Redemption (Cavan Gang #2) (13 page)

“Rogan?”

He took her into his arms, mindful of her sore arm, and held her tight.

“Rogan, I’m all right. He didn’t really harm me. It’s just a bruise.”

“You’re not going to save him.”

“The thing is, there’s something else going on. Sofia was desperate for me to keep this quiet. I think Oleg’s got some sort of hold on her.”

“Well, dead men can’t blackmail.”

“Rogan, please.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “The most I can promise is I won’t do anything tonight, all right?”

She nodded. “I want to save Sofia from him. He’s a creep. But I want to be careful not to make things worse. Maybe you should talk to Anisimov.”

Rogan ran his hand up and down her back. “I can’t believe he lets her date that bastard.”

“Ahh, she’s a grown woman. She can date who she likes.”

“The Russians are very protective of their women and children. Aleksandr more than anyone else. Sofia is all he has. Come on, let’s go sit somewhere more comfortable. I’m tired. And sore.”

Wow. That was the first time he’d ever admitted he wasn’t Superman.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” she asked with concern, following him into the living room.

“No, just bruises.” He drew her onto his lap. “Tell me what Callahan said.”

She stiffened and tried to climb off his knees. “I’ll hurt you.”

“I need to hold you. Sit still.”

With a nod, she relaxed against him and went over everything that had happened. Rogan remained quiet, listening to her intently.

“Your turn,” she told him. “What happened?”

Rogan sighed. “I was at a meeting tonight and I left my phone outside, which is why I never got your calls until we were on our way home. I was trying to call you back when Colm noticed we had a tail. As we tried to lose it, the car grew bolder, slamming into the back of us. Then it sped up beside us and pushed us off the road.”

“You think it was Callahan?”

“I don’t know. No one got a very good look at the car. The odd thing is, they might have finished the job if not for Maran.”

“Detective Maran?”

“Yeah, he must have been following us. Again. He’s a tenacious bastard. But he saw what happened and drove them off.”

“So we owe the detective.”

“Yeah, damn it.” Rogan grinned down at her. “What the hell is Callahan thinking, approaching you like that? It’s like he’s daring me to take a swipe at him.”

“Will you?”

“Not right now. I need to figure this out first. He’s tied himself to the Fuerte cartel.”

“Natalya’s ex is part of the Fuerte cartel, isn’t he? You think they’d retaliate if anything happened to Callahan?”

Rogan’s face grew thoughtful. “I don’t think so. But I might need to make a phone call. He was brazen and cocky. I don’t like it.”

He hugged her tight. “I can’t let this lie.”

“I know.”

“I’ll talk to Anisimov before I do anything about Oleg. But he will pay.”

“And Callahan?”

“I’ll take care of things there as well.”

“Do you think your father killed his?”

“I know my father was capable of doing anything,” he told her. “Anything at all.”

“MacGuire.”

Diego Mota slid into the booth across from him. It had been less than twelve hours since he’d called the number he had for Mota and left a message. He’d been surprised to receive a message back so quickly, setting up this meeting.

“I didn’t expect you to come in person. A call would have sufficed.”

Mota shrugged. “I was close by.”

Not reassuring. Diego Mota wasn’t a man to be messed with and Rogan didn’t trust him. To make lieutenant of the Fuerte Cartel, he had to have spilled some blood.

But hell, who was he to judge?

“So what do you need?”

“Some information,” Rogan told him. “About Step Callahan and how closely aligned he is to the cartel.”

“Having problems with him?”

“He believes my father killed his. He approached Miller. Cornered and questioned her. He wanted her to feed him information about my father and any role he might have had in the death of Callahan’s father.”

Mota’s gaze narrowed. He didn’t ask who Miller was or what she meant to Rogan. He didn’t ask if Rogan’s father had killed Callahan’s. He simply took a sip of beer.

“The cartel has close ties to Callahan. His cousin is important.” It was the first Rogan had heard of a cousin but Mota didn’t elaborate and Rogan didn’t ask. “Unless he pushes you too far, I wouldn’t push back too strongly. You have to protect your own, but go for him without any real provocation and blood will spill.”

Fuck. Not what he wanted to hear.

“All right.”

“But I can have a word. I’ll make it clear women and kids are off-limits.”

Rogan watched him. “I’d appreciate that.”

The other man stood. “This means our slate is clean. We’re even.” In other words, Mota no longer owed him a favor.

“Understood.”

“Good. Don’t contact me again.”

Rogan sat back and took another sip of his drink. Mota hadn’t once asked after his son or Natalya. Did that mean he didn’t care? Or did he have eyes here? Had he been checking on them?

Nah, probably not.

One problem taken care of. On to the next.

Oleg.

His phone rang and he answered. “Cillian.”

“Just had a call from Viktor, Boss. Anisimov’s been shot.”

“What? Is he alive? Who did it?”

“He’s in surgery now. They think he’ll live. No one saw the shooter. But, I can’t find Oleg and no one has any idea where he is.”

Fuck.

“Keep searching. I’ll go to the hospital. See what I can find out.”

***

Five hours later, fatigue weighing him down, Rogan entered his house.

“How is he?” a quiet voice asked.

He glanced up to find Miller sitting on the stairs in her normal spot, staring down at him.

“You should be in bed,
a thasice
,” he lightly scolded.

She flew down the stairs and into his arms. “I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined it was you who had been shot.”

Rogan ran his hand up and down her back, holding her close as she shivered. He should have come home earlier.

“I’m fine,
a thasice
.”

“I know. I’m being silly.”

“Not silly.” Not silly at all. It could have easily been him on that operating table, a bullet in his chest. But he’d do everything he could to keep himself safe.

“Will he live?”

“The doctors say he will. It was close. A few inches over and they wouldn’t have been able to save him.”

“Thank God he’s all right. Did you see Sofia? Was she all right? I should have gone with you.”

He didn’t want her close to the Russians right now. Any of them. Not until they knew who had shot Anisimov.

“I saw her. She’s holding up. I also had a talk with her about Oleg. She wouldn’t tell me much other than she hasn’t seen him lately.”

“You can’t find him?” Worry filled her gaze.

“No. But I will.”

“I’ll go see her tomorrow. See what I can do to help.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

She pulled back to stare up at him in confusion. “Why not?”

With a sigh, he ran his hand over his face. Damn, he felt exhausted. “Because I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.”

“You think Sofia’s in danger?”

“I have no idea. And I don’t like not knowing. Which means I can’t allow you near her.”

“
Allow
me?”

He winced. Wrong word to use.

“I need to know you’re safe. I can’t concentrate if I’m worrying about you.”

“Well, it’s not a walk in the park for me, sitting around, wondering if you’re all right. Sofia is my friend. She needs me.”

“Until we know who did this, you’re not going anywhere near the Russians. End of story.”

She ground her teeth together, glaring at him.

Rogan sighed, running his hand over his face. “I’m sorry,
a thaisce
. I don’t mean to be a controlling asshole. I don’t want you getting caught in the middle of this mess. Much as I like Sofia, she isn’t my priority. Your safety, though, is right at the top.”

“I get it. I just wanted to help a friend.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But I will always protect you over everyone else.”

“I understand. I feel the same way about you. Don’t get yourself shot. Understood?”

He kissed her. “I wouldn’t dare.”

***

Miller pulled the tray out of the oven as the smoke alarms blared. “What the hell am I doing wrong?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think my ears can take another blasting from the smoke alarms,” Colm told her as he shut them off and opened all the windows. “Maybe the cheesecake is never meant to be.”

“But I’m supposed to be cooking a four-course meal in a week. How can I do that without any dessert?” Natalya was cashing in on the bet Miller had lost.

She’d put in a request for strawberry cheesecake. This was the third unsuccessful attempt.

“Damn it.” She slumped on the barstool with a groan.

“Look,” Colm said, obviously taking pity on her. “I know a bakery where they sell the most amazing cheesecakes.”

“That’s cheating.”

“What would your guests rather have? A cheesecake that, while not homemade, tastes amazing. Or that.”

He pointed at the burnt, crispy remains still sizzling on the oven tray.

“Tell me the name of this place.”

He wrote it on a card for her. “Thanks, Colm.”

Nodding, he grabbed a hand towel and picked up the smoking dish. “I’ll get rid of this for you.”

Miller yawned, glancing down with surprise at her ringing phone. Who would be calling at this time of night?

Sofia’s name popped up on the screen and she swiped her finger across it.

“Hi, Sofia. What’s going on?”

Hopefully, she wasn’t calling to ask her to work. Miller hated having to let her down, but Rogan was adamant about her staying away from the Russians. They still hadn’t discovered who shot Aleksandr or found Oleg and his friends.

“This isn’t Sofia,” a male voice answered her. “Although she close by. Are you alone? Think careful before you answer.”

Crap. She knew that voice.

“Yes, I’m alone. What do you want, Oleg? What do you mean she’s close by?”

A muffled sound followed by a loud curse came through the earpiece.

“Don’t do it, Miller! Don’t listen to—” Sofia’s voice broke off with a scream.

“Miller,” Oleg said in his greasy voice. “You listen good unless you want me hurt your friend.”

Sofia’s pain-filled cry made Miller wince.

“Stop it! Stop hurting her. I’ll do whatever you want.” Panic engulfed her and all she could think about was helping Sofia.

“A car is outside for you. You to sneak out and get in. It going to bring you to me. You tell anyone and she die. You understand?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Get in car. You got three minute. Time tick away.”

Rogan would kill her, but she couldn’t risk Sofia getting hurt because of her.

“There, all done.” Colm walked back into the kitchen.

Miller stretched her arms into the air and yawned. “You know, I’m kind of tired. Think I’ll head up to bed now.”

Colm nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hoped so.

***

“Boss?” Cillian asked, stepping through the door of his office at Underworld.

Rogan leaned his back in his chair, resting his feet on the corner of the large desk. He’d just had a chat with Finn and much as he didn’t like having to crush the kid, he couldn’t have him guarding Miller anymore. But he’d spoken in haste the other day about never letting him come back. So he’d dropped him back down to shadowing some of the other men. He obviously needed to start at the beginning again.

“Yeah?”

“A call has come through for you on the main phone. Claims he’s Miller’s father.”

“How the hell did he get our number?” He waved his hand as Cillian went to reply. “Doesn’t matter. Put him through.”

“They’ve got Miller.” Said a male voice, rough with worry.

“Who is this?” Rogan demanded.

“Miller’s father. Theo Toresso.”

“Who has Miller?” Rogan asked, a chill going up his spine.

“I been sticking close by, hoping to get Miller alone. You know, I wanted to chat with her.”

More like he wanted money.

“And?” Rogan asked urgently.

“And I saw her sneak out. I could tell she was sneaking because she was trying to stick to the shadows. Didn’t teach that girl to hide good enough, though.”

“Get on with it,” Rogan snarled.

He placed his hand over the receiver so he could speak to Cillian.

“Get Colm on the phone. Make sure Miller is there.” He didn’t trust her father.

“I saw her climb into this car. It sped off before I could get closer.”

“Boss?” Cillian interrupted. “Colm can’t find her anywhere.”

“Fuck! Why didn’t you follow her?” he asked her father.

“I’m on foot. I’ll wait in the house for you to get here.”

“Whatever.” Right now, Toresso was the least of his worries. He ended the call then stood, glancing over at Cillian. “Give me your phone, I need to talk to Colm.” As soon as he had the other man’s phone, he took off through the club, Cillian close on his heels.

“Colm, see if she left a note,” he said into Cillian’s phone. “Anything.”

“On it. I’m sorry, Boss. I didn’t know she’d left.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just find her.”

What the fuck was going on? Where was she? Why would she sneak off?

Why hadn’t she called him?

***

Miller moved towards a run-down building, directed by the heavily-tattooed man who had driven her here. This wasn’t a good area to be in at night. At any time, really. She could hear sirens in the distance and a homeless guy shuffled past, muttering to himself, smelling of booze and body odor.

What the hell was going on?

Miller ran her gaze over her surroundings, cursing the lack of street lighting. She needed to figure out what to do. It was no use screaming for help—any screams would be ignored in this part of the city.

She hoped like hell someone discovered her note sooner rather than later.

The stench of unwashed bodies, garbage, and other less savory things made her gag as she stepped into the building. The man behind her nudged her with his gun.

“Get moving.”

She’d never seen him before; she’d remember a face like his. A tattoo of a spider web covered his face and a large spider climbed the web on his left cheek. He hadn’t worked at Solnyshko and he didn’t have a Russian accent. Who was he and what was his role?

He prodded her into a well-lit room where Sofia sat, her hands bound in front of her, legs tied to the legs of the chair, her eyes wide with fear.

Oleg stood behind her, a huge grin on his ugly face. He placed his hands on Sofia’s shoulders, ignoring her flinch.

“Miller, so glad you join us.”

“Didn’t think I had much choice.” Her gaze darted around the room with its few chairs and small, square plastic table, searching for exits, anything that might give her an advantage. The table held a half-empty bottle of whiskey, cigarettes, and a few bags of white stuff. Cocaine?

“You know most people here.”

She glanced around. Besides Oleg and the tattooed man, there were two other men. Pavel and Anton. They’d both worked at Solnyshko. “Oh, except my friend behind you. His name is Arnie.”