by Stone, Piper
And now for mine.
I glanced over my shoulder, able to hear the ongoing party and nothing else. Within seconds, I’d broken the two codes, neither of which were particularly difficult. Wyland had relied on the pulsing system almost entirely. The slight click of the lock as it released was sweet music. The moment I tugged the flashlight from the bag, flipping the switch, I knew instantly I’d been conned.
The safe was empty.
“What the fuck?” My anger swelled, realizing that I should have handled the situation the way I preferred.
And I would.
Execution of the mark after demanding the diamond.
I took a deep breath, gazing around the perimeter of the room in preparation of a visitor. After a full minute, I still remained alone. Mr. Worthington had been tipped off prior to the party, which likely meant there was traitor in the Specialists. I would gut the son of a bitch when I found him.
And I would.
After resetting the system and leaving the room exactly as I’d found it, I stood back, calculating what I was going to do. I moved to Wyland’s desk, quickly scanning the folders positioned on top. He certainly wouldn’t be so stupid as to openly indicate where the diamond had been moved. Still, any information I could gather would prove to be useful. There would be consequences for everyone involved, my patience shot. If Mr. Worthington was playing a game, he’d tangled with the wrong man.
After only a few seconds, I realized there was nothing helpful. As I prepared to leave, I noticed a photograph located on his desk. Within seconds, my eyes narrowed, the hairs standing on the back of my neck. As I lifted the frame into my hand, my eyes fell from the lovely girl’s face to the scar located on her neck.
The very one I’d had my hand wrapped around only minutes before. The color photograph highlighted her stunning emerald eyes in a perfect way. There was no doubt in my mind she’d been used as a ruse, allowing Worthington to secure the diamond in another location. I’d fallen for her tricks, an entirely amateur mistake. I fought to keep from tossing the embossed frame as lights flashed in front of my eyes.
I wasn’t a man prone to bouts of anger, not unless absolutely necessary. However, the rage embroiling my system was caustic in every manner.
Wyland had been prepared for an attempt made on the diamond, enacting his daughter’s help. How I’d been made was another story, a question that would be answered no matter the tactics required.
At least I knew exactly what had to be done, and I would thoroughly enjoy every moment of making that happen. I rubbed my thumb back and forth across the photograph, allowing my thoughts to drift to the memories surrounding the discipline. Spanking her had been sweet indeed.
What would occur in the future was nothing short of sadistic.
And she would beg me for more.
I left the room as quietly as I’d come in, closing the door with a silent click.
The rest of this mission was going to be extremely enjoyable.
As I walked out into the night air, heading for the valet stand, I pulled out my phone. The moment the other end was answered, I issued the prepared statement, one that I’d never been required to make before.
“The mission is aborted.”
Now I would do things my way.
And more than one person would suffer the consequences.
* * *
Rage.
I rarely allowed myself the luxury of embracing the emotion, but on this night, I was filled with the vile and merciless need for vengeance.
“How do you want us to handle this, boss?” Sergei asked as he stood in front of my desk, darting a glance at the other trusted man who remained in my employ.
Fortunately, the Specialists allowed me to choose my own men to provide security as well as whatever means were necessary to handle a situation.
I stood with what I knew wouldn’t be the last drink of the night, doing everything I could to calm the beast clawing at the surface.
“You want us to stay on his place tonight?” Bruno added. I couldn’t help but notice both men were subdued in their questions, unusual for their gregarious nature. Perhaps they knew me too well, having spent years in my employ.
When I had a short fuse, my actions were always brutal.
“Yes. Stay on the house. If he goes anywhere, even to piss outside, I want you right there. If anyone comes to the house late or early in the morning, call me.” My answer was one they expected. While I wanted nothing more than to wrap my hand around Wyland’s throat, bringing him to within an inch of his life, the notoriety the murder would bring wasn’t in the Specialists’ best interest.
Nor would it return the diamond to the rightful owner.
“Will do, boss. What if he resists?” Sergei asked.
Sighing, I rubbed my eyes. “Then bring him to me.” I doubted Wyland would be that stupid. He’d been tipped off, which meant he’d move the diamond after the heat settled down. Well, I was going to push his hand.
“Yes, boss,” Bruno answered, nodding toward the door in an effort to make certain Sergei didn’t linger.
I watched as they walked out of the room, fingering my glass, the rage continuing to boil. My head ached, the ramifications of what I’d allowed to occur finally settling into my mind. A roar erupted, rushing up from the depths of my being, my heart racing. A woman had been the reason for my demise.
One beautiful, sexy woman.
“Damn it!” I tossed the glass against the fireplace, watching it smash into hundreds of pieces before dropping to the stone hearth. I paced the floor, rubbing my eyes as I tried to put the puzzle together.
The entire ploy had been in place long before I arrived and Wyland had no way of knowing who I was. If he had, I could only imagine the various security guards I’d noticed positioned throughout the mansion would have gladly dragged me to the basement, keeping me quiet until Wyland was able to handle the situation. The man’s reputation wasn’t devoid of violence, although all the pretty party people had overlooked his ugly reputation.
I took a deep breath, planting my hands on my desk, thinking about the stunning woman.
Giliana Worthington had arrived in New Orleans three months before. While mostly remaining under the radar, she’d eventually negotiated a sweet deal with a vivacious up and coming three-star restaurant. Every possible means of identifying the various aspects of information regarding Wyland Worthington’s family, his business and associates, even where he purchased his fine Cuban cigars had been easy to find given my exclusive resources. How the fuck the woman had slipped back into the country without being noticed by any of my associates was cause for concern.
From now on, I’d handle my own reconnaissance.
Laughing softly, I turned off the light before heading toward the bar, taking my time to pour another drink as the moon shone in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. All I could think about was doling out the punishment she deserved for her part of the sabotage.
My mouth watered at the thought, my cock twitching once again. Her scent lingered, the exotic fragrance igniting every synapse. I could envision her naked body in chains, locked behind the cold hard steel bars, her lovely green eyes begging for forgiveness before pleading for more.
Pleasure and pain. Only I would decide which she deserved.
I’d spank her rounded bottom and pretty little pussy before shoving my cock into all three holes, claiming her.
Punishing her.
“Fuck,” I muttered and yanked the chair from under the desk, planting it in front of the window.
I sat in the dark, the vibrant swirls from my laptop screensaver the only light in the room. I’d grown weary of searching for possible locations where Wyland would ultimately take the diamond. He wouldn’t be fool enough to return something so precious to the safe in his glorious mansion, not after he’d almost been compromised.
Almost.
I didn’t deal with failure very well, my ruthless personality refusing to accept circumstances where the o
utcome was anything but victorious. Snickering, I swirled the chilled vodka, listening to the slight clink of the two ice cubes hitting the crystal glass. My rage hadn’t subsided to any degree, my thoughts centering around my first objective.
I was well aware that after announcing the aborted mission to the handler that it was usually only a matter of time before I was challenged by a member of the Specialists, if not yanked off the project entirely. My instincts told me otherwise. My skills in several areas were far too valuable, the payout for securing the diamond the richest reward to date. No one else within our ranks could handle the operation. No one.
My grip tightened on the thin crystal, enough so I heard a slight cracking sound as the glass gave way to my fury.
Then again, the men holding the reins did not take kindly to what would be considered a fiasco. I’d seen what they did to lesser men in my position, a portion of their bodies washing up on the shores of a popular beach.
The Godfather enjoyed making certain every member of both clans, as well as anyone stupid enough to challenge his authority, knew what would happen to what he called chertovski debily. I leaned my head against the smooth leather surface, taking a sip of my drink. Fucking morons indeed.
My only alternative to a violent death was to locate the diamond in the allotted timeframe—six days and counting. However, I had a score to settle on my mind and I would do so in my way. Perhaps my need for vengeance was considered a weakness, but in my mind, I refused to allow any enemy to remain... unscathed.
I closed my eyes, relishing in the dark yet brilliant concerto by Sergei Prokofiev, his masterful music capable of calming my internal beast.
At least normally.
Tonight, his Neoclassicism was almost too foreboding, a reminder that my entire life had been wrapped up in danger and brutality, following a hierarchy of true monsters. I laughed, shifting my head back and forth. It was certainly too late for a change in occupations.
I lifted my hand to my nose, still able to gather the scent of her sweet pussy. The action had been reckless, a break in my years of training, but the woman had dragged the beast to the surface and there was no returning until he’d been sated. I took a deep breath, envisioning the moment as she’d spread her legs wide, holding them in position with my command.
I’d wanted nothing more than to shove my cock into her slickness, fucking her pussy until she screamed out my name.
I chuckled at the thought. She had yet to learn that she’d tangled with the wrong man, a true monster prepared to take away her innocence. My cock ached to the point I shifted my hand between my legs, rubbing in an almost violent manner. I was furious with myself. My behavior could cost me everything.
Including my life.
Still, she would receive penance in a method that would leave her... broken. I couldn’t allow her to get away with such egregious actions. As images of her sweet face shredded portions of my sanity, the vile and filthy things I would do to her kept my adrenaline high. She’d risked so much in order to thwart my actions. Why?
Why help her father, a man I knew she had difficulty tolerating? There was enough documentation on her distaste for the man and his company that I doubted that part was a ploy. Why the switch, taking on an assassin?
Perhaps she hadn’t known what she was dealing with. Maybe her father had called in a favor and nothing more. While Wyland Worthington certainly didn’t strike me as being highly intelligent, not only was he cunning but he had a wealth of influential friends. Someone had advised him well, even if his arrogance had allowed him to put his prized possession in harm’s way.
This felt more like a vicious game than anything else. Who were the players?
“Little printcessa, you have no idea who you tangled with. You will learn quickly that crossing me wasn’t in your best interest.” Even saying the words out loud couldn’t calm the rage.
Or the hunger.
As my phone began to ring, I took another gulp of liquor, savoring the flavor before allowing it to slide down the back of my throat. Without bothering to look as the identity of the caller, I answered on the third ring.
“Da.” I wasn’t in the mood for conversation, not yet anyway.
“Kak moy khoroshly drug?”
Hearing Mikhail’s voice brought me a slight smile, his greeting always the same—how is my good friend? We’d considered ourselves brothers in an untenable situation, able to find camaraderie. Men within organized crime had no real friends. “Sranyy.” I could hear the chuckle on the other end of the phone at using the term shitty. There was no sense in lying. He was also well aware of my dark moods, the anguish that plagued my sleep, sharing a bottle or two of vodka to prevent me from going off the rails.
For his kindness, I’d saved his life more than once.
Mikhail Petrov was highly educated, having attended Harvard on a full scholarship. The Godfather considered him one of his most trusted men, using the Bratva term of the bookkeeper given Mikhail’s brilliant mind for business.
“I’ve heard,” Mikhail said casually.
While information regarding the missions handled by the agents were supposed to be confidential, news always seemed to leak. I was beginning to feel unnerved. “From whom?”
“You know how rumors fly. Relax, it is only a setback,” Mikhail insisted.
I took another swig of my drink. “Yes, a minor one. I have already regrouped.”
“Excellent to hear. You are a valuable asset to the Specialists.”
Valuable. He’d chosen the single word carefully. “And that is not why you are calling me.”
His laugh was hearty, genuine, but also tinged with concern. “You know me too well, Kostya. I have news from the Black Dolphin prison.”
I sat up, growling under my breath. “The attempted prison break has already made the airwaves in this country. I am curious how that could be.”
“Chert,” he cursed in Russian. “That I do not know but I assure you, I will find out. Unfortunately, it wasn’t only an attempt.”
There was no way anyone could have survived the brutal conditions surrounding the prison, let alone escaping from the hundreds of armed soldiers who would have descended within ten minutes. Unless, of course, the plan had been in the works for at least a solid year, men paid extremely well for risking the Godfather’s wrath. The entire situation didn’t feel right, fueling my anger even more. “And this prisoner now?”
“This was a planned operation, a well-oiled machine as the Americans would say.”
I moved to a standing position, storming toward the bank of windows fronting the expansive landscaping. “You are telling me this now? Why?”
“Because the man who escaped is Viktor Chezanko.”
Exhaling, I closed my eyes briefly, curtailing the raw anger that would continue to fester. The monster was considered a vile man on both sides of the law, his love of killing he’d turned into an art. He was a dog yet allowed to work within the lower ranks of the Godfather’s soldiers for a time.
He was also my enemy, a man whose life I would crush with my bare hands one day.
Until his method of handling business operations had drawn the attention of several law enforcement agencies. I’d been assigned to end the situation, leaking information to the then KGB at the Godfather’s request. Everyone knew the torment Viktor would receive behind bars, the savagery well known. In Pavel Baranov’s mind, wasting the time to provide the same horrific treatment wasn’t worth it.
Although the horrific crime Viktor had enacted should have been handled personally. I burned from the memories.
Perhaps he’d also found a way to protect me, his adopted son. My desire to slaughter Viktor had been personal. Baranov’s refusal of my request had nearly brought me to my knees.
“Are you all right?” Mikhail asked.
I held my breath, still reeling from the news. I should have been allowed to put a bullet in his skull years before. “I will be fine.”
“I know how hard this is for
you.” He knew what I’d endured, barely able to function for weeks.
Upon reflection years later, I’d finally given the Godfather credit for his calculated decision. Even if Viktor had provided what he believed to be prized information to the Russian police, nothing would have disrupted the running of the mafia to any degree. No one fucked with our clans.
On the day of Viktor’s arrest, his last words had been poignant, only the smile on his face a reminder of just how evil he truly was.
Predatel.
Yes, I’d been a betrayer during portions of my life, but not to a worthless piece of scum like Viktor.
“And you believe I should be worried?” I asked casually as I walked toward the bar, removing the vodka from the small refrigerator.
“You are dangerous, my friend, but Viktor is in a class all to himself. He will hunt you, blaming you for what happened to him in prison,” Mikhail stated gruffly.
“Then allow him to hunt.” I didn’t need to ask what atrocities the bastard had been forced to endure, the physical and mental scars that would remain with him for the rest of his wretched life.
“You need to take this seriously, Kostya. There is...” His voice trailed off.
“Say it, Mikhail, whatever you need to tell me.”
He sighed, the sound almost haunting, which wasn’t like him. “You have a price on your head. Viktor maintained close ties with the Armenians.”
I thought about what he was saying. There’d been many hits placed on my life over the years. “If necessary, I will disappear for a while, but not until after I follow through with this mission.”
“I see that your time spent in the United States has not changed you. Loyal to a fault,” he said, laughing.
“What could two years do?” I retorted, pouring another half glass. Tonight would be my only night of indulgence until the project was concluded.
