Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“I promised I would tell you more about that other situation if it became necessary.”
Fawn turned from where she was cooking a chicken stir-fry for their dinner on the ultra-modern black glass hob that had taken her a while to work out how to even switch on.
She raised questioning brows at Declan’s statement as she looked across the kitchen to where he was standing in the doorway. “Has it now become necessary?”
“Yes.”
Declan was now fully dressed, but his hair was still damp from where he appeared to have taken a shower.
Which he shouldn’t have done without supervision. Even if that was only by Fawn sitting in his adjoining bedroom with the door open, rather than actually being in the bathroom with him, if that was what he preferred.
But instead of telling him that, she found herself distracted by the way his navy-blue T-shirt clung to his shoulders, arms, and chest. It should be illegal for any man’s chest to be that muscular, but especially a man of his age.
Those muscles were so defined, Fawn thought she could see the outline of his eight-pack as those ridges dipped and disappeared beneath faded jeans that rested low on his hips.
Speaking of which, there was a faded spot in the denim right where the bulge of his?—
“Fawn…?”
She blinked several times before forcing herself to raise her gaze to meet his. “Can we wait to talk about this over dinner, which is almost ready, or shall I remove the pan and reheat the food after we’ve finished talking?”
Declan gave the question several seconds’ consideration before giving a half-smile. “Dinner smells good.”
Fawn took that as confirmation of her former suggestion as she turned back to toss the chicken and vegetables in the pan a few more times before dishing it up onto the two warm and waiting plates. She put a lot more on Declan’s plate than her own, of course.
Thea Morgan had ensured Declan was fed enticing, tasty meals during his stay in the hospital, and Fawn intended to make sure it continued that way. Eating, as much as remaining pain-free, would help speed up the healing process for Declan.
“I set the table in the breakfast alcove,” she informed him. “I also put your two pain meds next to the water glass near one of the place settings. But if you would rather eat in the formal dining room?—”
“Here is fine.” Declan took his laden plate from her before walking over to where the table was set with the utensils they would need, along with condiments.
There was also the jug of cold water yet to be poured into the glasses.
Wine was a definite no-no with the amount of pain meds Declan was still taking daily, and Fawn tended not to drink alcohol.
The occasional glass of wine, maybe, but never when she was working, as she would be twenty-four-seven for the next two weeks.
Fawn waited until they were seated opposite each other and she had poured their water and watched Declan take his two painkillers before she prompted, “Well?”
He grimaced. “I’ve been debating whether or not you’re a rip-the-band-aid-off sort of woman, or one who prefers to have it removed slowly.
One is brief agony. The other takes longer but is no less painful.
From what I know of you, I’m guessing it’s the former.
” He scooped up a forkful of chicken and vegetables and began eating while waiting for her reply.
“Definitely the former,” she confirmed, picking up her own fork and doing the same.
Declan sobered. “Okay.” He nodded. “When Danny drove us here from the hospital earlier today, the reason he took me aside was because he suspected another car had followed us from the airport.”
Fawn drew in a hissing breath. “Why on earth would someone do that?” She tensed. “Do you think it has something to do with you having been shot a week ago?”
“Yes.”
She shivered at hearing that abrupt and definitive answer. “But rumor at the hospital is that the man who shot you is dead.”
“He is.”
“Do you have any idea how he ended up that way— You do know who killed him,” she realized, having seen the admission of that fact in Declan’s slightly guilty expression.
Declan winced. “What you need to understand from the onset of this conversation is that members of the Russian underworld don’t live by the same rules that you and I do.”
“That vague reference to Russian criminals does little to explain who was responsible for killing that man.”
He gave a heavy sigh. “Fergus’s future wife was in danger, and Nikolai Volkov doesn’t allow anyone to threaten the people he cares about.”
She gave a puzzled shake of her head. “Who is Nikolai Volkov?”
“The second to the head of the Russian bratva here in London,” Declan dismissed calmly.
As if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on Fawn by so casually mentioning the name of a prominent member of the Russian criminal organization that very often ruled over the underworld in the major cities around the world!
Including London, apparently.
Not that Fawn knew a lot about the bratva, but it was still enough for her to realize that if you wanted to live, you really didn’t want to upset any of them. Or any of their family. Or the associations they had alliances with. Or, apparently, the people they considered friends.
Which, it seemed, that was what the members of the Wynter family were to this Nikolai Volkov.
Fawn had lived in London for six years, and never once had she heard a single mention of the name of this Russian mobster.
Which was why she’d also had no idea of Declan’s knowledge or connection to a member of the Russian bratva when she’d agreed to take this job.
Would it have made any difference to the outcome if she had?
Truthfully, the extra money Wynter Security was paying her was just too good for her to refuse. Even if it now seemed the family was somehow involved with the Russian mafia!
Her eyes narrowed. “You said someone followed us here?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Someone connected to the man who shot me.”
“The man I’m now suspecting might have met this Nikolai Volkov, or some of his men, at least, shortly before he died?”
A nerve pulsed in Declan’s tightly clenched jaw.
“I’m not condoning their violence.” He held up his hands in the universal sign of I wasn’t involved .
“But the man who shot me signed his own death warrant when he decided to start shooting on the streets of London. Nikolai won’t tolerate such reckless behavior in his city. ”
“Unless he sanctions it, I’m guessing.”
“Yes.”
“Was the man a member of a rival Russian bratva that now wants revenge?” She’d once read that those organizations were usually headed by different families in different cities and very often felt a loyalty toward each other.
“Not exactly,” Declan hedged. “Shall we go through to the sitting room and sit in more comfortable seats?” He shifted awkwardly.
Fawn glanced down at their two empty plates, their conversation having been so intense that she hadn’t even realized she and Declan had consumed all the stir-fry as they talked. Declan was now obviously feeling the discomfort of having sat for too long in these straight-backed leather seats.
“Of course.” She stood to remove their plates and put them in the dishwasher before following him through to the light and airy sitting room.
Declan made himself comfortable on one of the couches. “What you need to know right now is that Linus, after many hours of checking surveillance cameras, etc., has managed to identify the man who followed us today.”
Fawn watched him from the doorway. “As who?”
“Boris Koslov, the brother of the shooter.”
She felt a sinking sensation in her abdomen. “Is he sure?
“Once Linus had facial recognition of the driver following us, it was only a matter of time before he was able to connect a passenger who arrived at Heathrow Airport two days ago to that man. He also learned that this Koslov is a foot soldier for one of the bratvas in Russia.”
“Oh.”
Declan nodded. “Once Linus had that information and the number on the license plate, he was able to track Boris Koslov. We now have a pretty extensive file on his movements during the past two days.”
“Exactly how did Linus acquire that information?”
“I didn’t ask, but I’m guessing by hacking into yet more security footage from the time the man arrived at Heathrow Airport until now.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did Linus hack those systems illegally?”
Declan huffed. “I didn’t ask, and you shouldn’t either. Fawn, most hacking, by definition, is illegal,” he added impatiently when she continued to frown. “It is also sometimes necessary. Even by the good guys. Which we are, incidentally,” he added dryly.
She opened her mouth to answer before abruptly closing it again, feeling totally at a loss for words. Well, any that made sense, anyway. Because she currently felt as if she had somehow entered the twilight zone of Russian mobsters and people getting shot.
“Are you okay?” Declan prompted after several moments of her remaining silent.
Was she? No, probably not, after hearing that they had been followed by a man who was probably only in London to avenge his brother’s death.
“Is this why you didn’t want me to go out for a run?” she prompted once the realization hit her.
He nodded. “We now know that Boris Koslov hired a car at the airport before driving into the city itself and booking into a seedy hotel that looks as if it rents rooms by the hour.” His top lip curled back.
“A good choice, because no one checks on places like that. He wasn’t in his room much anyway.
He spent the next two days watching the comings and goings at the hospital.
Today, as Danny informed me earlier might be the case, Koslov followed us in that hired car when we drove to this apartment building.
Since then, Linus has learned he booked out of the hotel, and, despite an extensive search, Linus hasn’t been able to pinpoint his current location. ”
“But he’s going to continue looking?”