The trouble started with a dog. A girl and a dog, to be more precise.

“Hang on,” Ben Volkov said to his brother Nik on the phone. “Something’s happening.”

“What?” Nik said, his voice urgent. “Is it Mishin?”

“No.” Ben lowered the phone and inched nearer to the brick wall, straining to see past the parked cars hiding him from view. Near the corner, a young woman appeared to be struggling with three gang thugs who were pushing her around, their yelling and taunts escalating to physical violence. By her feet cowered a huge shaggy mutt.

His gut knotted with disgust. He abhorred cruelty in all its forms, even more so because of his family heritage. The girl was obviously in distress, from her flushed face and harried expression, and the dog flinched and quivered each time the gang members stepped near.

He clenched his jaw and leaned back against the cool brick, his designer jeans and fine leather jacket out of place in this rougher neighborhood. Playing the white knight to a strange damsel in distress wasn’t his usual MO. Usually, Ben was the quiet one, the cool, calm, assessing one. But there was something about this girl, this situation, that refused to let him sit on the sidelines.

Knowing there’d be hell to pay from his brother later, Ben got back on the line. “I need to go.”

Nik rattled off a litany of Russian curses, blistering enough for Ben to hold the phone away from his ear for a second. When he got back on the line, he did his best to appease his brother.

“Look, I said I’d find Mishin and the money and I will. I just need to take care of something first.” Ben narrowed his gaze on the girl again. “I’ll meet you later to adjust our plans.”

“You better have a good reason for this, bro,” Nik said, though his threat held no heat. “Are you at least in the right place?”

“Yes. I’m in front of the address you gave me.” His heart tripped as the plaintive howls of the poor dog grew more intense. “I need to go. I’ll meet you at the bar in two hours.”

Ben ended the call without waiting for his brother’s reply. Adrenaline sizzled through his veins as he straightened his jacket then slid the phone into his pocket. It wasn’t his own personal safety he was concerned about. Hell, one didn’t grow up as a Volkov without learning early on how to fight.

No. It was this strange pull he had to rush to this strange woman’s aid. He was halfway to the corner before he even realized he’d moved. The girl turned and caught his gaze, her green eyes sparkling with anger. She was beautiful, he noticed absently as he neared the group.

Without warning, she rushed over to him, the frightened dog tangling around her ankles and nearly tripping her. She grabbed Ben’s hand and pulled him close, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek with her cherry-red lips. Her long black hair swirled around him, smelling of cinnamon and vanilla and his body tightened in response.

“Darling, I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her voice determined and her smile overly bright. “I warned these guys you were on your way. This is my boyfriend and he’s going to kick your asses!”

“Yeah?” One of the thugs stepped forward, clearly unimpressed. “Him and what army?”

Ben inhaled sharply. He hated these overt displays of aggression, much preferring his drafting tables and construction tools to fighting. Still, when warranted, he could put the fear of God into just about anyone. He managed to free himself from the girl’s grip and slowly raised his hands to show the tattoos on his hands—a stylized sunrise over the water covering the back of his right hand and the small images of crosses and daggers on the lower portion of the fingers on his left hand. He flashed the gang members a don’t-fuck-with-me smile.

“Shit!” another said. “He’s fucking Bratva!”

The Volkovs were actually trying to distance themselves from the Russian mafia—at least Ben was—but these punks didn’t need to know that. Within seconds, the thugs were hightailing it out of there like their asses were on fire.

“Wow!” the girl said, drawing his attention back to her. The pink streak in her hair glowed brightly in the late morning sun. “That was pretty damn impressive. I figured when I saw your tats you’d be helpful. Well, that and your eyes.”

“What about my eyes?” Ben asked, moving the girl closer to the wall of the building and out of the line of traffic. Most people he knew avoided his gaze. He’d been told many times over the years that his gaze was a bit too assessing for comfort.

“They’re very kind.”

Her words took him somewhat aback. He didn’t quite know what to say to that. “Oh, well…”

She bent to stroke the dog’s head and whispered quietly to him, until he calmed. Up close, the mutt appeared to be a mix of English sheepdog and perhaps Malamute. Its black and white fur flopped into his eyes and its long pink tongue hung from its mouth as it panted. “It’s okay, Pavlov. Those bad men are gone. They won’t hurt you anymore,” she said as she scratched the dog’s back.

Ben frowned. “Your dog’s name is Pavlov?”

“Yep.” She smiled up at him again. “And I’m Lucy, by the way. Lucy Paprocki. Thanks again for your help.”

He shook her hand and his gaze narrowed. So, she wasn’t like most other residents in the neighborhood. “Paprocki? That’s not Ukrainian.”

“Nope.” She straightened and wound the dog’s leash around her hand. “Polish, actually. And why does it matter?”

He shrugged, disturbed far more than he cared to reveal by his insatiable need to know more about this strange girl with her 1940s pin-up looks and that lush, red mouth that just begged to be kissed. “No reason. Just seems odd for a Polish woman to be living in Chicago’s Ukrainian Village.”

“Not so odd.” Lucy started walking away and he followed. “I like the international flavor here and the rent is fairly cheap, if you split it with a couple of roomies.” She stopped to let Pavlov sniff a fire hydrant. “You have an accent. Russian?”

Brows raised, Ben rocked back on his heels. He’d moved to the US with his family at the age of six and considered himself an American through and through. Most people didn’t pick up on his slight accent, a remnant of years of speaking Russian at home. He waggled his tattooed fingers at her again. “Goes without saying.”

“Ah, right.” Lucy looked him up and down, and he felt that glance all the way to his groin. Then she started walking again, as if meeting men from the criminal underworld was an everyday occurrence for her. “Hey, I know this is probably a really stupid question, but considering your connections, I wondered if you might know someone.”

“Because all Russians must know each other, huh?”

She snorted. “No, I mean. I don’t know. See? I told you it was dumb.”

He found her fluster far more endearing than was wise, but Ben couldn’t seem to help himself. “What’s this someone’s name?”

“Peter Mishin.”

Ben damned near tripped over his own feet and only his quick reflexes saved him. He stopped dead in his tracks. Peter Mishin—or Pyotr in their native Russian—was Ben’s entire reason for being here.

It seemed to take Lucy a moment to realize that Ben wasn’t beside her anymore. She stopped several feet ahead and turned around, squinting at him. “Do you know him?”

Thinking quickly, Ben glanced over and saw a sidewalk café on the opposite side of the street. “Let me buy you a coffee. You must want to sit down and rest after your ordeal back there.”

The dog whimpered and Lucy caved. “Okay. But only a quick drink. Then I need to get back home.”

They crossed the street and took a seat at a little table near the end of the row. Ben ordered espresso, Lucy ordered herbal tea and a bowl of water for Pavlov. He looked around and realized his choice of venue was perfect. From here, he could find out what he needed from Lucy and still keep an eye on Mishin’s building.

“So, you never did answer my question,” Lucy said, once the barista had brought their drinks. “Do you know this Peter Mishin?”

Yeah, Ben knew him all right. The guy had absconded with two million dollars of his family’s money. Money the Volkovs were on the hook to pay back to the mafia, thanks to a lien, unless he and Nik could locate Peter Mishin and force him to return the cash. Then there was also the small matter of Mishin being a former close family friend and Ben’s godfather. Still, that sort of thing didn’t make for good conversation, at least not with a virtual stranger.

“I may have heard of the man,” Ben said cryptically, sipping his strong, black brew and turning on his charm.

Lucy stirred honey into her tea and smiled. “Oh, that’s great. I’ve been looking for him ever since I moved here from Skokie.”

“Is that where you’re from originally?” he asked, doing his best to ignore the warm weight of the dog, who’d flopped down atop Ben’s expensive Italian leather loafers and now snored away.

“Yeah. Well, my mom and her husband, actually.”

“You mean your father?”

“No. I mean yes. I mean he raised me and was everything a father should be, but he wasn’t my biological dad.” Lucy ruffled the fur on Pavlov’s sleeping head. “That’s why I’m looking for Peter Mishin. He’s my biological father. Everyone said it’s a mistake to try and hunt him down, but I want to see him face to face, just once and ask him why. Why he left, why he never once tried to contact me or Mom. Why he didn’t bother to use a condom when he obviously didn’t want a kid.”

Ben damned near choked on his coffee. He swallowed hard and forced himself to take a deep breath before continuing. He wasn’t a big believer in fate. He was much more of a control guy—the more he knew going in, the more he could affect the outcome. That’s how he stayed two steps ahead of everyone else. But this girl—with her crazy, pink-streaked hair and bewitching green eyes—had sent him for a tailspin without even trying.

“His Russian name is actually Pyotr, but I’m pretty sure he goes by Peter around here.” Pavlov rolled over onto his back and spread his legs, offering his belly up for a rub. Lucy laughed and the sound tinkled through the air around Ben like chimes. If circumstances were different, he wouldn’t have minded getting to know Lucy Paprocki better—a whole lot better. As it was, though, he had intel to gather and a brother to meet in two hours who would expect answers. So, he remained silent and let her continue talking. “I got this address by asking around and I brought Pavlov here on our daily walk to see if I could track Peter down. Then those stupid gang thugs started picking on us and…”

Her voice trailed off as she shuddered.

Ben frowned down at his espresso. “Where do you work?”

“Oh, right now I’m working for a tour company down on Michigan Avenue. It’s only temporary, but it pays the bills and I get to meet a lot of new people, so it’s all good.” She watched him over the rim of her teacup. “Anyway, once I got Mishin’s address, I came to find him. But now that I’m here, I’m not sure I could face him.”

Wise decision.

Considering how many people were currently searching for Peter Mishin, Ben included, the guy was liable to shoot first and ask questions later. The thought of this lovely creature being harmed in any way sucker punched Ben right in the gut. Sure, her conflict-resolution skills left much to be desired, yet for reasons inexplicable to him, desire her he did.

In an effort to cool the erotic fire currently blazing through his blood, Ben switched topics again. “Tell me about your dog.”

“Oh, well. Okay. Let’s see.” Lucy tapped her finger against her lips, once more drawing his attention to their fullness. “Well, I got Pavlov because I’ve always loved dogs, even though my apartment doesn’t technically allow them. I’m a bit worried about that to be honest. If my landlord found out, on top of the other problems we’ve had recently…” She shuddered. “Anyway, my mother is always on me to find a good guy and settle down. My adopted dad passed away last year from a heart attack and now I worry about my own health, even though we weren’t actually related. After he died, my mom told me that Peter Mishin was actually my biological father. What else would you like to know?”

Ben just blinked at her. Never had he met another person so open and free and independent. He would never consider spilling so much about himself, yet here sat Lucy, an open book. If what she said was true and she really was Peter Mishin’s biological daughter, then she could prove invaluable to his family’s quest to gain possession of their stolen fortune. Fate had plopped her into his path. No way did he intend to let her escape him so easily. He went back over her words in his mind, zeroing in on one key statement. “You said your building doesn’t allow dogs?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled as Pavlov snuffled in his sleep, slobbering all over Ben’s loafers. “He likes you.”

“Marvelous.” Ben gave the dog a dubious look. The smaller apartment below his was open, but he wasn’t sure if he trusted her to be his neighbor. Not yet. But he also didn’t want to let her slip from his grasp either. Not until he’d found out if what she said about Mishin being her father was true. So, he compromised. “Listen, this isn’t something I’d normally do, but I know of a great property not far from here that’s renting and they allow pets. I can give you the address and you can check it out. I’d even be willing to dog-sit Pavlov here for a while until you get things settled, if that would help.”

What he knew about keeping a pet would fit in a thimble, but seeing how attached Lucy was to her dog, it seemed his best option at the moment.

“Oh, I don’t know.” She frowned, then slipped off her seat to kneel on the ground beside the dog, running her fingers through his thick fur. “I hate to leave him with a stranger.”

“But I’m not a stranger. Not anymore.” Ben flashed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll admit I’m not usually a pet person, but you said it yourself. He likes me.”

Lucy smiled and his world brightened. “Yeah, he does seem to have taken a shine to you.” She sighed. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. Plus, it will give me a chance to find a new place where Pavlov and I can live together. Maybe you and I can find out more about Peter Mishin too, huh?”

Ben downed the rest of his espresso in one shot then set the cup back on the table. “Good. Then it’s settled.”

“Listen, I know you’re in the Russian mafia. The Bratva.” She unwound the dog’s leash from her hand and gave it to Ben reluctantly. “I’m pretty sure my real father was too. That’s why I think you could help me.” She grabbed a napkin from the table and the waitress’s pen and scribbled down her cell number and instructions for feeding Pavlov, handing it to him. “Let me know if you find out anything. I want to see where you’re keeping him too, to make sure it’s safe and to bring over some of his toys and his bed.” She bent and kissed the dog then checked her watch. “Crap I’ve got to get to work or I’m going to be late. Text me your number and keep your phone on. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done.”

He stood and tugged on the leash to get Pavlov to his feet as well. The spark of attraction in her pretty green eyes let him know the buzz of chemistry between them was mutual. He tucked the napkin in his pocket then started to back away from her, his smile slow. “I’ll be in touch, Lucy.”

* * *

An hour later, Ben walked into The Mad Monk Pub. Named in honor of that famous Russian crazy man, Rasputin, the bar sported all sorts of creepy abstract paintings of hypnotists alongside traditional Kremlin propaganda posters from the Soviet era. A real chip off the old communist block.

He peered through the murky interior light and spotted his older brother, Nik, sitting in a secluded booth in the corner. This early in the afternoon, the place was fairly deserted except for a few regulars slumped at the bar, smoking and watching TV.

“Hey,” Ben said, sliding into his side of the booth. “Sorry I’m late.”

Nik shrugged one shoulder and stared down into his beer. Four years older than Ben, Nikolai was his polar opposite when it came to temperament—brash, bold, preferring to play things by ear versus Ben’s careful planning and preparation. “What did you find out about Mishin?”

I think I found his daughter. Ben bit back the words before they escaped. He wasn’t ready to share Lucy with anyone yet. Not until he’d had a chance to learn more about her himself, discover if she was really who she said she was, if she tasted as lush as she looked…

At that last thought, he frowned and adjusted himself in his seat, his body tightening against his will. This was insane. He’d just met the woman, barely knew a thing about her, except that she could quite possibly be the link he needed to finally find the man he’d been searching for. Forget that she looked like his every erotic fantasy come to Technicolor life.

A mission this important demanded he think with his head, not his cock.

“I may have found a new lead,” he said, doing his best to sound matter-of-fact. “But I won’t know until I dig a little deeper this afternoon.”

“Der’mo.” Shit. Nik scowled at his bottle on the table. “I really hate that fucking betrayer. I understand him having a personal beef with the Bratva. Hell, I even understand him not feeling appreciated for his years of dirty service. But what I will never fucking understand is stealing two million dollars and blaming it on an innocent friend’s family to take your revenge. If I ever see him again, I swear to Christ I’ll put a bullet right between his traitorous eyes.”

“Calm down,” Ben hissed as he hailed the bartender and ordered an ale of his own. Once the waitress brought his beer and he paid, he continued. “Listen, this lead of mine seems pretty promising. She’s claiming to be related to Mishin.”

“She?” Nik glanced up at him then, brow raised and tone drenched with innuendo.

“Don’t worry, she’s not my type.” Liar. “She seems too much like you, too wild and impulsive.”

“Hmm.” Nik snorted. “Perhaps, I should follow up with this lead of yours then.”

“Nyet.” Ben barked the word more vehemently than he’d intended, lapsing into Russian as he always did during times of high intensity. Confused by his own reaction, he sat back in his seat, heat prickling his skin. What did he care if Nik talked to Lucy? Wasn’t like he had stamped ownership on her, had he? He shook off the strange feelings of possessiveness filling him and took a long swig of his ale. “She’s expecting me. Besides, I have her dog.”

Nik laughed. “You have her what?”

“Her dog.” Ben sighed. “It’s not important. What is important is that I’ve done a lot of thinking about Mishin’s embezzlement. The more I consider it, the more it makes sense that Mishin wouldn’t leave Chicago with all two million dollars at once. It would draw too much attention carrying around a big old briefcase of money.”

“Go on,” Nik said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “You think he’s squirreling the funds out bit by bit?”

“I do. Which is where this new lead comes in.” Ben tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “Logic says if Mishin knows about Lucy, he’ll try to get in contact with her, especially if he’s planning on leaving the country permanently. Maybe he’d want to see her before he goes. Maybe he’d want to take her with him. Who knows?”

“Why would he take her with him?” Nik frowned. “Are they close? I never once heard him mention his own family in all the years he worked for us.”

“From what she’s said, they’ve never actually met, but you know Mishin. If he thinks using her will help his cause against the Bratva, he won’t hesitate. And think about it. An old man traveling with his daughter wouldn’t stand out nearly as much as that man on his own.”

“Wait.” Nik held up his hand. “Mishin has a daughter?”

“That’s what this girl is claiming.”

“Fuck. That could be a game-changer.”

“Tell me about it.” Ben took another swig from his bottle. “Now you see why I’m intrigued by her.”

“Just be careful, brother.” Nik sat back. “Don’t underestimate him. He might be old, but he’s still deadly.”

“I’ve got it under control.” Ben gave a confident chuckle. “As usual.”

Nik shook his head. “One of these days, brother, you’re going to discover that not everything in this life can be so easily fixed with one of your plans.”

Ben finished off the rest of his ale in one long swallow, then stood. “We’ll see.”

“Yeah,” Nik called to Ben as he walked away. “You’ll see that some things are best left unplanned.”

“And you’ll see that I’m right, as always, brother,” Ben called back to him as he exited. “Time for your shift to watch Mishin’s building.”