Connor
Oil, rusted-out metal, and the pungent rubber of old tires invade my nose before I manage to pry my eyes open. When I do, I know exactly where I am and who I’m with.
Salvage yard.
Oleg Belinski.
Not long ago, Cat and I hid here after the laundromat ambush, behind that blue ghost of a Mustang.
We argued while attempting to stay quiet and out of view as her brother ingratiated himself with Belinski.
It feels like a memory from another lifetime, back when I was another man who only cared about himself.
Cat…
I can’t sense her nearby. Wherever she is, I hope she’s safe.
I told her I loved her, asked her to move to LA with me, and then—poof—her psycho brother charged in and attacked us both, ripping us apart like we’re living in some Shakespearean tragedy.
If that man hurts her again… They have yet to invent all the methods of torture I’ve got planned for him.
My mouth is thick with the taste of drugs. Unoriginal. It’s not even the good stuff.
I raise my hands to rub my face, and my wrists rattle and clink as they hit the hard surface beneath me.
I’m chained to a table. No, a work bench, I realize, as I crank my neck from side to side.
Heavy chains hug my ankles too. Never have I ever felt more like Frankenstein’s monster.
I wonder what kind of experiments Belinski, Nino, and their confederacy of Russians have in store for me.
In the shadows, I glimpse one of the good doctors now, the one with the stiff, clipped speech and a thick Russian accent. This must mean that Nino’s dealing with Cat, which brings me very little comfort.
I puff out a defeated sigh.
I failed her again.
Fuck.
Belinski approaches me. “Rise and shine, princess.”
Oh, this is how we’re going to play it? With the drugs still in my system, it takes a second to force a wry smile. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, wouldn’t you say?”
He hovers over me, gripping a metal pipe.
Super. “You’re no Mr. Rogers.”
Belinski bares his teeth in a feral grin. “On behalf of the entire Roguilin organization, I want to thank you, Connor Gallagher, for stepping up to be the link we need to sabotage the impending alliance between the Gallaghers and the Riccis once and for all.”
Despite my pounding head, throbbing cheek, and a throat that’s drier than a camel’s foot, I manage to maintain my grin. “Anything for a friend.”
Breaking his nose or sweeping his legs is out of the question, which leaves wit as my only weapon. Let’s hope my brain won’t fail me now.
He taps my chest with the pipe. “You are a special one. Clever. Educated. Maybe not with books or at a university…but from life.”
Belinski slowly peruses my body.
Gross. “If you’re going to treat me like eye candy, at least buy me dinner first.”
He meets my eyes again, unamused. “I’m tempted to make you an offer.”
I snort. “Oleg, are you asking me to go steady? Can I think about it? I barely know you.”
Belinski laughs outright. “Sadly, funny man, no. I cannot take you home to the family. Though the Bratva could use someone like you. You are not like the others.” He whacks the metal on the table near my head, the ring echoing painfully through my skull.
“Unfortunately, I need your corpse to ensure there are no do-overs with this Ricci-Gallagher agreement. Twice now, you have convinced the Ricci organization to join forces with the Irish Kings, a branch that is not even your own.”
He continues studying me curiously, as if probing the inner workings of my brain with X-ray vision.
I manage to shrug. “I’m a magnanimous guy, Oleg. A builder of bridges…a maker of love not war.” I attempt to dazzle him with the million-dollar smile I reserve for special occasions. “The Bratva should reconsider.”
Belinski arches a brow, then rests the end of the pipe on my chest and drags it down my body, over my abs, past my dick, and down my quads to my knee, where he taps it rhythmically.
I’ve been tied up and tortured before. I don’t know a mob guy who hasn’t by their thirties. If you’re born into the organization, it’s practically a rite of passage.
What Belinski’s doing right now, though, is fifty shades of vomit.
What kind of depraved bullshit is this son of a bitch into? When I get out of here, I’m going to shove that pipe up his ass until it reaches his tonsils.
Since it hurts to hold and clearly isn’t working, I lose the smile. “Listen, Oleg. Can you stop ogling me? No hard feelings, but you’re not my type.”
He crashes the pipe down viciously on my shin.
Pain explodes in my leg, and I fight to swallow my scream. At least we’re back to old-fashioned, by-the-book torture.
“Yes, when I am done making you dead and serving you up to Finn Gallagher, there will not be an Italian family in this city or all of America that will touch your clan.” He slams the pipe down again in the same spot.
With sweat breaking out all over my body and roofie-induced nausea swimming through my head, I struggle to hold myself together.
If I want to help Cat, I need to keep my cool and strategize.
So I ignore the bile burning my throat. “Frankly, I’m surprised the Bratva would willingly work with that lunatic.”
“You mean Little Nino, with his polished boots and tight pants? We are more open-minded than you think, and the young Ricci has proven to be quite effective.”
Interesting. Belinski all but admitted he doesn’t respect Nino.
“Still, trust is everything. How can you trust someone who kills his own father while the man’s on his deathbed?” I arch a brow, the only body part that doesn’t hurt. “That’s some dark shit, even for guys like you and me.”
“He is a man who will go to extreme lengths to maintain his promise to me.” Belinski’s eyes bug out as his pink face hovers over mine again. “We had an agreement first!”
“An agreement that won’t mean shit once the rest of the Riccis find out he killed Daddy. And when they learn of Eduardo’s amended will naming Caterina Ricci as top dog…” I shake my head. “Sorry to break it to you, but you’ve joined forces with the wrong Ricci, Oleg.”
“I am happy to report that I have Eduardo Ricci’s final will right over there on my desk.” Belinski uses the pipe as a pointer before pounding the metal against his own chest. “Nino gave it to me to dispose of.”
He laughs at some inside joke, which I swiftly catch onto. “Except, if you were going to destroy it—”
“It would be in a pile of tiny ashes that I blow all over this filthy American junkyard.”
This prick is doing exactly what Cat and I predicted. He’s about to swallow their organization like a boa might a feral cat.
Nino the Psychopath can’t even spell the word foresight. He possesses zero leaderships skills and never saw this obvious play coming. He handed the man his key to the Ricci kingdom for safekeeping, for fuck’s sake.
Sure, Cat’s a woman, but don’t the other family members see that Nino will never be half the leader she is?
Their idiocy baffles me.
I need to find a way out of this mess and save her.
From the moment I could understand words, Declan instilled obedience into me, yet Cat stole every bit of my loyalty without even trying. And despite me never doing a thing to earn hers in return, she believes in me. Cat’s shown me a world where love and this lifestyle can coexist.
I’d long abandoned my heart’s desire, and she found it in some ditch in the middle of nowhere, dusted it off, and resurrected it.
I want what Brody and Trinity have, what Maeve and Kellin have.
I want to love Cat more than I want to prove my worth to Declan or Finn. I don’t need to convince either of them that my take on the Russians was correct all along.
I just need to save my girl.
Belinski clocks me in an ankle. With my bone shrieking in agony, I somehow manage to shift my scream into a mangled grunt.
“Oleg?” I utter his name through gritted teeth as I battle the pain.
He cocks his head.
“You know what would be better than one dead Gallagher?”
He smiles. “Two?”
Now I’m the one to laugh. “Exactly. I’ll give you two Gallaghers if you tell Nino to let Caterina live.”
“His sister? The woman?”
“Yes, she’s a woman. A second-class citizen on a good day as far as guys like us are concerned. Surely Brody and I are worth more.”
“You would exchange the life of your brother, a man who has slaughtered two dozen Russians in as many months for…Caterina Ricci?” Belinski squints at me.
“She is a tiny woman who plays with pictures all day long. It does not matter what her dying father thought of her. His mind was not right. She is nobody.”
I ignore the rage bubbling in my chest and smirk. “Precisely. This is a trade that only benefits you.”
The skin around his eyes wrinkles as Oleg Belinski scrutinizes me in his attempt to sniff out the lie.
He can knock himself out, because for once, I’m stone-cold serious. No need to vocalize that I want Cat alive because I’m in love with her.
This massive risk better pay off.
I refuse to consider the alternative.
After a minute, Oleg nods in understanding. “I am listening, lover boy. Continue.”
I almost like this guy.
Almost.
“We each get one phone call. I’ll tell Brody to come after you tell Nino you want Caterina alive to question her personally. After that, give me your word that you’ll let her go before you kill me and get your men ready.”
“What makes you think that I’ll let the woman live after I kill you and that savage brother of yours?”
I raise a brow, feigning surprise. “Are you not a man of your word?”
Belinski’s chest puffs out. “I am a man of my word!”
“That’s what I thought.” I wait until he grumbles a promise. “Good. What time should I set the meeting for?”
He hums. “Nine tonight. But you tell him we will text the location one hour before. That way, there will be no surprises.” When Belinski raises the pipe, I tighten my core.
“Aw, come on, Oleg. We’re just starting to get along—”
The metal strikes my stomach.
The air bursts from my lungs in a loud wheeze. “That…wasn’t…very…nice.” Flexing my abs probably prevented internal damage, but damn, this angry bastard has one hell of a swing.
Belinski points at my face with the pipe. “That is a warning.”
I glare up at Belinski like he’s the one chained to a table. “You’re wasting time.”
Belinski walks out of earshot, and I pray he’s calling Nino, though I doubt the younger Ricci sibling will actually listen to his new Russian daddy.
Or, what if Cat is already…
I can’t bring myself to finish the thought.
Belinksi returns. “Now, how do we get in touch with Brody Gallagher?”
“I know his number.”
Belinski extracts a burner phone and dials the number I recite before putting the call on speaker.
Brody won’t recognize the number, but after everything that went down with Finn, hopefully he’ll check to see if it’s me. In this moment, my little brother’s the only person in the world I can depend on.
He picks up on the first ring.
“Brody.” I take a moment to catch my breath so I don’t sound like I’m restrained and getting beaten with a rusty pipe.
“Con. You okay? Where you at?”
“The deal with the Riccis is back on the table. I told you I’d come through, bro. At nine tonight, I need you to help broker the alliance.”
“Cool, I’ll talk to—”
I cut him off. “No. Just you. Come alone. No Finn. No men. And take the Porsche. Location TBD.”
He grunts. “Works for me. I’ll wait for your text.”
He hangs up.
With Brody on the way, I will get out of this mess and kill Nino Ricci.
I’ll enjoy ending him too. Up until now, I’ve kept myself under control for Cat’s sake.
If convincing someone they’d be happier if you killed the only remaining member of their family was easy, I would have ended the bastard already.
Instead, I held back because I feared losing her.
Hopefully, if nothing else, Belinski’s call to Nino will grant me some time. At the very least, the Russian won’t kill me until Brody arrives. Not when he might need my voice to place another phone call.
Although my intuition tells me we won’t be playing Go Fish while we wait.