Chapter 2 - Adrian
Crouching atop one of the shipping containers, Adrian's jaw ticked as he watched Rhiannon crumple to the ground. He had been following her all morning, as he normally did when her father and brothers were working on tasks outside the criminal underworld they all pretended they weren't a part of. While some small part of him had been certain she was up to something, he had really hoped he was wrong. It had been a long week—longer still after a full thirty-five hours without sleep. Adrian was irritable and grumpy, especially when he couldn't follow the troublemaker onto her father's estate. Forced to wait somewhere that wouldn't draw attention, he parked his Camaro off the side of the road near some bushes that he really hoped wouldn't scratch the paint job. Then he waited.
An hour passed without any notification that Rhiannon was on the move. He spent most of the time staring up at his ceiling. Counting numbers didn't work, and his weapons were all polished. So he decided to use the extra time in the most beneficial way and drifted to sleep, only to be woken a few minutes later as his tablet chimed to let him know she was leaving her father's estate.
Moments later, Rhiannon raced around the corner, revving that poor Maserati loud enough to wake the dead. She didn't see him in the shadows, but he found himself chuckling at her obvious temper as she sped home. Eyes flicking between his tablet and his watch, Adrian gave her a few minutes head start and then followed after her, pulling his Camaro into an underground car park near her apartment just as her brothers left. By that point, he didn't need to move anywhere else as he pulled up the camera feed of the microscopic spy cameras he'd hung around her apartment. By then, there was no doubt she was up to something as he watched her slip on black clothes that matched what he was wearing—flexible and light; clothes he'd picked to make it easier to slip in and out of places unnoticed.
Several hours later, she led him on a merry-goose chase right to the docks, and Adrian watched her with exasperation as she darted around the containers, laughter in her eyes and confidence in her posture. Of course, it didn't take long for the situation to turn dangerous, but he still waited for her brothers to arrive like they always did. He couldn't imagine having to sit watching a woman as reckless and stubborn as Rhiannon, but this was their problem, not his. Adrian was just there to see whether they were planning any attacks on the Bratva.
So he watched as her father's men sneered at her prone form, and Adrian felt an irrational bubble of irritation simmering inside him. He blamed it on having to babysit her, but when half an hour passed and her brothers still hadn't arrived, Adrian started to pace. With all the frustration of a tiger trapped in a cage, Adrian monitored the men as they tied her up in ropes, and he saw her head lift before flopping uselessly again.
Black fury enveloped him, and without even realizing it, he pulled out his silencer and added it to his favorite handgun, fingers molding over the grip while he waited for the perfect opportunity. Half an hour passed, and more men made their way onto the docks, pushing a couple of wooden crates opened to reveal impressive, shiny new guns that were more than a little concerning. Handguns, he could understand, but rifles? Automatics?
His eyes flicked between the crates and the girl, lingering on the latter. Whatever she'd planned to do at the docks wasn't going to happen now. She was utterly at their mercy, and although he'd learned something by watching the weapons deal completed, it wasn't enough to stop that growing sense of wrong he felt the longer he stared.
"And her?" One of the men tipped his head toward the girl with a leer that had Adrian's shoulders bunching. "What's she here for?"
"She's ours to sort out," one of Rhiannon's father's men responded dryly, kicking at her legs. Unconscious, the girl didn't even whimper. Adrian's expression turned deadly, darkening further at the savage grins on the men's faces. Fucking hell , he thought, if they were going to kick and shove her, then they should've at least waited until she was fully aware and able to fight it off. Adrian saw no honor in beating someone who couldn't defend themselves, and even less if it was a woman.
Tying her up, he could understand; hell, he'd considered it a time or two when the troublemaker was up to her usual antics, and the rest of her family were busy with things that actually needed his attention.
Below him, the men were still talking as if it were just any other day. Adrian listened with half an ear, imagining their deaths in great, cruel detail. He didn't plan to do anything, but just the thought of sliding his switchblade across their necks was enough to calm him to a meditative state.
"I'll take her off your hands. Name your price." Interest gleamed in their supplier's eyes.
"You couldn't afford it," the Irishman laughed, his voice rough from smoke as he gestured for his men to move the crate of weapons.
The tension in Adrian's shoulders eased, then returned when the supplier tilted his head and demanded, "How much?"
She always gets herself into a mess, doesn't she? Adrian couldn't suppress the exasperation that washed over him. This time, the Irishman looked like he was about to consider it, and as he opened his mouth, Adrian's instincts kicked in. He didn't have time to logically dissect the reasons behind his actions—he just moved. With a steady hand and a swift pull of the trigger, the man who had moments ago kicked Rhiannon fell, silence enveloping the chaos around him.
Clearly, Rhiannon's father couldn't be trusted to look after his own daughter. He'd have to tell Mikhail that, Adrian decided as he shot the second man. Both bodies fell into a pool of their own blood. No, Rhiannon's father couldn't be trusted to look after his own flesh and blood, and if that were the case, then Adrian was finally certain that they didn't have anything to do with the attack that had been dealt on his family so many months ago.
After everything that happened to Ivan and Amy, as well as their unborn child, things really would've been easier if it had been the Callaghans behind it all—but it would've taken a lot more effort and collaboration to attack, and the Irish mafia's skipper clearly wasn't intelligent or observant enough to have been the one behind it.
After making sure no one sounded any alarms, Adrian jumped off the shipping container and rolled into a crouch. His eyes scanned the shadows for signs of movement, and when there weren't any, he moved to pick up Rhiannon's unconscious body. The other men would come back, but by then, they'd both be long gone.
Hell only knows what I'm going to do with her , he thought to himself, but maybe he and his brothers could use this as a point of negotiation to find out what the hell the Irish were doing with all those weapons. He knew Ivan would certainly agree to it. His brother might've seemed back to his usual, cocky self, but there was an underlying tension in him since the attack. Even Amy—snappy, sassy Amy who they'd all known since Lev and Mia had gotten married—refused to leave her home without any bodyguards. A big change since her disagreement about their security measures, but one that they weren't too upset about now that she was growing closer to her due date.
The pregnancy had been easy enough up until the later stages, but with all the stress, Ivan had kept his wife out of club dealing as much as possible. Though, even if she had been healthy enough to argue, it wasn't that easy when the rest of the men were doing the same with the other women.
So yeah, maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. Two birds, one stone. And maybe after, he'd be able to move onto a few other suspects, though there weren't enough on the list to figure out who the fuck all was involved.
Adrian let out a sigh and deposited Rhiannon into the back seat of his car, gently, far more gently than he would ever be with anyone else. Though, he ignored that as he assessed how she lay there, completely oblivious to the danger that had just passed. With one last look at the harbor behind him, Adrian spotted the cameras hidden in the corners and out of sight. They were older models, and thanks to the dark space and his all-black outfit, he doubted the CCTV would pick him up. Still, taking chances led to mistakes that couldn't be undone. He'd have to double back later to see whether they were actually recording or not.
Stubborn girl , he thought, shaking his head as he got into the car and pulled away from the scene. Always thinks she can handle everything by herself without realizing the kind of world she's navigating. For now, he had to figure out what to do with the beauty in the back seat. First things first, she needed medical attention. Adrian pulled out his phone and called his cousin.
***
Twenty minutes later, Adrian was carrying Rhiannon through the hallway, separating his front door from his brothers. Thankfully, the former was standing wide open while the latter was firmly shut. He didn't have the time to explain this to more than one person; his cousin was already glaring at him from his living room.
"How the fuck do you and your brothers keep getting into this mess?" Irena complained, her Russian accent thick as she gestured them toward the couch. He hoped she'd been subtle when she snuck away from the compound, though there was no doubt the women had seen. Some, like Mira, were far too fucking observant. Hopefully, they'd just put it down to another injury. The men in the Bratva saw enough, though they'd been keeping Irena busy with only the most important.
"I don't have the time to explain," Adrian answered gruffly, shaking the thoughts away. He still hadn't figured out what to do with the Irish Princess.
Rhiannon had already started to stir within the confines of his car, and as he set her down on the couch, her eyes blinked open to peer around his apartment with dazed confusion. Adrian couldn't help but brace himself for the inevitable fireworks. Rhiannon's fiery attitude had never been easily managed by her own siblings, and he knew better than to think she'd be any less irritable now. So, as she looked around, he prepared himself for the storm he'd witnessed countless times before.
Recognition crossed her features when she found him crouched next to her, and Adrian smirked as she attempted to get off the couch. "Where—What the fuck are you doing with me?!"
His mouth opened to explain her circumstances—and her kick came out of absolutely nowhere. True to form, she was in a fighting mood the second she realized what was going on; he really should've expected it.
"Stop it!" he growled, just managing to dodge her attack, but the firm sole of her boot still caught the underside of his jaw, and it throbbed while he quickly moved to restrain her. "You're going to hurt yourself."
The crazy woman had a head wound, of all things!
Rhiannon bared her teeth as he snatched at her legs, his large hands gripping and pushing until she was struggling against the couch with short, bursting screams of indignation.
"You're going to have to restrain her if you want me to continue," his cousin drawled from the other side of the room, and Adrian just managed to shoot her a glare before Rhiannon kicked at him again.
"Handcuffs," he snapped expectantly, and Rhiannon, predictably, let out another rageful shout.
"Cuff me and I'll put a fucking bullet in you!" Rhiannon screamed, scrabbling away from him.
"Really, Princess. That's not very ladylike," he mocked as he simultaneously snatched her wrist and the cuffs Irena was holding out for him. Behind him, he heard her muttering things in Russian that only he understood. Most of it seemed to be aimed at his competency, but he'd dealt with her ire before and knew better than to respond to her mocking. That would only get him stabbed. "You'd think you'd be more grateful after I just saved your life."
"Like fuck you did!" Rhiannon shouted, ripping her arm away as he attempted to cuff her wrists together. Another boot kicked out, hitting him in his gut, and Adrian swallowed his irritation.
"What?" Adrian drawled, adopting an easy manner. "You don't remember getting your ass handed to you by your father's men?"
Rhiannon faltered for just a second, and he grinned. "You really should be careful who you trust, Princess."
Still trying to sneak back on the couch, Rhiannon spoke in a voice brimming with anger. "Then what the fuck am I doing here?" It was a pale reflection of the rage crossing her features as he took the chance to quickly cuff her hands and feet.
That wrath in her expression doubled as she realized what he was doing, and her shout of "Motherfucker!" came a second too late. "Let me go, you bastard!" she seethed when he pulled away. Adrian rolled his eyes; he didn't expect her to be grateful; she never was. "My father's going to fucking kill you when he finds out about this."
"I'm sure he will, but not before you get in trouble for messing with his operations again. Or am I wrong about that, Princess?" he spoke smoothly, an eyebrow arched at her squirming form.
"Fuck you!" she spat, and Adrian let out a bark of laughter.
"Maybe next time," he said, amusement lacing his voice as Irena finally started examining her. Staying silent, Rhiannon only gave the other woman confused glances each time Irena moved to check her head wound. One particularly sharp movement had Irena's fingers digging into the wound, and Adrian felt a flash of irritation at the pain on Rhiannon's face.
"That fucking hurt!" the Irish Princess snarled, and though Adrian shot a glare at his cousin, who only sent him a tolerating look back, he merely shrugged and replied, "Well, if you stop squirming, she'll be better able to help you."
Confusion flickered across Rhiannon's face, but she stayed still. "Why are you helping me?" she demanded a moment later. More of that Irish temper crossed her features. "Is this a fucking hostage attempt?"
"You have no idea what I could do if you were my hostage," Adrian teased as he leaned closer to her, a smirk playing on his lips. Rhiannon's eyes flashed with anger as she glared at him.
"I'd sooner die than let you have that satisfaction, you arrogant bastard!" she shot back, her tone fierce.
"Is that so?" he replied, running a hand up her leg. Revulsion flickered across her features, but it looked forced. Interesting , he thought to himself. "You might want to reconsider. I have a few tricks up my sleeve that could make your captivity quite… interesting."
Her anger ignited further, but before she could retort, Adrian straightened up and gestured toward Irena. "But for now, you're just going to have to deal with her."
With that, Adrian turned on his heels, leaving her fuming with Irena before departing his apartment for the office.
"Fuck you!"
"I don't fuck injured women," Adrian answered vaguely, turning back to leer at her. "But if you're that adamant about paying me for my rescue, I wouldn't complain too much." A cocky grin spread across his features while her own dropped with shock.
"Maybe it would help if you left," his cousin supplied helpfully while Rhiannon still gaped at him, brimming with anger. "I should be able to handle things from here."
Adrian nodded, stepping out to allow Irena some space, and as his foot crossed the threshold into his office, he overheard Rhiannon ask, "What are you planning to do with me?"
He knew his cousin wouldn't answer her, but it was the perfect opportunity for his mind to begin racing through the possibilities of how to use this leverage to their advantage. He was aware that keeping Rhiannon around could be beneficial, not just for his family but for her own future. And yet, there was something else, he thought, wrestling with the conflicting emotions swirling inside him. He felt a growing reluctance to let her out of his sight, a tingle of protectiveness that he wasn't prepared to acknowledge.
He picked up the phone, knowing he had to call her father. They'll give me shit for this , he thought, thinking about his brothers. He wasn't too sure what his next plans were, but he knew that he needed to handle it delicately.
"Lucian speaking."
"Lucian," Adrian replied smoothly. "You're speaking to Adrian Nikolai. I believe I have something valuable of yours."
"Like what?" the Irishman snapped. "I don't have time to deal with the fucking Bratva."
"I'm sure you'll make time. It's about your daughter."