“Reagan.”
Niklaus was already on his feet, heading to the elevator before he even finished saying her name. “Talk quickly, Russian.”
“Someone lit up that pub you said she owns. I had Luka go by her place after I heard, but he said she’s not there.”
“Why didn’t he call me?” By the time he made it to his car, Niklaus was in strategy mode.
“I needed him out looking for her as opposed to going back and forth with you about this.”
“Looks to be your Irishman. The other, Rourke, I think that's his name, has already gone into hiding. His father’s remains were found, said to have been suicide.”
Niklaus knew firsthand how untrue that statement was, and since the brothers knew of their father’s meeting, they likely knew that to be true as well.
“If he thought you were dead, and taking into account what happened to his father, he may want someone to answer for it.”
It made sense. “I need a location.”
“He only has so many places in the city he can use. Where would he take her?”
That was the very question Niklaus was asking himself.
* * *
Liam was acting strange.
Usually, he was calm and collected, careful never to let any emotion betray him, but this…this was the angriest she had ever seen him.
“Why are—”
“Shut up!” She did exactly that. “I had it handled. Everything was under my control until you started fucking that Russian.”
He came towards her, backing her into a corner, the barrel of his gun pressed against the underside of her chin.
“You played innocent with me, but you spread your legs like a slag the minute he came around. What? Did you prefer married men?”
Reagan was confused, not understanding what he was getting at, until it suddenly dawned on her. He thought Niklaus and Mishca were one in the same.
“You know, I don’t think so.”
They both turned at the new voice, and Reagan was tempted to feel ease at the sight of Luka walking through the entryway, but from what she could see, he didn’t have a weapon on him. Nor did he wear a vest like the one Niklaus wore.
“I like to think that those two are different.”
“Who the feck are you?” Liam demanded, grabbing hold of Reagan’s arms and yanking her to his side.
“Luka. Valon. Different names to different people. Take your pick, I won’t be offended—but I’ll warn you on who you call out for, you maybe won’t like who answers.”
“Whoever you are, I suggest you stay behind the line or I’ll put a bullet in your skull.”
“It’s been a while since I got shot so…”
The first time she had been around Luka, she had been confused by the split personality he seemed to have, issuing threats one moment, spouting random things the next.
This time, now that she was on the other side of it, she could see what he was doing, the careful ploy of keeping Liam focused on one thing as opposed to what Liam was actually doing.
With each step that Luka took, Liam countered it, subconsciously moving them in a circle, but soon, Liam realized what was happening.
Instead of leaving the gun trained on Luka, who didn’t seem bothered by it at all, he turned it on Reagan instead. And this time, Luka actually had a reaction to it.
“I wouldn’t fucking do that.”
“No? And what the feck are you going to do about it?”
“There’ll be a hollow tip bullet lodged into your thick ass skull. That work for you?”
“I’d have you shot dead before you could grab your piece.”
“Are you sure about that, McCarthy? I would be very sure of that before you go off making promises.”
Now, Liam had the gun aimed back at Luka.
“Try it, you Russian shithead.”
“First, I’m Albanian—different, yes? Second, you made only one mistake today,” he said as he lowered his hands, his shoulders relaxing as though the danger was over, as though Liam wasn’t readying to shoot her in the head because of him.
“Yeah?” Liam returned, his grip on her tightening. “What was that?”
Luka’s chin jerked up. “You stepped in front of that window.”
Silence followed that statement, as Reagan was just as confused as Liam had to be, but as she tried to make sense of what he was saying, there was the sharp sound of glass splintering, the Liam jerked hard, blood spraying them both.
Yelping in surprise, she tried to scramble out of the way as Liam fell forward, slamming into the ground, blood spanning out beneath his head. The glass behind them was still intact, with the lone exception of a small hole where a bullet had gone through.
“Huh,” Luka said, looking from the body to the window. “Remind me to get bulletproof windows.” Then, as though there wasn’t a dead man lying in a pool of blood, he asked, “Ready?”
Reagan took one last look at Liam, and almost felt bad that she wasn’t feeling more horror at the fact that he was dead and the man she loved had taken his life.