The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2)

by Nancy Haviland

  Kevin fucking Nollan. Controlling, ignorant SOB. The guy’s days were numbered. No matter what Nika said. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t much. Only that she’d realized almost a year ago that she had feelings for the guy—a hanger-on at the ODMC clubhouse in Seattle where Caleb used to hang with his brothers.

  Caleb had been a member of the Obsidian Devils Motorcycle Club since he was twenty, and, aside from Nika and Eva, the boys were the only family he’d had since his parents had died of cancer.

  Even their deaths hadn’t changed his little sis the way marriage had. Gone was the tough little firecracker the boys in the club used to say would make the perfect old lady, and in her place was a somber, uneasy shadow.

  Still, Nika wouldn’t leave Nollan.

  His gut tightened. She was going to lose her shit when she found out Caleb had given Vex, his best friend and club president—who had some pretty strong connections—the okay to start excavating. Hopefully something would come of it and Nika would finally admit what a true lowlife Nollan was.

  “What time are you heading over?”

  His sister’s question tugged him from his thoughts. “Uh . . .”

  She sighed. “Ca-leb? Did I wake you? Or are you having some really quiet sex?”

  He laughed at the tiny glimpse of spirit. “Sorry, Nik. I just had a nap,” he assured her. “Where are you?”

  “A hotel.”

  Bye-bye grin. “Yeah. I figured that out all by myself. Which one? Where in the city? Maybe I can come over and see you before the wedding.”

  “What time are you heading to the house?” she repeated, ignoring his offer of company and his questions. The stubborn little shit.

  “V said to be there by eight,” he muttered.

  An odd silence greeted his response. “V?”

  Caleb sat up slowly, totally awake now. “Vincente. Saw him out last night, and he said the festivities would start around eight. Eva said the same when I talked to her this aft.”

  “Oh. Cool. I, uh, guess we’ll see you there.” Was that a kernel of interest he’d heard in her voice?

  “We? Can you not come without him?”

  “No.”

  Tell me what the fuck is going on so I can take care of this for you! he wanted to shout. But instead, he forced a note of calm into his voice that he was far from feeling. “You need directions? A ride?” A hearse?

  “Eva sent them to me already. And I have my phone, so we’re good. Thanks.”

  Unable to check the impulse, he said, “Just say the word, Nik, and we’ll take care of everything. You know that.” The offer came sounding half-impatient, half-pleading.

  A soft sigh filtered through the line. “We’re not talking about this, Caleb.”

  “Why.” He threw the word down in a clear challenge.

  “Because, like I told you before, there’s more going on than you’re aware of. And don’t ask because I will not tell—Shit. Gotta go. See you in a bit.”

  She hung up before he could reply. The Keeper had obviously returned. At that spike of anxiety in her voice, Caleb barely stopped himself from putting his fist through the coffee table. He jammed his thumb on Vex’s number as he jerked to his feet and headed to the closet. This had to end. Now.

  “Hey,” Vex answered.

  The comforting sound of a compressor whining came through the line; tools clanked loudly in the background of the shop downstairs. “Anything new on Nika?”

  “She make it in okay?”

  “Yeah. She’s at a hotel. Wouldn’t tell me which one.”

  “Brat,” Vex murmured around a chuckle. “And no. My guy’s having a hard time. Other than the basics, which I’ve already told you, he hasn’t gotten anything. There’s that sealed case file at a small precinct in Michigan somewhere, but he hasn’t been able to hack it yet, and he’s paranoid about outsourcing. He’ll let me know when he has something.”

  Fuck. “I’ll meet you in the Ditch in an hour, then we can head to Mob Central.” The Ditch was the game room/rec room where everyone hung out. Mob Central was Moretti and the boys’ place over in a big-money area outside Long Island.

  “Sorry, brother,” Vex offered.

  “S’okay. Later.”

  Next he dialed Vincente. Caleb knew the Reaper was expert at reading a situation in one all-encompassing glance. Maybe he could pick up on something tonight.

  “Go.”

  “V. How’s it goin’?”

  “Paynne. Everything cool? Your, uh, sister make it in okay?”

  First Nika reacting to Vincente’s name, and now V fishing for info on Nika?

  Hmm.

  “Yeah. She got in a little while ago. I just hung up with her, actually. That’s why I’m calling. I was hoping you’d help me out with her tonight.”

  “Help you out with her . . . how?”

  So suspicious. And had that gravelly voice changed? Despite the gag factor of thinking of his buddy being into his sister, Caleb almost grinned. He’d use any lure he could to get Nika out of that marriage. Even the Reaper. “Just watch her. See how she is with that fuck she’s married—”

  “What is it about ‘that fuck’ that has you hating on him? In Seattle, you mentioned Vex was working on something for you. It have anything to do with this guy?”

  How much should he say? “Keep this on the DL,” he warned even though he didn’t think he had to. “But, yeah, Vex is digging into Nollan’s background.”

  “Why?”

  He pulled a slate-gray button-down from the few in his closet. “Because I’ve been on her about leaving this goof from day one. She never should’ve married him in the first place. He’s a deadbeat. Used to hang around the clubhouse in Seattle, not useful for much. No job. Not really right in the head. But then, maybe that’s the draw. Nika has a soft heart. But she’s not in love with the clown.”

  He couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice as he yanked a decent pair of jeans from his dresser drawer. Eva had insisted on informal dress for the occasion.

  “Nollan treats her like a fuckin’ dog. Keeps her locked away over there. She quit her job and I know that was because of him. I know it. She’s a fucking accountant, V. She’s no dummy. Yet she now has allotted phone time to call me, for fuck’s sake. What the hell is that?” He threw his clothes onto the bed. “She refuses to leave him. And I wanna know why. She says there’s more going on than she’s willing to tell me. And before you ask, I don’t have any clue what it is. She doesn’t let a goddamn thing slip. Maybe he has a piece on the side and she wants to catch him in the act . . . ? I don’t know.”

  But he would soon. He wasn’t going to quit until he knew why his sister remained in that prison.

  Vincente sat in his Kombat T-98 outside a dive someone had had the balls to slap a blinking hotel sign on and listened to Caleb go off on his sister’s life. Before leaving the house, he’d used the laptop that sat open and running on the bar in the main room and, like some sort of stalker, he’d Googled arrival times for flights coming into JFK from SeaTac. He’d dispatched one of their boys to the airport and had landed here at the curb after Alesio had texted the couple’s final destination. For reasons he refused to delve into, Vincente needed a look at the husband.

  Just a look, to see what he was dealing with. Not that he’d be dealing, but whatever.

  Anger simmered through him now at hearing about Nika’s restricted life. “What else are you doing about it, Paynne?”

  Caleb’s voice over the line was a mix of pissed and more pissed. “I have Vex digging, like I said, but he’s coming up with bare bones. Nollan came from a messed-up family. Parents and brother dead. Haven’t found out how yet. Never married before. Rap sheet was nothing but petty crimes—theft, B&E, one charge of resisting arrest. But that doesn’t mean much. There could be shit he got away with.”

  No doubt. Vincente�
�s fingers itched to dial Maksim, their resident IT whiz who could hack anything. “Why don’t you just take her back?” Like I would have done with my sister had I been able to find her.

  “Tried that once. Went to Seattle a month after their Vegas quickie. I told her we were going for a drive and brought her straight to SeaTac. Planned on coming to New York and holing up with Vex until the storm passed. But, man, V, the look in her eyes. I thought it was a you’re-taking-me-from-my-man thing at first, but then she freaked out, started crying, begging me to take her back, said I was ruining everything. My sister isn’t a crier. Unless she sees an animal with something broken.” A familiar brotherly affection had entered his tone, layering over the heavy concern. “She’s the strongest woman I know. Or used to be. She’s different now. And that burns my ass. Lately she seems skittish. And tired. She made me swear on our parents’ memory that day out front of the airport that I’d leave things alone, and a dozen times after. I’m breaking those promises right now.”

  Vincente’s anger bubbled at the thought of that beauty having anything to fear. Or any woman, for that matter. But something about this sitch was off. Way off. And he’d wasted nearly a month dicking around when he could have been doing something about it.

  “What time are they going tonight?” To the wedding he was dreading as much as he was anticipating. Dreading, because he was giving away his best friend. Anticipating, because he was giving away his best friend to a woman who would take good care of him.

  “She didn’t say, but probably a little before showtime, since she’s the maid of honor.”

  “I’ll be watching.” He hung up and dialed again immediately.

  “If I were to guess where you are right now, I’d have to say—”

  “Cut the shit, Kirov,” he interrupted, not in the mood. Especially not to hear Maksim guess correctly. “I need you to work your IT magic. Find out what you can about a Kevin Nollan. Get a current addy from Eva. Dig deep.”

  “Already have. Gabriel put me onto it a few weeks ago. Didn’t find anything but a rookie wannabe criminal. Had to put it on hold while I took care of some business, but I can get back to it now. What’s going on, brother?”

  Vincente started the Kombat and pulled out into the slow-moving line of traffic. “Caleb Paynne called and asked . . . us . . . to give him a hand.” Maybe he’d get ridden a little less if he made it a group effort. As it was, the boys had caught on to his attraction to Eva’s friend when he hadn’t been able to hide it in Seattle. Which pissed him off. As if they were in high school or some shit. “Vex is on it but floundering. Paynne said something’s keeping her married, but it isn’t an Evabriel type of thing.” His lips quirked as he used the nickname Jak, Gabriel’s muscle who was still in Seattle, had coined for the couple.

  Maks chuckled before promising, “If there’s something out there, I’ll find it.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Don’t have to thank me, V. Just tell me . . . You’re at her hotel, aren’t you?”

  Ass. Hole.

  Vincente disconnected the call to the sound of a deep, knowing laugh.

  As he headed to St. John Cemetery for his weekly visit with Sophia, he really hoped whatever they found on Nollan wasn’t as bad as his instincts were telling him it might be.

  Where the hell could it be?

  Nika continued her search, keeping the sound of the shower first and foremost in her mind. When the water shut off she’d have to quit. Dammit. She shoved one side of the suitcase back against the water-stained wall and stood. Could Kevin have taken the memory stick into the bathroom with him? But all he’d worn was a towel. She shuddered at the memory and looked around. Maybe he’d had it tucked in his armpit. Because it sure as hell wasn’t out here. She’d looked everywhere.

  She squatted again, feeling around the edges of the suitcase—Wait. What is—?

  The water shut off.

  And Nika wanted to scream—even louder when she heard the metal rings of the shower curtain slide against the rod. She whipped her fingers back from the long bump she’d been prodding on the inside seam of the case and stood quickly, moving to the bed as fast as her high-heeled feet would carry her. She plunked down, her heart slamming against her ribs, hands shaking as adrenaline flew through her bloodstream.

  Had she found it? Had that small rectangular object been her ticket to escape?

  Her head snapped up as Kevin strolled out of the miniscule bathroom in a cloud of steam. She sat there, nerves knotting her gut, hands clasped in her lap.

  “Stand up,” he ordered. “I wanna see how you look.”

  She stood.

  Enjoy it while you can, asshole, because if I’ve found what I think I have, your days are numbered.

  Before starting her search, she’d put on the gold dress that covered too much for a warm July evening, but that couldn’t be helped. The bruising had to be hidden.

  Kevin nodded, his eyes disgustingly invasive as they roved down her body. She stayed silent and allowed the repulsed shiver to run through her once he turned away. Nika glanced in the mirror attached to the dresser and watched through the reflection as Kevin padded over to the suitcase. She pretended to fluff her hair and adjust her gold hoop earring when he glanced back at her. The second his head swiveled, her eyes were on him again, and her knees nearly buckled at the sight of him pulling one of his T-shirts over to hide the area of her recent discovery.

  Oh, my God!

  Her knees gave out, and she fell heavily onto the hard mattress, struggling more than she ever had before to keep her face free of expression. She’d found it! She’d really found it! Oh, God!

  Do not cry! Don’t you dare cry!

  “I’m sending you to this bullshit thing on your own. Your cab should be here in five.”

  She blinked stupidly and attempted to stop the flow of moisture from filling her eyes. Uh, had she just won some unknown lottery or something? Had she even heard him right? Sending her . . . on her own? In a cab . . . by herself?

  “I don’t understand.” What was the joke?

  Kevin zipped up his jeans, leaving the button undone, and put on the same wrinkled T-shirt he’d worn all day. Why would someone shower and then wear dirty clothes? Ugh. He was pale and had gained some weight over the past year. She hated to think that was because of the meals she’d cooked for him. She also hated to think that if he went outdoors more often and got some sun, and maybe grew out his hair, he’d be considered good-looking.

  “I’m meeting up with my cousin. Tonight was the only free time he had.”

  She tensed as he came over. He stood before her, roughly grabbing her chin to tilt her head back.

  Do not glare, Nika.

  “You go see that bitch say ‘I do.’ Then you come straight back here. You got me? No side trips, no fuckin’ around. Or I’ll make you real sorry, Niki.”

  He squeezed her jaw before letting go to trail his fingers down her throat to the neckline of her dress. Her skin shrank to nothing as he dipped inside to cup her breast, beneath her bra.

  “I’ll fill you in on the meeting when I get back. You better be here.”

  She swallowed repeatedly in an effort not to vomit at his touch. “Yes. Right back,” she promised. And for the first time ever, Nika looked forward to returning.

  CHAPTER 3

  Seven fifteen.

  Vincente dropped his arm back to his side and once again stared out the French doors at the large pool out back, his usual perch. His ears continued to twitch as they listened for the doorbell.

  “Can I get you anything, Mr. Vincente?”

  He turned to see Samnang Oung, their Cambodian housekeeper, standing expectantly. The sweet old guy, along with a small loyal staff, had been taking care of him and the boys for years now. Ever since he, Alek, Maks, and Gabriel had bought the twelve-bedroom monstrosity in Old Westbury that he stood insid
e now.

  “Nah. I’m just waiting on the guests, Sammy. Thanks.”

  Samnang nodded his perfectly round head and moved his skinny body over to begin lighting what had to be a hundred candles, straightening the already-perfect flowers arranged all over the polished surfaces in the room. Vincente stepped away from the doors, eyes roaming, noting how the place had been overtaken by subtle feminine touches that included silky white cloths over every surface, the aforementioned flowers in crystal vases, and candles in sparkling silver holders. The effect? Strangely . . . beautiful.

  Fuck. He felt like a chick for noticing any of it.

  “Such happy occasions, weddings,” Samnang said. “Nothing better than new beginnings.”

  He grunted to let their caretaker know he’d heard him.

  “Miss Eva is very excited for her father’s arrival, and that of her friend. I hope the girl won’t be late. She is, after all, the maid of honor.”

  Yeah. He wanted to honor her all right.

  “Uh, Mr. Vincente?”

  He blinked as Samnang appeared next to him, his whole face crinkling in a smile.

  “Please. May I bring you a drink? To relax?”

  The man’s bony fingers removed the now-crushed tablecloth that had laid so perfectly over the pool table from Vincente’s clenched fists.

  Shit. He was wired. “No, thanks. Uh, sorry.”

  Samnang flitted off, coming back seconds later with a handheld steamer, which worked wonders on the wrinkles Vincente had caused.

  He pulled at his collar again. The expensive black button-down felt too damned fancy for his T-shirt-and-jeans taste. But for G, he’d wear it. At least until the vows were exchanged.

  The new boss hadn’t wanted to single any one of his friends out as best man, so, being the diplomatic guy he was, Gabriel had asked all of them to stand for him. Vincente, Alek, and Maksim would be at his side.

  He and Gabriel had known one another since they were little, hanging out at weddings and baptisms and shit, but it hadn’t been until they were in middle school that they’d become close friends. One of the first things Vincente had noticed about the youngest Moretti was his wariness when dealing with their classmates. Even as a boy, Gabriel had operated with caution. And Vincente had seen firsthand why.