Manacled Hearts: an Age Gap Mafia Romance (The Sanctum Syndicate Book 3)

CHAPTER 12

“You’re not here for me,” Katya states bluntly when I show up in her apartment.

I narrow my eyes on Katya, that gnawing pressure turning hot at her knowing gaze. I don’t need her to tell me why I’m here, and I certainly don’t want her to act like she knows me so fucking well that she can predict what I’m thinking.

It’s my own fault for allowing it. No matter if she’s basically family.

“Evelyn doesn’t live here anymore.” She continues.

That much I gathered, but I can no longer track her phone, so I couldn’t be sure. I know Carter can track her in a different way, easily, but I couldn’t fucking ask without arousing suspicion or a long line of questioning. Despite this, more than once I had to stop myself from asking him or Maddox about her. Maddox, especially, since I know he’s been training her. At what times, I have no idea, because no matter when I go in the Fightclub, I never cross paths with her.

“I’m here to talk about a mission.” I say, crossing my arms against my chest.

It’s difficult, but I ignore her cocked eyebrow and suggestive look. It’s even harder to keep my eyes from wandering about the space in search of her.

“And the mission needs to be executed tonight?”

“No.”

“Then why did you drag me out of bed?” She crosses her arms over her chest, dressed in her silk pajamas.

“We need to try a different angle.” I ignore her question. “We found out that their operation is fractured intentionally, so the different centers don’t know where the others are or who works there. It’s why no matter who we find, we can’t get any fucking useful information out of them. The guy from tonight said their center is North of Eastling, just a bit further West than we were, in an old asylum.”

She narrows her brows, pursing her lips like she always does when she’s mulling over the information.

“And?”

“Think of who you know out West, around Eastling, if you have any connections there. Someone over there would have heard something. These people aren’t fucking perfect. Just like the ones in Queenscove, they’ll talk when they think no one important is listening. I want to avoid sending girls, but if you sniff something that tells you we should, then go for it. And here, focus on people who knew O’Rourke and Holt, not necessarily professionally, with some sort of connection out West.”

Thank fuck for thinking on my feet, because leaving Katya’s apartment without saying anything, after her implication about Evelyn, would have proved her right.

Is Evelyn here, though?I pace casually, my gaze sweeping around the spots she might appear from. Like the door leading to the pantry, where I once found her checking out some small jars of colorful sprinkles, before she put them down as if I caught her doing something she shouldn’t have. Or out on the terrace, where I saw her several times from outside, quietly watching the world beyond her with heartbreaking hope in her eyes. Like the world could be hers… in another time, another life, breeding a disturbing need inside of me to prove to her it could happen in this one. Or maybe she’ll come out from the corridor that led to the room that was briefly hers.

“Yeah, I know a couple in the general area. One is luxury, the other more… common. I might have to go, but I’ll put feelers out first. How many girls do you want me to send out in Queenscove?” Katya’s voice pulls me back in the moment.

I can’t think of the girl who’s now technically a woman. The issue of her legality doesn’t change how screwed up this is for me to think of how she felt against me when we danced.

What the fuck am I doing here?

“Maximum five, we don’t want to attract attention when they all start sniffing about the same subject,” I answer Katya, continuing to pace, my steps heavier now, following my increasing pulse.

“I’ll do three and start tomorrow.”

We’ll soon have to stop calling them our girls, because we’ve recruited a few men too recently, since some targets swing that way and we had a gap in our service. But the men aren’t fully trained yet and we value safety and skill above all else. Katya’s been hard at work, as always, coordinating, training, and everything in-between. Though Raven has taken on part of the responsibilities too since she’s our most skilled employee in that department.

This is not your run-of-the-mill luxury escort service. Their training is not only about sex, but spying and extracting information. They are taught various methods of manipulation, but they also handle the installation of trackers and listening devices. Most of them started off as escorts and wanted more, or even attempted more on their own as they had better skills and inclinations. Some don’t even get to the sex part since they deal in particular kinks and sexual desires. They are all brilliant at what they do. We also train them hard in self-defense and combat, though they are never alone at a job. But the brilliant part about all of this is that no one outside of our organization knows the escort service is ours.

We only interact with Katya publicly if she has an employee with her and it looks like we’re assessing or hiring, but even that happens very, very rarely. Our interactions are always in private to ensure that whoever hires the girls doesn’t suspect that whatever information they spill gets to us. Some of these pompous cunts treat them like the help, and it doesn’t cross their minds that they pose a threat.

It’s done now, Katya has all the information she needs, and I have mine—she’s not here. And I can’t be in here anymore either, in this space that was never Evelyn’s, yet she haunts incessantly. Even if it’s my memories and wishful thinking doing the haunting. I say goodbye and head out the door, but before it closes, I hear Katya’s voice behind me.

“She doesn’t live here anymore, Finnigan. I don’t know what happened between you two, but she told me not to tell you where she went. If you asked.”

I slam my hand against the door, stopping it before it shuts. “I didn’t fucking ask.”

“And I didn’t tell you. When you go looking for her, keep in mind that sometimes, in order to escape the past, you have to let yourself experience the future. You don’t have to let what Bartiste did to you take everything away.”

Why the hell does she think I’m going after Evelyn?

“You’re crossing a line, Ekaterina. Don’t fucking dare analyze me or assume what I want.” My tone is low, but hard enough that the security guy closest to the apartment stiffens.

I turn once again and leave.

“You deserve it, Finnigan! It’s time!”

The door slams over Katya’s raised voice, and I stifle a laugh. She has no idea what the fuck she’s talking about.

Deserve…

No, I don’t. And I won’t fool myself into thinking there’s a goddamn chance.