CHAPTER 10
MAISY
Georgina’s been instrumental in the running of the club this past year, her connections making the impossible possible. It’s ironic that while she’s been achieving so much, Benji, her Vitali boyfriend, sees her as nothing more than decoration.
I reach Yonkers in good time; the condo she found me is on the northern edge of the city—close enough to stay connected, but still comfortably removed. She’d describe it to her buyers as a sleek, modern, discreet first-floor unit.
“I’m sorry I’m late. I had to make sure I wasn’t followed.” I step up to her, glancing up at the building. “This place is secure?”
“It should be.” She hands me the key. “I’m selling it, but you can use it for at least a month. No one’s around to be asking questions.”
I take the key. “Appreciate it.”
Georgina exhales, tilting her head to one side. “You want to tell me what the hell’s going on?”
“Best if I don’t.”
“Figured.” She watches me for a moment. “Look, whatever you’re planning, just be careful. The people we deal with don’t leave loose ends.”
I grip the key tighter. “I’m not a loose end.”
“No,” she agrees, and titters. “You’re the problem .”
I smirk. “Damn right.”
“Let me know if you need anything else. I gotta go.”
“Sure.” I hesitate before speaking again. I know the unwritten rule we have about privacy at the club still stands, but I want to reiterate it. “Georgina, please don’t—”
“Don’t worry. I was never here,” she says, her hand brushing my arm. She holds my gaze for a second longer, then turns and heads to her car.
The moment I step inside the building, relief washes over me. The place is empty—it’s just me here.
I enter the condo, lock the door, and lean back against it, letting my shoulders relax. A long, tired breath slips out, one I feel like I’ve been holding since I left the airport.
I cross the room slowly and look around. Everything feels too big. The high ceilings and bare walls stretch around me.
I lower myself onto the couch, not so much sitting as collapsing, the cushions swallowing me up. All this space feels… off. It’s too empty. It’s too quiet to be alone with my thoughts, and too late to outrun them.
I take slow breaths, pushing the feeling aside. I can’t afford it. Not now. Fuck, I hate this. I hate being alone again.
Next to the couch, I see a panel of buttons.
I press one to close the curtains, and within seconds, the daylight is cut off.
Almost instantly, the darkness and silence remind me even more of how I used to live.
How many nights did I spend alone before I met the men who gave me my life back?
Before they nearly died—a few times, too—in order to protect me.
Well, it’s time I paid them back.
I’ve changed over the last few years, I know—where I once cowered in the face of fear, now I stand my ground.
With Orion, Logan, and Kai by my side, I’m now thinking more like a Carte, a Vitali, and a Delgado.
Having experienced what it means to be saved, and especially now I have my children, I’m beginning to clearly understand the power of protection.
I’d rather die protecting my men and my family than run and hide, like I did before.
And if that means doing things I’m not going to be proud of, so be it.
I take off my cap, tip my head back, closing my eyes as my thoughts race uncontrollably. I press my palm flat against my chest, feeling the steady beat of my heart, grounding myself. The universe needs to give me a sign. A direction. A clue. Anything.
“Please, God…Mom…Rebecca,” I whisper, feeling desperate, “if you’re listening, I could use a sign.”
My children’s faces float through my mind, innocent and trusting. They believe their mom can fix anything, protect them from any monster. I think of Orion, Logan, and Kai—how they’ll react when they find out I went against their orders.
And then, I hear it. The sign. A loud bang and a splintering of wood. My heart lurches into my throat as heavy footsteps thunder through the condo. Male voices, speaking in low tones.
My body moves before my brain can catch up.
I run to the end of the hallway and into the bedroom, and scan the room desperately for somewhere, anywhere to hide.
The closet’s too obvious. Behind the curtains?
No, that’s worse. Under the bed is my only option, pathetic as it is.
I slide onto the floor and crawl underneath it, trying to control my panicked breathing.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” a gruff voice calls out, and my blood turns to ice. “We know you’re here, Maisy.”
The sound of heavy boots gets closer. I hear them enter the bedroom, and they circle the bed like wolves. I can see their shoes from my hiding spot—expensive Italian leather, because of course these bastards would wear designer shoes to a kidnapping.
“Check under the bed,” one of them says with a laugh. They all speak with a hard Eastern European accent. “That’s where they always hide in the movies.”
My heart stops as a face appears, upside down, and steel-gray eyes meet mine. All I can tell is that he’s a predator. “Well, what do we have here?”
I fling out a fist and punch the face in front of me, just before rough hands grab my ankles and drag me out.
“That tickled,” the man I hit jeers.
I kick and thrash, but it’s useless against their strength. Four men surround me. “Let me go, assholes!” I scream.
“Fuck, Viktor, I didn’t know she was so energetic!” a man with biceps bigger than my head chuckles.
Viktor! I have a name. They all look like they’re cut from the same cloth: tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in three-piece suits that scream danger. But Viktor’s the one who makes my skin crawl with that cold, assessing stare.
“Let—me—go!!” I shout, hating how my voice trembles.
The third one, an intelligent-looking man with a goatee, but intimidating nevertheless, dangles my cell in front of my face. “Not very smart for a genius, are you? Left your cell on. Might as well have sent us an invitation.”
The men laugh.
“Don’t be so stupid! I switched off my cell!” I retort, still thrashing about.
“Yeah, but not before we pinged you at the airport.” He jeers.
“Kill her now,” the fourth one says. He looks like he’s in charge. “We came to eliminate a threat, not play games.”
Viktor’s hand shoots out, grabbing the man’s throat.
“Know your place,” Viktor snarls. “I make the decisions around here.” His eyes rake over me, and I feel naked despite having on a dress that comes to my knees.
“Besides, look at her. Those eyes, that face. She’s wasted on those American dogs. We could have some fun first.”
“The pretty ones always scream the loudest,” the bicep guy says with a grin, revealing teeth set in an ugly, unnatural way.
I try to run away, to slip out of their grip, but together with the bicep guy, Viktor has my arm clamped like his hand is made of iron. “Don’t bother running, Maisy-Moo. You’re coming with us. Maybe if your men behave, we’ll send you back in one piece.”
“My name is Maisy Slavinovich,” I say through clenched teeth, “and you’ll die for this.” My heart is thumping in my throat, but my chin is still raised. “All of you will die! ” I yell for good measure.
Viktor and the men laugh as I’m preparing to insult them some more, but something hard strikes the back of my head and darkness swallows me whole.
LOGAN
I trust Rosa with my life, but just one more time, I have to reassure myself of this fact.
My fingers hover over her contact on my cell. I want her to respond to me immediately, but she’s taking her time, which drives me crazy.
Once a stripper at my father’s club, Rosa was more of a mother to me than anyone else. She took me to school in the early years, and those memories of her are fond ones. I can still remember the scent of her perfume, vanilla, as she’d sneak me candy in the morning.
When Maisy had the twins, I just had to find Rosa and find out what had happened to her. Kids do that to you—make you relive your own childhood.
She lives in Chicago now, as Rosa Jakores.
The moment she told me, the name brought back vague memories of a tall man in a tailored suit, standing in my father’s shadow—until one day, he wasn’t.
What happened to him, I didn’t know at the time, but now I do: Basim Jakores married Rosa and left New York.
She told me they’d wanted to build a new life, far from the blood-soaked streets of New York.
But Vitali is not a name you can just delete from your background.
“Logan?” comes Rosa’s warm voice on the line. “Is everything okay?”
“Hi, Rosa. Yes, all is good. I just wanted to talk to you again.”
There’s a rustling sound at her end. “Stop worrying. The guest rooms are ready—we’ll put the boys in one room, and the girls in the other. Maisy and Sasha will sleep in the same room. And I’ve already vetted a nanny who can help while they’re here.”
“Rosa, about the security—” I start, but she doesn’t let me finish.
“It’s state of the art, Logan. CCTV covering every angle, motion sensors, armed response. Basim made sure of that. Your family will be safer here than they would in Fort Knox,” she assures me.
No matter what she says, guilt still gnaws at me. And a deep sense of responsibility. Not just to Maisy and the children, but to Orion and Kai. They also trusted me with this. “Thank you, Rosa. I’m not sure what we would’ve done without you.”
“Logan.” Her voice turns stern. “Focus on what’s going on over there. And just know that I will protect your family with my life. I promise you that.”
I close my eyes. “I can’t lose them, Rosa.”
“And you won’t. My driver will pick them up from the airport—ex-special forces, thoroughly vetted. They’ll never be alone, not for a second.”
“Thank you, Rosa. For everything.”
“You know what I think?” There’s a smile in her voice now. “That girl of yours made you better than your father ever was. Better than any of us thought possible.”
The truth in her words hits hard. Maisy did save me, in more ways than one.
“Thank you,” I say, my resolve strengthening. “And Rosa? Keep them close.”
“Like they’re my own, Logan. Now go do what you need to do. We’ll take care of the rest.”