Chapter Thirty-Six
Sasha
I glance up at the clock again for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. I don’t know what to do at this point. But I’m going frigging nuts sitting in this house, just waiting for him to come back.
Scarlett’s still sleeping off her injuries on the sofa where she insisted she would stay. Rory tried to argue, and the end result was him hovering out the front of the house where he could keep his frustrations to himself.
I know he’s only just outside, parked on the street in his car. I could walk out there and demand he take me to Ronan.
Or, I could just leave altogether.
That second option no longer appeals to me. The thought of leaving him now feels like its own sort of prison. I like being here, in Ronan’s house. Sleeping next to him. Breathing him in when he holds me at night. I don’t know how I could give that up. Give him up.
We’ve come so far together. I don’t want to turn back now. But then I just keep thinking that he left me. Again. And maybe this time, he really doesn’t want to come back. Maybe it’s all been for nothing.
My new phone rings, startling me from my thoughts. When I see Mack’s name, I pick up without hesitation.
“Sash,” she yells through the phone. She sounds totally freaked. And Mack never sounds freaked. It puts me on edge too. “Something’s going down.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some feds just came and arrested Lachlan. I tried calling some of the other guys, but I can’t get through to them. Is Rory still there?”
“I don’t know.” I walk towards the door. “I’m going to check now.”
“Wait!” Mack says. “Grab your purse and some clothes. Tell Rory to bring you to the safe house. That’s where I am.”
“I can’t,” I argue. “I have to wait for Ronan to get back.”
“Sasha, this is protocol,” Mack insists. “He’ll know exactly where you are, and he’ll come to you when he can, okay? But for right now, we don’t know how many of the guys are in custody, and it isn’t safe to be in the house unprotected.”
I think of my baby, and even though I want to wait for Ronan, I know she’s right.
“Okay,” I tell her. “I’ll grab some clothes.”
“Be quick,” Mack urges. “I have a really weird feeling about all of this. I’ll stay on the phone with you until you’re in the car with Rory.”
“Alright, but I’ve got to grab Scarlett too.”
“Scarlett?” Mack echoes through the phone. “What’s she doing there?”
I don’t answer because I’m pretty sure if she doesn’t know already then I wasn’t supposed to say anything. But I really don’t care.
“I’ll let her tell you herself,” I answer. “When we get there.”
“Ugh,” Mack groans. “Fine, whatever. I’m going out of my mind, Sash. Just hurry.”
I pack quickly, and Mack repeats the evening’s events to me while I do. She explains how Lachlan had just come home from the club when the feds started banging down the door. It was odd timing, like they intentionally wanted him to be away from the others so he couldn’t warn them.
“You haven’t heard anything from Ronan?” I ask again. “I’ve texted him and he won’t respond.”
“No, Sash,” she answers. “I’m sorry. But if anyone knows how to evade these guys, it’s Ronan. I don’t think you have to worry about him. We’ll figure out what’s going on.”
Her words do nothing to comfort me, so I focus on the task at hand. I rouse Scarlett from her sleep and explain that we have to leave. To my amazement, she jumps up without delay. And it occurs to me this girl’s natural fight or flight instincts are kicking in, a sure sign this isn’t the first time she’s had to run for her life. We reach the front door and I scoop Daisy up, tucking her under my arm when something occurs to me. Her leash is still in the kitchen, and we’re going to need it.
“Can you take her to the car?” I ask Scarlett. “I’ll be right behind you.”
She nods and Mack grumbles in my ear, obviously on edge.
“What’s taking so long?”
“I’ve got to get Daisy’s leash. Ronan doesn’t let her outside without it.”
“We can get a new leash,” Mack protests. “Just get your ass in the car.”
“Alright, I’m going, I’m going,” I tell her. “Let me call you right back.”
She’s still protesting in my ear when I hang up and glance around frantically for the leash. I know how particular Ronan is about Daisy going outside with it because he doesn’t want her to run off. But I can’t find the stupid thing anywhere.
Just as I’m about to give up, I find it hanging over one of the chairs. I yank it off and race towards the front door and down the steps.
But I don’t even make it ten feet before a car pulls up and a flurry of activity ensues. My phone falls onto the sidewalk in the chaos, and my gaze drifts to the car parked down the block. Where Rory and Scarlett are.
Their faces are panicked, and I know it’s too late for me already when the uniformed agents converge on me. There’s nothing they can do for me at this point without alerting the feds that they’re here too. So I tear my eyes away and focus on what’s in front of me.
A woman decked out in FBI field gear approaches me first, gripping me by the arm.
“Sasha Varela.” She holds up a piece of paper. “We need you to come with us.”
I don’t even get to see what’s on the paper before she yanks it away. I hesitate when she tries to usher me to the car, and the other agents move towards their guns.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she says. “But I will cuff you if you don’t come willingly. Let’s not go that route, Sasha.”
I glare back at her and she shoves me into the back of a sedan. The female agent piles in beside me and we peel off down the street.
“Where are you taking me?” I demand. “What am I under arrest for? I need to know…”
“I’ll explain everything very soon,” she says. “But I can promise you, Sasha, this is probably the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.”
***
The agents take me to a white house in the middle of suburbia. And the entire time, the guy that’s driving keeps staring at me in the rearview mirror. He’s giving me the creeps, and nothing about this situation feels right.
When we park the car, my rational thought process starts to come back to me. They can’t just do this kind of stuff. I have rights, and I’m pretty sure they’ve already broken half of them.
“What are we doing here?” I rant. “You can’t just arrest me without telling me what it’s for. I want a lawyer. I have somewhere to be… I need to post bail, and I know my rights…”
“Sasha.” The female agent grins smugly. “Just calm down. I’m going to explain everything right now.”
They take me inside of the house and seat me at the kitchen table. The female sits across from me, looking way too self-important as she folds her hands across the glass.
“Sasha, my name is Agent Reed, and believe it or not, I’m here to help you.”
“Help me how?” I demand. “By holding me hostage? Am I under arrest or what?”
“You’re not under arrest,” she says. “Yet. But that could change, depending on how the rest of this interview proceeds.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I snap.
“We’ve had a good Samaritan tip us off on some criminal activity within the club you work for. Leads in some missing person cases as well as a written witness statement by one Donovan O’ Connor.”
“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I shake my head and a maniacal laugh bubbles up my throat.
Am I never going to escape this frigging asshole? He’s dead, and he’s still fucking with my life.
Agent Reed purses her lips and acts genuinely surprised by my outburst. “I’m really not. Included in that witness statement are some very interesting things about you Sasha. It seems you are implicated as a potential accomplice yourself to some of these crimes.”
I sit back and cross my arms while I stare at her. “First of all, Donny is frigging deluded. So if you buy anything he’s trying to sell you, I feel sorry that he’s wasting tax payer’s dollars sending you on these types of goose chases. And second of all, I don’t know anything about any crimes. I’m just a dancer. A freelance one at that. So technically, I’m not even employed by that club. And unless you’re going to place me under arrest, you better take me back to my house.”
The agent sighs and gestures for the other man who is still watching me closely. He’s clearly an agent too, but something about him doesn’t feel right. I don’t like the way he keeps looking at me. Like he knows something I don’t. Like all of this is just for show.
He opens up a drawer and hands agent Reed a file which she then tosses onto the table in front of me.
“Donovan O’ Connor has been missing for some time now,” she says. “And by his own account, he suspected this might happen. He was prepared for it.”
She opens up the file and leaves me to have a look on my own. I swallow down my nerves as I slide it across the table and begin to flip through the pictures. Immediately, I know exactly who and what they are.
The photos themselves are grainy, and there’s no clear shot of his face. But it’s undoubtedly Ronan shoving a large roll of carpet into the trunk of a car behind Slainte. I take my time studying each photo. I’m trying to see if Donny actually captured anything of use.
The photos were obviously taken on a cell phone, and there are no lights in that part of the lot, so almost all of it is in shadows. There’s nothing that can identify the car that I can see because Ronan is blocking the plate itself. The photos have obviously been altered as much as they can to try to identify the subject, but a fat lot of good it did.
If I didn’t know it before, these photos only confirm what an idiot Donny was. He thought this would be his smoking gun. But it’s obvious that if they have me here they need me to corroborate his story. And without him being here to talk, I have to doubt they have anything else to go on.
“Before you say anything,” agent Reed interrupts my thoughts, “I think it’s pertinent you know Sasha, that you can be brought up on charges as well if you don’t cooperate. Alternatively, you can have the slate wiped clean. Move into our WITSEC program and begin anew. New name, new city. A chance to make a life of your own. I know that the last few years have been difficult for you. Supporting your mother during the final stages of her cancer could not have been easy. And then going to work at Slainte every night, knowing that you could never leave. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. I’m giving you that opportunity now.”
I take a slow, controlled breath and look up at her. For the last three years, I’ve managed to fool everyone who ever asked about Blaine. He’s the fucking nightmare that just won’t go away. And this agent thinks I’m just a dumb stripper who doesn’t know what she’s doing. She thinks she can fool me with her sweet talk. Her promises of a new life. I know better. I know her sugar coated lies are really laced with venom.
Even if I had nothing and nobody to lose, betraying the syndicate is the last thing I’d ever do. It’s a death sentence, no matter which way you spin it. If it had been Blaine I was selling down the river, I might have felt enticed. But it isn’t. It’s Ronan and everyone else who has done right by me. And if I can stand up to Lachlan and his questioning, I can sure as hell handle this dumb broad.
“Look,” I tell her. “It’s obvious you think I know more than I do. But I don’t know what you want me to say. I have no idea who’s in those photos. Even if I did, it’s kind of hard to tell what he’s doing. I mean, it looks like he was doing renovations for all I know. So I’m sorry, but like I said before, I can’t help you.”
“That’s a shame,” she sighs. “We were really hoping that you’d be willing to cooperate with us on this.”
She remains calm, opening the other file in front of her and sliding it across the table in my direction. I give it a cursory glance and feel my own resolve fracturing just a little.
“The way I see it,” she says, “there’s only one obvious choice. Either you take the deal I’m offering… or you’ll be going down for multiple crimes that involve aiding and abetting a criminal organization.”
She points at the second piece of paper in the file to prove her point and then arches a brow for emphasis. “Those are all felonies, by the way. Not that it matters. It makes no difference which prison you end up in. The Irish have reach in all of them, I’m told.”
My eyes snap up to hers, and I seriously debate lunging across the table and choking her to death right here.
“This is making you feel really fucking important,” I snarl. “Isn’t it?”
She brushes off my comment with a wave of her hand. “So what’s it going to be, Sasha? You better think quick. This is a limited time offer.”
I sit back in my chair and contemplate my options. My airway is growing smaller by the second, and I know I need to ground myself. But I look around this room, and there’s nothing familiar. It doesn’t help the way it usually does. Panic is seeping into my every ounce of flesh, and I don’t know how to stop it. I’m pregnant. I can’t go to prison. But I can’t sell Ronan out either.
Agent Reed and I stare at each other across the table, neither of us speaking a word in the stilted silence. But there’s a smug smile on her face. Because she knows she’s caught me in her web. Fucking bitch. Fucking traitor bitch. She doesn’t give a fuck about anything but how good this will look on her record. This is all about her job accolades and what it will do for her.
I honestly have no idea what to do.
But as it turns out, it doesn’t matter. Because a moment later, someone busts through the back door and gunfire erupts throughout the house. Agent Reed shoves me under the table and I grab a chair for cover and squeeze my eyes shut.
I take three deep breaths to calm myself before I peek out to see agent Reed hiding behind a partition as she fires off shots in the direction of the intruders. A pair of leather shoes walk up behind her, and all I can see are the man’s legs.
A gunshot goes off, and she collapses to the ground. Dead.
And I’m officially in a full blown panic attack. There are some murmured words in Russian when more shoes converge in the kitchen. One of them crouches down a moment later and smiles at me. It’s the same creepy agent who was driving the car.
A corrupt fed. Who just watched these guys murder one of his own and is probably going to kill me too.
He grabs me by the arm and yanks me out from under the table. Two other men join him, and I know just by looking at them they aren’t who I want to be leaving here with.
“Where are you taking me?” I try to resist as they pull me out the door and shove me into another car, but it’s futile. The fed says something in Russian to the other guys, and confusion washes over me.
The Irish have an alliance with the Russians. Maybe they are helping me. I cling to that hope for all it’s worth. Until they put zip ties on my wrists and duct tape over my mouth.
Then I watch in horror as the two guys punch the fed in the face a couple of times until he’s banged up pretty good. I’m no genius, but I don’t need to be to see what’s going on here. He wants to make this look good to his colleagues. Which means he doesn’t plan on me being alive to contradict it.
The fed crouches down and winks at me.
“Have fun, kitten.”