The Score (The Russian Guns Book 3)

by Bethany-Kris

  “You know what it is. It’d be life, Vine. Twice over, no chance for parole.”

  “Life.”

  “The prosecutor isn’t seeking capital punishment. I believe it’s because he thinks it wouldn’t stick, or a jury wouldn’t go for it.”

  He had lost her at capital punishment. Those words alone brought with them a cold shiver of dread. Viviana had purposely avoided discussing the charges, their specifics, or anything about the trial with Anton. For the most part, she had been far too angry to talk about it. Every time his face was shown on the news, or some reporter showed up at her bookstore, it sent her into another raging spiral.

  Public opinion had already decided Anton’s guilt. Of that, Viviana was most sure. News reports labeled her husband a trafficker, the man who brought guns into their country and put drugs on their streets. The mothers and fathers of the kids using those drugs or being shot by those guns didn’t like that.

  Was it true? Yes, Viviana didn’t deny that.

  But she refused to see him as that man, too. She never had.

  Anton was so much more.

  A man with as many strengths as he had faults. Someone with a love so deep, so strong he only shared and showed it sparingly to those he felt it was most deserved. Tender with the same hands that had shown others their brutality. Honestly vulnerable behind the ruthless masks he wore. A father in his home. A friend with just a glance. A lover in her bed.

  They didn’t know him.

  Viviana wouldn’t let anyone poison the man she, or her son, knew. Never.

  “Ma!”

  Viviana willed away the wetness blurring her eyes as she forced a smile for her son. “Yeah?”

  “Is Papa comin’?” Demyan asked over his shoulder.

  Fuck, that hurt. What was she supposed to say?

  “Later, baby,” Viviana lied. “Maybe.”

  Ivan rested his arms over his knees as Demyan went back to searching the sand with Gia. “We can take him tonight, if you want. Eva won’t mind. It’ll give you some room to breathe, to think, if you need.”

  “But what about tomorrow when he comes home and asks for him again? What then, Ivan?”

  “That depends,” Ivan said.

  He’d already told her those words once, and just like the first time, Viviana still didn’t understand. She also didn’t have the time or patience for word games.

  “On what?”

  “You have options,” he explained gently. “That’s why I’m here, not with Anton. We all knew this was a possibility, and we know very well how he’s likely going to fair in this trial.”

  Ivan seemed to leave something unsaid, and Viviana didn’t miss it. “But?”

  “But we do have a little breathing room here.”

  “Oh, yeah? Because how I see it, I’m drowning.”

  Ivan swallowed audibly, shrugging one shoulder. “I know. Trust me, I do. Those options I mentioned …”

  “Go on,” she urged when he went still and silent.

  “Anton was planning to leave the country if we couldn’t get the case tossed out before it went to trial, or if we couldn’t find Natalie before her testimony. He had identities bought and ready to go for all of you. A place set up where no extradition treaties could send him back. That’s still a viable option for you and Demyan, if you want to start over.”

  Viviana’s heart stopped, she was sure it did. “He wants that?”

  “He wanted what was best for you and his child. It would have, at the time, kept you all together. If right now, that is what you want, Anton will say nothing. He will let you go, Vine. I have the papers, documents, IDs, and the information for you to access any bank accounts associated with those names in my car. I will hand them over, you can follow the directions on the letter inside to do whatever you want from there on out.”

  There was nothing about that option that felt remotely okay with Viviana. If anything, it make her feel like a coward just for considering it. New names, a new place, and a fresh start at life didn’t sound nearly as sweet as it might have to some.

  “No.” Her answer came out just as sure and strong as it ever would. “I spoke my vows and I meant them. I’m not going to leave that man and start all over again somewhere else, hoping I can replace what I already have. I don’t want to; I don’t want someone else to raise my son. I want Anton. Absolutely not, Ivan, don’t bring it up again.”

  Ivan leaned back to the sand. “Okay. The other option is my own. Anton had no say, I haven’t even suggested it to him. He’d undoubtedly kill me just for thinking about it.”

  Well, Viviana didn’t like the sound of that, either.

  “Is this the breathing room?”

  “Could be,” Ivan mused, a little darkly. “But it could make things worse, depending on how it plays out … If it plays out, that is. We need a backup plan, one that would have the case put under a microscope, have the charges dropped due to judicial indiscretions, and would force them to release Anton, even for a short time.”

  “Stop being an asshole and explain it to me,” Viviana snapped.

  “How far are you willing to go, Vine?” Ivan tipped his chin in the children’s direction. “For him, what would you do to bring his father home?”

  “What?”

  “It’s not a difficult question,” Ivan said. “A basic human need is love. What we’d do for it, or to keep it, is a whole other matter. I’m simply asking what you would do for yours. There has to be a worth you’d put on it or a limit you’ll draw. Is there? What would you do for it? That’s all I’m asking.”

  No, he had a point there.

  “Anything.”

  “Your morals, the values you think you have now … your vows,” he finished with a pointed look at her. “All of those things, would you toss them aside? Would you risk them, for Anton, or for his son?”

  “Of course.”

  Ivan released a heavy sigh, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he considered her words. “Tomorrow, I’m making a motion to forgo a jury in the trial.”

  Viviana’s head whipped in his direction. Anton had every right to forgo a jury and instead, have only the judge weigh in on his guilt or innocence. It wasn’t often that the option was chosen, and she couldn’t understand why they would do that at all for Anton.

  “What, why?”

  “Public opinion is tainted, Vine. He’d never get a fair trial with one.”

  “And you think a judge and jury of only one is any better?” Viviana asked sharply.

  “I think every man has a weakness,” Ivan intoned dully. “I think with the right prodding, the right person, that weakness can come forefront and destroy them. Erik is not the only person in our brotherhood who knows his way around a bribe, or a blackmail, for that matter.”

  Viviana’s mind went silent. “Anton’s judge …”

  “Is a relatively good man. Divorced, with three adult children. A healthy, spotless twenty-year career as a judge. Certainly not the kind of man who would take a bribe, never mind hoping that you could get close enough to offer one he might want to take.

  “But a blackmail,” Ivan continued, a bitter smirk growing, “… that is something wholly different. Judge Kander’s career may be spotless, but his father’s was stained with the scandal of women. Given Kander’s divorce was all handled privately with his wife being paid to keep quiet, he very well might suffer from that same adulterous affliction.”

  “I don’t understand,” Viviana said.

  “What if women were his weakness, Vine?”

  She stilled. “What, we just set him up with a working girl and have the possibility threatened that it could go on record? That doesn’t sound like an intelligent plan.”

  Ivan scoffed. “Because it’s not. What would that lead to, really? Kander losing his position, his career. A mistrial maybe, but charges could be redrawn the next day and Anton would be right back in prison. We’d be at square one.”

  “A mistrial isn’t an option,” Viviana realized, though
it was devastating.

  “No, only a verdict. Not guilty, that’s all that will be acceptable. They can’t retry him for the crimes, and believe that Anton wouldn’t make the same mistakes again, so they’ll never come close to touching him after. However, if the only option is a mistrial and Anton leaving the country, he’ll do that, too. This plan may very well work for both of those options.”

  “So, then what—”

  “You,” Ivan interrupted, offering nothing else in explanation.

  “Me?”

  “Not a hooker, No, you, Vine. It would not only be the idea of blackmail, but that perhaps the judge was involved with criminal activity, particularly, involved with the wife of mafia leader. Mix that in with a healthy dose of fear, and we might have winner.”

  Struck speechless, Viviana balked.

  Ivan picked up on her plight instantly. “I’m not asking you to take that man to bed.”

  “I should hope not,” she whispered. “Though it certainly tastes of that, and I don’t like what it implies or leaves behind in the back of my mouth. I can see why you didn’t bring it up to Anton, now.”

  Her husband would have been in a right fit, to say the least.

  “You said it right. Implies. Suggests. That’s all, just enough to make Kander know what it would look like, how it would paint him. Imagine if that judge had to stare back at the gallery and see you sitting behind Anton every day of trial. Think how it would feel for him to receive a package every day reminding him of the position he had put himself in.”

  When Viviana didn’t speak, Ivan sat up straight and stood, brushing sand from his pants. “I suppose it’s pretty simple, you can do one of three things. One, be Viviana. The ever faithful, devoted wife of a man America is sure to hate. Stand behind him, give no comments to the hordes of reporters outside the courthouse, and watch them lock him away. Two …” he continued, turning to look down, “You can be someone new. Whoever you want, with your what ifs, your regrets, and your anger.”

  “Or … this,” Viviana said, feeling her throat tighten when she couldn’t speak it out loud.

  “The Bratva boss’s wife. Who she is, like she is. No apologies, tough as nails, and whatever it takes. Whichever you choose, you’ll find no judgement from me, Vine. I’m only giving you another way.”

  Viviana wished her heart rate would go back to normal. “But what about Anton? If he found out that I had done something like that, even if it was nothing, just the idea of it … I’m the product of infidelity, Ivan. I would never do that to my husband, ever.”

  “I know, but this isn’t the same, and you’re not going to be involved physically with a man, so to speak,” Ivan murmured. “Anton might find out, but that’s a risk you have to take. If he does, you handle it when it comes. That’s not what we worry about, now. How far are you willing to go?”

  Again, Viviana sought out her son’s presence on the beach.

  “It’s okay to be selfish, Vine,” Ivan added, not missing a beat. “To do it for you, for Demyan. To keep what you have because it’s yours. There’s only one person who will judge you for it, and that’s yourself.”

  Viviana sneered viciously. “And my husband.”

  “What would he do for you?”

  She knew exactly what Anton had already done for her, so that point was moot. Feeling overwhelmed, Viviana blurted out the only words she could think of. “I’m pregnant.”

  Ivan didn’t even glance back at her. “He doesn’t know, huh?”

  “No.”

  “How far are you willing to go?” Ivan repeated.

  The truth ached as much as it relieved. “As far as it takes.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You must be the new girl.”

  Viviana’s gaze flicked to the girl behind her in the vanity mirror. Tall, too skinny, with hair bleached blonde, and her small chest on full display but for the silk robe that did nothing to hide her nakedness, she didn’t seem ashamed standing there like she was. Viviana tried not to look bothered by her presence or brazenness.

  “Sure,” Viviana answered, offering a smile.

  Apparently it didn’t ring true.

  “This your first time?”

  Was it? Shit, Viviana forced herself not to bark a bitter laugh. Never in her life had she stepped foot inside a strip club, never mind even considering it. She purposely avoided Anton’s strip clubs like the plague that she felt they were. Women who based their worth on how well they could swing around a pole and how many dollars could be shoved into their G-string weren’t exactly her thing.

  Unfortunately, Viviana didn’t have a choice.

  And she was not simply there to watch. No, she was there to dance.

  Anton’s trial date was just mere weeks away. It had taken Ivan great effort, and a massive amount of money, patience, and digging to find even a smudge of indiscretion on Judge Kander that was useable in any worthy way.

  What Viviana was doing now was simply just a hunch. No one could guarantee the judge would show, no one knew for sure if this was the gentleman’s club he occasionally frequented under a name that had absolutely no relation to his.

  It didn’t help that Viviana and Ivan needed to keep the things they were doing, the blackmail they were planning, as secretive as possible. They couldn’t take the risk Anton would find out. Viviana worried how his people would paint her if they ever found out the position she was putting herself in just in the hopes that she might get him back.

  It had taken her the entire month she waited while Ivan dug, searched, and fed mouths with money for scraps of personal information on the judge for Viviana to figure out what she had to do.

  Everything. Anything.

  The guilt, the dirtiness she felt … None of that mattered.

  “Hey, did you hear me?” the girl asked.

  With a deep breath, Viviana went back to her paled reflection in the mirror. “It is my first.”

  “Ah,” the girl drawled. “Well, take a couple slams of something hard before you go out on stage. Don’t let them get too close, and certainly don’t let them touch you.”

  Viviana quirked her brow. “I’m doing a private.”

  “Ouch. On your first? Jesus, that took me months to get. What lap did you sit your pretty ass down on?”

  Anton Avdonin’s, Viviana thought with an internal sigh.

  “By request of the boss,” she said instead.

  “Oh.”

  Just then, a man slipped in between the red velvet curtains, jerking his thumb at the girl. “Sid, you’re next. Let’s go.”

  The blonde gave him a nod in response before turning back to Viviana. “I’ll see you later, I suppose. What’s your name, anyway?”

  Viviana reached for the crimson lipstick sitting on the vanity’s top. Her name didn’t matter. The girl would never see her again, likely. She certainly wouldn’t be coming back to this place once her job was done and she left.

  But, with all the lies she’d already told to get where she was piling up, what would one more hurt?”

  “Just call me Eve.”

  “Like Adam?”

  Viviana smirked. “Just like that.”

  Eve did take the apple, after all. Sin with a single bite.

  How was she any different?

  ***

  Ivan’s fingers ticked under Viviana’s chin, encouraging her to look up. “Hey.”

  “Hmm?” Viviana felt disoriented and nauseous.

  “You okay?”

  Viviana shook her head. “That’s a stupid fucking question.”

  How on earth could she possibly be okay? Beneath the thin, thigh-high robe she wore there was practically nothing at all to cover her skin. Nothing but a sheer, lace white thong that contrasted against her olive toned skin, and a matching bra that was as see through as the underwear.

  She had come to find out this gentleman’s club was not about the flash and dash of the whole scene like some were. It was not about the costumes the girls wore or the routine the
y put on. It wasn’t about the pole or the tricks. It was about the sensuality in their dance. The sex of a woman. The shape of their bodies, the beauty in their movements. Clearly, many took pride in the fact that it was a bit more upscale and classy than the norm.

  They weren’t strippers, they were dancers.

  Viviana didn’t give a shit. She still felt like a whore.

  She was mother and a wife. Loved and respected by one man, not many.

  Anton would find no respect or love for this.

  “Look at me,” Ivan said harshly.

  Viviana blinked through her reservations and worries. “What?”

  He waved a hand at her, keeping his gaze diverted from the way the robe hung off her naked shoulders. It clung to every inch of her skin, showcasing the curves she worked so damned hard to keep below the silky fabric.

  Never had Viviana wanted to cover herself up more than right then.

  “What?” she asked again when Ivan stayed quiet.

  “I know this is … hard.”

  “No, you most certainly do not know,” Viviana spat. “I’m about to go out of my mind.”

  Ivan’s throat bobbed with a swallow, his own nerves showing. “I’m sorry. I only meant to say we can call this off, if you want.”

  She tossed a glance down the long, darkened hallway situated at the back of the club that led to the private rooms. VIPs were being settled, apparently. Getting their drinks served and whatever else they might need for the next little while. Viviana had called Ivan in last minute just to be sure she was doing the right thing, but she was starting to regret that choice.

  “Did he show?”

  “Yes, with his second cousin, as the source promised. The cousin stays out on the floor, not in the private room.”

  Viviana tried to shake the upset that had her stomach rolling. “I need a drink, or a blunt.”

  Ivan scowled. “You’re pregnant.”

  Just ten weeks. Not even showing. No one even knew, yet. Anton still didn’t. Viviana didn’t know how to tell him. Besides that, the threat of her last pregnancy and how it ended in miscarriage loomed over Viviana. She didn’t want to tell Anton just to take it away from him again. Never mind how it would absolutely destroy her.