Nikolai, Volume 2

by Roxie Rivera

  The cartel man's reply didn't surprise Nikolai. A man like Hector didn't reach the pinnacle of power he had attained without being a cold son of a bitch.

  Turning to Ilya, Nikolai pointed to the judge and his daughter. "Get them out of town tonight. They can come back on Tuesday or Wednesday."

  "I'll take care of it," Ilya assured him.

  Nikolai fixed the judge with a furious glare. "You're taking your daughter and you're leaving. Tonight. You aren't going back to your house or making any stops. You're getting in Ilya's truck, and you're going wherever the hell he tells you to go. Understood?"

  The judge nodded tersely. "I get it."

  "We'll talk about this," Nikolai gestured to the mess on the floor, "when I get back from London." He didn't have to say that he expected to be owed a huge fucking favor for taking care of everything. Studying the judge, he sensed the older man finally understood what Nikolai had been trying to tell him that night in his backyard. There was a way to go about these things and barging into the lion's den with a gun wasn't one of them.

  Spinning on his heel, Nikolai left the kitchen and made his way across the house. He tapped Artyom's shoulder to let him know that he was needed. They left the house with their heads down, and he prayed all of these houses around them were truly empty. If not, the homeless squatters who liked to hide out in them would be easy to silence with money or a visit from an enforcer.

  The ride to the house was one of the longest of his life. The image of Vivian curled into a tight little ball in the entryway while gunfire popped around her tormented him. He had come this close to losing her and the baby. He couldn't even comprehend a future without her or their child.

  He scrubbed a hand down his face and thanked God he had found her so quickly. His anger toward Ten and Eric Santos would manifest soon enough. After two days of nonstop tension with Vee, he had cut out of Samovar early with the full intention of devoting the entire evening to her. The guilt of hiding his meeting with Tatiana was eating a hole in him. He needed to come clean with her about everything that had happened and why Tatiana had come back. Vee deserved to know the truth, even if it meant admitting that he had lied to her.

  But he had walked into the house with Artyom trailing him to find Ten and Boychenko arguing in the kitchen. The sight of Ten's battered face had surprised him. Learning that Ten had attacked Eric, a damned Houston detective, in his home had infuriated him beyond belief. Didn't Ten understand that he had just given Eric the evidence necessary to have his probation revoked? The last thing he needed was Eric sniffing around in their business, especially while Tatiana was still hiding out at the Four Seasons.

  When Ten had confessed that Vivian was missing, Nikolai had nearly strangled him. He had rushed the larger man but had refrained from hitting him. It wasn't necessary. Ten had instantly told him what they knew. Vivian had gone outside to get some space. Boychenko had spotted her talking to the judge while he was on his way to dump a dustpan filled with glass and ceramic shards. Not long after, he had passed the window on another trip to the trashcan and had discovered the backyard empty.

  Nikolai had instantly known where she had gone with the judge. He didn't know what fucking sob story the old man had used to get Vivian to go with him on such a fool's errand, but it must have been a good one. She wouldn't have put herself at risk without a good, convincing story to get her out of the yard and into the judge's vehicle.

  Artyom stopped in front of the house, and Nikolai was out of the SUV before the street captain even had the vehicle in park. He ate up the sidewalk in long, determined strides and took the porch steps two at a time. When he opened the front door and entered the house, he saw the destruction caused by Eric and Ten's fight. The debris had been cleaned away, but the ruined picture frames, the broken table and the water stain on the hardwood were evidence of what had happened here.

  Ready to tear into Ten, he stormed through the house and followed the sound of voices into the kitchen. Vivian stood on one side of the island, a cup of hot tea clamped in her hands, while Ten was at the sink washing his hands. His gaze skipped from his wife's blotchy face, her eyes red from crying, to Ten's as the enforcer turned toward the sound of footsteps.

  He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "Get the fuck out. Now."

  Ten didn't even bother to dry his hands. He left the kitchen without a single word.

  Standing across the island from Vivian, he stared at her for a long time. The distance between them was only five feet in reality, but it felt so much wider. They were drifting farther and farther apart, and he didn't know how to pull her back. He was losing her.

  His chest heaved as he tried to control his breaths with measured inhalations. Even though he tried to remain calm, he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice as he demanded to know, "What the hell were you thinking, Vivian?"

  She went rigid at that and glared at him. "Are you serious? That’s the first question you ask me? You're not going to ask me if I'm okay? You're not going to ask me if I need to go to the hospital? You're not going to ask me about the baby?"

  "Are you all right? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"

  "Would you let me go if I wanted to? Aren't you worried someone will find out what happened back there?"

  He couldn't believe she would even ask that. "Of course I would let you go! Jesus Christ, Vivian, I'm not a fucking ogre. I wouldn't put my baby at risk."

  She flinched at his cruelly flung words. "This isn't my fault."

  "Not your fault?" He repeated harshly and incredulously. "You ran off with the judge, busted into a stash house and escaped a shootout. Do you have any fucking idea how lucky you are? Do you have any clue how close you came to being shot?"

  "Yes! I am painfully aware of how close I came to taking another bullet or two."

  That barb hit its mark. The only scars on her body were the ones he had given her, after all.

  "Why are you badgering me like this? Why are you interrogating me like some criminal?"

  "Are you serious?" He curled his fingers at his sides as the image of her broken and blooded and surrounded by clouds of cocaine flashed in front of his eyes. He had done everything he could to keep her safe, and she had stupidly and recklessly risked her life. Panic and fury and fear surged with him. For the first time ever in her presence, he lost control. "I wouldn't have to ask any of these questions if you would just remember your fucking place!"

  The nasty, ugly words he had just shouted at his wife, at the woman he loved, at his sun, echoed in the kitchen like a gunshot. He regretted them instantly. Self-hatred burned through him. Why the fuck did you say that? What the hell is wrong with you? Apologize. Get on your knees and grovel.

  Vivian reared back as if he had slapped her. The color drained from her face. "My place? And where is that, exactly, Nikolai? Hmm? Here? Locked up in the house with a bunch of street soldiers to keep me company? Is that my place? Or maybe my place is in the kitchen and in your bed." A fiery glint brightened her blue eyes. "Is that what you want from me? You want me to look pretty and keep house and fuck you and give you babies and never ask for anything else from you?"

  The situation was spiraling out of control. He needed to call a timeout. He needed to walk away and cool off, but he just kept fighting with her. He was like a rabid dog that had chomped down on its prey and refused to let go. "Don't even start that with me, Vivian. I don't want to hear it."

  "You know what? I don't want to hear anything else come out of your mouth." She pushed away her mug of tea. "I don't even know what is or isn't true anymore." He could tell that she was trying to be strong, but her wobbling lower lip betrayed her struggle. "I feel like I don't even know you anymore."

  Her words stabbed at him. Was that really how she felt? Was she even happy with him anymore? He had watched enough relationships crumble to know that statements like those usually preceded life-altering events like separations or worse.

  A desperate feeling invaded his chest. Like a wounded anim
al, he lashed out at her. "Well I know exactly who you are, Vivian Valero. You're the woman who just put our baby at risk by leaving her bodyguards and driving off with a judge who sold her on a sob story. Were you trying to get yourself killed? Were you trying to hurt the baby?"

  Her face slackened, and he loathed himself for being so petty and childish and cruel. She gulped and bit her lower lip. On the verge of tears, she said, "You know what they say, Kolya. The apple doesn't fall very far from the tree. Maybe I'm more like my mother than I ever suspected."

  His heart was ripped in two as her painfully spoken words hit him. God, what the hell was he thinking saying something like that to her? She carried so much fear about turning into her mother and about hurting their child. Why had he said that? Of all the nasty, ugly things he could have said, why had he gone there?

  Because you're a miserable fucking bastard, that's why.

  Without another word, Vivian abandoned her mug of tea and left the kitchen. She gave him a wide berth and disappeared from sight with footsteps so soft they didn't make even a whisper of sound. Overwhelmed by anger at his own stupidity and callousness, he picked up her mug of tea and threw it. Hot tea spilled down his arm and on the floor. The mug hit the sink and exploded loudly. He didn't even bother to clean up the mess.

  Pivoting on his heel, he strode out of the kitchen and came face-to-face with Ten and Arytom in the entryway. Both men stared at him. Ten looked guilty and agitated. Artyom's expression was one of pure disappointment.

  In me, Nikolai thought. He's disappointed in me.

  "Get your keys," he ordered with a flick of his wrist. "We're leaving."

  Wordlessly, Artyom followed him out of the house and out to his vehicle. His captain started the engine but didn't put the SUV into drive. Hands on the wheel, he said, "Boss, I can handle all of this tonight. You can go back inside and—"

  "Don't," Nikolai warned. "Just fucking drive."

  Artyom grabbed the gear shift. "Yes, sir."

  As ice hardened his heart, Nikolai stared out the window and tried to keep it together. After so many months of happiness with Vivian, he should have expected this to happen. He had tasted sunshine. He had felt the bright, pure burn of it on his skin. He had inhaled the sweet scent of it and let it warm his heart.

  But that was all gone now. He had fucked it up, probably irrevocably.

  Everything was falling apart.

  Chapter Fourteen

  "It's time to go." Ten ducked his head into the living room where I was curled up on the couch watching a twenty-four hour news channel. It was the most he had spoken to me since returning to the house after the shootout at Bobby Pham's place. "I've already loaded all the luggage. Boychenko is driving us." He seemed uneasy and uncertain. "If you're ready to go, I mean."

  "I'm ready." I glanced at my watch and noted the time. There was nearly an hour before Yuri's jet was scheduled to leave. Nikolai had plenty of time to meet us at the small, private airport Yuri preferred.

  It had been a long night. The worst night. Nikolai hadn't come home as far as I could tell, but Ten had never left. He had been asleep in a chair outside our bedroom door that morning. Boychenko had been downstairs, making a breakfast I didn't have the appetite to eat. In the end, Ten convinced me to shovel down the oatmeal and peaches by reminding me that I had to think of the baby.

  The baby that Nikolai had meanly accused me of trying to hurt. Just the memory of those viciously spoken words made my heart stutter and my stomach flop. Did I think he meant it? No, not at all. He had been angry and scared, and he had stupidly lashed out at me. His childhood hadn't exactly prepared him for learning to fight fair, even with his wife.

  But he had walked away instead of apologizing. That had hurt the most. Instead of trying to make things right, he had piled more bricks on top of that wall between us and had completely shut me out. I didn't have the strength to pick up a sledgehammer and tear it down. I was tired. I was just so tired.

  For the first time in years, I had skipped church without a valid reason. St. Vladimir's was usually the one place I always felt safe and protected and happy. This morning I couldn't face the social aspect of it. All those people expecting me to smile and chat? All those people who would ask about Nikolai? The old women who loved to ask me when we were going to start a family and the ones who loved to tell me how lucky I was to have a husband like him? I couldn't deal with it. I just couldn't.

  My joy at finally traveling abroad and seeing London had been dashed and stomped on by the terrible, nasty fight that had taken place in this kitchen last night. I couldn't stop replaying everything that had gone wrong, from the brawl between Ten and Eric, to the moment I had agreed to have dinner with the judge, to the first bullet exploding in that kitchen filled with drugs, to the horrible things I had said to Nikolai and he had said to me.

  I didn't know where I stood anymore. I couldn't make sense of what was happening to our relationship. That old fear of mine about the foundation of our marriage seemed to be coming true. Those cracks were growing, and I didn't know if we could patch them before the whole damned thing came crashing down onto us.

  "Hey," Ten said just before we reached the idling SUV waiting out back. He gently touched my shoulder in a silent bid for me to stop and then exhaled roughly as he scratched his fingers through his short hair. "I know it's too late, but I need to apologize for yesterday. That was so fucking out of line. It's my fault you ended up in that mess. I was hired to protect you, and I failed. Big time."

  I had already let go of my anger toward Ten so I forgave him without hesitation. "We both screwed up yesterday. It's not fair for you to take all the blame. I shouldn't have gone with the judge."

  Ten tilted his head. "Why did you go with the judge?"

  "He asked me out to dinner."

  "And?"

  "And that's it. He seemed sad about his dog, and I needed to get away from the house—"

  "And me," Ten grunted.

  "And you," I repeated with a nod.

  "So he lied to you about what he really wanted."

  Thinking of Nikolai and Tatiana all I could do was shrug. "There seems to be a lot of that going around this house."

  Ten frowned. "Who else is lying to you?"

  "It doesn't matter."

  "It does. It matters to me. You matter to me."

  "You hardly know me."

  "I know enough," he said matter-of-factly. "I know that anyone else would have demanded I be thrown out on my ass that first day. Anyone else would have fired me yesterday." Looking decidedly uncomfortable, he gruffly insisted, "You're a good person, Vivian. You're a better woman than I'll ever deserve, and I'm lucky to work for you. So if someone is lying to you, if someone is hurting you, I want to know about it. I'll take care of them."

  Stunned into silence by Ten's strident declaration of his loyalty to me, I stared up at him. My eyes prickled, and I blinked away the tears. Overly emotional because of the pregnancy and the stress, I seemed to be crying over everything these days.

  "Tell me, Vivian," Ten urged. "Let me do something nice for you. Let me help you."

  My mouth slanted with a sad little smile. "You can't help me, Ten. Not with this problem."

  His eyes widened as he finally understood what I meant. "The boss? Why would he lie to you? If it's business—"

  "Tatiana Filipova." I couldn't hold the truth in a moment longer. I needed to get it off my chest before it turned me rotten from the inside out.

  Ten stiffened. "She's gone. She's history."

  "She's alive. She's in Houston."

  "What? That's not possible. She's dead."

  I shook my head. "Nikolai faked her death. He told me himself. Whatever you saw with Kostya? It wasn't real."

  Ten looked as if he wanted to argue, but I could see the realization dawn upon his face. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "When did you see her?"

  "Thursday."

  "Thursday? Where? At the mall? At…" His voice trailed off, and his gaze
jumped to the house. I could see the wheels turning in his head. With a vicious snarl, he dropped a string of Russian and English curse words that actually made me blush. "You saw her at the hotel restaurant, didn’t you? That's why you were so upset. Why didn't you tell me she was there? I would have run her off. If the boss faked her death, he wanted her gone, not hanging around here like a fucking ghost."

  "She was with Nikolai." There was no point in holding back now.

  Ten's lips parted but no sound issued forth. Was he thinking the same thoughts I had when I'd discovered the pair together? Was he wondering if Nikolai had ever truly ended things with her? Was he wondering what was so important that she had come back here? Was he imaging them alone in a hotel room?

  Shocked speechless, Ten put his hand on my back and urged me forward. We said nothing as we climbed into the SUV. If Boychenko noticed our strange behavior, he didn't comment. He drove us to the airport and helped Ten with all of the luggage that had been stowed in the cargo area.

  After the luggage was handed off to a skycap, Ten trailed me into the airport. The luxurious lobby was small and quiet and hosted only one other party of travelers preparing to embark in a different private jet. Yuri, Lena, Ivan and Erin were already waiting. Sergei and Bianca hadn't arrived yet, and unfortunately, Dimitri and Benny couldn't travel with baby Sofia yet.

  Ten hung back as Erin and Lena squashed me with their hugs and dragged me over to a sitting area to talk about all the places they wanted to visit in London. I glanced back at him a couple of times but he seemed to be deep in thought. Even when Ivan wandered over to talk to him, he kept his attention focused solely on me. After last night's scare, he wasn't going to take any chances it seemed.

  It felt incredibly bizarre and surreal to sit on the plush leather seating and chat with Lena and Erin about dresses and tourist hotspots and Michelin-starred restaurants when twenty-four hours earlier I had been crawling on hands and knees through a stash house while bullets whizzed by my ears. I didn't even want to think about what Kostya or men like him had done to keep that shooting and the deaths of the Pham crew quiet.