Page 82 of Arranged Devotion
Pavel’s laugh is strained. “I don’t know.”
“Think hard. So far I’ve been nice. But I’ll run out of patience soon.”
“I really don’t know!”
“You’re their fixer. We all know it. Pavel the Bag, right? Seems like a weird nickname.”
“Better in Russian.”
“I’m sure. Start talking. Who ordered the hit?”
“I told you?—“
This time, I cut skin. I slice into his exposed chest an inch beneath his throat. He groans. The blood runs thin in the rain.
“Try again.”
“I don’t fucking know, you Irish fucking?—“
I stab the blade into his shoulder. He moans and I have to hold him up to keep him from slumping. I should be taking this easier, drawing it out, but what Finn said before has me pissed off. WhatifCaroline had been there? What if Regan had been? Can I really say for sure that my wife won’t be around the next time the Baranovs decide to attack?
Fuck them and fuck this asshole too.
“Liam, careful,” Finn warns, keeping the gun steady.
“Talk, Pavel.” I get in the Russian’s face. I’m too close and exposed, but he’s stabbed and unarmed. “Give me something useful and I’ll spare your worthless life.”
Pavel’s pained smile is triumphant and bizarre. “You want something? Here you are, my friend. Your family is compromised. The people you love have sold you out. You have a traitor, you stupid Irish fuck.”
I realize my mistake too late. Pavel jerks something from his belt and I throw myself backwards as another knife I missed in the cursory pat down cleaves the air. The edge catches my cheek, ripping a red line, as Finn pulls the trigger.
Pavel’s head explodes. His brains and blood splatter against the wall and his corpse slumps sideways. I spill onto my ass, catching myself on a dumpster and breathing hard.
That was fucking close.
How the hell did I miss that other blade? How the fuck was I so sloppy?
“We have to go.” Finn nudges Pavel’s corpse. “Come on. You still have the phone?”
I look down at the body. He nearly cut my god damn throat. “Yeah, I got it.”
“Then this wasn’t a total waste.” Finn roughly shoves me toward the alley exit. “Now fuckingrun.”
CHAPTER 23
REGAN
It’s dawn when I find Liam sitting near the windows with a glass of bourbon at his elbow.
He’s in a shirt and pants. There’s a splattering of blood staining the front of him. I frown, blinking sleep from my eyes, and check the clock. It’s just after six in the morning. Sunrise sends long golden rays across the furniture.
“Hey, Liam… are you okay?”
He hardly reacts. I walk to him and kneel down beside his chair, carefully sliding the alcohol away. The ice is melted and it looks untouched.
“Hey. Liam. Hey, what’s going on?” I reach out to brush his cheek and notice the long cut from ear to lips. It’s shallow and the blood’s already scabbing. “What happened?!”
I hurry to get a fresh rag from the kitchen, wet it, and come clean the wound. He flinches, cold eyes fixed on mine as I do it. Worry wraps around my core.
