The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2)

by Nancy Haviland

  Step back, dude. You forgetting something?

  The ringing of Caleb’s cell was a welcome distraction. Both he and Nika looked at her brother as he dug the instrument out of his pocket.

  “Sorry, guys,” the biker muttered, then said into the receiver, “Yeah. Aw, fuck off. When did he call?”

  Their chaperone walked off as he talked, and Vincente wanted to grab him and yank him back.

  “I can see why you chose to be out here,” Nika said, looking around. “It’s quiet. Your home is lovely, Vincente.”

  So are you. “Thanks.”

  Something small flapped overhead too fast for them to see, but it was clear enough to be heard. He looked at Nika, waiting for her to duck and shriek, but all she did was smile a little.

  “Bats?” she questioned, walking out from under the overhang to look up.

  “Yeah. That time of year.”

  “Cute little things.”

  His brow quirked. “Cute?”

  She glanced over and then away. “Eva and I used to work at her mom’s dress shop during the summers. One day we came to work and found a bat had somehow gotten in overnight. We went to the sushi place across the street to decide what to do, and the owner heard us talking about it. He came with a broom and a clear plastic take-out container and caught the thing. Perfect, close-up view—his face was a cross between a mouse and a tiny dog.” She came back to stand next to the table again. “The bat, I mean.” She smiled and bowed her head as if to hide the million-dollar expression, and he wanted to curse because she’d robbed him of seeing it for more than a split second. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d scream the place down if one flew into my hair; they do have teeth. But”—she shrugged—“they’re relatively harmless.”

  He jammed a hand into the front pocket of his pants to rattle his spare change, and with his free hand, stuck a finger in and yanked on the collar of his goddamned shirt. “You an animal lover?”

  “I’ve never met one I didn’t like. Other than that skunk that accosted me, Eva, and her mom one night as they walked me home from their house. He was aggressive and horrible. And porcupines I also admire from a distance, though they usually won’t do you damage unless they get spooked. Caleb and I always had dogs growing up, but I haven’t had a pet since I’ve been on my own.”

  “You’re not on your own,” he reminded her. Or was he reminding himself?

  Her head ducked again, no smile this time. “No, I’m not,” she agreed in a subdued voice.

  “If they do show, call.” Her brother’s voice broke through, and he hung up, shaking his head and walking back over to him and Nika. “Our boy at NYPD said Smythe is gunning for us again. Jackass.”

  Vincente didn’t pay much attention to the griping. The cops were always somewhere in the background. What was news about that? He was more concerned with reminding himself that this woman in front of him was married to some fucknut and Vincente led a shitty life and had nothing to offer her. She was Caleb’s little sister, for fuck’s sake, and the guy was standing right there!

  And none of it fucking mattered at all. He still wanted to be wrapped around the redhead’s long, curvy body for a week straight. And given one sliver of a chance, he knew he’d take her. No. Matter. What.

  The knowledge was . . . Well, he wouldn’t say shocking. Because he’d always pretty much lived by his own rules, taking what he wanted when he wanted it. But he’d never done so without first making sure any collateral damage was minimal. In this case, it wouldn’t be. And he didn’t care enough about that fact.

  That was unacceptable. He usually held himself to a higher standard than that. His mother and sister would be ashamed.

  He had to keep his distance from her.

  He blinked when Nika stiffened. Noticed because she was all he was aware of. She took that step back that he should have taken a few minutes ago, blinking rapidly, her flawless skin paling. Her voice came out just a whisper. “I’m going inside. You coming?”

  I wish.

  She turned without waiting to see if Caleb, to whom the question had been directed, followed and then disappeared back into the house.

  Cigarette smoke and the smell of weed hung heavily in the air as Kevin Nollan walked between two large shipping containers and came to a clearing in the center of the run-down building in Crown Heights. He sidestepped his way around cords and strategically placed lighting systems.

  “Why didn’t you bring her with you tonight?” his cousin said over his shoulder as he led them to a disaster of a desk in the corner, surrounded by a half-dozen metal chairs. “She coulda checked things out. We coulda got started tomorrow instead of waiting another day.”

  Kevin eyed Darren, his fucked-up family’s resident videographer, wondering again if the guy was going to want in on the action once they started filming. Did he want a piece of Kevin’s property? His wife? The way every bastard who saw her wanted her?

  Like he had when he’d first seen her walk through the doors of the clubhouse in Seattle—the very one he’d hoped to one day call his own. Fucking bikers. Assholes hadn’t let him in. Caleb Paynne hadn’t let him in. He’d heard that prick tell the president of the Seattle chapter that he didn’t think Kevin was Obsidian Devils material.

  The president had agreed.

  Sonsofbitches. All he’d wanted was a place to hang. Boys to hang with. The brotherhood that came with groups like the ODMC.

  But they’d turned him away. Told him he could loiter but wouldn’t be asked to join their ranks. Would never really belong. Like always.

  Fuck them. He hadn’t needed them anyway. He had something better than brothers now. He had Niki.

  And Caleb Paynne’s downfall if she ever left him. Getting the evidence he’d used to bind Niki to his side had been almost too easy, because Paynne had jumped at the chance to play hero. The guy hadn’t needed any prodding to exact revenge on his buddy’s behalf for the scenario Kevin had set up. All he’d had to do after getting Paynne in the right place at the right time was hit Record.

  And he’d gotten a beautiful wife out of the deal. Kevin sneered. A beautiful wife who couldn’t even get him hard. She had a couple of times, in the beginning. When she’d walked into the clubhouse in south Seattle with her brother and that bitch friend of hers, Kevin had grown hard as a pipe.

  But he’d never been able to get that way once he had her in his grip. Not since Niki had fucked everything up, confused things, turned his simple revenge against her brother into something else. Yeah, he’d thought she was hot and had wanted her. But he’d wanted to get back at Caleb more. Then she’d made him fall for her. Made him value her opinion. Made him feel like shit for only doing what people deserved. What she deserved. He felt guilty now when he had to teach her a lesson the way his parents used to teach him and his idiot brother. And the fact that he didn’t like doing it made things worse for her. When he felt that pressure in his chest, he hit harder, went at her longer. But that was all her fucking fault.

  And Darren could go fuck himself, Kevin thought as he looked up from the tear in the knee of his jeans, that familiar pressure blooming. They all could. Except for the ones that would get a taste of his wife during the filming. That would teach her to look down her nose at him. To judge him for the shit he did. He’d let these guys do what he couldn’t because he knew that for a girl, getting fucked by someone you didn’t know and didn’t want was as humiliating as it got. And for Niki, it would be several someones at once. It would bring her down a notch. They’d fuck her, and then maybe she’d see herself more on his level. And after the action had been filmed, she’d never see them again.

  She’d see Darren in the future, though, because they might have to make more than one movie. That all depended on how much coin this one brought in. He was still trying to figure out a way to have Niki work without spending so much time away from him.

  What if she ta
kes a liking to Darren?

  His hands curled into fists at the sound of that little voice in his head.

  What if she wants your cousin in on the action?

  A warped fury filled Kevin’s head. He’d make her pay for that.

  “So where is she?” his cousin asked.

  “She went to a wedding.” The whore, he added in his head. Just like that bitch getting married. The one Niki was friends with.

  Nosey, judgmental Eva Jacobs. Should of taken care of her when she came back to Seattle last month. Driven her off for good. Now that she was here in New York again he’d lost the opportunity. Especially now that she was with that fucking guy who’d embarrassed him at the club in Seattle a few weeks ago. Couldn’t fuck with her now. Even Kevin recognized power when he saw it. And that prick who Eva had sucked in was powerful.

  “So, are we decided on four guys then? Or did you want the fifth?”

  Kevin’s eyes narrowed on his cousin. Did he want to be the fifth? “Four’s good this time around. We’ll see about a fifth next time.”

  Darren nodded, as if he wasn’t concerned. An act? “Sounds good. She up for it or is she gonna need a little convincing?” He picked up a small vial of clear liquid with a rubber top on it. The kind from a doctor’s office.

  “You use that on all the girls?”

  “If they’re in need of some happy juice. A few cc’s of this shit and they spread their legs for anyone who comes near them.” Darren laughed as he slipped the bottle into his pocket.

  Kevin’s imagination took off at his words, throwing up images of Niki, red hair flying, four complete strangers taking turns with her. Fuck. It was lucky they needed the cash, otherwise he wasn’t sure he’d be able to offer her up, no matter the lesson she needed. She was his. She belonged to him, and soon she’d realize it. He owned her so completely, he could control who she fucked and when. Then they could make that move he’d been thinking about. Take her away. Maybe down to San Francisco or LA. Somewhere with less rain. Somewhere her fucking brother wouldn’t be able to bother them anymore.

  But that took money. Money that this movie with Darren—and four lucky goddamn bastards who’d be getting a piece of Niki in that way he couldn’t—would give him.

  “Keep that vial on hand for tomorrow,” he said gruffly, pretending to adjust an imaginary hard-on, knowing it was expected.

  “No problem. So let’s talk details.” Darren settled forward, hand disappearing into his lap under the cover of the desk. “Thought we’d start with her tied up. That shit always rakes it in. Then I thought we might . . .”

  The next few minutes went by, the guy’s arm moving as he obviously jerked off while describing the different positions and scenarios for Niki’s movie. Kevin barely noticed. All he really saw at that point were dollar signs and Caleb Paynne’s outraged face when he learned what his sister had allowed herself to be a part of. A sister he wouldn’t be able to yell at because she’d be long gone with no trail. Kevin was good at that. Disappearing. He’d do it again, same as last time. But with his very own moneymaker at his side.

  He was never going to let her go.

  The sound of ringing phones and clacking keyboards tap-danced through Detective Lorenzo Russo’s aching skull as he added to the cacophony with a curse—no doubt his brother would have disapproved in that silent way of his. In Michael’s defense, he was a priest, so he sort of had to frown when the Lord’s name was spoken in vain.

  Just because it was ingrained, Lorenzo sent up a silent apology as he flipped through the file on his desk. He raised his head at a knock on the Plexiglas that allowed him to look out over the bustling precinct.

  “Just heading home for the night. Mind if I pick your brain first, Russo?” a fellow detective asked as he entered the office and flopped down into the chair in front of Lore’s desk.

  Sandy-blond, blue-eyed David Smythe. Fuckin’ idiot of the highest order. Looked more like a politician than a cop.

  “It’s what I live for, Smythe.” Huge sarcasm. Huge.

  “Was curious if you’d heard about the mass exodus out of JFK a few weeks back. A few of the big boys from your old neighborhood fled the city. Returned within twenty-four hours about a dozen guys shy. Any ideas where they went? What went down?”

  Lore sat back in his chair and observed the prejudiced Ivy League asshole in front of him. “Why would I know anything about it? Those boys are your problem, not mine.”

  “Just thought since you street rats like to stick together, and seeing as how your brother is marrying the new Don and his Russian princess right now, you might have some insight.”

  Lorenzo dropped his hands to his lap as if he were loosening up and relaxing. He was doing the opposite. His fingers curled into fists that he wanted to bop on both sides of his little brother’s stubborn head. Fucking Michael and his need to see the good in even those who most likely didn’t possess any.

  And, boy, did it burn to be left out of the loop.

  “I wasn’t aware Michael was officiating at Moretti’s wedding,” he hated to admit. “If you’re having a hard time, I could always head over to Saint Luke’s tomorrow. Ask him if he saw anything unusual tonight. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind tossing you a few crumbs.”

  The rosy flush that appeared on that pretty face pleased Lore more than anything had in a while. “No need. We have surveillance in the area. If anything untoward happens, we’ll know about it.”

  Untoward? Was this fuckin’ guy serious? “Change your mind, you let me know, Detective.”

  As Smythe walked out, tail between his legs, Lorenzo snatched his cell off the corner of his desk and started tapping. Long form, to get his point across.

  Despite your vocation, you are a fucking dumbass. Be careful. Message me once your ass is out of there. Eyes are on you.

  He hit Send and popped two M&M’s—the peanut ones—into his mouth from the small metal container his sister, Ashlyn, had given him for his desk. The tin had a picture of a hissing cat that looked remarkably like Lore’s scraggy tabby; the caption beneath read, No, I haven’t had my coffee yet. Why do you ask?

  He glanced at his phone when it beeped.

  My retinas are bleeding.

  He couldn’t help but smirk as he shook his head and returned his attention to the file in front of him: a complaint received from the father of a young girl stating his daughter had been drugged and raped, and the crime had been filmed in some abandoned building by someone boasting of being a porn producer. A skinny guy who went by the name of Flash. Should be no trouble finding the perp with such a detailed description.

  Huge sarcasm. Huge.

  CHAPTER 5

  The priest had arrived, and everyone was slowly gathering around. Nika had just left a jittery Eva in the foyer and had taken her place to the left of the officiant, across from an eager-looking Gabriel and his friends, whom she did not look at.

  She tried harder to ignore the lead sitting in her queasy stomach.

  God, that look on Vincente’s face. She couldn’t get it out of her mind.

  The disgust she’d seen in his expression. Why did he look at me like . . . like . . . like I was some cracked-out hooker begging him to buy my baby so I could purchase more drugs?

  She ground her teeth together as Gabriel spoke with the priest, buying her a little extra time to calm herself.

  Could Vincente know she was still attracted to him? Had she not hidden well enough the fact that she’d been standing there talking about bats while wondering if his lips were still as soft as she remembered? That in itself wouldn’t have been such a big deal. Embarrassing, sure, but she was more concerned that he considered her to be a married woman. In a real marriage. To him, she belonged to someone else. So on top of already having kissed him in Seattle, if he’d sensed her attraction, he must think her a disloyal slut who had no problem cheating on her husband.


  The very thought made her face burn. How far from reality that was. But Vincente didn’t know that.

  And, really, his opinion of her shouldn’t matter. But it did.

  She stared at the father’s pristine collar, her heart suddenly heavy. Maybe she could talk to him before he left—ask him why God had turned his back on her. Left her to die inside little by little every day.

  She closed her eyes in an effort to soothe the burn that had settled behind her lids. They weren’t tears. Because she wasn’t feeling sorry for herself. Really.

  “Nik?”

  Caleb was next to her once again. When had he come back inside? She stiffened. That had to mean Vincente was now in the room. Judging her.

  Unable to deny herself the comfort, she snuggled into her brother’s wide chest for a second, soaking up his unconditional love when his arms circled her.

  “I really think you should sit down for a minute,” he said quietly, the concern in his face clear as she drew back. He rubbed a big hand over his short hair in that way he did when he was agitated.

  She shook her head. “I’m just tired and needed a hug. That’s all.”

  “I would like to start by saying . . .”

  Her poor, worried brother melted behind her as the priest began and Nika snapped to attention, clutching the ring that Eva had handed her a few minutes ago. She pinned her gaze on the entrance where her best friend appeared. Through her blurring vision, she watched Eva walk in and begin her life with Gabriel. Nika shoved her own problems aside so she could give this coming together of two people who loved each other the proper respect it deserved.

  She watched and listened, and couldn’t help but compare it with her own experience. Her vow exchange had been a horrible, frightening night in Las Vegas. Had this not been Eva’s wedding, Nika didn’t think she’d be able to stand here and listen to what she’d come to think of as empty words. She’d repeated them. Kevin had repeated them. And they hadn’t meant anything.