REAPER (Boston Underworld Book 2) (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Ronan

I
’ve just turned on the shower when there’s a knock at the front door.

Before I can even get my briefs back on, Sasha calls out as she walks down the hallway.

“I’ve got it.”

I call out to her and tell her not to answer, but I know it goes unheard through the wooden door. I’m right behind her and only half dressed when she opens the door to Crow. He blinks at her for a second, and relief washes over his face when he sees her standing there. Then his gaze moves to me, and immediately, I know this visit isn’t bearing good news of any sort.

“Sasha.” Crow dips his head at her. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

She doesn’t catch the strain in his eyes or shoulders, and I’m glad for it. But there’s still the potential for my lie coming unraveled, and I haven’t any idea what I’m supposed to do.

“What do ye need?” I bark at Crow.

Both him and Sasha look at me in surprise.

“I need a word with ye in private,” Crow answers, his gaze roving over my unkempt state.

He’s smirking now.

“Looks like I caught you two playing house,” he adds.

Sasha gives him a funny look and then glances in my direction.

“We can speak outside,” I tell him. “Just give me a moment and I’ll meet you out there.”

“I can wait here,” he says. “It’s fecking freezing out there this morning.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” I argue.

“Ronan?” Sasha walks towards me and rubs her hand over my arm. “It’s okay. I was going to hop in the shower anyway.”

I’m relieved when I don’t see any questions in her eyes. I’m not ready for her to leave. And I’m not sure now that I ever will be. She leans up on her toes and kisses me on the cheek, right in front of Crow. It’s only after she’s walking away that I’ve worked out it doesn’t bother me. Crow clears his throat, tearing my attention back to him.

“What’s she doing here, Fitz?”

“That’s not your concern,” I answer.

“What’s got your knickers all in a knot?” he asks. “It was an honest question. She was supposed to be leaving, last I heard.”

I glance down the hallway and gesture for him to sit down. He does. Daisy sniffs at him and he pats her on the head a couple of times before she jumps onto my lap.

“She’s just staying with me for a bit,” I tell him. “It’s not a big issue.”

“Ronan,” Crow says in a solemn voice. “I came here to tell ye that Andrei knows about her.”

“What?” My eyes snap up to his. “That’s not possible.”

“Anything’s possible,” he says. “And he does.”

“How do ye know this?” I ask.

He glances at the floor, and his eyes glaze over. “Someone attacked Jasmine after she left the club last night,” he explains. “And dumped her body in the alley for us to find this morning.”

He hands over his cell phone, and I stare at the photograph of the mangled dancer. The butcher has left his calling card all over her body, and even to someone such as myself it’s a shock of violence. I’ve no stomach for this sort of act being carried out on a woman. But the most disturbing thing about it, and the one I can’t look away from, are the words carved into her chest.

Where’s Sasha?

“She can’t know about this.” I shove the phone back towards Crow so I don’t have to see it. But I’m still thinking about it, and that won’t go away.

Crow tilts his head to the side and studies me for a moment. He reads the expression on my face clearly. This thing with Andrei has just taken on a whole new urgency that it never had before. And Crow thinks I’m going to do something stupid. He’s probably right.

“I’m going to find him,” I tell him.

“Ye’re not going anywhere alone,” Crow answers. “He’ll be expecting ye.”

“I always work alone.”

“This is not up for debate, Fitz.” He rises to his feet. “And if I were you, I’d reconsider telling Sasha.”

I take off my glasses and rub my tired eyes. “She already sort of knows.”

He looks down at me and nods. Crow knows me too well to have to ask why.

“See to it that Rory’s here to watch over her,” I tell him. “Conor can come with me.”

“Conor’s too green,” Crow argues.

“Which is why he won’t be staying here alone with Sasha.”

Crow looks set to argue, and it riles me. “I recall a time not too long ago that ye didn’t want to leave Mack’s care in Conor’s hands either.”

He smirks and shrugs, and I know I’ve won. Rory and I have a mutual respect for each other. I trust him. And if I have to leave Sasha alone with anyone who isn’t me or Crow, I’d rather it was him.

Crow’s face clearly betrays how little he likes it, but he knows I’m right. We don’t have enough men to watch over all the dancers, maintain normal operations, and chase after Andrei.

“I’ll send him over then,” Crow says as he reaches the door. “And Ronan?”

“Aye?”

“Quit sending my wife so many bloody donuts,” he says. “It’s not good for the baby.”

***

After a quick shower, I head off before Sasha can even finish breakfast. I think she’s worked out that something’s not right, but she didn’t ask.

That’s what I like about her. She never pushes me. She lets me do what I have to, and then she waits until the right moment if she has a question. If she thought it was odd that Rory showed up to watch over her, she didn’t say so.

Now Conor and I are in the car, driving to all of Andrei’s usual haunts trying to chase up leads. By lunchtime, we’ve already been shot at twice and nearly stabbed as well. Conor handled himself pretty well, and I told him so. He’s young, but he’s learning fast.

“It seems kind of pointless to go to all the same places he usually hangs out,” Conor notes. “If he’s taunting you, how likely do you think it is that he’s going to be somewhere he knows he can get caught?”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” I clip out.

Conor shrugs and then stares back out the window. “Well if he’s looking for Sasha, I would assume that he’s probably somewhere near her apartment and the club. Even if he isn’t, some of his men would be. Do you know who any of them are?”

His words spark a memory. The familiar face that I couldn’t kill the last time I saw him. The young lad who looked like Alex.

I hit the brakes and turn around, heading towards Sasha’s old apartment. Conor glances at me, and he’s got a stupid grin on his face.

“I said something helpful, didn’t I?”

“Aye, lad,” I tell him. “Ye’re learning.”

For the next three hours, we drive around Sasha’s neighborhood and some of the places near Slainte where they might be hiding out. The problem is that the area has an abundance of seedy places to hide. I never liked that she lived in this neighborhood, but there was little I could do about it.

I don’t think we’re going to find Andrei today, and it grates on my nerves. But then I spot a lad on the corner of Sasha’s apartment building from across the lot where we’re parked. He’s not the same lad who I saw that night, but he’s about the same age. Young, dumb, and obvious as shite.

He keeps glancing over his shoulder as he walks. I count each occurrence, and by the time he reaches the main door, he’s done it six times.

“Him,” I tell Conor.

Conor scrunches up his brows and shakes his head, doubtful. “You think so? He just looks like some young punk to me.”

“Sort of like you,” I remark as I climb out of the car and shut the door behind me.

Conor follows me into the building and we keep a safe distance, stopping on every landing to listen to his footsteps above us. I’m not at all surprised when he stops on Sasha’s floor and turns. His footsteps grow distant as he walks towards her apartment, and that’s when we rush him.

Just as he’s opening up the door, I hit him from behind, holding him in front of me as a shield. But when the door swings open, the only other man inside is taken by surprise. He raises his gun, but my weapon has already discharged and lodged a bullet in his head before he even gets off a shot.

The lad in my arms is shaking now, pissing himself with fear. And I almost feel bad for what I’ll have to do to the young one to get information out of him. Until my gaze swings to the far end of the room, where a girl who looks familiar is cuffed to the radiator.

She’s beaten pretty badly and already has a few slashes over her body that no doubt came from Andrei. He likes to play with his toys before he finally kills them. It’s a long process, and I have to wonder how long he’s been toying with her for. Her face is so swollen I can’t place where I’ve seen her before. But Conor knows. He rushes towards her and kneels down to help her.

“Scarlett?” he whispers. “Is that you?”

She makes a sound somewhere between a moan and agreement.

“She’s handcuffed,” he says, glancing back to me. “Can you pick the lock?”

“Aye,” I tell him. “I could. Or ye could probably just grab the keys from the dead arsehole on the floor just there.”

Conor blinks and then scurries over to the body as I check the hallway and then pull the young lad across the room. Once Conor’s got the cuffs off Scarlett’s hands, I gesture for them and lock them into place on their new prisoner. I can’t torture him here, because I don’t have any of my tools or the things I’d need to keep him quiet. Not to mention that if two of Andrei’s men are here, there are bound to be more on the way. And since I can’t be two places at once, I’ll have to make do.

“Take her down to the car,” I tell Conor, tossing him the keys. “And then meet me at the rear fire exit door.”

“Okay.” He nods and helps Scarlett to her feet.

She looks at me, and I feel a stab of something in my gut at the obvious trauma she’s been through.

“Did this lad hurt ye?” I ask her before she goes.

Her eyes move over him, and there’s no fear there. She just nods, like she’s seen men such as him a thousand times over. She knows she’s signing his death warrant, but doesn’t care.

“Conor will take care of ye,” I tell her. “Nobody else is going to hurt ye now.”

“I know,” she answers. And before she goes, she adds, “make him suffer.”

***

When Conor showed up at Slainte with my prisoner in tow, I knew it’d only be a matter of time before Crow came round.

I don’t even bother asking him how the hell he knew where I was watching the apartment from. He sits down beside me in the vacant building across the street and whips out a pair of binoculars.

“Any movement?” he asks.

“Not as of yet,” is my reply. “But they’ll come calling soon enough. Andrei won’t let a good woman go to waste.”

“Ye should have rang me,” he says. “You don’t fecking listen, Fitz.”

I shrug and the room around us goes silent for a pause.

“How’s the girl?”

Crow sighs. This whole situation is only adding to his headache, I’m sure. That girl was a mate of Macks, but she isn’t under our employ. And she’s also now a witness to a murder. It’s a complication for him. Even if I were to tell him not to worry about her, that I trusted her to keep her mouth shut, that isn’t the way it works.

“Rory’s going to keep an eye on her for a bit,” Crow answers. “But Mack doesn’t know that.”

“She won’t hear it from me,” I tell him.

He nods and sets down the binoculars after scanning the street, kicking back in his chair.

“Seems Rory fancies her anyway,” Crow notes. “But she wouldn’t give him the time of day. He was all over the babysitting gig when I mentioned it.”

“Aye,” I agree. “Glad I don’t have to do it.”

“You’ve got your own woman to worry about, Fitz,” he says. “What’s the craic with you and Sasha?”

I ignore him because it’s none of his business. Crow is always suspicious of the dancers, but I think he’s been even more so with Sasha because of what happened with Blaine. Regardless of what her reasons for lying were, Crow will still probably always be suspicious of her. But I know Sasha. I’ve been watching her for three long years. Wanting her. Learning about her. I know everything there is to know about her, from how well she sleeps to the type of food she likes to eat.