by Bella Rose
“You are not what you seem, you know that?” There was nothing flippant in his tone now. “You think that by making yourself real to me as a person, I will have trouble killing you.”
“Unless you’re a sociopath,” she told him flatly. “So I’m going to guess that’s pretty much what you are.”
“I prefer to call myself driven.” He shrugged. “But I suppose a weakling like you might see it in another light.”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Time to get out.” Yuri flung open his door and stepped out of the car. “You run, I shoot. Simple. Understand?”
Annika gingerly got out of the passenger door. If this jerk kept up his jerk routine, she was going to shoot him herself. “Since I’m not a sociopath and I’m not retarded, yes. I understand.”
She followed Yuri’s lead into the house. The narrow structure looked sleepy. There was only one light on in the kitchen, and Annika could see a portly woman working away at the counter. She wondered if Yuri’s father knew his son’s plans, and hoped none of the staff would get caught in the crossfire.
“Mister Yuri!” the woman said with surprise when they walked into the kitchen through the back door. “Mr. Orlov did not tell me you were coming for breakfast.”
“I wasn’t expected.” He waved carelessly at the woman. “Go and wake him for me. We need to talk.”
“Mr. Orlov doesn’t appreciate being woken before seven, Mister Yuri,” she admonished in a firm tone.
It was obvious that the housekeeper had some experience dealing with her employer’s spoiled son. Annika held her breath, waiting to see how this would pan out. Yuri had gone so far down the path toward crazy that he wasn’t likely to appreciate any obstacles.
Sure enough, Yuri pulled out a gun and stuck it right in the older woman’s face. Her expression froze, her mouth open in a round O of surprise. Yuri waved the weapon, presumably jerking the barrel in the direction of his father’s bedroom.
The lady scurried off, apparently convinced she’d better do as “Mister Yuri” said or risk death. Annika wouldn’t blame her if she quit her post and never came back.
“You really have a way with people,” Annika quipped.
“And you really have a death wish to be questioning me all the time.”
“Do I really have anything to lose? You’ve already said you’re going to kill me.”
He shrugged, snagged two pastries off the counter and shoved them into his mouth.
He struck her as oddly juvenile in his behavior. “Did no one ever set boundaries for you as a child? You’re like some spoiled teenager with a gun and entirely too much license to make his own choices.”
“Shut. Up,” he snarled.
Interesting. Of all the things she’d said, that was the first that seemed to really get to him. Annika filed that away and followed Yuri’s lead into the next room. The space was crammed full of antique furniture and couches. It looked like an ancient sitting room decorated in dark masculine colors and rich fabrics. When Yuri took a seat near the middle of the room, Annika decided this must be where he intended to stage the bogus council meeting.
“Yuri!” An elderly gentleman with a generous girth toddled down the staircase. “Olga tells me you pointed a gun at her! What is wrong with you?”
The man Annika took to be Motya Orlov was wearing silk pajamas and a robe. His feet were shoved into slippers and all six or seven strands of gray hair on his head were standing on end. Obviously he’d been asleep.
Then Motya Orlov noticed Annika standing behind his son. His beady dark eyes opened wide with alarm. “What is she doing here? You kidnapped Vadir’s daughter? Are you insane?”
“I thought that was the game, Papa,” Yuri taunted. “Force Feliks Koslov to make a choice whether he killed her or not. When he failed, he would look weak. Then I would be voted onto the council and Feliks would be disgraced as a coward.”
“Nothing was said about kidnapping her.” Motya looked sick. “Vadir gives me enough trouble without this.”
“Vadir is dead.” Yuri carelessly wiggled the barrel of his gun from side to side as though shrugging off the entire incident. “He will cause trouble no more.”
“Trouble? Vadir was worth a lot of money, Yuri.” Orlov looked at his son in consternation. “What have you done?”
Annika began sidestepping toward the kitchen door. This was about to get ugly. If she were lucky, she would be able to slip out before it all went to hell.
“Don’t you move, bitch!” Yuri snarled.
Annika froze where she was. Every inch put her closer to escape.
Yuri turned back to his father. “Call the other members of the council. We’re going to have a little meeting.”
Chapter Fourteen
Annika gazed around the room, wondering if this would literally be the last sight she saw before dying. If so, she was going to be pissed. This bogus council meeting was a round table discussion between selfish old men who looked as if they hadn’t lifted a finger in years to do anything but eat.
“Why should we appoint you to the council?” a paunchy man with faded red hair demanded. “We already have one Orlov. That might give your family too much power. What if I want to put my nephew in Vasily’s place?”
“Your nephew is a bumbling idiot who doesn’t know one end of a gun from the other,” Yuri said impatiently. “If the council appoints me to take Vasily’s place, things will be better. I have great plans for this syndicate!”
“What plans?” someone else asked. “I hear rumors that you killed Vadir Polzin.” The man waved at Annika. “And you’re dragging his daughter around like baggage. That says nothing for you as a man.”
Yuri’s hand shook, and Annika watched in fascination as he very carefully reined in his temper. It was obvious he didn’t want the council dead. Yet.
The front door swung open so suddenly that everyone present save Yuri and Annika jumped in surprise. Pyotr strode into the room with Feliks hot on his heels. Annika’s heart jumped a little when Feliks’s gaze swept the assembled company until it landed on her. He seemed to be assessing her general health. She gave him a tiny nod to show that she was fine. So far.
“Don’t believe this little bastard,” Pyotr told his comrades. “He’s the one who killed Vasily to begin with. He and Motya arranged for Vasily to be there that night. Yuri was the one who shot him. Not Vadir.”
“How do you know this?” the redheaded man demanded.
Pyotr looked ashamed. “Because I was taking bribes from Vadir. I thought we were going to convince Vasily to stop fighting against the practice. I did not know he was going to be killed.”
“Liar!” Motya Orlov shouted. “You knew!” His gaze shifted around the circle, obviously trying to see who believed what. At this point they were all on shaky ground.
“I’m telling the truth,” Pyotr insisted. “What do I have to lose now? Yuri murdered Vasily, and Vadir Polzin, and even Vasily’s widow.” He pointed accusingly at Yuri. “Do you understand? This man murdered a mother in cold blood with her child in the house!”
The low hum of voices grew louder as the men bandied their opinions back and forth. Annika could see Yuri growing more and more agitated. Any minute now he was going to blow. Then people would die.
“What about Vasily’s son?” Annika shouted into the din. “Don’t you want to know what Vasily’s son has to say? If anyone deserves to take Vasily’s place on the council, isn’t it his own blood?”
Feliks was staring at her as though she’d lost her mind. But her comment had the desired affect. The entire room was focused on Feliks now, even Yuri. Feliks drew himself up and gave every man in the room a pointed stare.
When he spoke, his voice was only loud enough to travel around the room, but the tone was certain. “Yuri Orlov has been manipulating this council and the syndicate since his father put him in charge of their family’s operations. The bottom line is that we cannot trust him. He will put his own interests above those of the
syndicate every time.”
Yuri snarled something unintelligble in Russian, obviously outraged. Then he jumped up from his seat, waving his gun in the air. “How dare you? You! You were the man who was too weak to accomplish the task this council set for you.”
There was a murmur from the other members. The redheaded man spoke up first. “Yuri makes a point, Feliks. Why did you not complete the task?”
“Because only a coward makes war on women and children,” Feliks said firmly.
“Yet you said you would complete this task we set for you,” the redhead argued. “Can you complete it? Or does the woman mean more than the syndicate to you?”
Annika’s stomach cramped. Of all the possible outcomes, she hadn’t really believed this one would happen. Feliks’s expression was stone cold. Yet she could see in every line of his body that he could not complete this task. She had thrown the word ‘love’ at him in play, but the truth was she really believed his emotions were that strong toward her.
As for herself, Annika knew she loved Feliks. So stepping into the center of the room, she knelt at his feet. She gazed up at him and willed him to see what she felt in the look she was giving him.
“What’s this?” Motya Orlov laughed nervously. “The bitch wants to die?”
“No,” Annika corrected. “I love Feliks. I won’t force him to make this choice. I would rather give my life willingly than have anyone believe him a coward.”
Feliks’s gun hand twitched at his side, but he did not move to draw his weapon. Annika could see that he would never harm her. She would never see him harmed either, which gave her an interesting idea.
“Can you not see that there is a different way to neutralize a threat?” Annika asked in her loudest voice. “You wanted Feliks to kill me in order to assure yourselves that my father would no longer be a threat to your syndicate. But hasn’t Feliks accomplished that goal? He has my loyalty. I am no longer a threat to him. I’m an ally.” Annika gave Yuri a sideways glance. “And now that Yuri Orlov has murdered my father, Vadir, I’m in charge of his holdings. That means Feliks is in charge of them and is therefore a very powerful man in his own right.”
FELIKS COULD SEE that the entire room full of men was reeling with the force of Annika’s announcement. It was a game changer. Although truthfully Annika was the game changer. She had neatly boxed the council into a corner. And she had done it by twisting their own ideals and forcing them to face their own lack of courage.
Pyotr’s low laugh seemed to break the tension that had fallen over the room. “I cannot imagine how we might argue with that logic, gentlemen.”
The redheaded Yurovich gave a grudging nod. “Vasily would have approved, I think. The righteous bastard was always a little on the soft side.”
Someone else yawned. “It is much too early to be up and about. I would like to go home and rest if we’re done dealing with this issue.”
“That’s it?” Yuri said. “You’re all satisfied by that? Feliks can just waltz in here and get what he wants because he’s the bastard son of a dead man who was too weak to do what needed to be done?”
“Da.” Yurovich shrugged. “Seats on the council are hereditary, Yuri. You know this. Whether Vasily was able to acknowledge it or not, Feliks was his son and therefore his successor.”
Feliks’s gut clenched as he realized the can of worms that had just been opened. He reached down and snatched Annika off the floor. Pulling her into the curve of his body, he dropped and rolled toward cover just as Yuri squeezed off his first shot.
Shouts of anger and cries of pain rang throughout the room as Yuri peppered his father’s house with bullets. From his place behind a heavy sofa, Feliks kept himself between Annika and Yuri.
“You have to stop him!” she pleaded.
Feliks didn’t answer. There was no time to spare. He leaned around the thick wooden legs of the sofa and took aim at Yuri. The insane man was standing over the lifeless body of his own father, grinning like a lunatic.
Then Yuri suddenly pivoted, sighting Feliks and laughing. He raised his gun and fired. Feliks ducked back behind the sofa just as a puff of feathers and fabric went flying into the air.
“You want a piece of me, Feliks Koslov?” Yuri screamed. “Come get me!”
Feliks gathered himself, knowing there was no other way. He had to stop Yuri or the man was going to wind up murdering Annika. Feliks refused to allow that.
Rolling out from behind the sofa, Feliks sprang to his feet. Yuri was already taking aim. Feliks ignored what was to come, sighting his target very carefully and preparing for the return fire.
“No!” Pyotr dove between Feliks and Yuri.
Just as Feliks expected to feel the bite of a bullet into his flesh, he saw Pyotr crumple. Fury made him almost lightheaded with bloodlust as he fired his weapon over and over again into Yuri’s body.
“Feliks!”
Annika reached for him, and Feliks gently pulled her close. But it was Pyotr who held his attention. The old man was gasping for air, his lifeblood draining out of his chest at an alarming rate.
Feliks dropped down onto his knees and pulled Pyotr’s head into his lap. “You foolish old man, what were you thinking?”
“I told you I could still hold a gun,” Pyotr gasped. “I wanted to be the one to kill him. For Irina.”
Feliks touched his friend’s pale, pasty cheeks.
“Take over here and make things right,” Pyotr told him. “Vasily would have wanted it that way.”
Feliks would have agreed, but it was too late to make promises. The light left Pyotr’s eyes just as his body went limp.
Feliks dropped his head in sorrow. Pyotr had done things that could never be forgiven, but he had still been a huge part of Feliks’s life, and nothing would change that.
“So much death,” Annika whispered. She clung to Feliks, her arms twined about his neck and her cheek pressed to his shoulder. “Why couldn’t they see what was about to happen?”
“They got complacent,” Feliks told her softly. “Something we will have to guard against.”
“Are we really going to do this?” She gazed around the room, taking in the carnage. “He decimated almost the entire council.”
“Then we start over.”
She seemed transfixed by the sight of Yuri lying in a puddle of blood on his father’s carpet. “Did Motya Orlov have any more sons?”
“One,” Feliks admitted. “He’s away at school.”
“He needs to take a seat on the council,” she decided.
Feliks snorted. “No Orlov will be welcome here. Not after this.”
“You’re wrong.” The expression on her face was so certain and so calm that he felt compelled to listen. Annika smiled and touched his face. “Blood feuds do nothing but create more blood. Talk to this younger Orlov. Tell him what happened. Give him a voice and a chance to redeem his family. That is the way to create a strong syndicate.”
Feliks nodded, feeling an incredible wave of emotion swell inside his heart. “It was a good day when they ordered me to kill you, Annika Polzin.”
The merry sound of her laughter was almost macabre against the background of blood and death in the room, but Feliks was grateful for the light she brought to his darkness.
She touched his lips. “I would say that the best day was when you accidentally knocked me up.”
And there was no way he could argue with that.
Chapter Fifteen
One year later…
Annika pulled the light blanket up over her baby son’s tiny body. He made a little moue with his mouth and gave a few reflexive sucks on the pacifier before settling into a deeper sleep. Watching him never ceased to amaze her. He was so small and helpless, and yet in twenty years he would be running around Boston like his bad ass father kicking butts and taking names.
Feliks appeared in the doorway of the nursery and rested his shoulder against the frame. “Are you still in here?”
“Obviously.”
“The baby can sleep without you watching him, you know.”
She knew, but sometimes it made her feel safer to be in the same room with her helpless infant son. Feliks opened his arms, and Annika went to him for comfort.
“He’s safe,” Feliks promised. “The house is secure. There are guards on the ground floor, and besides, we have no enemies.”
“Right now.” She sighed. “What happens in six months when we piss someone off? Our family might become a target. Yuri wasn’t the only sociopath in the world.”
“No. But sometimes it’s safer to be on the wrong side of the law. At least we know what’s out there.”
“How’s Oksana?” She cast a glance down the hallway to the room where their adopted daughter slept.
“That one sleeps like a rock,” he said with a laugh. “I went in and she was turned backwards in the bed. She never stirred when I moved her around.”
“Good.” That made Annika very happy. “Our little girl deserves to feel safe after everything she went through.”
“So do you,” Feliks reminded her.
“I am safe. I’m the wife of the biggest, baddest Russian mafia kingpin in the city,” she reminded him.
“All right, mafia princess, will you please come to bed?”
“Are you going to make me forget how stressed out I’m feeling?” she teased.
He scooped her up into his arms and began carrying her down the hallway to their bedroom. They had chosen a home that was new to them. It wasn’t Vasily’s old house, or Pyotr’s, or even her father’s. This was their place.
“I’m glad we chose this house and made it our own.” She cupped Feliks’s cheek in her palm.
He kicked their bedroom door closed behind him. “I’m glad it has enough room that we can enjoy some privacy.”
“And what is it that you need privacy for? Hmm?” She enjoyed bantering back and forth with him. “Are you afraid I’ll bother you while you sleep?”
“I’m not in the mood to sleep.”
“Are you going to read then?” She gestured to his chair in the corner. “I’ll leave you alone. I know how you value your time.”
