Russian Enforcers Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)

by Nic Saint

  Even though responses had been terse and hard-won, he’d still given her some nuggets never before revealed, and she was certain that this interview was going to prove a key moment in her career, propelling her name to the top of the network’s talent list. The interview would be the talk of the business world and the entertainment world both!

  She waited patiently until Jack Curtis finally finished his call, and swiveled his chair to face her. He was an older man, with a shock of white hair, bronzed and lined face, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to penetrate straight to the soul. She’d only ever seen him from afar, and this was the very first time she’d been granted an audience.

  For the occasion, she’d put on her best powder blue power suit, and was feeling like Diane Sawyer, poised for the big promotion.

  “Julia Stern,” Jack drawled. “The woman who took on Yulian Gornakov.”

  She perked up at this. “That’s me, Mr. Curtis,” she intoned cheerily.

  “You really put him on the spot, didn’t you, Julia?”

  She inclined her head, well pleased. “I sure did, sir.” She made a slashing movement with her hand. “Knocked it straight out of the park.”

  He chuckled. “Julia, Julia,” he muttered. “What am I gonna do with you?”

  An alarm bell went off in her brain, but she chose to ignore it. “I was thinking we could discuss future opportunities, sir,” she boldly began. “I’ve been doing grunt work for over three years now, and if you give me the chance, I will show you what I’m really made of.”

  He seemed amused by this. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I, um, well, perhaps a job as an anchor? I heard Sean Mathias is retiring.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Anchorwoman, huh?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, suppressing a nervous tick that had her leg sweep up. “I think I’m ready for the big league, sir.” He sat motionless, studying her owlishly, so she trudged on. “I think the interview with Yulian Gornakov proves that—”

  “If your interview with Mr. Gornakov proves one thing, it is that you’re out of your depth, out of line and, frankly…” He grimaced. “Not to put too fine a point on it, out of a job, I’m afraid.”

  Her face fell, and she blinked in confusion. “Sir?”

  He sighed. “You made a nice mess of things, honey. A real damn mess.”

  Her blood ran cold. “What—what are you saying?”

  He rose and stood staring out the window of his twentieth-floor corner office, gazing at the hustle and bustle down below on Sixth Avenue. “Do you see all those people down there, Julia? Busting their gut so they can earn a monthly stipend?”

  Her heart pounding in her ears, she still managed to say, “Yes, I do, sir.”

  “That was you before the Gornakov interview. And do you see the people sleeping in boxes? The homeless, the unemployed, and the disabled?”

  “Yes, but—”

  He swiveled around. “That is you after the Gornakov interview. I’m sorry to say that you’ll be joining the legions of the unemployed, honey. As of this moment, you’re fired. Out of a job. Finished.”

  She rose so fast, her chair crashed to the floor. “Sir, you can’t do that, sir.”

  His shoulders lifted and fell. “I just did. Board of directors left me no choice.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she forgot all propriety. “This is Yulian Gornakov’s doing, isn’t it?”

  “You do remember that Mr. Gornakov owns this network, don’t you, Miss Stern? That he is, in effect, your boss and mine?”

  She blinked. On an abstract level, she had known that, though the practical implications had escaped her. Surely, he wouldn’t…

  “And that you managed to antagonize the one man we need more than ever, whose money we need to keep this ship afloat?” He placed his hands on his desk, and eyed her dangerously, a vein at his temple throbbing violently. “It took the board of directors one year to convince Yulian to invest in BSS. And it took you thirty minutes to make him regret that decision. Thirty minutes!”

  “I—I don’t see how he could take this personally, sir. I merely asked him the questions America wants to know.” She lifted her chin, her professional pride wounded. “The questions America deserves to know. Yulian Gornakov has been playing the elusive billionaire card ever since he rose to fame. I just figured it was time someone shone a little light on the rising star of the business firmament.”

  “Well, you just managed to piss him off instead,” he returned acerbically. “Clear out your desk. I want you and your inappropriate questions out of this building and out of my life ASAP.”

  “But, sir!”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Get lost, Julia, before I lose my patience.”

  Gritting her teeth, she strode to the door, then turned to the tall network chief. “I don’t think it’s fair that you carry out Yulian Gornakov’s threats, sir. You should be working in the interest of the public, not one shareholder.”

  “I would, Miss Stern, if that one shareholder didn’t have my balls in a sling,” Jack grumbled. “Pick up your dismissal letter from the desk, and never show your face around here again.”

  “Sir,” she hissed with barely concealed anger, then slammed the door behind her and strode from the office.

  Moments later, she breezed into the recording studio, in search of her cameraman. When she finally spotted Wilbert, she joined him, eager to establish the one thing she’d been turning over in her mind ever since stepping from the CEO’s office.

  “Is the interview ready?” she asked, a little breathlessly.

  “Sure thing,” the lanky man said, then handed her a flash drive. “Watch it and weep,” he grinned. “This little thing will make us famous, babe.”

  “Seems like it already has,” she muttered, snatching up the USB stick that had cost her her job. Slipping it into her pocket, she turned to stride from the floor, then turned. “Oh, and Willie? If anyone asks, I was never here, all right?”

  Puzzled, he stared at her, then shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

  As she stalked out of the BSS building, a small carton box with her meager belongings pressed in her hands, she thought hard thoughts of Jack Curtis, the board of directors, but most of all, Yulian Gornakov. The nerve of the man! To have her fired over a stupid interview!

  But she would show him. She would show all of them. As she raised her fist to the BSS building and shook it, muttering strange oaths under her breath, she vowed she would return and make Yulian Gornakov and all his flunkies weep! She hadn’t busted her ass at this job for years, only to be unceremoniously kicked to the curb like a mangy dog. She was going to make it to the top!

  As she thought of the treasure tucked away in her pocket, she grinned. Gornakov wouldn’t know what hit him. She would have her revenge, and her front-page story. You can’t keep a good reporter down, and most definitely not this one!

  She hailed a cab, and five minutes later was leaving her old life and her old job behind, on her way to a new and uncertain future; all she knew was that it would feature at least one Pulitzer Prize. The hard-hitting, in-depth write-up of Yulian Gornakov. First she needed to do some more research, and then she would break this story wide open.

  She took her letter of termination from the envelope, and scanned it. When her eyes registered the words ‘gross misconduct’, she blinked. The full purport of these words hitting home, she slumped in her seat.

  She wasn’t simply out of a job, she was out of a career. After this summary dismissal, no network would hire her, no editor would take a chance on her, and no newspaper would even offer to buy her freelance stuff. The wide and varied field of journalism had suddenly dried up for Julia Stern.

  As she carefully folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope, she realized she’d just been blacklisted. She would never work for a network again.

  CHAPTER 3

  This was the life, Yulian thought, as he stared out across the expanse of gently lapping waves and azure skies, a sof
t breeze ruffling his curly brown hair. Though he’d had his reservations, he had to admit Ruslan had been right on the money. First his personal assistant had convinced him to take a vacation, something Yulian hadn’t done in over a year, and then he’d induced him to splurge on an all-in cruise to the Caribbean.

  The last couple of weeks had been brutal on the young billionaire. First he’d risen to the throne of the Gornakov empire when his uncle and father had proved too old and too nuts to keep running the family business. Then he’d started his operation ‘clean sweep’, weeding out the bad elements and turning what was essentially a Mob front into a legitimate business venture.

  In Moscow, he’d faced stiff opposition, both within his own family and from competitors like Alexei Demiakov, who’d tried to take advantage of what he perceived as a weakness on Yulian’s part to muscle in on family territory. And then he’d had to oversee a complete restructuring of the American end of the corporation.

  Sweatshops, prostitution, racketeering, drug trafficking, illegal gambling… All under the Gornakov umbrella. All thoroughly despised by Yulian. He’d never aspired to take over the business. Not even once had he considered such a boneheaded move. Ever since he was a boy he’d hated the fact that his surname had become synonymous with the Mafia. He'd even considered a name change, to sever all connection to the infamous criminal empire his father had built.

  He wanted absolutely nothing to do with crime, and still didn’t. But then a war had broken out between his father and uncle, threatening to land the entire organization in the hands of their main competitor Alexei Demiakov. Finally, Roman Loginovsky had convinced him to get involved. The enforcer had told him he was now working with FBI agent Nathan Callaway, cleaning up organized crime in the land of Uncle Sam.

  Yulian had allowed himself to be convinced when he realized how much he could do as the head of the Gornakov clan. How many wrongs he could right and what a force for good he could be. If he used all the money and power the family had amassed to create a better future, he could really make a difference.

  Roman had been right. The task they’d set out to accomplish was a Herculean one, and the last weeks had been brutal, with incident after incident, and a holiday was exactly what he needed right now. To put it all in perspective, and take a step back from the day-to-day business of running one of the biggest conglomerates in the world.

  He closed his eyes, basking in the last rays flickering on the horizon, the warmth of the summer evening hanging lazily in the air. There was a lull before night fell, as if nature collectively held its breath before plunging the world into darkness. In that silent hush there was more peace than he’d experienced in months.

  He turned and rested his back against the railing, a smile spreading across his face. Then he opened his eyes and found them falling on a young woman of familiar aspect who sat staring back at him from one of the deck chairs. He frowned, wondering where he’d seen her face before.

  Then, as it dawned on him, anger flared in the pit of his stomach and rolled through him like wildfire. In two strides he’d joined her, and was dragging her up from the chair, his fingers digging into her arm. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you following me?”

  “What? No!” Julia Stern cried out, trying to wriggle from his grasp.

  He shook her, temper erupting. “If you’re here to finish your story, you’ve got another thing coming, young lady.” He propelled her along the deck.

  “Hey! Where are you taking me?” she demanded, eyes blazing.

  “To the captain.”

  “To the— What do you propose? To have me walk the plank? To have me keelhauled? What?”

  “You’ll be detained, Miss Stern, and the moment we arrive on the next island, you will be handed over to the authorities and escorted back to the mainland.”

  “You’re crazy! I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He turned on her. “There’s a restraining order telling you to stay well away from me. Or have you forgotten about that?”

  She gritted her teeth, her eyes shooting twin sheets of flame. “How could I, with your lawyers reminding me every five seconds. Oy!”

  He’d taken her arm in that viselike grip again and was shoving her along as they moved down the deck. “You should never have come here,” he growled.

  “How was I supposed to know you were going to be on the Emerald Princess? What do you think I am, psychic?”

  “Am I to believe this is all just a coincidence? Hardly.”

  “I work on the Emerald Princess. Come on, Gornakov! Let me go!”

  Her voice had taken on a pleading note, but he didn’t care. This woman had done all that lay in her power to destroy his family and his business and he wouldn’t rest until she was silenced.

  “Look, Yulian, I had no idea you were going to be here, all right? You’re more secretive than the CIA, for Christ’s sakes!”

  “You’re a reporter,” he snapped. “You have your ways.”

  “I’m not a reporter anymore. You made damn sure of that.”

  He chose not to respond to this last remark. He’d had to pull some strings, but it had been worth it. Reporters, like all professionals, had a code of ethics to adhere to. Miss Stern had crossed the line when she made their interview available to YouTube’s millions of viewers.

  They’d finally arrived at the captain’s cabin, and he rapped the door smartly, staring down the vicious glares of the pesky reporter. The door opened, and a dapper man, dressed in the immaculate white costume of his profession, stood in the doorway. With his gray beard and white ducktail, he cut an impressive figure. At the sight of a red-faced Yulian, the man seemed taken aback. It’s never pleasant for the commander of a luxury cruise liner to come upon a disgruntled passenger, and especially one as prominent and influential as the young Russian billionaire.

  “Sorry to trouble you at this time, captain,” Yulian began, realizing the man must have been dressing for dinner, “but a matter of some urgency has cropped up.”

  “Oh?” said the officer. Then his eyes swiveled to Yulian’s young charge, and his eyebrows rose. “Oh!” he repeated, with some more vehemence.

  “This woman is Julia Stern. She’s a reporter, and she’s breaking the law. I want her detained and handed over to the police as soon as possible.”

  The captain’s face darkened as he eyed the young woman. “What has she done this time?”

  “I didn’t do diddly squat,” Julia muttered darkly.

  The tone of the captain’s question surprised Yulian, but he wasn’t to be deterred. The sooner the irritating journalist was off this ship, the better for his peace of mind and the continuation of his much-needed vacation. “I filed a restraining order against her. Merely by being aboard this ship, she’s breaking the law.”

  Julia rolled her eyes. “I told him already that I didn’t know he was going to be here,” she groaned. “If I had, I wouldn’t have come within a mile.”

  “Hundred yards,” Yulian was quick to correct. “As stipulated by Judge Kane of the New York criminal court.”

  The captain seemed oddly amused by the whole story, for a twinkle had now appeared in his eye. “A hundred yards, huh? What did she do? Pull your dog’s tail? Scratch your car? What?”

  Yulian frowned at the frivolousness with which the captain was treating the matter. “She conducted a highly slanderous interview with me, then proceeded to put it on YouTube.”

  “YouTube.” He rocked back on his heels, pursing his lips. “That’s on the, ahm, interwebs, right?”

  “That’s right. The interview was a slanderous attack on both my person and my business, and this young lady, even though she was well aware of the fact, still proceeded to give it wide dissemination. At which point my lawyers stepped in and shut it down.”

  He grinned. “Let me guess. You didn’t manage to shut her down?”

  “I did not,” replied Yulian testily. Tiring of the discussion, he gave the woman in question a shove that almost landed her
in the arms of the captain. “Now please do your duty, sir, and arrest this woman.”

  The captain, finally taking charge of the situation, placed a firm hand on Julia’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mr. Gornakov. I’ll do exactly that.” Then, before Yulian’s surprised gaze, he wagged a finger in the young woman’s pixie face. “Now, honey, what did we discuss the other night?”

  She rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. “Not again with the speech, please.”

  “Yes, again with the speech. When will you learn to follow orders, honey?”

  “Never?” she tried cheekily.

  “And yet you will. If you want to stay on this ship and work for me, you’ll learn to do as I say.”

  “Aye, aye, captain,” she muttered.

  Yulian, now thoroughly confused, asked, “Is this woman working for you?”

  “She is,” agreed the captain, still eyeing Julia askance.

  “So she’s not a passenger?”

  “She is not.”

  “See?” said Julia. “I told you.”

  Yulian still wasn’t convinced. This could all be a ruse, he thought. A clever set-up to get near him and continue her work on the exposé she’d threatened to write. “I still think she should be locked up and escorted from the ship.”

  The captain shook his head wearily. “Even though there’s nothing I’d like more than to detain this woman, Mr. Gornakov, I’m afraid I can’t.”

  “You can’t, or you won’t?” bit Yulian, who was starting to see foul play at work here. This captain clearly had accepted some sort of bribe. He shook his head, thinking these Americans were even more mercenary than the Russians he was used to dealing with. He reached for his wallet. “How much?” he growled.

  The captain barked a curt laugh, and held up his hand. “Please, sir. Don’t insult me. The reason I can’t put her overboard is because I promised her mother I’d take care of her.” He sighed deeply. “You don’t know her mother, sir. If I don’t do as she says, there will be hell to pay. Trust me.”