Chapter 3 - The Russian Whisper
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The library of the Hamilton estate smelled of old paper, leather bindings, and the metallic tang of impending violence. Dominic stood by the massive mahogany desk, staring at a series of surveillance photographs spread across the polished wood.
Vincent closed the heavy double doors and locked them from the inside.
“The Petrovs are getting bolder,” Vincent reported, walking over to the desk. He pointed to a photograph of a black SUV parked outside one of Dominic’s legitimate shipping fronts in downtown Chicago. “They’ve been tailing our delivery routes. They know we are moving untraceable capital to secure the Irish guns.”
Dominic leaned forward, his knuckles turning white as he braced his hands on the desk.
“Vladimir Petrov is a dead man breathing,” Dominic growled. “He thinks because he has Senator Garcia in his pocket, he can squeeze me out of the northern ports. The Senator’s political protection is the only reason the federal authorities haven't raided our warehouses. And Petrov knows I need the Senator.”
“Which is why you are playing the devoted boyfriend to the Senator's utterly insufferable daughter,” Vincent noted dryly. “But Dominic, Bethany is becoming a massive liability. She shoved Charlene in the kitchen this morning.”
The air in the library completely evaporated. Dominic went rigidly, terrifyingly still. He slowly lifted his head, his gray eyes churning with absolute, unadulterated murder.
“She put her hands on her?” Dominic whispered.
“Charlene caught her balance on the refrigerator,” Vincent clarified quickly, recognizing the explosive tension. “The baby is fine. Dr. Harmon checked her an hour ago. Just a bruised hip. But Dominic, you cannot keep playing this game if Bethany continues to escalate. If she actually hurts the child...”
“She won't,” Dominic vowed, his voice dropping into a lethal register. “O'Rourke arrives in thirteen days. The second the Irish sign the weapons treaty, I will have enough firepower to slaughter the Petrov syndicate without needing the Senator’s political shield. The moment the ink is dry, Bethany Garcia will be thrown onto the street.”
“And until then?”
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“Until then, I play the part,” Dominic said, running a hand over his face in exhaustion. “But I want you to assign two of our best men to shadow Charlene inside the house. Tell them to dress like maintenance staff. If Bethany comes within ten feet of her again, they are to intervene immediately.”
Vincent nodded. “Understood. But you need to be careful, Dominic. Petrov has spies everywhere. If he realizes the pregnant maid is actually the most important person in your life, he won't target your shipping routes. He’ll target her.”
