Chapter Twenty-Two
Dmitri had allowed Aiden and James to agree upon a place to meet, mostly because he was the one holding all the cards.
It made no difference if he was in New York or Boston, O’Malley territory or Halloran.
They needed him, no matter how much they might hate him, and he would use that to his advantage.
It served a dual purpose, after all.
The anger, which had never quite left him upon receiving news of the attack, spiked.
That fool Eldridge woman had no idea what she was unleashing when she went after one of his—after Keira.
His skin crawled just thinking about her rushing back into that room and danger.
He should have known she’d respond like that and approached the whole thing differently, but he hadn’t stopped to think and analyze.
He’d discovered she was in danger and acted.
She could have been killed or seriously injured—because of her connection with him.
Unacceptable.
If Mae Eldridge was going to act like a mad dog, he would put her down like one.
He was too close to finally having Keira.
He wasn’t going to let some sadistic woman with a chip on her shoulder and a jealous streak a mile wide ruin his plans.
He’d already planned on removing the Eldridge family, because their increasingly erratic violence was starting to gain federal attention that no one in New York could afford. It had been strictly business.
No longer.
Now it was personal.
He met Aiden and James at a dingy little bar on the line between their territories, one of those places that seemed to cater to both Hallorans and O’Malleys, depending on the day. Apt.
Dmitri left his man in the car, as previously agreed upon, and strode through the front door.
Negotiation was a funny thing. It relied as much on the perception of power as actual power.
Slinking through the door as if he was afraid would send a clear message that he was weak and start things off with him at a disadvantage.
It was always better to have enemies and allies alike overestimate his power.
Reputation was everything. A man had a strong enough reputation and he’d never have to fight another day in his life.
But the slightest scent of weakness, and enemies would come out of the woodwork to nip at his heels.
That was what had happened with the Eldridges, and if he didn’t deal with them effectively, there would be someone lining up behind them to take a swing at the Romanovs.
Romanovs. I’m the only one left.
James burst into motion the second he caught sight of Dmitri. He pushed off the bar he’d been leaning on and drew a gun from his shoulder holster in a smooth move. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you and put us all out of our misery.”
He would pull the trigger if he was smart. Dmitri was a threat that wasn’t going away as long as he was alive. Saying as much wasn’t in his best interest, though, so he just shrugged. “I have information you need.”
“You almost killed both me and Carrigan.”
“Carrigan was never in any danger from me.” He looked James up and down, comparing what he knew of the man against the woman he’d almost married. “I suppose I understand what she sees in you. You’re rather rough around the edges, aren’t you?”
James narrowed his blue eyes, his finger hovering on the trigger. “You’re a piece of work.”
“Guilty as charged.” He shouldn’t bait Halloran.
James had every reason to hate him, and he would have killed the man if his plans had gone as they were supposed to.
“Where is your lovely wife? I would have thought she’d be in the middle of this conversation.
” She hadn’t struck him as someone content to sit on the sidelines while her man took care of business.
When James didn’t immediately answer, Dmitri laughed. “Did you have to threaten to tie her to a chair? That must have brought back fond memories.”
“Stop fucking talking or I’ll give you another hole in your head.”
Dmitri eyed the tumbler at the bar next to the man. Likely whiskey. “Do you have any passable vodka in this place?”
“You do realize I could shoot you right here and there isn’t a person in this place who would testify against me.”
Apparently, the time for fun and games had passed. Dmitri sighed, already bored. “Yes, you could. Just like I could have had you killed several dozen times over the last two years. I didn’t, so let’s move along, shall we?”
He felt someone at his back a few seconds before Aiden calmly said, “Put down the gun, James. We need him.”
James lowered the gun, but he didn’t put it away. He glared over Dmitri’s shoulder. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten your involvement in this shit storm, O’Malley. You stirred this up, and you put Carrigan in danger because of it. She’s willing to forgive that.”
James wasn’t.
It would have been smarter for Halloran to play this softer. Of the three men in this room, he had the smallest number of resources to bring to the table, since a good portion of his were tied up in the nonprofit Carrigan ran. Interesting thing, that.
But then, James Halloran wouldn’t know cautious if it smashed him over the back of the head.
Aiden skirted Dmitri, and Dmitri let him do it.
When facing down rabid animals, showing fear didn’t get a person anywhere but dead—the same rule applied to the Boston Irish.
He’d misjudged them during his short time in negotiations over Carrigan with Seamus O’Malley, and Dmitri had been paying the price for that oversight ever since.
He waited for Aiden to take a seat, and then got down to it. “Mae Eldridge is responsible.”’
“For fuck’s sake, you could have told us that information with a phone call.” James downed the glass of amber liquor in front of him.
“I want evidence.” Aiden O’Malley didn’t so much as blink, but Dmitri hadn’t expected him to.
The man was as cold as ice—something he appreciated—except, it seemed, when it came to Charlie Moreaux.
There was something about that woman that Dmitri found familiar, but he couldn’t place exactly what it was.
He had a man working on digging through her history to figure out what she was really doing with Aiden O’Malley, but the drive-by had sidelined that temporarily.
He focused on the two men glaring at him.
“Of course.” Dmitri pulled out a file that he’d had put together.
It wasn’t as thick as he would have liked, but it had enough information—and photos—to prove his claim as truth.
He strode over to the bar and set the file down, and then retreated to watch their reactions as they flipped through it.
James was furious, as well he should be. Carrigan would have died in that restaurant and Halloran loved her to distraction. A loss like that could kill a man and yet leave his heart beating.
Dmitri had no intention of falling under a woman’s spell—not even Keira’s.
Love was a weakness, no matter what society would have one believe.
It offered a bright target for anyone and everyone who had reason to hate him.
He wanted Keira, yes, but it was a purely physical thing.
If he didn’t need an O’Malley to compensate for the blunders with both Carrigan and Olivia, he wouldn’t have bothered.
Liar.
He ignored the snide voice inside him with the ease of long practice. Dmitri did his best work by manipulating people around him, and allowing himself to get entangled, emotionally or otherwise, was not in the cards.
Aiden looked over every piece of paper in the file and then closed it. “I assume you have a plan.”
“On the contrary—consider myself merely along for the ride.”
It was clear neither Aiden nor James liked that idea much, but Aiden shook his head and dropped onto a bar stool several down from Halloran. “If we take out Mae, we might as well declare war on Alethea.”
Dmitri considered him. “It will have to be handled carefully. But then, this was always the plan.” He smiled. “Why don’t you contact that delightful brother-in-law of yours? What was his name? Jude MacNamara?”
Aiden narrowed his eyes. “Jude is out of the game. He’s got more important things to focus on.”
“How is your little…nephew, was it? You O’Malleys certainly breed like rabbits.”
“Watch it, Romanov.” Aiden handed him the file. The only indication of anger he gave was a slight clenching of his jaw. “Our alliance only lasts as long as I say it does. Stop dicking around.”
“In that case, let’s get down to business.”
* * *
Charlie looked up from the book she’d picked at random to find Keira humming under her breath, twisting a lock of hair around her finger as she paged through what looked like an art magazine. “Do you draw?”
“Hmm?” Keira flipped another page. “No, I used to paint.”
“Used to?” She kept her tone politely interested.
Aiden had mentioned that Keira dropped out of art school, but even without that information, Charlie would have put two and two together.
There was evidence of art all over Keira’s room, though she’d destroyed most of it in one way or another.
The fact that she was showing any interest in something that had obviously once been very important to her was a big deal.
She flipped another page, still not looking up. “It was a long time ago.”
“That’s quite the safe, pat little answer.”
Finally, Keira looked at her, hazel eyes flashing. “What do you want me to say? If you haven’t noticed, my life is pretty shitty these days. You can’t paint when you’re not inspired. I used to try before I realized it just made me more depressed.”
She’d spent enough time around Keira to know she lashed out rather than deal with something painful.
It was easier to attack than to try to heal a soul wound.
That was probably why she and Charlie got along like a house on fire—they both reacted to pain the same way. “Did you go to Krav Maga today?”