Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“I knew you’d want me to.”
“Thank you.” I hug him hard, pressing my eyes shut. “I don’t know… what I would have done…”
“You don’t have to find out.”
He holds me in the warm water, the strength of him, his solid body, his mass of muscle, comforting me even though it feels like the steady, perfect, understandable world I thought I knew crumbles all around me.
CHAPTER 20
LIAM
“We should have more guns.” I pause at the edge of the path entrance. It’s a sunny, beautiful Sunday morning, and Central Park is crowded with buskers, joggers, tourists, and walkers.
“That’s not what we’re doing here.” Finn watches a young couple walk past grimly. He’s not happy about this either, but it was Declan’s call. “It’s a meeting. Nothing more.”
“They tried to kill us.”
“I’m aware.”
“Now we’re fucking talking to them?”
Finn starts forward without answering.
The Whelan family isn’t all that complicated. The brothers individually have their issues—Cormac’s a psychopathic killer, Seamus is a reckless fighter, Declan’s got the weight of the world on his back, and Finn’s still healing from all the ways he’s been broken over the years—but as a collective, their roles are clear.
Declan is the boss. His word is law. They might bicker and disagree, but in the end, they follow orders.
Which is why me and Finn aren’t strapped to the fucking teeth.
At least Central Park is nice this time of year. We stroll down the path together, and I could forgive most of the people around us for not looking twice. We’re in suits, but so are a dozen other people, mostly office workers on their lunch breaks. None of them know one of the most important meetings in this city’s history is about to go down.
We all know what’s going to happen. Finn knows and I do too. The Baranovs haven’t given us any reason to negotiate, even if Declan thinks we need to hear them out. The message showed up two days ago, inviting us to come here on a crowded, public day, where nobody could try anything stupid. I’m pretty sure Finn wanted Cormac to come and kill anyone in a hundred yards, innocents be damned, but we’re doing this instead.
I’d almost prefer the mass murder.
Luckily, none of the high-ranking Whelans were killed at the Saint Stephen’s attack. Otherwise, this wouldn’t be possible. There’d be no other option but to burn the Russians down, their blackmail material be damned.
“Know what you’re going to say?” I ask as we approach the settled meeting spot. A big fountain dominates the space; a man’s loudly playing an electric violin near an echoing tunnel.
“I’m going to be very polite.” Finn’s expression suggests that isn’t the case. “We still need to know exactly what they have and what they plan on doing with it.”
“If Regan was right, they have everything.”
His eyes stray to me. “Let’s hope she’s not.”
I spot him sitting on a bench alone at the edge of the crowd. I nod in his direction and Finn takes the lead. Max Baranov lounges with his ankles crossed and his hands knotted in his lap, looking for all the world like he’s half asleep.
But I know him better than that.
The Baranovs are bad news. They’re like cornered snakes: always looking to bite, no matter what. Max is the worst of them. He delights in violence in ways even I find distasteful, and I enjoy a good fight. Only it’s the struggle I like, not the nasty after effects.
I’m pretty sure if Max weren’t leashed by his family’s influence, he’d be a very successful serial killer.
“Hello, Finn Whelan.” He smiles politely at my boss. His eyes roll to me. “I see you brought your bag man. Hello, Liam.”
“Max.” Finn does the talking. He sits down beside the Baranov son. I stand to the side of the bench, scanning the busy park for any sign of enemy soldiers. I don’t see any, but that doesn’t mean they’re not around. I doubt Max is stupid and arrogant enough to leave backup behind.
“I’m glad you decided to meet with me.” Max doesn’t change his posture. He seems wholly at ease. “I apologize for all that unpleasantness the other night.”
“You mean when your family tried to kill mine? Fine. All forgiven.” Finn’s charming smile is boyish and convincing, but I know him better than to be fooled. He covers his viciousness with that easy grin.
“Glad to hear it. We can all be reasonable men, can’t we?” Max cocks his head sideways like a lizard tasting the air. “The truth is, my father lucked into a treasure trove recently. Let’s say some documents made their way to his desk, documents which I believe you’ve recently seen?”
“We were made aware of something like that.”
“Yes, I suppose you were. Despite warnings.” Max's eyes find mine. I remain calm, inwardly daring him to mention Regan. “However, bygones are bygones and all that. What we’re here to discuss is a realistic cease to hostilities.”