Paying The Bratva’s Debt Cole, Jagger (the best books to read txt) 📖

of amusement and interest. “And who might you be, little girl?”

I frown. “I’m—”

“This is Ms. James, my attorney in this matter.”

I glance sidelong at Viktor when he drops the fake name. But I understand why. It won’t help things in the slightest if Joey knows he’s also dealing with the daughter of the Chicago District Attorney.

“Well shit, what’s he paying you, sweetheart?” Joey leers at me. “I’ll double it if you bring that brain and that sweet ass of yours over to this side of the table.”

I can hear Viktor’s low growl next to me. His hand clenches to a fist on the table, his face tense.

I quickly turn to smile warmly at Joey. “I don’t change horses mid-race, Mr. Drucci.”

He shrugs, but he keeps eyeing me lecherously. My mind feels scattered with being thrown into the deep end like this. But as I rack my brain for some way to turn the tides, I suddenly land on something—an idea from a case I once read about in one of my land trust classes.

“Mr. Drucci, you’re aware that the property has been flagged as a red zone, aren’t you?”

He frowns. “That some sort of hippy environmental shit? What’d they do, find a fucking spotted owl nest or some shit on it?”

“Oh, no sir. I mean flagged by the US Justice System.”

His smile fades, and he stiffens in his seat. “Huh? What the fuck is a red zone”

I sigh. “It’s complex, but it’s all part of the Patriot Act. Basically, it’s an entire area that can’t be surveilled conventionally with phone taps or bugs—places like a park, a port, or in this case, an abandoned building lot.”

“Surveilled?” He grunts.

“Yes, sir. A red zone flag means it’s been listed by Homeland Security for unmanned drone surveillance and cleared for action if necessary.”

Joey starts to sweat. He glances around at some of his other guys, who all look equally unnerved. Beside me, Viktor stays utterly calm and emotionless.

“Wait, how the fuck does a place get tagged like that?”

I smile. “Well, sir, obviously I can’t speculate why the owner of an auto body shop might have a property red-flagged by Homeland Security…”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Viktor’s lips curl slightly at the corners.

“But whatever your other business ventures may be,” I shrug. “As an attorney familiar with the intricacies of the Patriot Act, I can tell you that it typically brings a lot of attention to all business activities of the flagged property’s legal owner.”

Joey’s face pales. He glowers at me, and then Viktor. His fingers drum the table before he finally grunts.

“Homeland Security. Are you fuckin’ shitting me?”

“I’m afraid not. You know how the government is, always looking for terrorists under every rock. If you like, I could show you the red zone flag buried in the zoning paperwork.” I frown. “It’s unfortunately back at my offices. But I’m sure by next week, I could have copies sent—”

“Next fuckin’ week?” Joey grunts. “A week with fuckin’ Fed drones sticking cameras up my ass?” He shakes his head. “No. Hell no. Fuck that.” He drags his eyes back to Viktor. “Forty-five, huh?”

The Russian shakes his head. “Actually, this is the first time Ms. James has mentioned the Federal interest in this property.”

He turns to eye me curiously. I just shrug. “It was just made aware to me by one of my legal aides this morning,” I lie, hiding a smile.

Viktor turns back to Joey. “As such, my offer is now twenty.”

Joey looks outraged. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

“I’m afraid not. My interest is substantially lower if it’s got that kind of attention. And while Ms. James was correct about the soil excavation, it’s actually more like twenty-five feet of ground soil that needs to be removed, not ten.” He shrugs and steeples his fingers together on the table. “Twenty million, Mr. Drucci.”

Joey’s sweating profusely. He drums his fingers on the table for a minute before he swears viciously. “Fuck it, fine, you commie fuck.” He scowls at Viktor. “Twenty. But one condition.”

“We’ll see what the condition is.”

The portly Italian frowns. “What the fuck do you want that shit-hole for? Tell me that, and it’s yours for twenty mil.”

Viktor’s lips thin. He seems to be considering it in his head for a minute before he leans forward. “I’m building a safe house and facility for street children, ones rescued from trafficking situations, and ones who’ve fallen through the cracks of a failed system.”

My brows shoot up in surprise. Joey starts to laugh uproariously.

“Alright, fuck you too, Viktor. Fine, don’t tell me. Do whatever you want with the place as soon as you wire me that money.”

Viktor smiles thinly. “It will be transferred within the hour.”

“Good,” Joey grins. His eyes slide back to mine. “Send your little honey of a lawyer over for the paperwork once you do.”

“Oh,” I smile warmly. “Now that does sound fun. But unfortunately, I need to fly back to New York today. Next time, perhaps?”

He grins. “Yeah, you look me up, baby.”

We all stand and shake hands. And then before I know it, we’re whizzing back through the city in the back of Viktor’s town car.

“You did well back there.”

Lev has just left to go back outside, and Viktor and I are alone in the huge foyer of his home. His eyes hold mine without blinking. We haven’t had a second alone since last night, and now all I can think about is the feel of his lips on mine.

I look up at this dangerous criminal of a man. I know I should be scared of him. I should hate him for effectively imprisoning me. But neither of those things stops the urge inside. They don’t do a thing to temper the desperate wish that he’d kiss me again.

Viktor moves closer. My heart beats faster. My skin tingles, wishing him even closer.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“I especially liked the spoon-fed bullshit involving Homeland Security and drones.”

I smile widely. “I stole the idea from this case they had