The Score (The Russian Guns Book 3)

by Bethany-Kris

  “But we’re—”

  “Anton and Viviana,” he interrupted. “That’s all. When I fell in love with you all those years ago, every inch of your soul tattooed itself inside mine. There wasn’t any way on earth I was getting rid of you. You were in my system, bleeding me out from the inside. People couldn’t see it. They didn’t know. I needed them to, so I tattooed you on the outside of me, too.”

  Viviana released a shaky breath of air at his admission. It was as heavy as the emotions filling up her heart, leaping into her throat. She’d always known his vine tattoo was for her, that it represented her in a personal way, but she never understood why he felt the need to permanently keep her on his skin. Viviana never felt the need to ask before, either. Or maybe she was scared to.

  “Viviana, what’s wrong?”

  The tightening in her throat made it difficult to think. She’d cried so goddamned much over the last month, and even before that, when she’d asked Anton to leave their home. She was sick and fucking tired of crying, of feeling weak, and broken.

  “If you love me like that,” she whispered, still feeling his heart beat under her fingers, “…like you say you do, then why would you risk it for someone else? Why put yourself in a position where you could lose it, Anton?”

  “I didn’t,” Anton said. “I didn’t go to the club that night with someone else on my mind. I didn’t let another woman touch me because I wanted her to. I might not remember a lot of the circumstances around the event or what came after, but I remember that. I didn’t want that girl to be near me. The day you stepped into my life to be only mine was the last time I ever looked at another female. I can’t keep telling you over and over again hoping you’ll hear me. You need to hear yourself say it, Vine, because obviously it’s not working coming from me.”

  “What do you remember, then?” Viviana asked sharply.

  “Being confused. Hazy. Knowing something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t correlate it to anything. My first thought was that I was drunk and needed to lay down, so that’s what I went to do in my office. That was all.”

  “That’s not all.”

  Anton’s jaw flexed in his aggravation. “That’s what I remember feeling. Beyond that, I don’t like what my memories bring up. I don’t know if I gave her the wrong impression, or if she took it upon herself to approach me, but she was in my lap. She was on me, her hand was pulling at my shirt and then it was grabbing at my …” His eyes closed, a grimace marring his mouth as he made a disgusted noise. “After that, it’s a whole lot of nothing, but I know I didn’t want her.”

  “If you can’t remember most of what happened, how could you possibly know that, Anton?”

  “Because she’s not you!”

  Viviana yanked her hand from his hold and moved to leave the bed, but she didn’t have a chance. Anton’s strong arms wrapped around her waist before she’d even gotten to her own side of the bed, forcing her back to the sheets. Looming over her frame, Anton’s gaze had filled with tears. The heavy weight of his body pressing hers into the bed had awakened the simmering need still burning bright through her veins. The last thing Viviana felt was fear while staring up at him.

  “She’s not you, Vine,” he repeated thickly. “She’s not my wife, or the mother of my child. She doesn’t share my bed, my life, or my heart. There isn’t a single emotion that girl invokes in me but anger and disgust—mostly at myself. More than everything, the one thing I regret is not knowing. Not being able to give you answers or tell you why. All I can say is I am sorry, so fucking sorry for letting you think for one goddamned minute that anyone could ever make me feel like you do. Nobody can. Never. I’m sorry.”

  Viviana swallowed the pain in her heart. “Have you had any contact with her since that night?”

  “No,” Anton said instantly. “Absolutely not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why would I?”

  “To fill in the blanks, maybe,” Viviana suggested. “That would be a valid excuse.”

  “I don’t need a fucking excuse, Vine. I don’t want a reason to talk with that girl. I don’t need to be anywhere near her.”

  “Why, are you scared it’ll happen again?”

  Ouch. Even to Viviana, that sounded harsh and felt about the same.

  “No, I’m scared I’ll fucking kill her,” Anton snarled.

  Viviana blinked, surprised. “What, why?”

  Finally, Anton released his hold on her sides, but he wouldn’t answer the question. Rubbing a hand over his face, Anton shook his head and sighed, the fatigue in his actions ringing clear. Viviana took the moment he gave to try and pull something—anything—from what she already knew to figure out why her husband wouldn’t want to answer that question.

  Anton was Bratva. He just was. He was a husband, a father, a son, and a man, but above everything else, he was a Bratva boss. Whether Viviana liked it or not, her husband was involved in things she didn’t like or approve of, but that was his life. She’d accepted it. If violence was something Anton felt he had to resort to in order to deal with someone, there was always a reason, and it usually led back to his brotherhood.

  “Anton …”

  Wary eyes wouldn’t meet her stare. “Don’t, Vine, please.”

  “Anton, what aren’t you telling me?”

  “It’s not an excuse, and I don’t want it used as one for you to forgive me, Viviana. Just leave it alone.”

  More confusion filled Viviana. Desperately, she wracked her brain, searching for what she was missing.

  “I can’t,” she finally said. “Please tell me.”

  Anton’s hand came to rest on her hip, his thumb sweeping gently along the exposed patch of her skin. “I was arrested the afternoon after that night.”

  My first thought was that I was drunk …

  “Your drinks are always watered down,” Viviana stated. Anton didn’t like to be drunk when Bratva were around, she knew. He’d once said it muddled up his head too much so he couldn’t pay attention. It wouldn’t be like her husband to get hammered. It was irresponsible. “Who was mixing them that night?”

  “Jen.”

  Jen was their friend—someone both Viviana and Anton trusted.

  “And who was serving you?”

  Anton’s teeth clenched. “Natalie.”

  The tension in Viviana’s body released as she sunk back into the pillows.

  “Different drugs are meant to do different things to a person,” Anton said above her. “Blow gets you up, makes you stay there. I used to love it once. Weed, it mellows you out, takes you to a calmer place, like bringing you down in a good way.”

  While Anton didn’t partake in chemicals anymore, Viviana knew he still occasionally smoked a joint. She didn’t care, really. Weed was the least harmful of the drugs he dabbled with on the Bratva side of things.

  “Heroin takes everything away, pain, emotion, thoughts,” Anton continued. “Pills are similar, depending on what you’re mixing up. But ecstasy, Molly, things like that, they make you feel good. Physically, you want to be touched, it’s like a drug in and of itself. It makes your head hazy, but in a good way. There’s no inhibitions to hold you back, no cares …”

  “You used that a lot in high school, didn’t you?” Viviana asked, her voice suddenly turning hoarse.

  “Oh, yeah. There was nothing like it. I loved it. There was a point when I was using it every day, just because I could. My baseball dreams didn’t end because I chose Bratva, it ended because I was caught giving X to my teammates in the locker-room after a game we won. They tried to say I was dealing in school, though I wasn’t. I had a ready supply at hand, why would I need to deal to support it? My father could have easily paid my way out of it, but he didn’t.”

  “If you enjoyed the sport so much, why not?”

  “Responsibility, baby. I did wrong, so something I enjoyed was taken from me. For every cause, there is an effect. I needed to deal with that. At the time, I didn’t see it that way, but I understand now.�
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  Viviana mulled over her thoughts for a moment. “You weren’t drunk that night.”

  “Not to a blackout point,” Anton agreed. “I probably wouldn’t have driven myself home, but I asked Jen, and she confirmed I only had maybe five orders brought for me.”

  Then, Viviana had another sobering thought. Sometimes with Anton you had to ask the right questions to get the right answers. It was likely she didn’t ask the right one earlier to get what she needed to know from him.

  “You haven’t gone looking for answers from Natalie, but has anyone else?”

  Tension thickened in the room. “Yes.”

  “And?” she pressed.

  “No one could find her. Word was put out, but nothing has come back. Her uncle says the family hasn’t heard from her, either.”

  That didn’t bode well. Viviana had been made aware a little over a year ago that there was a serious investigation going on around her husband and his possible involvement in the death of her uncle, as well as the Belovs. When she asked Anton about it, he’d been honest about what he knew they had, and what he knew they didn’t.

  More evidence, that’s what they need and don’t have, he’d said.

  “Do you remember talking to her?” Viviana dared to ask.

  “I remember being confused,” Anton replied, repeating his earlier words. “She touched me, my body liked it, wanted it, but my head and heart didn’t. I wanted more, and I wanted her to stop. She didn’t look like you, or feel like you, but I was still physically reacting, like I couldn’t help it. There’s a difference between knowing the reaction a certain drug will give you, recognizing that you’re experiencing it because you took it, and having it surprise you because you didn’t do it willingly. Mixed with alcohol, some things have a worse effect the morning after. Memories get mixed up or forgotten. The hangover is doubled, and so on.”

  Viviana forced herself to breathe. “I was under the impression the feds had yet to be able to infiltrate your family.”

  “They’ve tried. Once or twice, but we always got wind of who, or what, was happening. Women would have been useless for me, because they couldn’t get close enough to gain my attention or respect. Certainly not enough to have me talk about Bratva business. I never would have suspected a woman in my club unless it was confirmed by someone else.”

  “You told me the feds needed more,” Viviana said, fisting her hand and hitting her knuckles against his chest, frustrated. Tears welled in her eyes, the same tears that reflected in her husband’s above. “You said we didn’t have to worry!”

  “The morning after that night, they had more, Vine.”

  “Would they really do that? Take it so far as to drug you to get what they needed for the investigation?”

  “They need something,” Anton said as if that explained it all. “Without some substance for their work, they’re stuck paying for the protection of another person for the rest of their life, no matter if they got information or not. It’s a lot of waste if they end up getting nothing. And she would need protection, because they know I will kill her if I find her, Vine.”

  Viviana sucked in air like it was a drug. She couldn’t seem to take in oxygen fast enough to satisfy her lungs. She’d spent so long blaming Anton, when she didn’t really understand or know all of the circumstances. What had she done?

  “Don’t, Viviana,” Anton whispered. “I know that look, so just don’t.”

  “But—”

  “Do not use that as the reason why you forgive me. Do you hear me? Don’t use that. It’s not an excuse. What happened was not acceptable. I put myself in a position—trusted someone I didn’t know—when I was raised better. You were right, I allowed that woman to somehow get close to me. She touched me, she was on me—”

  “Stop it,” Viviana snapped, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. “Jesus, stop.”

  Anton’s grip on her waist tightened, shutting Viviana up. “Look at me, baby. I need you to hear this and understand. My body reacted to that woman, but I didn’t want her. I’m sorry I don’t have more answers. Forgive me because you love me. Because you trust me. Not because she tricked or cornered me. I need to know when I walk out of this house, you’re not worried I’m running around on you and that you know I love and want only you. You are the only woman who has me. Just you.”

  Viviana forced the tears to stop so she could look at her husband. She would only ask him one more time. “Did you have sex with her, Anton?”

  “I don’t know. I washed every bit of her off me that morning. I didn’t want to believe that I did that to you. Is that your breaking point, Vine? Is this where you have to draw your line for us? Because if it is, if not knowing and understanding the possibility that you may never know is something you can’t handle, I need for you to be honest with me.”

  Was it?

  “And if it was?” she asked, trembling.

  Anton finally let the tears he’d been holding at bay release. They weren’t easy tears. Just watching him shaking from the force of his weighted sobs nearly broke her. His fingers dug into her sides, holding her tighter and closer to his own body. Anton bowed his head and buried his face into Viviana’s chest. Silently, she let him cry and held him all the while.

  For the first time, Viviana finally heard him. All that guilt and regret he talked about, the things he didn’t know but wished he did for her, and that love she felt radiating off him every moment of the day … Viviana heard Anton.

  She so needed to hear him.

  “I would let you go, baby. I would give you everything of mine you wanted, let you take my son, and I would say nothing. I’ve hurt you, I know. It’s the one thing I never wanted to do, so the least I could do for you is say goodbye and give you the promise I wouldn’t hurt you more. If that’s what you need from me, tell me now.”

  “No,” Viviana said, strong and sure. “That’s not what I want.”

  All of the sadness, hurt, and anger Viviana had felt washed through her again. Instead of fighting the feelings off, she allowed herself to experience them. She deserved to be angry with Anton if she wanted, to be hurt over his bad choices, and sad for what it cost them.

  Above all else, she trusted her husband and forgiveness sometimes came in different forms than the obvious ones. She would continue to give him that faith, because she believed in the life they built for themselves surrounded in their devoted, smothering love that no one else could possibly ever understand.

  Viviana dug her fists into Anton’s shoulders. His hands at her sides slid underneath her back, slipping up under the camisole to lay flat to her skin. Anton still rested between her thighs and despite how studiously she’d been ignoring her body’s response to his position and closeness before, she couldn’t any longer.

  Tender kisses dotted her chest, trailing up to her throat. Every so often Anton’s tongue stuck out against her flesh, causing Viviana to shiver. The thin fabric of Viviana’s sleep shorts and Anton’s boxer-briefs did nothing to hide the hard length of his erection pressing to her sex. Just the feeling alone had her stomach clenching with need and every nerve in her body lighting up with sparks of want.

  “Vine, Vine, Vine,” Anton chanted, his mouth dancing dangerously close to hers. “I love you.”

  “Just me.”

  “Just you,” he echoed.

  Instinctively, Viviana legs tightened around Anton’s waist as he moved up higher on her body. Leaning down, he caught her mouth with his own. The kisses that were shared between them since Viviana asked him home had been sweet, practiced, or gentle. They didn’t speak of desire or wake up the raging flood of lust that currently electrified Viviana’s insides. They were careful, and filled with hesitance. Nothing like the dominating, consuming battle Anton’s kiss waged on her now.

  The sensation of his cock grinding along her core as he grabbed her face, kissed her harder, deeper, had Viviana gasping into his mouth. Wide-eyed, she watched him pour everything he felt, wanted, and needed into his kiss.


  I love you, it said.

  I need you, it promised.

  Forever.

  “Only ever you,” Anton said, nipping her bottom lip. “Let me show you, Vine. Let me love you like I do.”

  A whimper left Viviana’s lungs before she could stop it. “Please.”

  In quick movements, Anton had lifted Viviana up to the mountain of pillows behind them so quickly that she barely had time to register the change. The strength in the actions left her breathless and dizzy. With his hands on either side of her jaw, Anton rolled his thumbs along her cheeks, and Viviana sank into the affectionate touch with a sigh.

  “Kiss me again,” she demanded.

  He did, bruising her lips with his own. The stubble on his jaw scratched against her smooth skin, surely leaving behind a redness she would see in the morning. The wetness still edging along his lashes from his earlier tears smeared to hers. She could feel his body, from the strong muscles in his back, to the hands he used to yank her shorts down to her knees, trembling.

  “Too long,” Anton growled into Viviana’s mouth. It had been so damned long, she knew. “I want you so fucking bad, baby. Tomorrow I’ll love you slow, with my mouth and my fingers. Over and over. I’ll taste you hot and heavy on my tongue, get me smelling like you all over, but tonight I just want you.”

  “Take me, then.”

  Anton didn’t waste time pulling the shorts away from her legs, or getting the camisole off, either. The boxer-briefs he wore were tugged down and kicked off, giving Viviana the best view of his thick cock, hard and ready for only her. Like it always had, her body responded to the rough and frantic nature of the lead up. Anton’s two fingers sliding between her thighs to feel the warm wetness smearing along the seam of her pussy had her moaning.

  Skillfully, he spread the arousal from her sex, sinking his digits in knuckle deep before pulling them out just as fast. “Soaked already, baby. Fucking beautifully.”

  Under his urging, Viviana spread her thighs wider until her legs ached and her muscles were an inch away from protest. The pain only added to her excitement. She wanted more, so much more of that, and him. Abruptly, Viviana found her chin pinched between Anton’s forefinger and thumb, forcing her to stare at him. She couldn’t fucking think to look anywhere else.