Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
We aren’t in the business of killing women. Niall doesn’t like it. Would prefer to avoid it if he can. But this time, things are different. Our whole syndicate rests on the balance of this girl. To cross the Russians at this point would be a death sentence to all of us.
I’m stating the bleeding obvious here. Logic tells me I’ve no choice but to hand her over to them when the time comes. I can’t allow her to get in the way of my plans.
Niall sighs. He can read me better than anyone, and it only irritates me further. He needs to know I’m ready. That I’m loyal to the syndicate and nothing else. But my silence is reading like something else right now.
“This is on you, Lachlan. Regardless of how it came about, the responsibility lies on your shoulders now. Your fate is tied to hers. Ye follow me?”
“Aye. I follow ye.”
I don’t need a psychic to tell me I’m going to regret this.
“Ye’ll need to meet with Viktor’s daughters soon,” he continues. “You and Sean both.”
I unbutton my collar and loosen it from around my neck as I give him a stiff nod.
“Of course.”
Niall is appraising me, an obvious question in his eyes. Am I going to lose the plot? Go soft on him over this girl? Is Sean a better choice than me for the position?
It’s this last question that reaffirms my dedication. I cannot allow a woman to stuff up my plans for the syndicate. The one thing I’ve been working towards all these years. And my final promise to Carrick. I told him I’d do him proud, and I will see this through, no matter the cost.
Rory knocks and opens the door. Niall and I both turn our attention towards him.
“What is it?” Niall asks.
“The Italians started some beef with one of our guys down at Micko’s. They think it was us who hit one of their shipments last night.”
“Fucking Italians,” Niall and I both mutter at the same time.
Rory throws his hands up and shrugs. “If it isn’t them it’s the goddamn Armenians breathing down our throats. This has their brand of sloppiness written all over it.”
“We can expect more where that came from,” I chime in. “Looks like things are drying up for them in Cali, they’re all heading back East.”
“Aye, well,” Niall says, “times are changing. There’s bound to be a war on the horizon.”
He glances at his watch and then back to me. What he’s thinking has already crossed my mind. There’s loads of cash sitting in the basement right now, waiting for the Russians.
“We’ve got the drop tonight.”
He nods and then goes about instructing Rory. “Send half the crew to deal with the Italians. Tell them to be quick about it.”
I’m not too keen on this plan. Leaving the club without a load of protection on tonight of all nights isn’t wise, but Niall sees it as a necessary measure. Allowing anyone to infringe on our territory or fuck with our lads makes us look weak, and the consequences of such behavior must be swift and harsh. That’s what the syndicate is all about.
Niall stands up and adjusts his coat.
“I have a recital to get to.”
“Give the girls my best wishes,” I tell him.
He nods and slips out the door.
Chapter Thirteen
Mackenzie
Lachlan told me when I started here that I was supposed to be the appetizer. So when I find out they’ve switched my set to follow Mandy’s, I get a little annoyed. She’s going to be up on stage taking her clothes off and then I’m supposed to follow it up with just a teaser?
It’s ridiculous, and I have no doubt Lachlan is punishing me for my little performance earlier. Still, I don’t let on to it as I step onto the stage prepared to knock em’ dead. He can make it as difficult as he wants. I always did love a challenge.
Tonight I’m wearing an artfully shredded spandex mini dress that just barely covers my nipples and lady parts. I’ve chosen Bad Girlfriend by Theory of a Deadman and Buckcherry’s Crazy Bitch for my set. Fitting to my mood.
I start off with a bang. My moves are on point, and the men are wagging their tongues. Lachlan’s in the pit, watching me with an expression that doesn’t give anything away. But the tapping of his fingers on his thigh and the way he glances at the men around him tells me enough. Halfway through my performance, Mandy sidles up to him, sipping playfully from her drink.
His attention moves to her and something inside of me goes a little haywire as I watch her swivel her hips in time to the music. She’s trying to give him his own private show during my fricken’ performance. Gah. The nerve of this woman. And yet I have to wonder why it even bothers me.
It shouldn’t. I never planned to get close to Lachlan. But things are complicated and confusing as hell and the only thing I know right now is that I hate seeing him with her. I tell myself it’s smart to stay under his protection. I tell myself that I still haven’t ruled him out as a source of information. And when the music ends and I’m marching down to his table, I tell myself these are the reasons why.
He arches a brow at me and leans back in his chair while Mandy practically snarls at me.
“I’m ready for that drink now,” I tell him.
“Ah, is that so, sweetheart?” he asks. “I’m fairly certain that earlier…”
I don’t let him finish. I move between his legs and sit right down on his lap, shooting Mandy a satisfactory glance as I’ve staked my territory.
“Or we could just have it right here. Whatever you want, Lach.”
Mandy stalks off to find another victim for the night and he laughs, but his humor doesn’t last long. He traces a fingertip down my cheek and right below the swell of my lips, which his eyes are laser focused on.