Wed to the Russian Biker: A Mafia Romance

by Bella Rose

  “Does that bastard Gordon Piers-Cameron know about any of this?” Mikhail wondered. “He can’t intend to sell his daughter to this man when Creighton doesn’t even have any money.”

  Frank seemed to think that over for a moment. “I can have the IT department dig around in their files—I didn’t actually say that, by the way—but from what I see, the Kempers have kept this really hush-hush. And why would they tell? It’s humiliating. So the possibility exists that Piers-Cameron has no idea that the future son-in-law he’s gone to so much trouble to acquire is really bringing nothing to the table and cannot offer them anything.”

  Mikhail smirked as he realized something else. “And we all know that Piers-Cameron hasn’t told Kemper that he no longer owns Pierson Security.”

  “Obviously.”

  “So the only thing that will happen is that the whole little wedding scenario will explode like a dirty bomb.” Then Mikhail thought of one more detail. “Unfortunately Courtney is the one who is likely to get caught in the middle of all this crap.”

  “Likely,” Frank agreed. “We could always extract her.”

  “Because what every woman wants is to be kidnapped away from her problems,” Mikhail said sarcastically. “No. Unfortunately I can’t step in until I’m forced to by my idiot cousin.”

  “Yes.” Frank looked grim. “About that.”

  “I already know that the Russian mafia doesn’t follow regular rules of engagement.”

  Frank nodded. “That’s an understatement. They are most certainly expecting you to give them what they want.”

  “Have you found a way in?” Mikhail wanted to know.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I think I’ll pay Vasily a visit and remind him of exactly why they have left me alone all these years.”

  * * *

  “Ms. Cameron, it would appear that you are nine and a half weeks pregnant.”

  Courtney blinked at the doctor, almost certain that she had misheard the woman. “I’m sorry. Can you please say that again? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

  “You’re nine and a half weeks pregnant.”

  “No. That’s impossible,” Courtney whispered. “It was only once! Once! People do not get pregnant after one time having sex with someone.”

  “I beg to differ,” the doctor said in an almost belligerent tone of voice. “If you had unprotected sex with someone just one time, then it is absolutely possible that you could be pregnant. It happens all the time.”

  “No.” Courtney shook her head.

  “I take it this is neither anticipated or welcome?” The doctor looked tired. “I have some pamphlets about your options if you’d like to take them home and look them over. There’s a clinic over on Fourth Street that performs abortions in the first trimester if you’re interested in that option.”

  “Are you serious?” Courtney looked down as the doctor shoved a few pieces of colored cardboard into her hands. “I just don’t know.”

  “So go home and think it over. Talk it over with your friends and family and make a decision. The choice is yours unless you feel that the father has a right to be involved.” The doctor didn’t look like she particularly wanted to be having this conversation, so Courtney didn’t even mention that the father was an ass who didn’t deserve the time of day, much less a choice in what happened to the by blow of his one-night stand.

  She left the clinic in a daze. Earlier that afternoon she had made plans to meet Bella for dinner at a café near the Pinckney Industries building. Now she was almost afraid to go. What if her friend decided she’d had enough of Courtney’s crazy drama? This was just one more thing to add to the pile of insanity that seemed to be Courtney’s life.

  Courtney spotted Bella almost as soon as she walked into the café. Her friend was waving wildly from a seat in the back. Courtney sat down and was almost about to open the topic when Monique plopped down beside her.

  “Surprise!” the two women shouted.

  Then Monique gave Courtney a one-armed hug. “We thought you could use some cheering up. Margaritas for all!”

  Courtney froze. She couldn’t drink alcohol. At least not until she’d made her decision. “Better make mine virgin,” Courtney said with false brightness. “I’m a working girl now and I can’t afford to be hungover in the morning.”

  Monique rolled her eyes. “You were always such a good girl! But whatever you want. This is your night!”

  If Monique only knew how not good girl Courtney had been lately, she would completely rethink that statement. But for now, Courtney was willing to pretend for a few more hours.

  * * *

  Mikhail slipped inside Vasily’s home with Frank and six additional men dressed for war in black fatigues and all with rifles at the shoulder. There was a skeleton crew on this time of day. It was just Vasily and his family. Most of the men had gone home to their own families or had headed off to their evening duties. It was only Vasily and two of his top enforcers on the property. Frank had done his homework, and it had paid off.

  The men fanned out. Within seconds Frank signaled Mikhail that the two enforcers had been neutralized with sedative injections. They could now approach Vasily in the dining room. Frank and his team covered all the exits and stayed out of the dining room itself. Vasily’s two children were inside and Mikhail wasn’t trying to scare the little boy and girl to death.

  Taking a deep breath, Mikhail sauntered into Vasily’s dining room and smiled. “Hello, cousin. How are you this evening? I thought I would stop by and have a chat. Would you like to step out into the hallway with me?” Mikhail gave Vasily’s wife—Maria—a warm smile. “There is no reason to bring Maria and the children into this little misunderstanding.”

  Vasily curled his lip at Mikhail. “You bastard!”

  “Actually. No. I’m not a bastard. That’s why we have this problem between us. You and I are related by blood, and you believe that means something more than the random genetic occurrence that it is.”

  Vasily shot to his feet. “Excuse me,” he told his wife. “I will attend to this business and return soon. Please continue to eat.”

  “Vasily,” Maria said uneasily. “Is everything all right?”

  “Of course,” Mikhail assured her. “I just need a word with my cousin. He was nice enough to visit me in my office the other day. I’m returning the courtesy.”

  Maria seemed to relax, which was bizarre given the circumstances, but Mikhail figured the woman must be used to strange goings-on considering what her husband did for a living.

  Mikhail gestured for Vasily to lead the way into the hall outside the dining room. The Russian mafia man cursed in English and Russian when Frank’s men immediately crowded around him.

  “You brought an army into my house?” Vasily snarled. “My house?”

  “You came to my office and made personal threats,” Mikhail reminded him. “So yes. I did.”

  Then Vasily snorted. “You wanted to show me your power.”

  Mikhail shrugged. “Did it work?”

  “Yes. Call them off.”

  “No.” Mikhail knew that Frank wouldn’t leave his side anyway. “They stay with me.”

  “Come to my office, then.”

  “No. The front parlor is fine.” Mikhail already knew from Frank’s surveillance that Vasily had a gun stashed in a drawer in his office. In the parlor he would be defenseless.

  Vasily sighed. This time he sounded resigned. He led the way into the front room where Maria did most of her embroidery work, receiving, and entertaining. Mikhail gazed at his cousin, wondering what would be the most perfect way to begin this conversation and make it quick and productive.

  “There are some things that you think you understand, but you do not,” Mikhail told his cousin. “Allow me to enlighten you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Okay.” Bella gave Courtney a sideways look. The two women were strolling down the sidewalk as the twilight shaded slowly into darkness and the city lights came
alive around them. “Monique is gone. Now tell me whatever it is that’s bugging you. Obviously you didn’t want to share it with her, although I get it. Really.”

  “Sorry.” Courtney felt bad, but she also wasn’t ready for everyone to know. “You know Monique has trouble with secrets.”

  Bella laughed. “That is a really huge understatement. So what’s the big secret? Other than the job thing.”

  “Yeah. I’m pretty sure my father is going to hear from someone that Monique knows that I’ve got a job, but I’m hoping he won’t believe it because of the source.”

  “So what is it that you don’t want to tell her, then?” Bella looked concerned. “It must be serious.”

  “I’m pregnant.” Courtney just threw the verbal bomb out there and let it be. She wasn’t sure how else to put it.

  The two of them walked for another five minutes before Bella managed a response. They’d entered a corner park, and Bella chose a little bench to sit down. She settled her butt and then crossed her legs, obviously trying to decide how to proceed.

  “It’s stupid and completely irresponsible, I know,” Courtney said quickly.

  Bella frowned. “That wasn’t what I was going to say. Please don’t put words in my mouth.”

  “Sorry, I guess that’s how I feel.”

  “Do you?” Bella mused. “Because you just told me that you’re pregnant, but I wasn’t aware you were actually sleeping with anyone. So if you’ve got a case of immaculate conception here, I think we should call the news affiliates.”

  “Oh ha, ha,” Courtney moaned. “It’s Mikhail. And don’t try to tell me that you didn’t know that already.”

  “Wow! So you actually slept with him?” Bella sounded awed. “I knew that you had a thing for him. And obviously—considering how much he nags Toby about you—Mikhail has a thing for you too. I just didn’t realize it was so—well—advanced.”

  “It happened after your reception actually.” Courtney felt a little sheepish about that. She quickly explained the whole running from Creighton and literally crashing into Mikhail scenario to Bella. Her friend listened wide-eyed and silent until Courtney was done.

  “Wow. Just wow.” Bella sounded thrilled. “I don’t know why you’re so upset about this. It sounds like this could be the thing to really bring the two of you together.”

  “What?” Courtney frowned. “Did you miss the part where I told you he was just using me to get to my father’s business?”

  “Yeah, I don’t buy that part,” Bella admitted. “It’s too inconsistent. And what? Are you thinking he tried to get you pregnant as some part of a revenge scheme against your father? Doubtful. That whole thing between the two of you feels spontaneous, not rehearsed. Don’t you think?”

  Courtney put her face in her hands. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “Then maybe it’s time to get some perspective,” Bella said thoughtfully.

  “And how do we do that?”

  Bella stood up, dragging Courtney with her. “We go and talk to Toby.”

  * * *

  Mikhail felt more than just a niggling doubt when he and Frank left Vasily’s home with their men. Sure, Vasily had listened and had seemed to absorb the information that Mikhail had shared with him. What worried Mikhail was that none of it had seemed like a surprise to Vasily. He had done a lot of glaring, and although he had not issued any threats, Mikhail could not shake the sensation that the Russians were not done with this deal. Not yet.

  “What am I missing?” Mikhail murmured as the SUV tooled down the road at a quick clip.

  “I don’t know.” Frank was communicating via text and e-mail with other members of their team, and the IT men who were currently digging into the Russian’s bank activities to try and glean something useful should there be some kind of standoff that required leverage.

  “I am missing something, though, right?” Mikhail muttered. “Tell me you feel it too. Because I don’t want to turn into some paranoid freak.”

  Frank shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. This particular problem has a lot of variables involved. It would be difficult to isolate exactly which one was falling apart.”

  “That does not make me feel better.” Mikhail stabbed his fingers through his hair. “Take me to see Toby. I need to find out what’s going on with Courtney.”

  “I could tell you.” Frank gestured to the screen in front of him. “We have her under surveillance most of the day as well.”

  “Yes. But you aren’t getting the juicy stuff that she tells her best friend,” Mikhail insisted.

  “Neither are you,” Frank pointed out. “Because you’re getting the thirdhand account of a conversation based on hearsay. It’s like middle school.”

  “I don’t care anymore,” Mikhail said stubbornly. “Let’s turn here and go straight to Toby and Bella’s penthouse.”

  The guy in the driver’s seat glanced up, meeting Frank’s gaze in the rearview mirror. Mikhail did not miss the way the driver waited for Frank’s okay before he took the turn and headed to Toby’s. Mikhail would address that problem later. He was boss. He made the decisions. Frank worked for him. It was imperative that the situation be clear to everyone involved in case the shit hit the fan and things got ugly.

  “Damn.” Mikhail put his face in his hands. “I’m becoming my father. I’m totally paranoid.”

  “Yep.” Frank was nodding. “But admitting it is the first part of recovery, right? You want the name of a therapist? I know a guy…”

  “No, Frank,” Mikhail said wearily. “I’ve got this.”

  * * *

  Mikhail had Frank drop him at the front door of Toby’s building. He trudged in and waved at the doorman. Mikhail had been here enough times over the years that he was on the list and was familiar with most of the building’s staff. It came in handy times like now when he just wanted to get in without having to deal with a bunch of identification crap.

  The elevator seemed to take forever. When the little indicator lights signaled that he had reached the thirtieth floor, Mikhail waited with fraying patience for the elevator to ding and let him out. He refused to grumble and be an ass. He hadn’t known his father very well or very long. The man had died before Mikhail had turned ten years old. But his mother had often described his father as paranoid and edgy. Mikhail did not want to become that person. He refused to believe that he was fated to end up like that: dead in a city gutter after accusing the wrong person of being out to get him.

  The elevator doors opened and Mikhail found himself standing in the ornate foyer that separated Toby’s beautiful penthouse apartment from the elevator. The marble floors and large table were complemented by the basket of fresh flowers that someone had carefully arranged on the tabletop. Bella no doubt had been putting feminine touches all over the place. Oddly enough, instead of feeling pity for Toby at having his abode cluttered with feminine claptrap, Mikhail was a bit jealous.

  Mikhail knocked on the door and waited. Minutes later an older man appeared in the doorway with a smile on his face. Bryant had been Toby’s concierge as long as Mikhail had known him. “Mr. Krachenko, what a pleasure. Mr. Pinckney is busy at the present moment, but if you’d like to come in I can get you settled in the den with a drink.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Mikhail said gratefully.

  He couldn’t help but wonder what Toby could possibly be doing at this time of the evening. Usually he spent his time with Bella after he finished work. And lately he had been keeping his work hours more and more abbreviated to spend additional time with his bride.

  Mikhail took a seat in the den. More like he collapsed into an overstuffed leather sofa. Minutes later Bryant brought Mikhail a tray with two glasses and a bottle of Toby’s best brandy. Nobody would ever accuse Toby of not being hospitable.

  “Thank you, Bryant.” Mikhail poured himself two fingers of brandy. “Do you have any idea how long Mr. Pinckney will be?”

  Bryant cocked his head to one side, looking thoughtful. “It’
s difficult to say, Mr. Krachenko. Mr. Pinckney is in the living room with his wife and her friend. The two ladies are grilling him about something. They’ve rather got the poor man over a barrel really. But you know how women are.”

  Mikhail was still reeling from the thought that Courtney was very likely right there in the apartment. He offered Bryant a nod of agreement and then settled down so he looked as if he were half-asleep with the snifter of brandy in his hand. Bryant exited and left the door ajar.

  “If you need anything, please ask,” Bryant insisted before he disappeared down the hallway.

  Mikhail quickly set his glass on the tray and stood up. He quietly exited the den and turned in the opposite way that Bryant had gone. The penthouse was very large, but he could still hear voices at the end of the hallway.

  The darkened penthouse maintained a friendly, lived-in feeling that Mikhail’s own apartment often lacked. He had wondered many times why this was. Yet anyone who spent only a few moments in Toby’s company would quickly come to understand that the man’s approachability and friendliness permeated every facet of his life, including his home.

  Mikhail pressed his back to the wall and leaned as close as he could to the doorway that led to the living room. He caught a bare glimpse of his friend sitting calmly in a chair, with Bella and Courtney looming over him like angry harpies.

  “What do you mean you can’t say?” That was Bella’s voice rising to a very shrill tone. “When I ask you something this important, you’d better believe that you can tell me what I want to know.”

  “It isn’t that I can’t tell you.” Toby was obviously placating. Then he looked apologetically at Courtney. “But telling Courtney any of the things you’ve asked would be violating the trust of a friend.”

  “So?” Bella snapped. “He’s an ass! You know what he did!”

  “He’s my friend, Bella,” Toby said quietly. “That’s not fair and you know it. Right now you think he’s an ass because you don’t like what he’s done. That doesn’t make it an ironclad truth.”