Betting On Us (Wilde Love Book 3)

by Kelly Collins

  “Now that you mention it,” Matt said, “I do seem to recall you having to push off a particularly persistent girl back then, Rafe…”

  The evening descended into more and more raucous retellings of stories from our past much to Katya’s delight. Despite the underlying seriousness of everything going on with Kirsten’s case, and with the tale of her mother’s ruin still playing in my ears, the evening brought with it promise.

  This could be what our life could permanently be like after I cleared her name. It really could. Even Ian seemed to accept us begrudgingly, though he still didn’t like it.

  Underneath the table, I squeezed Kirsten’s knee, then found her hand and intertwined her fingers with mine. She glanced up at me from underneath her gorgeous, dark lashes as my fingers tightened around hers.

  If this was what life with Kirsten O’Leary would be like, then I could certainly get used to it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sergei was—scary. There was no doubt he ruled with an iron fist, and yet Katya seemed to be able to handle him like he was an overly large puppy. She’d mentioned to me before that, at first, she hadn’t known how to deal with him either, but they’d eventually come to understand each other.

  I had to wonder, how on Earth did she manage it?

  Regardless, here the two of us were, drinking vodka with the head of the Russian mob, who rumor had it murdered Katya’s ‘father’. Katya didn’t seem perturbed by this at all, even if it were true.

  I suppose, given who her supposed father had turned out to be, I couldn’t be surprised.

  “So someone’s out to get you, Miss Irish?” Sergei drawled, leaning back in his seat and drinking his vodka like he owned the place. Well, I guess he did—the bar we were sitting in was in Russian mob territory, after all.

  “Possibly. Or,” I said, taking a sip of vodka, “they’re trying to incite political unrest between the mob factions. Maybe someone doesn’t like that their Russian princess has turned out to be the daughter of a leprechaun and has since seceded the mob throne to give it to an outsider…namely you.”

  Sergei was silent for a moment, but then a grin slowly split open his face. He looked at Katya, then me. “I like your sister. She gets to the point so quickly.”

  Katya returned the smile. “I’m glad you approve.”

  And so was I, quite frankly. Sergei seemed to warm somewhat to me after that—though given how little I knew of the man, it could well have been a front.

  “So have you heard or seen anything that might help the investigation out?” I asked, trying hard not to sound desperate, even though I was. I wanted my freedom back, and I wanted it yesterday. Without freedom, I could never have Rafe.

  Sergei looked up at the ceiling in thought as he drank more vodka.

  “Possibly…”

  “That means yes, of course,” Katya said plainly. “What do you know, Sergei? You know this whole mess will affect you as much as it affects Kirsten if it has anything to do with the Russian mob.”

  Sergei’s eyes hardened. “I am aware of this, Katya. Have you changed your mind about running the Russian mob and believe you would do a better job?”

  “I get it. Explain at your own pace.”

  I couldn’t believe Katya had the guts to speak to a man as imposing and intimidating as Sergei the way she did. Even with her credentials as the previous heir to his throne, she was being bold.

  Sergei leaned in towards the table, lowering his voice until it was so quiet the two of us had to lean in, too.

  “There’s a faction that doesn’t want me at the top. They could only accept me as the successor when I was marrying into the family through Katya, but now that that isn’t happening,” he stared pointedly at Katya, who returned the stare wholeheartedly, “I need to find a way to deal with them. They aren’t massive, but they’re big enough to warrant looking out for. They may be responsible—at least in part—for all of this drug distribution on Irish territory.”

  “How would that affect you, though? Other than the Irish going against the lot of you for believing it to be a frame job?”

  Sergei’s grin turned wicked. “That’s exactly how it will affect me. Either they want me to buckle under the pressure, die trying, or they can use the chaos as a cover to take me out, then blame it on the Irish. You should really watch yourself, vet girl. They might even try to take you hostage to use as leverage.”

  Ah, damn. Just what I wanted to hear. Another reason for Rafe and my father and brothers to lock me up at home. Great.

  “I don’t suppose you know if any of these people are or were related to my mother—Jane O’Leary, though her maiden name was Russell, I think?”

  “Hell if I know. I’ll keep an ear out for the name. Now that you’ve mentioned it, it’s possible it has come up and I didn’t know or care if it was important.”

  So far, the narrative seemed to be that the drugs set-up was very much mob related, as I’d suspected it to be. So, was the break-in an entirely separate matter? In which case, who was behind that?

  I could only hope the two were related, because it would make things easier to solve. Two birds with one stone and all that.

  “Thanks, Sergei. Your information was really helpful.”

  “I’ll keep you updated through Katya from now on,” he replied, inclining his head before downing the rest of his vodka in one go. “It wouldn’t look good for me to be meeting with you more than once in a short space of time.”

  He waved over his bodyguard, who handed him his coat.

  “I’ll be in touch, my lost love,” he said to Katya, a wry smile on his face that caused my sister to roll her eyes.

  “Hilarious. Thanks, Sergei.”

  And with that, the man and his bodyguard were gone, leaving Katya and me inside a Russian-owned bar in an area of Vegas I definitely didn’t like.

  Katya nearly jumped out of her skin when she looked at the time. “Oh shit. I’m late for Capone’s. Sorry, Kirsten, but it’s in the complete opposite direction from the vet clinic—that’s where you’re headed now, yeah?”

  I waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. That’s what online maps are for. If I get lost, I’ll get a taxi.” With a hug and a kiss goodbye, the two of us parted ways, leaving me to walk down a plethora of unknown, neon-adorned streets as I shifted between checking my path on my phone and keeping my eyes on the streets.

  I had to admit, I didn’t like walking about alone in Russian territory. Even with my status as the mob doctor, all it would take was one misstep, and I might find myself in trouble. That wasn’t even taking into account what Sergei had said.

  Someone may try to kidnap me.

  It was the paranoia creeping up on me that made me feel as if I was being watched and followed. There was no way I actually was being followed. That was ridiculous. Nobody even knew I was here in the first place, save for Rafe—that had been the whole point.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when my phone buzzed in my hand. It was Dean.

  “H-hello?” I let out, hating that it sounded like a nervous question.

  “Hey, O’Leary. Are you okay? You sound a bit jumpy.”

  “I’m fine, I’m fine. Your call just gave me a fright.”

  “You can perform life-saving surgery on a Rottweiler, and yet a phone call has you scared?”

  “Ha ha. Very funny. I’m heading over to the clinic now. I need to talk to you and Rose.”

  I could tell Dean didn’t like the idea. “Kirsten, you know you can’t come near the clinic, remember? I’m almost on lunch—I could meet you somewhere? I won’t have long though.”

  I was ashamed to say I’d actually forgotten I wasn’t allowed in or around the place. Bitterly, I suppressed a sigh. “That’s okay, you don’t have to do that. Just…keep an eye out for each other. Someone may try to harm you.”

  He immediately sounded concerned. “You have a genuine reason to believe that?”

  “No—not yet. Nothing concrete, anyway. Just
be careful, please? This whole drugs charge may be much bigger than we anticipated, and I couldn’t bear the idea of you or Rose getting caught in the crossfire.”

  “You gonna be my knight in shining armor, O’Leary?”

  “Ugh, if I have to.”

  He laughed, which immediately put me at ease. “Let me take you out for dinner next Saturday. I can see if Rose is free, too. I think it would do you good to have something to look forward to…to take your mind off things. No doubt you’ll have tons to vent about in a week’s time.”

  I smiled, though he couldn’t see it. “That sounds wonderful, Dean. Okay, I better get going and let you actually eat something for lunch.”

  “I can stay on the phone for a bit longer if you wanted to talk.”

  “I’m not that lonely. Even I have standards sometimes.”

  “Such a cruel woman. Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Just know I’m only a phone call away if you change your mind. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

  “Yep, see you then. Bye, Dean.”

  “Bye, O’Leary.”

  And with that, I was left to continue my solitary walk down streets I didn’t recognize. My thoughts were the only things I had to keep me company.

  Dean hadn’t pushed for an answer in either direction as to whether I’d try going out with him. He had kept to his word—he was going to wait until my name was cleared. Even with that hanging over us, he still made sure I was okay and had someone to talk to. I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt that I’d been so willing to give up the life I’d built for myself at the Collins Vet Clinic with Dean and Rose and even Grace, the scatterbrained receptionist who was politely disinterested in any of our personal lives.

  Did I really love Rafe so much that I could knowingly give it all up? If given the opportunity to make the decision again—sober this time—could I? Rafe had finally made his feelings clear to me and my family. Once I was exonerated, we could get the hell out of Vegas (legally this time). We’d finally be free of the city that was trying to consume us.

  Even with everything going on, did I really want to leave? Yes, I loved Rafe. I loved him with all my heart, and I knew he wanted to get out of Vegas—it was the best move for his career, but was it the best move for me?

  Was I ready to give up what few friends I had, a job I loved, and a blossoming relationship with a sister I never knew? It was a lot to throw away. I didn’t even think I could easily give up my role as the mob doctor, now that I was considering it.

  As I turned on to a street that was finally—thank God—familiar, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. I couldn’t make these decisions on my own. I had to discuss my future with the man I wanted to share it with—Rafe. He’d been clear that the case had to take priority for now. It was what everyone was clear on. I knew they were right.

  That didn’t make it any easier on me as the subject of the case. I wasn’t living a life right now. I was under careful watch by the police and the detective on my case.

  I shivered. I don’t feel like they’re the only ones watching me.

  Even now, treading on familiar pavement and looking at recognizable neon lights, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a pair of eyes watching my every move. It made me feel unsafe. It made me feel vulnerable.

  Taking the advice that I’d said I’d follow to Katya, I hailed a cab as soon as I could see one, asking the driver to take me home.

  Suddenly I felt tired, but not in the way a double shift at the clinic always made me feel. So much for that positive energy I’d been filled with on Friday. It was only Sunday, and already I was drained.

  One thing was for sure, I couldn’t wait to have my life back, fourteen-hour shifts and all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You know, when I said I wanted to talk with you tomorrow, Mr. Wilde, I really meant tomorrow. As in, the day after Dr. O’Leary’s apartment had been broken into—not four days later.”

  “I assumed you wouldn’t want to be disturbed on a weekend.”

  “You and I both know that’s bullshit. You didn’t return my calls. What did you find out that was so important you felt like you could ignore the lead detective on the case you’re working on?”

  I cracked my neck to release the tension. Detective Peters was right, I’d ignored him because I didn’t know what to do. Things had gotten out of hand. Though I’d sworn never to tell Kirsten about what happened to her mother, I ultimately knew if I was going to clear her name, I had to divulge the case to Peters.

  “Detective Peters—”

  “Just call me Charles, Mr. Wilde.”

  “Then call me Rafe, and we can skip the formalities altogether.”

  Charles smiled somewhat dryly as he took a sip of his coffee. We were sitting in an unassuming café, which served subpar food but excellent coffee.

  “Rafe it is, then. So, out with it. What have you found out?”

  “Are you familiar with a sexual assault case against Jane O’Leary about twenty-seven years ago? You’re a little young to have been on the force at the time, but I suppose it’s possible.”

  Charles laughed humorlessly. “As it happens, I do vaguely recall a shockingly violent assault case that was closing up when I started as a rookie police officer. I believe that may have been the one. Is Jane O’Leary—”

  “Kirsten’s mother, yes. And no, the attacker isn’t her father, just to set the record straight from the get-go.”

  “I take it that piece of information is relevant?”

  “Possibly. The animal who was after her—Brian Feldman—was incarcerated before Jane knew she was pregnant. It’s possible he heard on the prison grapevine she was, but whether he knew the fact that the baby wasn’t his is yet to be seen. Nobody knows where Feldman is now or where he went after he was released. Liam O’Leary believes he may have played a part in the drugs frame-job against Kirsten, since the only thing that was stolen from her apartment was the only photo that exists of Kirsten with her mother.”

  Charles was silent for a moment. “The break-in and the drugs charge could be unrelated incidents. So while it sounds reasonable to suspect Feldman of being involved with the break-in, it’s a bit of a stretch to say he’s involved with the drugs.”

  “That may be so, but the simplest answer is usually the correct one, or so they say. It’s a bit coincidental for two unrelated, serious incidents to happen to the same person in quick succession.”

  “But not impossible.”

  I resisted the urge to growl. I knew Charles was merely doing his job. “Kirsten had nothing to do with distributing those drugs. Surely, your investigation hasn’t found any evidence against her other than what was planted? I bet those ‘witnesses’ have all but disappeared.”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss that,” Charles replied, but I could see through the steely façade he’d put on—even he knew Kirsten was innocent.

  “The drugs thing is clearly mob related, no doubt about it,” I continued, “which I imagine will be huge for you if you manage to find the guys responsible for the frame-job. How Kirsten herself relates to all of it could merely be because of who her father is, or as a means to an end, or it could be personal. I’ve investigated the personal argument to its death—there’s nobody who wishes harm against Kirsten O’Leary simply for being Kirsten O’Leary.”

  “I reached that conclusion, too.”

  “So that leaves us with an attack against her father, or a means to an end.”

  Charles smiled wryly. “Us?”

  “Look, I don’t care if you’re not at liberty to discuss what you’ve found out so far, but in all honesty—I can tell you have jack squat. Kirsten is caught in the crossfire of something bigger than herself, and that’s not something I want escalating. I was fine with merely getting her name cleared at first, but now…now, I fear if the perpetrators themselves aren’t found and taken out, she’ll remain in danger even after she’s found innocent. That’s not something I’m willing to accept. So let me work with you.�
��

  “Is this where you tell me you have useful contacts and information I’d never be privy to by virtue of me being a police detective and you being a Wilde?”

  I smiled slightly. “If that works, then yes.”

  Charles grinned. “I’ll admit, we’re at a standstill right now. If we could keep up an information exchange, that might bring some things to light we weren’t aware of individually.”

  “Thank you, Charles. I don’t suppose you could look into the Feldman case file to see if he has a last known address?”

  “Already on it,” Charles replied, pulling out his cell phone to send a message. He glanced up at me. “Are you already privy to information I’m likely unaware of?”

  “I will be in a couple hours. Kirsten met up with Sergei Volkov, with Katya Petrenko acting as an intermediary. I think he had some information from the Russian side that will prove valuable.”

  “Update me on that as soon as you hear back from them, and I’ll forward on any relevant information about Feldman to you. And Rafe—”

  “Yes?”

  “This is in your capacity as a lawyer, so I fully expect you not to divulge any of this information to persons not investigating this case. That includes your family and the O’Leary family. Especially Dr. O’Leary.”

  “That’s a given.”

  Charles checked the time on his watch, then swigged down the last of his coffee. “I best be off, then. Contact me about the Volkov meeting when you can.”

  “Got it. Thanks, Charles.”

  “Rafe.”

  I was left sitting by myself, mulling over the choices I made as I stared sightlessly into the dregs of my Americano.

  I felt awful keeping things from Kirsten—especially everything related to her mother, but the gravity of the situation she was in, as well as how painful the story of what happened to Jane O’Leary was, meant I knew I couldn’t tell her a thing. As a lawyer, that was obvious.