"I don't come with any assurances, Mr. Adamos," she told me, shaking her head a bit.
"I don't need assurances. I need you to do your job."
"I would feel more comfortable if you brought in, at least, Smith from my team."
Smith, I knew from Fenway and Bellamy's stories. He was the team's General. He handled things like extractions.
"I have my own men."
"Not as good as Quin's men."
"Maybe not as experienced, but a lot less moral," I told her, watching as understanding crossed her face.
I would burn down all of fucking Bulgaria if it meant getting my brother back. I didn't give a fuck about what that said about me as a man.
"How long do you have before action is expected from you?"
"Chernev expects to hear back from me tomorrow evening."
"Not a lot of time to prepare."
"But it can be done." It wasn't a question. But she answered anyway.
"It can be done," she agreed. "Fenway is right. I'm going to need that coffee."
"We will be docked in less than five minutes," I told her, moving toward the door.
"Mr. Adamos," she called, making me turn back.
"Yes?"
"Eight," she reminded me.
"I am a man of my word, Miller. You get me my brother back, you will get your money."
"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, Mr. Adamos. Whether or not I am successful, I get paid. Nobody works for free."
That was fair enough.
"If you aren't successful, you will get the rate your employer pays you. Not a cent more."
She didn't like that, judging by the tightness in her jaw, the way her eyes went small. But she didn't object either.
"Mr. Adamos," she called again when I had just moved out into the hall.
"Yes?"
"Your brother..."
"What about him?"
"What's his name?"
"Alexander," I told her, feeling pain slice through my stomach.
"I will do everything I can to get Alexander safe," she told me as I closed the door.
I didn't know her well enough to say with certainty, but I had a feeling it was more than the money. Maybe because Alexander was so young, because children should never be involved in wars between grown men.
A tender heart was bad for business.
But in this case, it would work in my favor.
"She explicitly told you not to get her a pig," Bellamy was telling Fenway as I moved back onto the deck, seeing Fenway scrolling through something on his phone.
"She didn't mean it, though," Fenway insisted.
"She can't have a pig right now," I said, helping Bellamy—and likely Miller—out. "She is going to be in Greece for a while," I added.
"Right. Well, taking a note for her birthday then," Fenway said, tucking the phone away.
I doubted he even knew her birthday, let alone would remember it. That was not something you could expect of Fenway, the kind of man whose life was full of women and parties, avoiding anything serious, never making deep connections.
That was just how he was.
The only thing that made him come to a stop was when some big—or small—man was threatening his life because Fenway took up with his wife, sister, daughter, or mother. All of the above. And he only paused then because the crew that Miller and Bellamy worked for forced him to.
I actually met Fenway when one of my men saved him from a back-alley ass-kicking over a woman he'd hit on right in front of her man.
He'd proved a distant yet entertaining friend, someone easy to go out with, someone who was always hosting a great party on the rare occasion occur that I was in the mood for one.
Five minutes after we debarked, he would run off, chasing some beautiful woman in a flowing skirt. I likely would not see him again for months. Or years.
Bellamy, I figured would hang around long enough to make sure Miller was comfortably on the job. Then he would take off to who knew where.
I imagined Miller had figured this out as well, which likely explained a lot of her initial hesitance.
"You told her about the kid," Bellamy said, jerking his chin behind me.
I turned to see all five-and-a-half feet of Miller making her way toward us, her gait quick and determined. "Alright. Let's do this."
Ten minutes later, Fenway supposedly went off to ask around about some wine he wanted to stock back up on for his yacht.
We were just at the front of the coffee shop when Bellamy's phone rang.
He reached for it, a brow raising, something that immediately made Miller lunge at him. "That's Quin isn't it?" she asked as he danced back a step. "Give that to me. Bells!" she shouted when he moved further back still. "Bellamy," she growled as he jogged up the steps.
She tried to run after him, making my arm shoot out, fingers curling around her upper arm, to yank her backward.
"Let me go," she demanded, the order gritting out of her. Defiant even though she knew she didn't stand a chance.
"We agreed this job didn't involve your boss," I reminded her as she tried to jerk back, neck turning, likely trying to figure out if someone was nearby who would save her if she threw a fit.
Normally, yes, they would.
But not when the person she needed saving from was me.
No one would make a move against me. There was something in the way her shoulders slumped that said she was beginning to understand that, to see my reach.
"Through here," I told her, easing my grip, but keeping a hand on her, leading her through a bright blue door and into a small coffee shop.
"I need the balcony cleared," I told the proprietor who immediately stepped out from behind his counter, going outside to make that happen. "And two frappes," I added, to the man's wife, who quickly gathered the instant coffee grounds and milk.
"You can let go of me," Miller said, voice rough even as she shot me a fake smile. If I didn't know she was pissed, I would have believed it.
"So you can chase after Bellamy to speak to your boss? No."
"I thought we had a business arrangement."
"We do," I agreed, nodding to the owner as I led Miller onto the balcony, seating her near the railing as I took the spot near the door. No exit.
"Then why are you treating me like a prisoner?"
The owner's wife stepped out on the balcony, set down our drinks along with a menu, then quietly disappeared again, closing the door as she went.
"Frappe, food... yes, you are being horribly mistreated."
"I just wanted my team to know where I am. That's all. And I know Bellamy is going to lie to them. You have loved ones, Mr. Adamos. You know how it is to worry when one of them is suddenly missing."
"I'm sure Bellamy has fed them a story that will buy you enough time to save Alexander."
To that, she let out a long sigh, reaching for a frappe, leaning back in her seat.
"Okay. I am going to need more details."
"About what, exactly?"
"Your brother. Atanas. The hierarchy of crime in your country. The kind of allies Atanas has. And you. What you are—and are not—willing to negotiate on. Everything."
She fell silent then, taking a tentative sip of her frappe, letting out a moan that I could feel in my fucking cock, then taking a longer sip.