Vengeance Unleashed (The Wanted Men Series Book 1)

by Nancy Haviland

  Yeah. What sane woman would sign up for that? Because, despite having left that world in his rearview, most, if not all, of Gabriel’s friends still played integral roles in their respective families. Hell, Eva’s own father was a fucking Bratva Pakhan. Stefano was out for blood. The Baikov Bratva was in the shadows.

  He cursed as he stepped under the spray. Bareback. Fuckin’ rookie mistake anyone over the age of consent should know not to make.

  As he soaped up in record time, maneuvering around his rock-hard dick, he refused to even consider that forgoing protection might not have been an oversight at all, but subconsciously done.

  † † †

  Leaving Gabriel outside the Crown Jewel, Eva whipped home to get ready for her first day at TarMor.

  While she changed into a bloodred dress she hoped screamed confidence, she overthought everything from Gabriel’s expression when he’d appeared in the dining room, wearing a custom-fit charcoal suit, to the hungry, verging-on-indecent goodbye kiss he’d given her before she’d poured herself into her car.

  First one-night stand?

  Or would he call.

  Hadn’t arranged to see her again.

  They weren’t eighteen-year-olds.

  But what if he turned out to be one of those assholes who preyed on innocent—naïve—women? Sure, he’d said all the right things last night, she thought as she slipped her feet into a pair of black heels, but wasn’t that how womanizers operated?

  As she drove back into the city, she waffled between sadness and relief.

  The sadness came from knowing she might be forced to move on after an incredible experience with a man she was wildly attracted to. Though she wasn’t crazy about the idea of forever wondering what might have been.

  The relief came from a similar place. Gabriel Moore was the kind of man a woman could get lost in, and after seeing how horribly that had worked out for her mom, Eva was in no hurry to experience it herself. Better to consider her first sexual experience a win and move on. No point in getting all romantic about it. And there was definitely no need for her to repeat history and have her life ruined by a guy just because he made her feel things she never could have imagined.

  Made her body feel them, she clarified as she parked in a public lot. She was referring to orgasms, of course.

  Of course, she assured herself as she grabbed her purse and briefcase and made her way into the building that housed her new, but temporary, office. Anxiety churned in her stomach—due to her thoughts or first-day-jitters she couldn’t say—as she walked through the mirrored lobby to reach two women sitting behind a long counter.

  “Good morning. May I help you?”

  She returned the attractive Middle Eastern woman’s friendly smile and greeting. “I’m looking for—”

  “Ms. Jacobs?”

  She turned to find a dark-haired, hazel-eyed man who belonged on the cover of GQ approaching.

  “Markus Fane.” He extended his hand and she shook it. “Natalie said you’d be here around this time. Shall we?” He motioned to the elevator and moved her in that direction with a light hand on her elbow. She quickly wished the receptionist a nice day before she was led away.

  They entered the half-full car and her handsome guide got down to business, not allowing for even one question as they stopped at various floors to let people off. After explaining that, aside from two large boardrooms, the owners’ spacious offices were the only two on the top floor of the building, the bell chimed once more to announce they’d reached their destination.

  As Eva stepped out onto a winter-white tile, she thanked the chatterbox for the escort, even though she now felt more frazzled than she had before.

  “My pleasure, Eva. We’ll likely run into each other throughout the day. Good luck.” He gave her a two-fingered salute as his smiling face disappeared behind the closing panels.

  She looked left, wondering which way to go, and then right, where she caught sight of a man standing in front of an open door, his enormous frame backlit by…the daylight coming…from the…windows…behind…

  Him.

  Dread landed in the pit of her stomach, fighting for dominance with a dark hunger only one man had the ability to make her feel.

  Total confusion forced her into motion. As she closed the distance between them, she gripped the handle of her briefcase and tried to think of some plausible explanation as to why Gabriel would be there.

  She was still trying when the corridor widened into a reception area that had an empty desk and a handful of comfy-looking chairs that were also empty. With no expression, certainly no lingering softness that had been present a little over an hour ago, her lover stepped to the side and motioned her forward.

  She stopped in front of him, not about to enter her boss’s office until she had some answers. “What are you doing here, Gabriel?” she whispered uneasily.

  “Come inside and I’ll explain.”

  “Is anyone in there?” she mouthed, pointing through the door.

  He shook his head. “It’s just us.”

  Nodding weakly, she moved past him, her breath catching when he shifted and their bodies—accidentally?— brushed. Not nooow, her brain sang in warning as she forced herself not to react—or pause to rub some more. To distract herself, she focused on her surroundings, taking in the walls lined with empty bookshelves and a beautiful view of Puget Sound. The office itself was modern, yet warm and comfortable with an obvious masculine touch.

  Making for the black leather chairs in front of a huge desk—

  She slammed to a halt.

  No.

  Shock rattled her bones as she stared at the nameplate sitting on the corner of the desk.

  Gabriel Moore, CEO.

  Her hand came up to cover her mouth. Oh, God. What had she done?

  Dropping her hand, she turned to face her new fucking boss. His expression was still shuttered. Unreadable and immobile. Blank but for the tic working in his jaw. His hands were buried deep in the front pockets of his pants and, sheesh, could he intimidate without moving a muscle.

  “What’s happening here? I’m supposed to be meeting Alekzander Tarasov.” She looked at the nameplate again, praying she’d somehow been wrong. Of course she wasn’t. “You’re not…Alekzander Tarasov,” she finished on a whisper, wanting to sink through the floor.

  “Sit.” He indicated the chair on the right with a tilt of his chin, and she didn’t argue. She perched on the edge and watched him take the one directly across from her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands loosely clasped together in front of him.

  “After I saw you in New York,” he began, “I did some digging to find out why you were at TarMor. Natalie forwarded me a copy of your resume, and the following day, a rundown on how your interview went—”

  Eva held up a hand to stop him, her mouth dry as dirt. “The CEO I’m to work for is Alekzander—”

  “You met Alek last night, and you’ll be working for me, not him.”

  Her adrenaline production increased at that, her eyes widening as one puzzle was solved. That’s why Alek had looked so familiar to her; she’d seen his picture online when she was researching her new boss.

  “Okay. I’m…” She tried to organize her thoughts. “Okay. So, when we met at the hotel the other night, you knew who I was? You knew I’d already interviewed for…? You knew the job I was talking about was this one.”

  “Yes.”

  The blood drained from her head at his affirmative. “And last night? You knew…when I said I’d been hired…” Holy…shit.

  “Yes.”

  At no time in her life had Eva ever felt so stupid. So gullible. Like such a fool. From minute one, this man had done nothing but lie to her. He’d played her like a sucker. He’d charmed her, taken her to his home, into his bed, had sex with her…and all the while, he’d known they’d be working together.

  No. Not working together.

  He was her boss.

  “Why did you d
o this?” she whispered through numb lips.

  He pushed out a rough breath as he surged to his feet, and, maddeningly, she couldn’t stop herself from devouring the fluid movement of his big body as he walked around the desk to sit in the large leather chair behind it. She wanted to kick her libido in the fucking face for it.

  Their eyes locked as he leaned back, and the connection had her entire body coming to life. But her mind, oh, her enraged mind, overrode the physical reaction with no trouble. Fucking men and their selfishness, she seethed. How dare he do this to her? To any woman? Had he done it before?

  The very idea stabbed at something inside her that was newly formed and fragile. Terrified over what it might be, she looked beyond it to the big picture. Not at this stupid, meaningless shit. It wouldn’t matter in the long run. None of it would. She wouldn’t let it.

  “Eva—”

  “There’s not much that pissed me off more than being lied to, so, if you don’t mind, I’d like a minute.” Without looking at him, she straightened her back and carefully placed her briefcase on the floor next to the chair. Her purse she rested in her lap. Deep breaths. Deeeeeep breaths.

  Okay.

  Fine.

  All right.

  He’d gotten what he wanted. Now she would get what she wanted. The same thing she’d wanted when she’d first decided to apply for this position.

  The experience. The work experience.

  She wouldn’t run away with her tail between her legs because she’d fallen for this guy’s shit. Basically, she couldn’t. Considering how all her classmates had snatched up the open positions they’d heard about after graduation, it could be a year or more before she found something worth pursuing.

  So this was it. She wasn’t sure how she’d do it, but she’d find a way to make this job work until she could find another one. She’d smile her way through it and be the most professional, competent fucking ABM Gabriel or Alek had ever had. Then she’d move on with a great reference and valuable hands-on experience to brag about.

  Hands-on experience that would not include having her hands on the CEO.

  The buzz of Gabriel’s cell interrupted her on-the-spot life management. He didn’t take his curious stare off her as he picked it up.

  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of offering her some lame explanation, she decided. Whatever he had to say about why he’d done this wouldn’t change the facts. He’d lied. They’d fucked. It was over.

  “It’s good to hear your voice. Everything okay?” Gabriel’s relief and genuine concern was annoyingly interesting. “Good. Yeah, she’s fine, brother. Listen, hang on one minute.” He covered the mouthpiece. “I’ll just be a couple—”

  “I’ll get settled while you’re occupied,” she interrupted, trying not to think about who the “she” was that was fine.

  His expression hardened but he gave a clipped nod and went back to his call. “Hey. Yeah, I know.” He pulled a pad of paper over and tore the top sheet off. “I got tied up and couldn’t send it.”

  When he handed it to her, Eva saw it was a password and instructions for how to get into the company computer system.

  Perfect.

  “Er…yeah…no, actually,” Gabriel said haltingly, “now isn’t a good time.”

  Okay, that hurt when it shouldn’t have. Man, she was such an idiot.

  Giving him a tight, but understanding, and very professional smile, she calmly motioned that she’d leave.

  When he shook his head slowly, her teeth ground together at his arrogance.

  Her erogenous zones celebrated it.

  Infuriated by that, rather than get up and get on with her day, she sat back in her chair. Fuck it. She wanted some answers.

  † † †

  The muscles in Gabriel’s back felt as if they were about to snap up like rolling blinds as he tore his gaze away from Eva’s betrayed expression to look out the window. Heavy gray clouds as far as the eye could see.

  “Let me call you later,” he got out around the guilt and relief swimming through him at hearing Vasily’s voice. Gabriel hadn’t sent his weekly report last night, the way he religiously had for the past eight weeks, and it had been noted immediately.

  “What was so important that you couldn’t send it?” Not a man to be put off, Vasily pressed for some clarity, but in Russian this time, obviously an invitation for Gabriel to answer in the same. And he could have since he was fluent, but he wasn’t ready to offer details on what the man’s daughter had been up to for the last couple of days.

  “Can’t,” he replied in English, hoping the issue would be dropped for the time being.

  “Someone is there with you, obviously.”

  “Her.”

  The pause on the line hummed with tension. “Her? Eva is with you? In your office?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why.”

  Gabriel continued to look out the window, but he wasn’t talking about the weather when he said, “Clouds are moving in. Anyone out in the open needs to find shelter.”

  “My enemies or yours,” Vasily demanded immediately, knowing without needing an explanation what that meant.

  “In this area.”

  “Stefano?”

  “Yes.”

  “Motherfucker.”

  “We suspected this might happen,” Gabriel reminded as he tried his best not to think about what he’d done. Pretty hard when she remained as she was, sitting stiff and formal, her expression growing colder and more distant with each tick of the clock.

  “At least now that it’s on the horizon we can prepare.”

  “And are you? Preparing? Is that why you’ve made contact with her?”

  Fuuuck. “Yes.” He uttered the lie around the foulest taste in his mouth.

  “How is she? Does she suspect anything?” The hopeful note in Vasily’s voice to hear something—anything—personal about his daughter was like a wrecking ball to the solar plexus.

  Breathing through a choking shame, he muttered, “Fine,”—very fine—“And no.”

  “Shit. This is annoying. Call me when you can speak freely. I want details.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” Eva demanded the second Gabriel put his phone down.

  “Because I didn’t want you to change your mind,” he barked honestly, too pissed at himself to fuck around. What the hell would he do if she told him to shove his job up his lying, untrustworthy ass?

  “About what exactly? Working for you? Or sleeping with you.”

  He shoved his chair back and moved around the desk to stand in front of her. Christ. She was unflappable. A Tarasov to the fuckin’ bone. “It wasn’t like that—”

  “Really, Gabriel?” she cut in. Again. “Because I think that’s exactly what it was like. You thought that if you introduced yourself to me as my new boss, I wouldn’t sleep with you. And you were right. So you omitted the truth, had your fun last night, and…what. What are you expecting now? Sex over lunch? Working late, which translates to me bent over your desk?” She stood, spine straight, chin up in the most beautiful display of pride Gabriel had ever seen. “That isn’t going to happen. If you want me to stay on here, it will be on a completely professional level. Period. We won’t discuss last night, will not refer to it at all. In fact, I’d prefer not to discuss anything of a personal nature with you. Not ever again.”

  The smallest crack in her voice as she spit out those last words nailed him like a bullet. He’d blown it. Hurt her. Damaged the fragile trust every new relationship started with.

  He stepped back with his hands held up. “Okay.” He had to placate her enough not to walk out on him. “If that’s the way you want it. I’ll accept that.” For now. “Just know that the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. I’d hoped—”

  She held up a hand that shook slightly, another visual sign of her upset. “I think we’ve established what you’d hoped for. Now, if you could show me to my office, I’d like to get settled.”

  Allowing yet a
nother goddamn interruption to slide, Gabriel ground his teeth as he pointed to the desk sitting on the other side of the room. “That’s yours. I saw no sense in setting up an office when we’ll be gone in the next week. You have your instructions on how to log into the system, and your passwords.”

  She went over and placed her briefcase and purse on the desk that was empty save for a laptop and phone, and took a seat to get started. Her hair was up in an elegant twist, her makeup was light. That dress? Goddamn thing was made for her body. A body that, despite the professional attire, he couldn’t stop staring at. The sounds she’d made for him last night. The way she’d felt against him. Under him. On top of him. Her taste.

  Cursing his unwelcome hard-on, he snagged his cell, which had started ringing again. It was going to be one long fucking day.

  TEN

  “Come on, already. How long does it take to thrust and come?”

  Vasily Tarasov scowled as he tucked his phone away, silently having wondered the same thing a half-dozen times since they’d arrived in the northwest Moscow neighborhood.

  The strong odor of yeast hung in the air from a brewery a few blocks away from where he and Dmitri Zolin, his right hand—who’d just so eloquently voiced his impatience—stood in the shadows. They were hidden from sight in the entrance of a rundown apartment building across the street from where Viktor Baikov’s current mistress lived. Further evidence the man was a total jackass; he more than had the means to put her up somewhere nicer.

  Viktor had gone into the building nearly two hours ago for his biweekly fuck, and it was time for him to come back out and get what was coming to him.

  Equal treatment.

  A life lost for a life taken.

  In the Baikovs’ case, it had been six lives to Kathryn’s one—the extras necessary to keep Eva’s identity from being shared.

  “Maks better be on the mark with this one,” Dmitri added, rolling his shoulders. “Otherwise we’ve wasted a dickload of time and materials here.”