by Leigh, Lora
And what of this woman’s husband and father-in-law? How many lives had they destroyed? How many young women had died or lived in sexual captivity because of them?
“Is that what you’re trying to do, Ivan?” Journey asked him as though genuinely curious. “Strange, I thought you married me because you loved me.”
“Indeed, I do.” He tucked her closer to him then. “So much, that nothing matters more than ensuring you’re protected. No matter who threatens you.”
Her mother’s grimace was one of distaste. It emphasized the lines and bitterness in her expression, and as she reached up to brush back the front of her perfectly styled hair Journey realized how much her mother had aged in the past four years.
Then, those hate-filled hazel eyes turned on Ivan. “Of course, it has nothing to do with that brat of yours she’s carrying—”
“Enough!” Journey snapped, her chin lifting, anger surging through her. “You have no right to consider my and Ivan’s child in any way, Mrs. Taite. Now you’ll speak respectfully in our home or I can have one of our security personnel escort you from it. Choose now.”
The shock on her mother’s face would have been amusing under different circumstances. But this was her child, her and Ivan’s baby; after the hell Ivan had suffered at the hands of this woman’s husband and father-in-law, Journey would be damned if she’d allow such disrespect in their home.
“That goes for all of you.” She turned to the others, each in turn, meeting their gazes furiously. “I have no problem in ordering you thrown from our home.”
Silence filled the room. All but Beau and David turned their gazes from her.
Their expressions were closed, implacable, but there was no anger lurking in their gazes.
“Bravo, love,” Ivan murmured at her ear, and in his voice she could hear the dark undercurrent of fury though she knew it wasn’t directed toward her.
But what none of them realized was that the look Ilya directed toward them was one she hoped to never see turned her way. It was predatory, murderous, before he directed his attention back to the documents he was going over.
“Ivan.” Beau stepped from the family and paced a few steps from them. “I’m available whenever you need me to give you a rundown of the business. There are quite a few holdings…”
“Let’s deal with the paperwork first,” Ivan stated as his fingers stroked over Journey’s hip almost comfortingly, “One thing at a time.”
She knew why Ivan was unwilling to discuss the subject. He had no desire to run the companies, and despite Beau’s silence on the details of the contracts, he intended to leave the business in the other man’s hands. It had actually been Jordan’s suggestion.
Ivan’s main concern was cutting off the funds, the attorneys, and the ability to hire assassins. They’d already signed papers that morning that ensured the Taite holdings and profits would be placed in secure accounts, accessible only by Journey. He had his own fortune, Ivan had informed her; he had no desire to add hers to it.
It was nearly an hour later that Ivan, Beau, Ilya, Celeste, and David added their signatures to the documents. Collecting Ivan’s copy, Ilya stepped from the desk and left the room.
“Beau.” Journey turned to him, keeping her voice firm. “Ivan and I have agreed that we’d prefer you maintain the CEO position. You and Ivan can discuss the package deal we’ve come up with if you’re interested.”
Beau looked between them speculatively, nodding slowly. “At your convenience.”
“As for the two of you,” Ivan growled as he faced the attorneys. “Your firm, as well as the two others previously used by the Taites, and your services will no longer be required. Neither for the Taite business concerns, nor in regards to the criminal charges brought against Stephen and Craig. Ilya has directed our attorneys to contact you at the start of the business day tomorrow to secure all files and concerns regarding Taite holdings or defendants.”
They didn’t speak, either to object or to agree. They stared back at Journey with imposing disgust instead.
“Thank you for your time, gentlemen,” Ivan expressed, his voice anything but polite as the office door opened and admitted two of the Resnova bodyguards. “Our men will see you out now.”
“This is a mistake, Resnova,” the older of the two men bit out as he jerked his briefcase from the desk.
“I’m certain it is,” Ivan agreed. “But the mistake was your clients’. They can rot where they are as far as I’m concerned. And without the funds you’ve ensured they had access to, rotting is probably exactly what they’ll do.”
Nodding to the two bodyguards, he watched with narrowed eyes as the attorneys were led from the office and the door closed behind them.
Journey turned back to her family, realizing that her mother’s and sister’s animosity no longer had the power to hurt her as it once had. She’d accepted it in the years she’d been running from them. Celeste and Celia had been broken and remolded at the Château beneath the so-called treatments they’d been given to ensure they obeyed the wishes of their parents as well as the husbands they’d never wanted.
Celeste handled it with alcohol; Celia handled it with biting sarcasm and a hatred for anyone else’s happiness. She was never certain how David felt. He’d begun distancing himself from the family years ago.
“Poor Journey.” It was Celia who finally spoke, and for once Journey detected something like regret in her tone. “You think you’re safe, don’t you?”
“Shut up.” The hold Albert had on her arm had to be painful. “Come on. It’s time we leave.”
“Of course it is.” Celia gave a hard, brittle laugh as her bull-like husband drew her to the door and from the room.
Celeste simply stared back at Journey, her lips compressed and fear shadowing her eyes.
“I’m ready to leave, David,” she stated regally when she broke from Journey’s gaze. “I’ll wait for you in the car if you don’t mind. I find the company here rather tedious.”
Her mother found her rather tedious.
The thought was almost amusing. All her life she’d fought for this woman’s approval, for her love, only to realize Celeste Taite simply had no love inside her for anyone.
“I’m tired,” she told Ivan softly. “And it’s my wedding night. Are we finished here?”
“We are,” he assured her, then turned to Ilya. “Finish this for me if you don’t mind. My wife is tired.”
Before she could guess what he was up to Ivan swung her into his arms and carried her from the office to their bedroom. It was her wedding night, and all she wanted to do was cry.
* * *
It was nearly midnight when Ivan stepped from the bedroom, fighting the rage coiling in his gut at the memory of the wounds Journey’s mother and sister had inflicted on her heart. Not that she had cried or raged. The strength she carried inside her didn’t often give way to tears.
Temper, yes, but rarely tears.
He’d held her, nothing more, allowing her to absorb his warmth as she talked. She’d told him of years of disinterest by her mother, her sister’s seeming hatred, her father’s determination to keep her brother separated from all of them. There had been friendships ruined by her sister’s spitefulness, her mother’s drunkenness, until she’d simply grown weary with the fight to have a friend.
Until Tehya.
She’d finally grown silent before slipping into sleep and leaving him to stare into the darkness with raging fury. No child, no little girl especially, should have to live so isolated from any love or tender care. How she’d survived, he couldn’t imagine.
Nodding to the security guard positioned outside the bedroom, he strode down the hall and made his way once again to his office. The text Ilya had sent to his phone moments ago was surprising. Information concerning the Taites’ outside connections had been found and he thought Ivan would want to see it.
Oh, he definitely wanted to see it, Ivan thought. Whoever was managing to carry out Stephen’s and Crai
g’s orders had to be stopped, quickly. He’d be damned if he’d tolerate another risk to Journey.
Reaching the office, he stepped inside, his gaze narrowing at the sight that met his eyes as he slowly eased the door closed.
“I’m rarely surprised,” he said, allowing a mocking smile to tilt his lips. “But you’ve managed it.”
Ilya was unconscious on the floor in front of the desk but breathing. Barely. Sitting behind the desk was none other than Journey’s brother-in-law, Albert Edmonsson. Stocky, with a receding hairline, his brown eyes narrowed with anger, his pale face flushed, he stared at Ivan with a gleam of almost rabid triumph.
Standing with him were four men Ivan remembered from Russia. Former soldiers he’d released from the Resnova payroll when he’d learned they were working for his enemies as well.
He should have just killed them. But the thought of spilling more blood at that time had been distasteful. He wouldn’t find it nearly so distasteful this time.
If he survived.
“Excellent security by the way.” Albert smiled, and Ivan realized how much he looked like a rabid little gnome when doing so.
“Really?” He arched a brow at the statement. “I could disagree with that, considering you managed to bypass them.”
Three teams of Elite Ops agents outside, his best personal security inside, and still five of these bastards had gotten past them all.
“Yes, well, perhaps you should have more men on the grounds.” Albert shrugged. “The four Anton and his men took out weren’t much of a challenge, you know.”
Four. There were eight men outside and he knew it.
“It seems Ilya was right,” he sighed. “He wanted to assign more, but I thought they would be better placed in the house.” He shrugged as though it didn’t matter. “Live and learn, I guess.”
Anton Vladeski, the commander of the other three soldiers, a tall dark-haired bastard with a streak of cruelty a mile wide, smiled at the comment.
“Or learn and die,” he stated, his accent heavy. “Tonight, Resnova, you die. Just as your very good friend Ilya did.”
Ivan stared down at Ilya’s body again, aware it was hidden from the others where it lay. He sighed, watching as the other man’s finger moved just enough to assure Ivan that he was indeed alive and, he hoped, had managed to get out an alarm of some sort.
He couldn’t depend on it though. The blood that had eased from beneath Ilya’s body in a heavy stream seemed to come from his chest. Ilya could be far closer to death than he at first seemed.
“Killing Ilya was a stupid move,” he stated, crossing his arms over his chest and directing his attention to the men behind the desk once again. “His family won’t rest until they hunt you down. Did you warn Edmonsson of that? Did you tell him who Ilya’s brother was?”
Anton’s expression never changed, but Ivan saw the concern in his gaze.
“The old families, no matter the country, aren’t what they used to be, no matter what you like to think,” Albert assured him, his lips twisting with disdain. “No matter how they like to believe they are. Besides, no one will ever know we were here. Once you’re dead and that brat Journey’s carrying is disposed of, then she’ll marry Beau, and Stephen and Craig can regain the reins to the business once they’re transferred out of the states.”
And Ivan had to laugh at that one. A deep, amused chuckle filled with knowing condescension.
“He really believes that, doesn’t he?” he asked Anton. “Tell me, Vladeski, do you really believe it will be so easy? Do you really think Ilya’s brother, your esteemed Russian President, will allow his baby brother’s death to go unavenged? Surely you know him better than that.”
And he didn’t. Ivan saw it in his eyes, in the flicker of fear in his expression. The former soldier knew damned good and well it wasn’t going to be that easy. Now that he was aware of why it wouldn’t be so easy, he would understand the hell he faced if Ivan escaped.
If.
No matter what Albert Edmonsson had convinced Vladeski of before, in the moment, Anton knew he’d die. And if the expressions on the three men with him were an indication, they knew they’d be following him.
“Ignore him. No one will ever know we were here,” Albert ordered, his voice sharp. “Now go find his little whore. The doctor’s waiting to relieve her of her brat as soon as we take care of things here.” He turned back to Ivan. “The documents you signed earlier, if you please. We’ll need to destroy those as well.”
As well. The son of a bitch meant to have his child aborted?
Ivan narrowed his gaze on him, rage beginning to burn through him.
“I’ll kill you,” he promised as two of his men eased from the room, exiting by way of the once secure door leading to the gardens outside.
Albert only grinned. “I’ll have you killed before you can move. Go ahead, Ivan, try me.”
He was going to do far more than try him …
chapter eighteen
Journey came awake the second a hard hand covered her lips, muffling any sound she’d make as she felt weight straddle her hips, holding her in place. Her eyes jerked open, panic racing through her as she fought to extricate her arms, to free herself from the binding pressure holding them down.
It took precious moments to recognize Elizaveta’s face above her and the fact that it was Sophia Resnova restraining her hands. She froze as she realized who they were and the implications of their presence there and the fact that she couldn’t see Ivan.
He would have never sent these two women after her. He would have come himself if there was danger, if he could have.
“Silence,” Elizaveta hissed, her head lowering to allow her to speak close to Journey’s ear.
Journey nodded quickly.
“Riordan, Jordan, and several others are in the room as well. We must get you out of here.” The dangerous softness in the other woman’s voice terrified her. “Sophia has clothes for you. Dress quickly.”
Elizaveta lifted her hand and slid from her quickly before she and Sophia shielded her from the shadowed male forms that stood alertly, armed and ready.
“Ivan?” She whispered his name as she quickly pulled on jeans and a T-shirt before sliding her feet into the sneakers Sophia held out to her.
“Safe for now,” Elizaveta assured her, but there was an edge to her tone that assured Journey that something was wrong.
“Where?” She jerked her arm back when the other woman would have gripped it.
Her gaze went to the half-dozen men behind the women, waiting, tense and alert, at the patio doors they’d obviously come through. Ivan wasn’t with them. She would have recognized him, even dressed in black with his face shielded as four of the men were.
“Come with us,” the bodyguard hissed. “Ivan cannot do what he must if you aren’t safe.”
And just what was Ivan doing?
Journey stared into Elizaveta’s, then Sophia’s eyes, fear curdling in her stomach as she fought against the panic beginning to tighten her chest.
“Where is he?” Her voice trembled and she jerked her arm back again as Sophia reached out to her this time.
“Do you want him to die?” Elizaveta suddenly hissed. “Because if you are taken, he will die to protect you and his child. Now let’s go.”
This time, she let them take her arm and lead her to the door. One of the men stepped outside, checked the area quickly, then motioned them forward. She was surrounded by bodies as they rushed her from the bedroom. As the patio doors closed, the sound of her bedroom door crashing in had Jordan cursing and the women urging Journey into a run.
Whatever the hell was going on, it seemed time had run out.
* * *
Ivan felt the subtle vibration of the simple, supposedly old-fashioned watch he wore against the inside of his wrist indicating Journey had been whisked from any danger. She was safe; that was all that mattered.
Evidently, Ilya had received the same signal. From his periphery Ivan watched as Il
ya moved two fingers slowly. Journey and his child were safe; nothing else mattered. She’d be taken with Amara and secured in a safe location.
Now it was up to him, Ivan thought. He’d have to find a way to distract Albert, Anton, and Anton’s cousin Igor. Ilya was conscious but no doubt out of any fight. The bleeding seemed severe enough that Ivan feared the other man might well be unconscious soon.
“What’s taking so long?” Albert asked, his weapon still leveled on Ivan as he questioned the soldier.
“They haven’t reported in yet,” Anton answered. “We’re on radio silence until they have her.”
Ivan smiled. A slow, controlled smile filled with satisfaction.
“I’m going to guess it was your team she’s been running from since Colorado,” he drawled. “What makes you think you’ll have any more success tonight than you did at any other time?”
The other man couldn’t hide the shadow of concern in his gaze.
“Because she doesn’t have you to help her now,” Albert pointed out, his tone filled with hatred. “Had you left things alone, then she would have already been married to Beau, and Stephen and Craig’s plans would be in play. But you had to play the hero for her, didn’t you?”
“The rewards were well worth the effort,” he assured Journey’s brother-in-law.
“I bet they were.” Thick, heavy lips pursed in disgust as Albert glanced at Anton again.
“Your men aren’t going to notify you of their success, Anton,” Ivan informed him. “Because they’re not going to succeed. By now, my wife is safe, as well as my daughter, and your men are dead.”
Igor turned to Anton, his expression concerned.
Igor wasn’t a man who liked it when things didn’t go according to plan. Anton was rather adaptable himself, a trait Igor didn’t share.
“They are fine,” Anton assured his cousin. “We’re still within an acceptable time frame for the job.”
Anton liked to lie to himself when a job was going to hell; it made him undependable, made his team ineffective.
