by Nic Saint
But now that he had met Nathan, he thought the man was actually all right. He was still a law enforcement officer, sure, but he was casual about it. Didn’t come over all high and mighty, waving his gun and badge around, and threatening to throw his ass in jail for the rest of his natural life.
No, Nathan wanted to work with him. Wanted to pump him for information, then let him go his merry way. It came as quite a surprise to him when he’d had his first interview with the bureau’s self-appointed Russian organized crime expert. Nathan had actually been courteous. Friendly, even. Highly unusual for a man who’d been his enemy for years.
Of course, it wasn’t as if the whole thing had been personal. His employers were the ones bearing a grudge. Personally, he had no beef with special agent Callaway. Or Nate, as he suggested he call him when they’d gone down to the pub for a few brewskis.
Yes, he was quite nice for a government agent, and even though he knew that part of it was a pose, a ruse to get him to divulge all he knew about the Gornakovs, he’d seen in the man’s eyes that he genuinely cared about people. Most of all, he cared about his family. And since Dimi was now married to the man’s daughter, that made Roman part of his family as well.
How odd, he felt, that Nathan Callaway, the great Mob fighter, would now have not one but two Russian mobsters in his family.
Nathan took a seat and invited the rest of the extended family to do the same. All were now present and accounted for: Roman and Dora, Dimi and Ariel, and Vitaly and Joanna. They were a very attentive audience, all eager to learn the latest developments from the lips of the man who was in the know.
“Let me just begin by stating that you are all welcome to interrupt me at any time. And let me also state that what you will hear tonight, has to stay between these four walls.” Nate fixed them with a stern gaze. “This is classified information, and must not leave this room, understood?”
Six heads bobbed, and Nathan, satisfied, extracted a file folder from his briefcase and placed it on the table. They were all seated in the Loganov salon, ready for what information Nate was prepared to dispense.
“The man who was arrested just now confirmed what we had already ascertained through other sources. There’s a war raging in the Gornakov family. Yuri has been ousted by his brother Vladimir, and soldiers of the organization have been forced to take sides.”
“Why did I not know of this?” interjected Roman.
“Because you were supposed to kill me and return to the fold, Roman. When you failed to complete your mission, and when the higher-ups discovered that your brother had betrayed the family, you were declared a traitor, and a contract was put out on you.”
“Oleg Yugurov,” Roman muttered, appalled. He’d worked for the family for twenty years, and this was the way they repaid him? He didn’t understand. Nathan’s next words made things clearer, however.
“You were their most loyal soldier, Roman, but when the balance of power started to shift, both Yuri and Vladimir felt you were a liability. You’ve been working for the organization for so long that you know where all the bodies are buried. You know too much, and in case the organization collapses, you might bring down both men if you would choose to do so.”
“I am not traitor,” murmured Roman, still upset by the turn of events.
“Look at it this way. When Vladimir decided to topple Yuri and take the reins of the organization in his own hands, he figured you for one of Yuri’s stooges and decided to have you taken out. Yuri, seeing his control slip, thought you’d sided with his brother, and gave the same order.”
“So now there are two contracts?” asked Roman incredulously.
“I’m afraid so.”
Roman frowned. “But how is possible? I work for family, not one brother.”
“Worked, Roman,” corrected Dora. “You’re no longer a Mafia soldier, remember?”
“I can tell you who betrayed you,” said Nathan. “Do you remember Alexei Demiakov?”
“Hey, that’s you, isn’t it?” cried Dora, pleasantly surprised.
Roman grimaced. “It is name of real person, hon. I just pretend to be Alexei to catch Nate.”
“I knew that,” muttered Dora.
She was having a hard time following the thread of the conversation. Yuri Gornakov. Vladimir Gornakov. Alexei Demiakov. It was all Russian to her.
“I liked your thinking, by the way,” continued Nathan laconically. “All those press conferences? I quite enjoyed the show you put on.” He directed a kindly eye at Dora. “You, too, Miss Liverpool. Quite a performance.”
Dora blushed. She didn’t like to be reminded of the episode. Not her finest hour, she felt.
“What about Demiakov?” interrupted Roman. He was clearly eager to get to the bottom of this thing, nor could Dora blame him. He was in hiding now, and had lost all his privileges and titles. He’d effectively gone from being the top honcho of Moscow’s biggest crime family to being a refugee, dependent on the enemy.
“Demiakov has been trying to muscle in on Gornakov territory for years. Not overtly, of course, since he has a very public and very respectable business to run. But through straw men he’s been taking over parts of the Gornakov empire, and now he’s made a deal with Vladimir.”
He sat back and presented a picture from his file folder. It depicted a sickly old man, liver spots all over his bald head. He looked as if he was about to die, Dora thought. “Who’s this guy?” she asked.
“That’s Vladimir Gornakov,” replied Dimitri.
So this was the guy responsible for all her trouble. He looked like a sickly old man, incapable of hurting a fly. How appearances can be deceiving. She gazed over at Roman and thought he’d never looked more imposing. Or handsome. He was having a hard time, she knew, his pride having been hurt by this betrayal. But he was handling it marvelously, with a poise and a dignity that became him.
Nathan produced a second picture. This, also, depicted an old guy who looked as if he was about to drop dead.
“As you can see, Yuri and Vladimir don’t have much longer to live,” spoke the government agent. “They’re both very ill and it won’t be long now before they succumb to the disease that’s been eating away at them.”
“Not a moment too soon,” commented Vitaly. “These men are evil incarnate.”
There was no argument from either Dimi or Roman at this. They both sat staring at the pictures of their former employers, and Dora wondered what went through their minds. They’d served these monsters for years, and had lost everything as a consequence.
No, not everything, she corrected herself. As she looked at Dimi and Ariel’s entwined hands, she knew that something more powerful had come into Dimi’s life. Love had changed that young man—had changed him from a Mafia soldier into a man with a mission. A mission to undo the damage he’d done.
She gave Roman a sidelong glance and wondered how he truly felt about her. With a pang of sorrow, she realized he would probably never see her the way Dimi saw Ariel. Or how Vitaly looked at Joanna. With so much love in their eyes.
Roman saw her as a plaything, someone to share his bed. Not his life.
She was his wife only in name, and as soon as this mess was sorted out, he would go his separate way, she was sure of it.
She would return to Broadway, perhaps. And this whole adventure would be nothing but a distant memory of a different life, with the most fascinating, most infuriating man she’d ever met.
She wrenched her mind back to the present.
“What about Yulian Gornakov? Is he not the heir?” Roman wanted to know.
“Yulian has made it clear he wants nothing to do with his father’s business empire. The boy is a great disappointment to Yuri, and his insistence to go legit has sparked this conflict between the two brothers. Yuri always hoped his son would one day take over the business, as did Vladimir. Vladimir has no sons or daughters. When Yuri’s heir refused his inheritance, Vladimir decided to put his own man on the throne: Alexei Demiakov. But Yuri has re
fused, insisting a family member must carry on the business. There’s a daughter, and he hopes she will be able to fill his shoes when he’s gone. Vladimir has categorically refused. He doesn’t want a woman to run the family.”
Roman frowned. “Yuri has daughter? I did not know.”
“No one did. Yuri has kept her a secret from everyone, except his brother, of course. She’s his ace. If she wants, Yuri’s half of the empire is hers, and perhaps she can negotiate a truce with her uncle. If she refuses, the war will go on, and Demiakov will take over everything.”
The company was quiet for a moment, processing this information. It was clear to Dora that Roman would never be able to return to Russia as long as this war raged. She felt for him, though, on the other hand, she rejoiced in the news. It would mean he had to stay here.
“I help you, Nate,” Roman spoke suddenly.
“Me, too,” confirmed Dimi.
“We help you take down Gornakovs. Whatever it takes.”
All eyes turned to Roman. He’d spoken with conviction and authority. It was obvious he’d turned a new leaf. Then Roman’s eyes swiveled to Dora, and she felt their impact. They were dark and proud, simmering with decision and an energy that hit her solar plexus like a punch to the gut.
CHAPTER 20
Vitaly and Joanna stood framed in the door, the warm light of the hallway behind them, and Dora felt her heart constrict. Though only briefly, this place had been her home. Now she was going toward an uncertain future once again and didn’t know what to expect.
Though it had been obvious from the start that she couldn’t stay here forever, she’d come to regard both Joanna and Vitaly as friends, and wished she didn’t have to leave.
But Roman had accepted a position on Nathan’s staff, and would work out of New York. And since Dora couldn’t very well stay behind, she had grudgingly accepted to join Roman in his new abode, set up by Nathan’s agency.
They would be safe there, Nathan had assured, and even though she’d wavered for the longest time, she had seen no other choice than to comply.
Nathan had pointed out that for the moment this was all they could offer. Basically he’d indicated she had two choices: either stay with Roman, and accept the move to New York. Or stay with Joanna and Vitaly, who were quite willing to have her.
Nathan had made it clear, however, that she might never be able to return to her old life. The battle against the Gornakovs might take years to fight. And in the meantime she would be on their list of targets, an unwilling victim of the Mafia war that was now raging both in Russia and the US.
She’d considered the offer of Joanna to stay put, but had felt she simply couldn’t accept. With the baby underway, she couldn’t impose on the hospitality of the woman, and since Dimitri and Ariel would stay on a little longer, until arrangements had been made for the young couple, it would be too much of an imposition if she stayed as well.
Besides, she’d heard that Ariel was also pregnant, and with twins no less. So she would just be in the way.
She’d hoped Roman would ask her personally to join him, but he hadn’t. The man seemed to be so engrossed in his new mission, that he’d stopped caring for her. As if she were part of his past, and now he simply couldn’t be bothered. She felt it odd that it was Nathan who announced the move, and not her so-called husband.
Feeling miserable, she said her goodbyes to Vitaly and Joanna, thanking them profusely for their hospitality, then joined Roman in the car that would whisk her away to an uncertain future.
Riding out of Lincoln, side by side with Roman, not a single word was spoken. He was deeply immersed in thought, his face a thundercloud, and he didn’t even acknowledge her presence. He was like a rock, silent and solitary, and she retreated into herself once more.
She couldn’t stay with the Loganovs, and it was obvious Roman thought her a hindrance, too. Basically she was in everyone’s way, and she felt more useless than she’d ever felt before in her life.
Oh, poor little old me, she thought. Nobody wants me; nobody cares. She was being squashed like a bug in this big Mafia war, and soon there would be nothing left of Dora Liverpool.
She thought of her many friends and colleagues, and even her admirers, of whom she’d had many. Would they remember her? Probably not. Her place had been quickly taken over by another girl, and she hadn’t even heard from Nikosj anymore, the man who’d put her into this mess in the first place.
As she thought of the obnoxious little manager, she swore a sacred oath that if it was the last thing she did, she would give that bastard a good kick in the groin next time she saw him. Then, with a sinking feeling, she realized she might never even have the chance.
She didn’t remain silent for long. It simply wasn’t in her nature to lie down and play dead whenever some big, husky male told her to. “Hey, Roman,” she finally piped up, “what’s on your mind, huh?”
He looked up, annoyed. “Mh?”
“I said, what’s on your mind?” she tried again.
“I heard you first time,” he grumbled, then shrugged. “Nothing. You?”
“That’s what I thought,” she replied moodily.
He glanced over and took her hand in his big mitt. “Don’t be like that, Dora. I have lot on my plate. Taking on the Mob is big deal.”
She shrugged. “Watching your life being flushed down the toilet is a big deal, too, but you don’t see me acting all moody.”
“Your life not in toilet, honey,” he countered. “Soon everything all right.”
She stared at him, not understanding how he could be so dense. “My life is over, Roman. Don’t you see? I’ll never act again. I’ll never see my family again. I’ll never see my friends again. Dora Liverpool simply ceased to exist the moment you walked into my apartment.”
“You blame me.”
“Yes, I’m blaming you,” she said, raising her voice. “And I’m blaming Nikosj, and the whole mess you landed on my doorstep in one steaming pile of beetle dung.” She pointed to herself, getting really riled up now. “I didn’t ask for this, you know? Two hundred grand isn’t nearly enough to compensate for this crap.”
“I did not ask either,” he grumbled, anger barely hidden beneath the surface. She knew she shouldn’t provoke him and yet she couldn’t stop herself.
“You are to blame for all this,” she pointed out. “If you hadn’t gone after Nathan in the first place, none of this would have happened.”
“I follow orders,” he returned stoically, his eyes cold as ice now.
“Yah, you’re really good at that, aren’t you? A great soldier. Too bad you chose the wrong crowd to work for, huh?”
He merely lifted his massive shoulders and stared out the window.
Better, perhaps, she felt. She really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. She probably wouldn’t live to tell the tale.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, the driver either oblivious of their heated conversation or a very discrete human being, for he didn’t even glance at them once throughout the entire trip.
One of Nathan’s men, she assumed, for he was dressed to the nines and silent as the tomb.
Finally, they arrived at their destination, and to her surprise Dora saw it wasn’t Manhattan, where she’d assumed they’d be taken, but the airport. As the car drove straight up to a small jet that awaited them, she blinked in confusion. “Where—I thought we were going to Manhattan? To the safe house Nathan arranged?”
“You go to safe house,” corrected Roman, eyes still dark and brooding. “I go to Moscow.”
“What? But you can’t!”
He pressed her hand briefly. “I have to. People to see. Face to face.”
Then he was gone, stepping out of the car and walking to the plane at a brisk pace, without looking back. God, he hadn’t even kissed her goodbye! She suddenly felt a hollow feeling in her heart, and her stomach churned with a sickening sense of panic and despair.
Then the driver put the car in gear,
and as she craned her neck to watch, she saw Roman ascend the steps to the plane and then he was swallowed up by the fuselage. Moments later, they were cruising down the highway, and a single tear stole down Dora’s cheek.
Her brief affair with the Mafia soldier was over before it had even begun. She was on her own again. Roman had walked out of her life the same way he’d walked in: abruptly and without a word.
CHAPTER 21
A scraping noise attracted Dora’s attention. Immediately, she was wide awake. It seemed to have come from somewhere near the window, but when she opened her eyes, she detected nothing out of the ordinary.
She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Nothing stirred, and once again a sickening sense of solitude came home to her. Letting her hand slide over to Roman’s side of the bed, she realized how much she missed him.
Which was ridiculous, of course. How could she miss a man who didn’t care a hoot about her? But there it was. She missed her Russian enforcer. Since he’d flown to Moscow, he hadn’t been in touch.
Which was obvious, she kept telling herself. After all, he was in hiding, and so was she. It wasn’t as if he could call her, or send her a message. And yet, why not? Didn’t the FBI have some sort of special system in place, impervious to the bad guys? She was sure they had, and yet Roman had opted not to make use of it.
Not a word in over a week. He could have died, and she wouldn’t even know. The thought had entered her mind several times over the course of the past week. Perhaps Roman lay bleeding in some Moscow back alley right now, with no one to come to his aid, the last words on his lips, “Dora—I’m sorry!”
Yeah, right. That was her theatrical side speaking, or her romantic side, or both. The man had probably forgotten all about her, that was the simple truth. Here she sat, waiting for word from him like some silly sap, and all the man could think about was fighting yet another Mafia war on his home turf.
