11. Eva
EVA
Jeeeeesus. This place is bigger than my entire apartment building.
That’s the first thing I notice when Wolfe pulls into the driveway. Not the security. Not the landscaping. Not the three cars that probably cost more than everything I’ve ever owned combined.
The size. This is where Clark Kent comes from. Not a crappy apartment above a dry cleaner. An actual compound.
My knife is in my jacket pocket and my hand has been on it for the last ten minutes.
“Okay,” I say, not moving once Wolfe turns off the ignition. “Give me the lineup. Again.”
He already briefed me on the ride. But it was like he was reading off a grocery list instead of introducing me to the people who might decide whether I live or die today. And I want to hear it one more time because my brain is running so hot right now, I’m not sure I retained any of it.
“Ronan’s the oldest,” he says. “He’s in charge. He’ll be the guy sitting behind the desk.”
“The one who wants to dissect me,” I say.
“He doesn’t want to dissect you.”
“Based on everything you told me last night, yeah, he does. Moving on.”
Wolfe sighs. “Lochlan handles security. He’s married to Adriana DiMicheli. He’ll ask the sharpest questions.”
“Sharper than yours?”
“Different kind of sharp. Then there’s Gavin. He’s the youngest. He talks a lot and people underestimate him.” He looks at me. “Not me. Other people.”
I nod. “Got it. Continue, please.”
“Cillian. He owns a bar called Venom. He won’t say much but he sees everything.”
“Five brothers. All in the mafia. And you’re the one who eats Cheerios.”
He shrugs. “Someone has to be the normal one.”
“Wolfe, nothing about you is normal.”
The corners of his lips quirk up. “Thanks for the compliment.”
“Sure, if that’s how you want to take it.” I sit there for another five seconds because I need them to process everything. Sal. Dmitri. The exit for me that doesn’t exist without these people.
Then I get out and follow Wolfe to the front door, my heart practically punching through my ribs.
The inside is exactly what I expected and nothing like it at the same time.
It’s clean, expensive, and tasteful in the way that rich people are tasteful…
like someone hired another person to make it look nice.
There’s no clutter, no mess. And zero personality except for the faint smell of coffee and leather.
Wolfe walks through the halls with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders relaxed. He looks nothing like the man who sat at my kitchen table last night and watched me shut him out.
He looks like he belongs. And that hits me harder than I want it to.
We stop in front of a closed door at the end of a hallway. He glances at me.
“He’s going to test you,” he says. “Don’t let him.”
“Please.” I roll my eyes. “I’ve handled worse than your brother. Prison, remember?”
“I know. That’s why I brought you.”
He pushes the door open.
Four men are waiting inside. I count them before I count anything else because that’s what you do when you walk into a room full of people who could end you.
Four men, one desk, two windows, one door behind me.
I’m already calculating how fast I can get back to that door if this shit goes sideways.
The only difference is there’s no go bag waiting for me.
The one behind the desk has to be Ronan. Everything about him is hard and exactly how I pictured him—jaw, eyes, posture. He looks at me the way you look at a cockroach on the ground in front of you.
My eyes hit the window next…and the man standing next to it.
I bet that’s Lochlan. The one who has the security company Wolfe mentioned on the way over.
Tall and muscular, with blue eyes like Wolfe’s except sharper, like they can slice deep and hard.
He’s already taking me apart in his head. I can practically feel the knife cuts.
The one on the couch with the grin that doesn’t match the room—he must be Gavin. He’s younger than the others and leans back with his ankle on his knee, spinning a pen, looking at me like I’m the most interesting thing that’s happened to him all week.
And leaning against the wall close to the door—I didn’t see him until I was already inside, which tells me everything about how he operates—that has to be Cillian. The bar owner. He’s watching Wolfe though, not me. Dark blue eyes, dark hair, and he has a stillness that feels eerily…lethal.
Wolfe wasn’t wrong about any of them. But seeing them in person is a different thing entirely.
“Have a seat,” Ronan says.
I don’t sit. “I’m fine standing.”
“I said have a seat.”
“And I said I’m fine standing.”
The place is plunged into the kind of silence you can choke on. Gavin’s pen stops spinning. Lochlan’s eyebrows lift slightly.
“The asset has opinions,” Ronan says.
“The asset has a name. It’s Eva,” I say.
Something flickers across his face. Not amusement. Not respect. Something in between that he kills before it fully forms.
“Eva.” He tests the word. “You’ve been inside both our family’s systems and the DiMichelis’ for three months.
You’ve pulled financial records, property data, client lists, and a calendar that belongs to an employee of my sister-in-law.
I want to hear from you…not my brother…exactly what you’ve been doing and who you’ve been doing it for. ”
I glance at Wolfe. He gives me the smallest nod.
“I’ve been working for Dmitri Kozlov,” I say. “He found me about two weeks after I got out of prison. He knew about my brother’s debts. He knew about my hacking skills. He showed up with a folder and a smile and made it very clear that saying no wasn’t an option.”
“How does he contact you?” Lochlan asks.
“In person, mostly. Different locations every time. Cafés, parking garages, parks. He texts a time and place. I show up. He gives me the job, and I deliver.”
“And you never asked what the data was for?” Ronan says.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because the last time I got curious about what someone was using my work for, I ended up in a federal prison cell for fourteen months.” I hold his gaze. “I learned my lesson.”
Gavin lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”
“Gavin,” Ronan says without looking at him.
“What? She’s got a point.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying—”
“He said shut up,” Cillian says. Gavin throws his hands up and goes back to twirling the pen.
Ronan leans forward, his hands folded in front of him. “How do we know you’re not still working for Dmitri as a spy? How do we know this isn’t a set up…you walk in, feed us what we want to hear, then report back to him?”
“You don’t,” I say. “You have zero reason to trust me. I’m a convicted felon who’s been inside your systems. The smart move is to assume I’m lying.”
Even Gavin’s head snaps up at that.
“But here’s the thing,” I continue. “If I were still working for Dmitri, I wouldn’t be standing in your house.
I’d be feeding him your security layouts and your financial records and the fact that your operations guy keeps a calendar your entire family should be worried about.
I wouldn’t show up here and put my face in front of the men who want to... eliminate me as a threat.”
I point at Ronan. “Starting with you.”
“I don’t want to eliminate you,” Ronan says.
“Your face says otherwise.”
Gavin coughs. Cillian’s mouth twitches.
“I’m here because Dmitri is going to do something bad with the data I gave him, and the only way to stop it is to work with people who have the resources I don’t,” I say.
“That’s it. I’m not loyal to you. I’m not loyal to Dmitri.
I’m loyal to my brother. And right now, working with you is the only way to keep him safe. ”
“She’s direct,” Gavin says. “I like her.”
“Nobody asked you,” Ronan says.
“Nobody ever does. And yet…” He throws his hands in the air.
Ronan opens his mouth but Wolfe cuts in.
“She’s here because I brought her here,” he says.
“She’s been feeding me accurate intel for two weeks.
Every piece has checked out. Without her, we wouldn’t know Dmitri’s name, we wouldn’t know his targets, and we wouldn’t know he’s three moves away from a play that could hit both families.
You can interrogate her all day, or you can use what she’s got. Your call.”
Oooh. The air suddenly shifts. Ronan looks at Wolfe and something passes between them that I can’t fully read. It’s not fear on either side. It’s more like…recognition. The quiet brother just drew a line, and everyone knows he means it.
Ronan sits back in his chair, suddenly at a loss for words.
I stare at Wolfe. This is not the man who eats Cheerios in a crappy apartment and tilts his head when he’s confused. This is someone else. Someone who just told the most dangerous person in the room to back off, and the most dangerous person in the room did it.
Holy shit.
“Tell me about Renaldi,” Lochlan says, breaking the tension.
Before I can answer, the door opens and a woman walks in. Dark hair, piercing eyes, dressed like she just came from running something important. Because she probably did. Definitely brings the CEO aura.
Every man in the room straightens up. Even Ronan.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says. “Traffic on Commonwealth was a nightmare.” She looks at me. “You must be Eva.”
This has to be Adriana. Lochlan’s wife. The sister-in-law whose operations guy I just handed to Dmitri on a silver platter.
“And you must be Adriana,” I say.
She extends her hand. I shake it. Her grip is firm, and her eyes don’t waver, and I know within about two seconds that this woman doesn’t get pushed around by anyone in this room. Including her husband.
She pulls a chair next to Lochlan and sits.
“Vincent Renaldi has worked for my family’s property group for six years.
He’s trustworthy, reliable, and has access to operational schedules for eight buildings in the Boston metro area.
So when my husband told me someone pulled his calendar for the next two weeks, I cleared my entire day.
” She looks at me. “What does Dmitri want with his schedule?”
“I don’t know specifically,” I say. “But based on the pattern of jobs I’ve done, he’s been building toward something targeted.
The first few were broad. He wanted client lists and financials.
Then his requests for data was narrowed to specific properties.
Then specific people. Renaldi’s calendar is the most targeted request yet.
He wants to know when your buildings are vulnerable. ”
“When security rotates,” Wolfe adds. “When Renaldi’s offsite. When nobody’s watching a specific location.”
Adriana looks at Lochlan. Something passes between them, the kind of silent conversation married people have in a single glance.
“He’s going to hit one of my buildings,” she says. Not a question.
“That’s what the data suggests,” I say.
“Which one?”
“I don’t know yet. But if you give me access to the property layouts and security schedules, I can cross-reference with everything I’ve already pulled. The overlap should narrow it down.”
She studies me. Not the way Ronan did, like I was a threat. She’s sizing me up right now.
“You built all of this for Dmitri?” she asks. “The connections between targets.”
“I pulled the data. I didn’t build the connections. I didn’t even know there were connections until Wolfe showed me how the pieces fit.”
“But you could have,” she says. “If you’d looked.”
“Yeah. I could have.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asks.
“Because I don’t want to go back to jail.”
She nods. “Get her access to the property data,” Adriana says to Lochlan. Then she looks at Ronan. “She stays.”
Ronan’s jaw tightens. But he doesn’t argue. I file that away. The sister-in-law just overruled the boss, and the boss let her.
Boss bitch vibes to the max.
“Fine,” Ronan grunts. “For now.” He looks back at me. “Everything goes through this room. No more side operations.” That last part is aimed at Wolfe.
“Understood,” I say.
“And Eva.”
“Yeah.”
“If you burn us, there’s no hole deep enough.” His eyes narrow, spitting flames.
And I feel the burn from here. “Understood.”
“Good.” He picks up a folder like the conversation is over. “Wolfe, get her set up. Lochlan, coordinate with Adriana’s team. Gavin—”
“Make a sandwich. I know.” Gavin stands and winks at me on his way out. “Welcome to the family, Eva.”
“I’m not family.”
“Yet,” he says over his shoulder as he leaves.
Cillian pushes off the wall and falls into step beside me once we’re in the hallway. He hasn’t said a word directly to me the entire meeting.
“You handled yourself in there,” he says.
“Thanks.”
“Ronan’s not easy.”
“I noticed.”
“He’ll come around. Takes him longer than the rest of us.” He glances ahead at Wolfe. “Take care of my brother.”
“Excuse me?” My eyes pop open wide.
“You heard me.” He says it in a light voice, but his expression doesn’t match the tone. At all. Then he turns and walks away.
Holy shit. I just sat in a room with four dangerous mafia men and a woman who might be more dangerous than all of them. I told them the truth and they didn’t kill me. One of them winked at me. Another one told me to take care of his brother.
And the one who brought me here…the one with the glasses and the ridiculous pecs and the band shirts and the brain that won’t quit…just told the most powerful man in the room to back off. For me.
I follow Wolfe down the hallway. He doesn’t look back. But his hand brushes mine as we walk. Just barely…his knuckles against my fingers. It might have been an accident or something done to look like one.
I don’t pull my hand away.
And that terrifies me more than anything Ronan said.