Russian Mobster's Pregnant Mistress (7 page)

“You need to come with us,” Forrester said, grabbing her arm. “You can either go willingly or we’ll truss you up in handcuffs like every other criminal.”

“I’ll go willingly,” Maggie said sweetly. “But I’m not saying a damn thing until I talk to my lawyer.”

Forrester shared a dark look with Sparks. “That’s really not necessary since you’re not being charged right now.”

“Are you taking me somewhere?” Maggie asked.

Forrester rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

“Then the only word I know is lawyer.”

***

Jacob was having difficulty focusing on the pages sitting on his desktop. He was supposed to be going over an agreement they were trying to negotiate with the Alkaevs. The discussions weren’t getting anywhere and it was Jacob’s job to figure out why. Unfortunately he was having a hard time remembering why two percent mattered so much.

Sasha cleared his throat, causing Jacob to look up from his work. The grim expression on Sasha’s face did not bode well for any information that was to come. Jacob gestured for his friend to take a seat. Sasha shook his head no. That meant things were worse than Sasha’s body language had first suggested.

Jacob exhaled heavily. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Or do I have to guess?”

“The FBI has picked up Maggie and are taking her in for questioning,” Sasha said grimly. “Sparks and Forrester have her as we speak.”

Jacob cursed long and low in coarse Russian, throwing a few choice Ukrainian phrases in for color. Then he forced himself to calm down. There was nothing to be gained by losing his temper. He put his hands flat on the desk and breathed deeply. “Do you know where they’ve taken her?”

“Peter and Vasily tracked them to a field office in Williamsburg not far from where Maggie lives.” Sasha was fiddling with his hands. The movement was a dead giveaway that he had an opinion that he wasn’t sure he should share.

“Spit it out, will you please?” Jacob growled. “I’m really not in the mood to deal with your bullshit.”

“The woman doesn’t really know anything about us or our operations.” Sasha glowered at Jacob. “Unless there has been an excess of pillow talk going on that I’m unaware of.”

“I wouldn’t have endangered Maggie by telling her too much about our operations.” Jacob thought it over. “In fact I don’t believe she knows anything other than who I am.”

“So the easiest answer would be to let the FBI do what they want with her. She cannot offer them anything to hurt you,” Sasha reasoned. When Jacob would have protested, Sasha lifted a hand to forestall any words. “Hear me out, please?”

Jacob offered a curt nod.

“Once they realize that she knows nothing and means nothing to our operations, Sparks and Forrester will lose interest,” Sasha prophesied. “They’ll let her go. Maggie works in a building full of lawyers. She has to have some idea of what her rights are and how to manipulate the legal system to her benefit in this situation.”

Sasha’s plan did make some sense, but Jacob still didn’t like it. “I abhor the idea of leaving her to the FBI like some sort of sacrificial lamb. That is not how I wanted her to remember our relationship.”

“The woman told you she didn’t want to see you again,” Sasha pointed out with brutal finality. “What is it you expect to gain from her remembering you in a positive light? Did you think the two of you would wind up together and have a happy ending?”

“Your tone is leaning toward sarcasm,” Jacob warned. “And I have no idea what I wanted to happen. I simply know that I wasn’t done with Maggie.”

“She’s not a bottle of liquor.”

“Obviously.”

“Or a car you’d like to take for another spin before selling it off at auction.” Sasha’s tone suggested he could keep going with these analogies for a good long while.

“Your point?” Jacob curled his lip in disgust. “Or were you simply trying to needle me with your pointless reminders of how stale and sterile my life is destined to be?”

“You are entirely too dramatic these days,” Sasha snorted. “I often wonder if you have grown bored with running the business.”

“Perhaps I have,” Jacob mused. He gestured to the agreement spread across his desk. “Does it not seem ridiculous to fight so bitterly over a two percent increase in revenue when the reality is that we don’t particularly need the cash influx?”

“No.” Sasha’s voice was flat. “That is the nature of business. Especially in a business like ours.”

“And you feel you would be more suited to this role than I am?” Jacob didn’t bother to keep the note of warning out of his voice. “Because lately I’ve gotten the feeling that you not only disapprove of my priorities, but you’re questioning my methods.”

“Perhaps I am,” Sasha retorted. “I have the right to do so. You are not a czar in the old days. Your power belongs to you only because you command the loyalty of your followers.”

“This is not a cult,” Jacob reminded Sasha. “Obviously my men still have confidence in my leadership.”

Sasha sliced his hand through the air in an emphatic gesture of irritation. “That won’t last long if you continue to believe that a two percent increase in revenue is pointless!”

Jacob shot to his feet. “You forget yourself, Sasha. You forget what I did to attain the position I now hold. You forget what I am capable of when backed into a corner.”

“No. I forget
nothing
,” Sasha argued. “Perhaps what I find difficult to believe is that you are still capable of those things.”

Jacob and Sasha were glaring at each other across the desk when there was another knock at the door of his warehouse office. He pursed his lips, feeling a surge of irrational irritation and anger. How dare Sasha question Jacob’s effectiveness or motives?

“Enter!” Jacob snapped.

Vasily pushed the door open. The big man started to speak, but shut his mouth when he realized he’d stepped into the middle of what was likely to be an ugly confrontation.

“It is all right, Vasily,” Jacob told him quietly. “Tell me what you came to say.”

“There is a rumor going around the FBI field office about Maggie Morrison,” Vasily said with more than a touch of eagerness in his voice.

Even Sasha’s interest had been snagged by this promise of juicy information. He rolled his hand, gesturing that Vasily should continue. “Well?”

“They say that the woman is carrying Jacob Dolohov’s child,” Vasily said with relish.

The expression on Sasha’s face slid from incredulous to speculative. Jacob knew what this meant for Sasha, and he knew what it meant for him. For right now though, the only thing that mattered was getting Maggie away from the FBI’s influence.

Chapter Nine

“Remember how I told you I only know one word?” Maggie felt more than a little exhausted. How long had she been here? It was impossible to know since there was no clock in the interrogation room and they’d taken her phone.

“This will go much easier for you if you just answer our questions and tell us what we want to know,” Forrester said irritably. “What is
wrong
with you? What kind of American citizen doesn’t want to help the FBI get rid of foreign terrorists?”

“Terrorists?” Maggie snorted. “If the FBI considers the mafia to be terrorists, then why don’t they busy themselves trying to round up everyone who watched the Sopranos on television for the crime of contemplating and discussing the possibility of participating in terrorist activities?”

“Jacob Dolohov is not an American citizen.”

“Then have immigration deport him.” Maggie was really getting annoyed.

Forrester shared a look over Maggie’s shoulder with Sparks. “He’s not here illegally. Yet.”

“So you wait and I go home. Easy as pie.” Maggie yawned. “You know, a woman in my condition really shouldn’t be held like this. You’re violating my civil rights. If something happens to me or my baby I could sue the shit out of you.”

“Again, you watch too much television,” Forrester said derisively.

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because I’m also a paralegal, you know?”

The interrogation room was sterile with one table and three chairs. Forrester had been sitting, Sparks had been pacing. There was a window that was most likely made up of one way glass. The smoky black surface looked like an empty eye. It was disconcerting to think that there were very likely people out there staring at her.

Inside the room the stark white walls were unrelentingly boring to look at. Maggie wanted out. She needed to pee. She was hungry. And she was just about ready to fall asleep there at the table.

“I want to call my lawyer,” Maggie repeated. “If you ever want me to say anything, you’ll allow me to have my legal counsel present.”

“We’re not charging you with any crimes,” Forrester reiterated for what felt like the millionth time.

“I’m aware of that. If you don’t officially charge me, you don’t have to worry about me lawyering up. But that also means you expect me to give you information that will help in your investigation without going through the proper channels to get it. And I’m pretty sure your hour is up,” Maggie reminded Forrester. “So let me go, or charge me. Or I’m going to slap your FBI ass with a very ugly lawsuit.”

The door of the interrogation room swung open so hard that it hit the wall and left a black mark. A man strode into the room. He was taller than Sparks and carried himself with an almost pompous sense of importance. Maggie figured this must be their boss. Great.

“Ms. Morrison is correct,” he blustered. “We cannot hold her any longer.”

“And you are?” Maggie prompted.

“I’m Special Agent in Charge William Taggart.”

“Nice to meet you. Now, I’m going to get up and walk out of here and none of you are going to stop me,” Maggie told them irritably.

“Actually, you need to hear me out first.” Taggart’s entire demeanor dripped arrogance like cheap cologne.

“So say something worth listening to,” she suggested.

Taggart pressed his lips together in a way that told Maggie he was so irritated with her right now that he was having difficulty holding himself back. She was glad. She was pretty much that irritated with him right now too.

“Ms. Morrison,” Taggart began. “I want you to consider the service your country needs you to perform right now.”

“Oh seriously? You’re going to make me vomit and I’m not even having morning sickness symptoms right now,” Maggie told him sarcastically.

“I’m serious,” Taggart continued. “Jacob Dolohov is a criminal. He is responsible for the torture and murder of hundreds of American citizens who wind up owing him money due to his illegal gambling operations and money lending schemes. In addition, he steals from the American government by importing and exporting goods without license to do so and without paying appropriate tariffs.”

“So? The American government frequently steals from me. Every month in fact, when I get my paycheck I can see that the government has stolen social security payments from me that I’ll never see again.” At this point Maggie was just spewing whatever she could think of to piss off these agents determined to turn her into a tattletale. Finally Maggie made a frustrated noise. “Look! I don’t know anything. Seriously.
Nothing!
Why would Jacob Dolohov share details of his organization with someone he slept with a couple times? It’s not like we’re in a relationship.”

“But you could get close enough to him to start one,” Taggart suggested. “That is what we want you to do.”

“Pardon me?”

“The FBI wants you to assist in our investigation. In exchange for your cooperation in our investigation, we will not charge you with aiding and abetting, conspiracy to commit fraud, or obstruction of justice.” Taggart said this last bit with relish as though he had scored a particularly lethal hit against her.

“I haven’t
done
any of those things!” she protested. “Conspiracy to commit fraud? Seriously? When?” Now Maggie was getting angry. She gestured to Forrester and Sparks. “Is your sex life so bad together that the two of you talk about work when you’re doing it?”

“Excuse me!” Forrester yelped. “That is none of your concern.”

“And my sex life isn’t any of yours, but that hasn’t seemed to stop you from making wild speculations about what I’ve been doing in my spare time!” Maggie stood up. “I’m leaving here. Now. And no. I’m not going to spy on a man I don’t intend to see again!”

“Then I officially charge you with obstruction of justice, Margaret Morrison,” Taggart said in his cool voice. “You’ll be remanded to the county jail where you will await a hearing on the charges.”

“Excuse me?” Maggie said, aghast. “Obstruction of what?”

“You’re interfering in our investigation.”

“That’s not true!” she protested.

Taggart shrugged. “But we think it is.”

“So unless I agree to spy on Jacob and report back to you, you’re going to throw me in jail?” Maggie couldn’t believe this was really happening.

“And I’m going to personally recommend that you be denied bail as you’re a flight risk.” Taggart’s smile turned her stomach.

Maggie took a deep breath. “Fine. You’re charging me? I want my lawyer.”

Something dark and deadly flickered behind Taggart’s gaze, but in the end he only shrugged. “As you wish.”

***

Jacob gave Maggie’s blonde friend a long assessing gaze. Her frank return surprised him. Under the circumstances he also found it a relief. He needed a strong player in Maggie’s corner that was situated in a way that would help her far more than Jacob could.

“Courtney Delano, I presume?” Jacob gestured to a chair, offering her a seat in his office.

She sat confidently, crossing her legs and leaning back into the cushions. “That’s right. And I must admit that it was far easier to get an appointment with you than I could have imagined.”

“You might say that you have information I’m very interested in hearing.” Jacob was already growing tired of this verbal dance they were doing. “Can we cut to the chase?”

“Please.” Courtney’s expression gave nothing away. Jacob realized that she was much, much more than she seemed.

“You’re an attorney,” he guessed.

“I am,” she agreed. “Maggie and I work together. She’s one of my paralegals.”