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Authors: Bella Rose
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working through this idea in his head. “How much money did your mother leave you?”
“Several million dollars.” Flynn cleared her throat. “Okay, so more like ten million.”
His elegant dark brows shot up in surprise. “That’s certainly motivation for murder, but killing your own child? That’s despicable.”
“I have to admit that it surprises me too.” She traced the pattern woven into the blanket still covering her body. “He’s been pressuring me since I turned eighteen to turn control of my trust over to him. It’s held by an executor who was my mother’s financial planner.”
“He wanted to be the executor,” Grigori guessed.
She nodded. “When I turned eighteen, I could have filled out the paperwork to have it changed. Most people would have, you know. But my mother knew my father. She knew he would go through the money in a week trying to buy his ambitions.”
“So she protected you the best way she could.” His soft smile made her feel so protected. It was the first time Flynn had felt like this since her mother’s passing.
Then she remembered the other thing that had happened at the meeting with her father. “Grigori, I’m really sorry about your brother. I’m not much of a winning pick.”
“That was a play on your father’s part to make you doubt my intentions.” He gently touched her face with his fingertips. “My main goal was to be married in order to stay in this country. I had Anson file the marriage certificate this morning. I’m sure immigration will be knocking on the door at some point and demanding proof.”
“Speaking of knocking. How is it that we can be a few hours from Washington DC in a nice neighborhood in Richmond, and nobody is knocking the door down trying to get to you?”
“First of all, the community is gated. Second, we keep round the clock surveillance. Third, I have a rather elaborate identity set up to hide this place.” He paused for a moment, getting up and walking to the window. “Your father knows where we are. He sent a message to you here this morning. He’s choosing not to act here. I’m not sure why. It very likely has to do with the way he wants your murder to look.”
Flynn frowned. She took a few deep breaths, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. Then she realized what they were missing. “College campus, public shooting—he’s trying to make it a public spectacle to drum up an outpouring of voter sympathy.”
“By killing his own daughter?”
She carefully drew her knees up and rested her chin on them. “If I die before I turn twenty-one, he gets my inheritance. No questions asked.”
IT WAS ONE thing to speculate that District Attorney Ronald Callaghan was trying to have his own daughter murdered for money. It was another thing to imagine that the man was trying to use her death as a multifaceted attempt to gain public approval and a subsequent win in the political arena.
“That is disgusting.” Grigori gazed at the beautiful woman who continually impressed the hell out of him. “It actually makes me want to get my rifle and go to work.”
He could actually see her working that through in her head. Then she exhaled a sigh and tucked her tangled hair behind her ears. “I wish I could tell you yes. I really do. I never thought I would agree that assassination was a good idea, but there you go, I guess.”
“Most of my contracts are real scumbags, sweetheart.” He sat back on the bed and rested his shoulders against the headboard. It gave him a true rush of pleasure when she curled up beside him as best she could with her sore shoulder.
“How does it work?” she asked.
He felt odd telling her about his job, but she seemed to be coming to grips with it, and that was very important to him for some reason he didn’t particularly want to examine. “There are nine main Russian mafia families here in the US. Most of them have branches in Russia or the Ukraine as well.”
“That sounds bizarrely
“Several million dollars.” Flynn cleared her throat. “Okay, so more like ten million.”
His elegant dark brows shot up in surprise. “That’s certainly motivation for murder, but killing your own child? That’s despicable.”
“I have to admit that it surprises me too.” She traced the pattern woven into the blanket still covering her body. “He’s been pressuring me since I turned eighteen to turn control of my trust over to him. It’s held by an executor who was my mother’s financial planner.”
“He wanted to be the executor,” Grigori guessed.
She nodded. “When I turned eighteen, I could have filled out the paperwork to have it changed. Most people would have, you know. But my mother knew my father. She knew he would go through the money in a week trying to buy his ambitions.”
“So she protected you the best way she could.” His soft smile made her feel so protected. It was the first time Flynn had felt like this since her mother’s passing.
Then she remembered the other thing that had happened at the meeting with her father. “Grigori, I’m really sorry about your brother. I’m not much of a winning pick.”
“That was a play on your father’s part to make you doubt my intentions.” He gently touched her face with his fingertips. “My main goal was to be married in order to stay in this country. I had Anson file the marriage certificate this morning. I’m sure immigration will be knocking on the door at some point and demanding proof.”
“Speaking of knocking. How is it that we can be a few hours from Washington DC in a nice neighborhood in Richmond, and nobody is knocking the door down trying to get to you?”
“First of all, the community is gated. Second, we keep round the clock surveillance. Third, I have a rather elaborate identity set up to hide this place.” He paused for a moment, getting up and walking to the window. “Your father knows where we are. He sent a message to you here this morning. He’s choosing not to act here. I’m not sure why. It very likely has to do with the way he wants your murder to look.”
Flynn frowned. She took a few deep breaths, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. Then she realized what they were missing. “College campus, public shooting—he’s trying to make it a public spectacle to drum up an outpouring of voter sympathy.”
“By killing his own daughter?”
She carefully drew her knees up and rested her chin on them. “If I die before I turn twenty-one, he gets my inheritance. No questions asked.”
IT WAS ONE thing to speculate that District Attorney Ronald Callaghan was trying to have his own daughter murdered for money. It was another thing to imagine that the man was trying to use her death as a multifaceted attempt to gain public approval and a subsequent win in the political arena.
“That is disgusting.” Grigori gazed at the beautiful woman who continually impressed the hell out of him. “It actually makes me want to get my rifle and go to work.”
He could actually see her working that through in her head. Then she exhaled a sigh and tucked her tangled hair behind her ears. “I wish I could tell you yes. I really do. I never thought I would agree that assassination was a good idea, but there you go, I guess.”
“Most of my contracts are real scumbags, sweetheart.” He sat back on the bed and rested his shoulders against the headboard. It gave him a true rush of pleasure when she curled up beside him as best she could with her sore shoulder.
“How does it work?” she asked.
He felt odd telling her about his job, but she seemed to be coming to grips with it, and that was very important to him for some reason he didn’t particularly want to examine. “There are nine main Russian mafia families here in the US. Most of them have branches in Russia or the Ukraine as well.”
“That sounds bizarrely
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