Savage Hearts (Queens & Monsters #3)(42)

“I don’t even know what this is.”

“No? You have lots of rogue players on your team? Because I was under the impression you were the big Bratva boss. And if you are, you should know exactly what the fuck is happening on your turf. Or have I overestimated your power?”

That last part is said with so much contempt, my vision goes red.

It’s his blood I’m seeing. And his dead body right in the middle of a big pool of it.

“Just get to the fucking point, Irish.”

“Malek Antonov. You familiar with the name?”

“Yes. He’s not under my jurisdiction.”

Declan shouts, “This whole bloody country is your bloody jurisdiction, you bloody twat!”

I close my eyes and breathe slowly through my nose. I count to ten. When I open my eyes, Natalie is pacing naked back and forth at the end of the bed, chewing on her thumbnail.

That she’s so worried is the only reason I don’t hang up.

Keeping my tone tightly controlled, I say, “He’s out of Moscow. You know as well as I do that the old country has their own chain of command.”

“Not with us, it doesn’t.”

“We were around long before the Mob was even conceived. Russia is more than two hundred times bigger than Ireland. Things are more complicated.”

“Bollocks.”

“Okay. Good talk. Fuck off into the sea, Irish.” Glowering, I hold the phone out to Nat. “Take this away from me before I break it.”

She glowers right back at me, squaring off to fold her arms over her chest. “Finish the conversation, Kazimir.”

Fuck. She’s calling me by my real name.

The only time she ever calls me by my real name is if I’m in trouble with her.

Seething, I put the phone back to my ear. “What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me where I can find him.”

“No idea.”

“You’re a bloody liar.”

“Yes. But not about this.”

A blistering Gaelic oath comes over the line. It makes me happy.

Hiding my smile because Nat is watching me, I say, “Perhaps if you hadn’t gone on that killing spree and murdered his brother, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. Just a thought.”

“I didn’t know he was his brother! They lived in different countries! And do you know how many of you bloody Russians have the same last name?”

“Some free advice? Next time you want to kill someone in the Bratva, don’t.”

He roars a filthy string of curses so long and scathing, I have to hold the phone away from my ear so I don’t go deaf.

When silence finally falls, I put the phone back to my ear. “Let me be clear. I don’t know where he is. I don’t have any control over him. I didn’t give him permission to touch Sloane’s sister.”

A brief silence follows. “But you knew he was here. You spoke to him. I can tell by your voice.”

So maybe this asshole is smarter than I give him credit for.

Maybe.

“I had nothing to do with this kidnapping. I give you my word on that.”

He scoffs. “Your bloody word.”

I lower my voice. “Yes. The same way I give you my word I haven’t told any of your Irish Mob friends or the other families who and what you really are. Or who you’re working with. Because if I had, we both know what would’ve already happened.”

In his pause, I sense the wheels turning a million miles per hour inside his head. But he remains silent.

“Thank you for not insulting my intelligence with a denial.”

“You’re welcome. And I’ll thank you not to insult my intelligence with a denial, too.”

“Like it or not, I’m telling you the truth.”

“I’m not talking about Malek now.”

Christ, he’s exasperating. He talks in fucking circles. “Then what the hell are you talking about?”

“Your involvement with Maxim Mogdonovich’s death.”

He says it with such utter conviction, I know he’s got intel that he shouldn’t have. He’s not guessing.

He knows.

Fuck.

When I don’t speak for a moment, purely from surprise, Declan says, “You remember Max, aye? Your old boss? Died in a prison riot, conveniently elevating your ruthless arse to the number one spot? Funny how that happened. I wonder what your Bratva boys would have to say if they found out you arranged the whole thing?”

“You’re an ignorant slug.”

“And you’re a can of piss. My point is that we both know things about the other that we shouldn’t. Let’s focus on the important issue here. Tell me where I can find this bastard Malek. Where does he live? How does he travel?”

“I’m telling you, I don’t know.”

“You do realize you still owe me for getting your FBI file erased?”

“Incorrect. I let Sloane stay with us while you were out taking care of your business. Your dangerous business, that’s now blowing back in your face. I didn’t have to do that.”

His voice rises. “Listen to me, you—”

“I gave your woman shelter. My debt is paid. The end.”

There follows a silence so long, I think he might have hung up. Then he says, “If you help me, I’ll grant you a favor. One favor. Anything you ask. No conditions.”