“Brilliant. Let’s do this.”
I sit quietly while she draws six small vials of blood. It seems like an awful lot, but I don’t mention it. “How long until we get the blood test results back?”
“For you, about an hour.”
I’m getting pushed to the head of the line. No doubt thanks to her terror of Declan annihilating her entire family tree. “I appreciate it. Thank you, Nancy.”
She pauses what she’s doing to glance up at me. Sending a furtive look toward the door, she murmurs, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course. Being kidnapped isn’t the worst thing I’ve been through. And they’re only men. It’s not like they’re hard to handle. I’ve known Chihuahuas who were way scarier.”
“I haven’t. Those guys are terrifying. And their boss…” She shudders.
Curiosity rears its ugly head. “Have you lived in Boston your whole life?”
She nods.
“So the Irish mafia here is pretty powerful, huh?”
“They run the city. It’s been that way as long as I can remember. Even the cops are on their payroll.”
I can tell she’s warming up to me, so I make a small, encouraging noise to indicate I’m listening.
“I mean, we’ve got the Italians, too. And the Russians. And lots of others, but the Irish have a stronger presence in Boston than in any other city in America. Things used to be more stable, but over the past few years, turf wars have broken out. The top Mob bosses keep getting killed. There was a murder just this week, as a matter of fact.”
“I heard about that. Diego, was it?”
“Yes.”
“Strange name for an Irishman.”
“Oh, he wasn’t Irish. He was Mexican-American. It was all over the streets when his boss got shot and he took over. They said it was a sign of the times, a Latino guy taking the helm. The Mob going more international or whatever.”
The Russians had an ethnic Ukrainian as their last leader, so I guess it’s not so odd that the Irish would have a Mexican-American. “So what happened to this Diego?”
“The papers said his body was found at the dump. They still haven’t found his head.”
How gruesome. I wonder how close he and Declan were? “Do they have any idea who did it?”
She gives me a look. “It wasn’t one of his friends, that’s for sure.”
Of course. It was one of his enemies. Like maybe the Italians.
Or the Russians.
Or Kage.
No wonder Declan looks at me with so much…whatever it is. I’m Natalie’s best friend. I said I was friends with Kage. I dated Stavros. Even if he admits I didn’t start a war, he still thinks I’m his enemy.
An enemy he’s going to an awful lot of trouble to protect.
The question is: why?
“Excuse me?”
Startled from my thoughts, I realize I spoke that last part out loud. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m just all up in my head. Things are a bit complicated at the moment.”
Nancy sidesteps that minefield and says she’ll get me a wheelchair for our trip to Radiology, which is on the second floor.
“Do I look that bad?”
“No.” She pauses. “But… ” She clears her throat. “If you were to fall and hurt yourself, I’d have to explain to Mr. O’Donnell how I let that happen. And he left rather specific instructions that you were to be well taken care of.” She pauses again. “To be perfectly honest, he told Dr. Callahan that if you died, he would, too. I’m guessing the same standard applies to me.”
Declan threatened the doctor’s life? I can’t decide if that’s awful or sweet.
“Gotcha. No worries. He’s not going to kill anyone. He just likes to throw that around to scare people.”
Nancy looks doubtful. “I don’t mean to contradict you, but he didn’t earn his position with Boy Scout badges.”
She leaves me to mull that over while she gets the wheelchair. When she returns, Kieran is all in a huff.
“What’s this, then?” he growls, crowding in the door with the rest of the gang. He eyes the wheelchair suspiciously, like it’s wired with explosives.
“I’m going down to the radiation department to get more tests.”
His brows draw together. He doesn’t like the idea. “Declan said nothin’ about lettin’ ye outta the room.”
“Why don’t you come with? We’ll make it a field trip.”
“Or ye can just wait till he gets back.”
To ask permission, he means. As if.
I say blithely, “Oh, I’ll leave it up to you. He said he wanted me to get all the tests I needed done as soon as possible to make sure this brain bleed thing isn’t going to kill me, but if you think it’s best for me not to, that’s fine.”
I wait, smiling expectantly.
Two minutes later, all six of us are crowded into the hospital elevator, headed down.
When the doors open on the second floor, Kieran and his men exit first, weapons drawn. They conduct a sweep of the corridor before they let Nancy and me off the elevator. Then they walk on either side of us like the president’s personal field agents, glaring daggers at anyone who dares to look our way.
I hate to admit I love the drama of it. I feel like a celebrity. It’s a good thing I’m not, because I’d be a horrible diva. Two flights on a private jet—one of them while in captivity—and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fly economy again.
The ultrasound goes without a hitch. There are no tumors or cysts on my ovaries, and my uterus is as barren as the Sahara. I leave smiling.
The smiling ends when we’re back in my room and Nancy tells me the results of the blood tests.
19
Declan
The warehouse is near the docks. It’s cold, dank, and smells like rancid seawater and rotting wood. But it’s not close to any other buildings, which makes it a convenient spot for interrogations.
Screams get lost here. Blood washes easily off the cement, into the sewer, and out to sea.
“Hullo, Stavros.”
He’s tied to a metal chair with a black cloth hood over his head. Normally, I’d have him on his knees—freezing-cold cement is hell on the knees—but he was already like this when I got here.
The hooded head lifts. A voice with a slight Russian accent says, “Who’s there?”
“Sloane’s new best friend.”
After a short pause, he curses viciously in Russian.
Amused, I turn to Spider, standing beside me. “I bet he thinks I don’t understand his language.”
Spider chuckles. “I bet he thinks a lot of things that aren’t true. Stupid people are like that.”
“What have you done with her? If you’ve hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you!”
His angry shouts echo off the walls. He struggles against his bindings. His breathing is rough and fast.
“Relax. She’s still in one piece. But keep it up, and I’ll bring you one of her fingers for every time you shout at me.”
Streaming through the hood, his breath sends white clouds into the frigid air. His voice lower but still shaking with fury, he says, “You’ll regret this.”