn’t a sure thing, and he already knew too well what war sometimes cost.
He walked back into the house. In the kitchen, Olivia had the Minnie Mouse pancake dismantled and covered in syrup. Whatever had been wrong before was apparently resolved, because she smiled when she saw him. Damn it, he hated that he was about to wipe the joy right off her face. “We’ve got to talk, sweetheart.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sergei turned around the empty apartment, cursing in Russian. The only evidence that someone had lived there was a half-full laundry basket and some mostly clean dishes in the sink. There was nothing to indicate where Olivia had gone. Nothing. Certain he’d missed something, he stalked through the tiny space again, but it was just like the first two times, and no new evidence magically showed up. “Fucking bitch.”
Bad enough that she’d run before. He could almost understand it in the wake of how things went down with Andrei. The entire family had been in turmoil, and that meant everyone connected with them was off, too. But to run now, when Dmitri had specifically hunted her down to bring her home? Un-fucking-forgivable.
Dmitri.
He had to report, and he had to do it soon. Failure burned his throat like acid, rage creating a buzzing in his ears that was almost welcome. I’ll find you, Olivia. And when I do, I’m making damn sure that you’re not walking away from me again. He’d tried to be patient. He’d tried to be understanding. But nothing had changed.
And now she was fucking that bastard O’Malley.
He could have forgiven her even that. It would have been damn near impossible, but he could have. But she’d gone and run from him.
Obviously it was time to take a firmer hand with her. She’d always been rebellious. He’d seen it from the time he first started noticing her when she hit sixteen and seemed to turn into a beautiful woman overnight.
Sergei could take strong measures when given the motivation—something she’d just done. If she needed a harsh hand to bring her back to heel, he’d be more than happy to give it to her.
He heard a sound and spun around. The ancient bitch from next door stood in the hallway, glaring at him. “What are you doing here?”
“Where is she?”
“Gone, and out of your control. You’ll never get your filthy hands on her again.”
Red danced across his vision. This old bat knew something. He was sure of it. If Olivia trusted her enough to watch Hadley, she would trust her enough to tell her where she’d hid away like a rat fleeing a sinking ship. “Where. Is. She?” Each word was a step forward.