The alarm blared an obnoxious siren sound, and Lila jerked up, knocking an empty plate off the desk and wrenching her neck at the same time.

“Ow! Dammit!” she cried out as she reached for the mouse and frantically clicked on the screen to get the alarm to turn off.

Once the alarm was neutralized, she blinked as her world came back into focus. She’d fallen asleep at her desk after spending much of the last thirteen hours digging through everything online Xavier had ever touched.

And damn, that was a lot of stuff.

She rubbed her eyes, then stiffly stood and went to the kitchen, where she made coffee and grabbed a granola bar before heading back to the computer.

She opened the file with all the information she’d gathered in her all-nighter.

Pages and pages of records spread out in front of her eyes. Bank accounts, real estate contracts, applications for patents, incorporations, a divorce she’d never heard about, and then the random mentions—places he’d been tagged in social media posts, some old high school tech competitions, his three semesters of college transcripts.

She maximized the last thing she’d been looking at the night before, an account in the Caymans that appeared to be where he put a good chunk of his assets.

She began coding, string after string of the stuff until she was able to crack into the bank’s actual site. Using Xavier’s purloined account number, she drilled down until she got to his account records.

At first glance, the account looked to have very little activity. A set of deposits each month, and a few scattered withdrawals. Then she noticed all the deposits were in the same amount.

“Who’s paying you, and what are they paying for?” she muttered as she followed the trail of the codes for the deposits. They were made via phone and always sent from the same place, an account based in Moscow. The transfers weren’t on the same day of the month, but with her affinity for patterns, it didn’t take Lila long to see they took place every twelve days.

She clicked to another page and pulled up the record of Xavier’s mobile phone calls. She scrolled to one of the dates of the bank transfers. Hunting for area codes outside Chicago, she found two that day. She repeated the process for several other days, correlating the bank transfers with calls outside of Chicago. While none of the phone numbers were an identical match, each day he received a transfer, there was also a call to the 917 area code. She googled it—Brooklyn.

“Okay, how do a bank account in Moscow and someone in Brooklyn fit together?” she whispered as she kept digging.

There was a lot about hacking computers that was complicated and mysterious to all but the most tech savvy, but it wasn’t entirely magic. Sometimes Google was your friend.

She typed in Moscow, Brooklyn, money, hacking, crime, and hit enter. The third entry read: Russian gangs of New York. She clicked the article, then began branching out from that. Fifteen minutes later, she had a sick feeling in her gut.

The Russian mob had been heavily active in Brooklyn for a generation or more. They had their fingers in every criminal enterprise a creative mind could conjure—drugs, cybercrime, extortion, racketeering, human trafficking. The list went on and on.

“Oh, Xavier. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

Over the next two hours, Lila became an expert on the Bratva. Their activities, their assets, their expansion plans. And that was where the picture began to come together. The Russians had been working to expand into Chicago for years. In fact, they’d been making headway a few years earlier—right around the time Robbie and Liam MacFarlane had been arrested for trafficking. But then the tides had shifted, and the MacFarlanes had come out on top again.

Lila felt lightheaded when she finally turned away from the computer after her extensive research. She might not know all the details, but she had a pretty good idea of what was going on. In fact, she was willing to bet Rogue’s whole deal with the MacFarlanes was for a single purpose—destroying the Dublin Devils so the Bratva could move in. Xavier must want information on Cian so he could help his Russian friends plan how to take Cian out. And she guessed there would be a bust involving the drugs the Devils were selling via Rogue similar to the bust that had landed Robbie and Liam in jail.

She paced her small living room, memories of Cian sitting in her space that one night still fresh in her mind. His big, solid frame taking up so much space, the quiet way he waited so patiently for her to crack the FBI’s servers. Cian cooking bacon in her tiny kitchen, the despair he’d worn when he realized the FBI didn’t just keep a list of names and addresses for informants.

She laughed softly to herself as she stopped pacing and flopped onto the sofa. Cian had sat right here. He’d watched her with those icy-blue eyes, and he’d told her one of his deepest secrets. She picked up her tablet and clicked on one of the pages about the Bratva she’d looked at earlier. A horrific murder scene covered the screen, and her stomach flipped. Instead of the body in the photo, she saw Cian. His beautiful dark hair caked in blood, his chest splayed open like the corpse on the page.

Lila wasn’t sure what it was she felt about Cian MacFarlane, but she knew there was no way she was going to let Xavier succeed. In the last few weeks, she’d learned about the mob. They weren’t all created equal, and Cian MacFarlane was the cream of the crop. He was a drug lord, a criminal, and a man who killed other men. But he was also a conscientious, decent leader who could instill fear and respect in equal measure, a man who was capable of mercy and love. You only had to hear him talk about his brothers to know it.

And a single kiss from him could send a girl’s mind reeling for days.

No, Xavier had better think again if he thought she’d sit back and let him bury Cian MacFarlane. Cian might not be able to rely on many people, but she wanted to be one of them. She would find a way to protect him. Her skills had been wasted on her father, but Cian was worth it. Cian might even be worth something more.

* * *

“Nope, we’re not there yet,” Don said as he stood looking at Cian in a large empty airport hangar. “When we have enough for an airtight case, then we’ll take care of him.”

Cian’s jaw set as he took a deep breath.

“Wrong,” he said, steel in his voice. “I won’t give you anything else until you get Connor and his girlfriend out.”

From the corner where he stood smoking a cigarette, Bruce chuckled. “It’s funny how you keep forgetting we’re not your lapdogs, MacFarlane.”

“Look, Cian,” Don said, “It’s not my choice. I’ll never be able to get the higher-ups to approve it if we aren’t ready to file charges against you, and I’m not going to blow years’ worth of investigation by filing too soon. I want this thing ironclad. I want the Devils out of business, and I’ll make sure you and Connor get free of that, but I have to build the case first.”

Luckily, Cian wasn’t as stupid as his father thought. He’d come with insurance. He stepped closer to Don. “Can we talk privately for minute?” he asked in a low voice.

Don nodded before tipping his chin at Bruce. “Be right over here.” He led Cian to the far side of the hanger, next to a forklift and some hydraulic jacks.

“I’m going to reach into my pocket,” Cian said. Don nodded his approval.

Cian extracted the paper, holding it out to Don. The agent scanned it quickly, a twitch in his left cheek the only reaction he had to it.

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” he finally said.

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” Cian answered. “Guess you should all quit underestimating me.”

“You’re a real son of a bitch.”

“No need to bring my sweet mother into it.” Cian took the sheet of paper back, returning it to the inside breast pocket of his jacket. “The good news for you is I have every intention of giving you the information you need for the case. I just want an advance on the payment—Connor and Jess get out in the next forty-eight hours. New identities, an agreement not to prosecute for any crime that might be associated with him up to and including the day he vanishes, and he gets wiped from the federal database.”

“Jesus, can I get you your own island as well?” Don spat out.

“As soon as he’s safely on his way, I’ll remove that money from your bank account as quickly as I put it there, and no one will be any wiser. But if you’d rather take the bribery rap, go for it. I’m guessing your wife and daughter would miss you, though. And it’s a real drag when they freeze all your assets with cases like this. Makes it hard for your family when they lose the house, can’t get any credit, can’t afford a lawyer for you…”

“Fuck you.”

Cian just gave him a cold smile.

Don ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. Connor and the girl get out.”

“Forty-eight hours,” Cian said.

“I’ll have the new IDs delivered tomorrow, along with plane tickets.”

“No,” Cian interrupted. “I don’t want them in one of your witness protection houses. They’ll have enough money to get started and the new identities. That’s all they need. They just want to be normal kids, and as long as my father can’t track them and you aren’t coming after them, they’ll be fine.”

Don shrugged. “Fine, whatever you want. The IDs are solid. Your old man won’t be able to dig them up, and I have no use for Connor when I still have the rest of you here.”

“Good. That’s what matters,” Cian responded. “Nice doing business with you.”

Don snorted before he set off across the warehouse. He said something to Bruce, and they both stomped out.

Cian slowly walked to the door, listening until he heard their car start up and drive away. Then he took his phone out of his pocket and dialed Connor’s number.

“Hey,” Connor answered.

“What we talked about the other day in the office?” Cian asked.

“Yeah?” Connor’s voice was tense.

“It’s done. Bring Jess to the office day after tomorrow at four. Pack whatever you’ll need. I’ll have everything ready for you.”

“Oh my God, are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

There was silence for a beat, then Connor’s voice came through, strong and sure. “Thank you.”

“Be happy, Connor,” Cian answered. “And run far.”