Ultimate Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 4)

by Nancy Haviland

  “I’m sure you are. And you deserve to struggle.”

  No. No softening, she realized when he brought his face close to hers. The heat coming from his body was astounding.

  “All reasoning aside, after the time you’ve stolen from me, I think it’s only fair that you have to kick like hell to keep this beautiful head above water. At least for a little while.”

  She was tempted to snap at him that she’d never have stolen it had he not set her up, but she caught herself at the last minute. What was the point? In the end, she had stolen months of his daughter’s life, and she couldn’t deny it. He would come to see they were both to blame.

  She hoped.

  “Mmm. I remember this side of you.” He dropped his voice so only the two of them could hear. “It used to come out when we were in bed.” He ran his knuckles in a lazy circle around her clenched stomach muscles. “You were desperate to please me back then, weren’t you? It’ll be interesting to see how long it takes me to get you to that point again.”

  How smug would he be if she told him she was already halfway there?

  “We shall see,” she mumbled, moving on before he could say anything more on the subject. “When I first found out who you were, I was terrified of you. Do you remember? But you convinced me you were not “that” man. You said your family was all about big business that sometimes had a darker side.” She moved around him, giving his hard body a slow once over. Thank God for breast pads and their ability to hide her stiffening nipples. “You are an established, high-ranking member of a Russian Bratva,” she said with complete certainty and a whole lot of feminine appreciation that she wished she had the skill to hide. That she wished she didn’t feel.

  Shockingly, she felt no intimidation as she came to a halt before him and reached up to trace the strong line of his jaw. “You are Vasily Tarasov’s nephew, and what you want, what you feel you are entitled to, you get. No matter who or what you have to trample in the process.” She stepped closer and had to push up on her toes to get anywhere near his ear. “I am not afraid of you,” she whispered in Russian, realizing for the first time how true that was. She feared what he could take from her, but she didn’t fear him. “You own me now. You may do with me what you will. Anything you want. And I will let you because there is nothing I would refuse to do for the baby who has waited almost eight months to meet you. But through it all, I will not fear you, Alekzander.”

  Inhaling his scent, she pressed her lips below his ear, and dropped down to her heels. Without looking at him, she walked out. She also paid no mind to Maksim and their bodyguards, but did smile and accept the hand Sydney held out for her.

  “I wasn’t expecting that to go so well,” the beautiful blonde whispered.

  “Me either,” Sacha whispered back as she and the unexpectedly supportive Australian walked down the corridor behind Anton.

  Maksim’s muttering came from behind them. “Just when you think you have her where you want her, huh? Wonder where they hide those balls that always seem to pop out when you least expect it?”

  Sacha strained to hear Micha’s grumbled comment added in Russian. “Scary part is; she’s one of ours. May God help us all.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Adjusting his grip on the bags he carried, Sergei unlocked the door to his home, already knowing it would be for one of the last times. He walked through and left it open for Reynard and the woman the idiot had picked up. He paid no attention to them disappearing up the stairs but went down the hall to the kitchen which was illuminated by the track lighting that only had two functioning bulbs. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound until his phone rang. He answered it as he started taking things from the bags.

  “I have your shit, you crazy fuck.”

  He held his cell to his ear with his shoulder and carried on with his task. He didn’t reprimand his contact over the disrespect. Why bother?

  “I will try to get to Gravesend tonight. If you will not be there, leave the package on the desk in the back room.”

  “It is there already. I noticed the supply of Propofol I got you for this month is also still there.”

  “I will no longer be needing it.” As of tonight, sedating his guest would be unnecessary.

  “No shit. You have had that ordered filled for months.”

  “I know,” Sergei said. “Tell me, what were you able to do in so short a time?” There was no need for him to discuss the details of his business. Not yet, anyway.

  “All of it. Birth certificates, passports, got the mother a driver’s license. Beautiful girl. I also supplied a social security number but tell her to use it only if she has to because the woman it belonged to has already been dead a couple of years. The IRS might wonder about those missing tax forms.”

  “Fine.”

  “Is she Russian? Looks it. Is she yours?”

  Sergei’s mouth thinned, and when he remained silent, Artur laughed.

  “I will not bother asking where she is headed because I am sensing you do not wish to share.”

  “I’ll leave payment in exchange for the documents.” He hung up without sharing travel plans, or who it was Sacha belonged to. If Artur were to learn she and her daughter were Aleks’, there would be no way the two females would make it out of New York. Artur would go straight to his father, and Sacha and the baby would be in their possession within hours. They would end up in the same delivery boxes Renee and Evan had come home in.

  Sergei shook his head. Fucking Baikovs. How he hated dealing with them. But he did because, with the divide between the families, Sergei’s movements with their enemy had no way of making it back to Vasily.

  It wasn’t as difficult playing the role of double-agent as he’d thought it might be.

  Filling three bowls with oranges, apples, and grapes, he set them aside and opened up eight boxes of protein bars that he dumped into a cake pan because it was the only thing large enough to fit them all. He emptied the paper bag of medical supplies into a large plastic one that held feminine products and a crossword book. He’d added a pen to his purchases this time since he wouldn’t be returning to have it used against him.

  Looking at the haul, he wondered if he forgot anything. There was running water… He snapped his fingers and went to the pantry to grab a few rolls of toilet paper. A supply that wouldn’t run out for about two weeks was all that was needed. She couldn’t last more than that with what he was leaving her with.

  It took him two trips to get it all downstairs and outside her door. Then he slipped his gun out of its holster and opened up. She was sitting on the cot, her knees up, forehead resting on them. He got two bowls into the room before she lifted her head. Her eyes were lifeless, defeated.

  “Not in the mood to fight today?”

  He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get a response. Sometimes she was like this.

  “Take your clothes off.” He threw a black T-shirt, leggings, and under things at her feet. “You can put that on after your shower. Quickly. I am in a hurry tonight.”

  He got the rest of the supplies in and then stood looking down at her when she still hadn’t moved. He brought his gun up and cocked it before pointing it at her head. Her jaw clenched and a flush crept up her face as she slowly stood and completely disrobed, the same as she’d done every week since he’d brought her here. He took her arm, shoved the muzzle of his Glock into that soft spot at the base of her skull, then walked her out and to the bathroom where he gave her just under two minutes to shower. He brought her back to her prison dripping wet because he never had supplied her with towels. She kept her back to him, one arm across her breasts, the other in front of her pussy. She needn’t have bothered. He didn’t see her as a woman. She was a pawn.

  “That will be the last shower you ever have.” She turned slowly, her eyes widening. He could tell her breathing had choked off. “You have enough supplies to last you maybe two weeks if you ration. The meds will stretch beyond that, but soon you won’t need them.” He stepped
back toward the door. “I am sure you have wished to be rid of me. I grant that wish now. Goodbye.”

  To the sound of her bare feet slapping on the floor and her fists hammering against the door he slammed in her face, Sergei turned, and for the last time, left the responsibility he’d undertaken.

  It seemed she would inadvertently die by his hand, after all, he thought as the sound of her shouts faded the further up the stairs he went. By the time he reached the main level of the house, they were muted. When he made it to the second floor and began packing a couple of bags, he could hear nothing but the deep grunts and high-pitched pleas that came from the spare bedroom.

  After gathering what he’d need, he entered the hallway just as the door across the way was flung open. The dark haired prostitute stumbled out. She pulled her skirt down over a handprint on her ass and tucked in an exposed breast that had red scratch marks on it. She had blood running over her lip where it leaked from her left nostril, and her right eye was pink and already swelling from what had to have been repeated hits.

  “Wait,” he said as she limped away on one heel. He pressed a few hundred dollars into her hand. “Forgive me. I should have cared enough to warn you.”

  “You guys are fuckin’ nuts,” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  Fear flooded her face at his ready agreement, and she was gone in the next second.

  Reynard came out, buttoning his pants. He appeared satisfied.

  Sergei knew right then how he would dispose of this sadist who so enjoyed taking his pleasure at another’s expense. Had the women been willing, because there were those who got off on rough treatment, it would have been different. But Reynard didn’t want an eager partner. He enjoyed the panic and struggle, and that was wrong.

  “Where to now, boss?” Reynard asked as they locked up and got in the car.

  Sergei wasn’t sure how his uncle was going to react to his latest attempt to affect the family’s ability to do business. It would be the most public strike yet, and it might hinder how freely he and Reynard could roam afterward.

  He glanced at the house as they drove off. Unless he’d fucked up along the way and a drastic discovery was made in the next few hours, he and Reynard could probably return for one more night before they were forced to rest their heads under their enemy’s roof. He didn’t mind admitting he wanted to put that off for as long as he possibly could. Or avoid accepting the Baikov’s hospitality altogether. Who knew if they’d wake up the following morning? One could never fully trust an enemy.

  He reached out and turned on the heat. “Aside from getting Sacha and her daughter out of the picture, there is only one other thing I must take care of before this ends.” He thought about the weapon he’d stowed in the trunk just that morning. It was funny how a man was going about his life with no clue it would end in the next forty-eight hours.

  “What thing?” Reynard asked. “You never mentioned anything other than Brighton Beach and Alek’s woman. What else is there?”

  “A private matter. Call Anton and see if they are still at the convention center. If so, we will go there. I’ll try to get Sacha alone. If I am successful, I will kill her fixation with Alek by using the same means he did. How do you think she will take it when she learns the man she loves has a son with the woman he cheated on her with? She will believe the lie because, correct me if I’m wrong, she did witness them having sex. To twist the knife, I will tell her Alek has spent an enjoyable year and a half with his ‘other family’.” He chuckled. “The poor girl will not be able to get away from him fast enough, and she will never know how lucky she is. After all, a broken heart is preferable to dead.”

  “And if you can’t get to her?”

  He went into his pocket and took out a small vial. “Then dead it is. At least for the little one, which will cause the most pain.”

  “No shit.” Reynard laughed, sounding too happy. “I didn’t think you had the balls.”

  Sergei rolled the brown bottle between his palms and looked out the window. It wasn’t about balls. It was about finishing what he’d started. And speaking of finishing a project, he had to get back to Rapture at some point in the next couple of days. Hopefully, when Micha, and his invasive stare, was out with Maksim.

  “Get in touch with Anton,” he repeated. “We need to be seen. Too, I would like to be present when they get the call.” He sat back with a sigh and felt some relief that it was almost over.

  SEVENTEEN

  Alek was next to Maks in the back of the SUV stretch limo while Sacha and Sydney sat across the way. Micha was driving, Anton riding shotgun, and back at Sacha’s place, Grigori and Lucas were stationed with a team of four others, guarding what was now Alek’s most prized possession.

  Every little while Sydney would give Sacha a pat on the knee or arm. Sacha would look at her, offer a small smile; Sydney would return it, then look over and glare at him and Maks. It was more than apparent the two had bonded in the restroom. Women were funny like that.

  He turned over his cell that he was holding loosely in his hands, and took the edge of his jacket to wipe over the camera lens he now had every reason to use.

  His leg started bobbing, and he turned to look out the window. No traffic. “Micha drives like an old woman,” he muttered.

  “Cooks like one, too,” Maks drawled without taking his eyes off his phone. “Does a lentil soup that’ll make you cream your panties. Look. I took a pic of it last time for posterity sake.” He held his phone to Alek’s face so he could read a text that wouldn’t get sent.

  Congratulations, Papa. I have no words. You?

  Fuck. “Yeah,” he admitted, conscious the girls could hear them. “Put it in front of me and get me an army. No one’s getting anywhere near it. You guys liked to ride my ass about not being the sharing type before? Fuck you.”

  Sacha was looking puzzled. Oops. They were supposed to be talking about soup.

  He finished what he was saying regardless. “I’ll use a spoon or a fork. Don’t care. You can even give me a knife. A dull one that has a rusty bent tip that’ll really mess up the soft spots if anyone dares come near what’s mine.”

  Maks laughed and nudged him in the ribs to shut him up. “You want drive-thru, brother? Sounds as if you’re starving.”

  Sacha’s eyes, which somehow looked more beautiful in their exhaustion, clashed with his. “Famished,” he murmured, tearing his gaze away when he started to get hard.

  He needed a kick in the groin. Fucking dick didn’t have a clue. Idiot, he snapped to the thickening appendage. She’s a fucking thieving liar. Shut it down.

  It didn’t listen. In fact, it shot back a response.

  She’s a thieving liar because of you. Now give me what I want.

  Then it hardened to stone and sent memories up to remind Alek’s of how hot and snug its favorite place was.

  The vehicle’s heat turned on and began blowing in his eyes as he tried to get his head out of his pants.

  A child.

  Living in a paper apartment with no protection from the time of her birth.

  His thoughts began to race right along with his heartbeat. How could Sacha have kept this from him? He wanted to rail. Lose his shit all over her firm, round ass. At the duplicity, at all he’d missed, at what he was missing even in that moment. He had a baby, yet he’d had no clue she was out there in the world. How could that be?

  Or maybe deep down he had somehow known. Had felt the connection on a level so deep he hadn’t recognized it. Maybe it was that connection that had pushed him so hard; that had refused to allow him to give up on his search for Sacha. Maybe it had been about his child and not her mother.

  Alek was jostled when Maks leaned over and took Sydney’s chin in his hand. He openly scrutinized her perfectly structured face, turning it this way and that.

  “What are you doing?” she asked guardedly.

  “Reminiscing.” He let go and sat back. “Haven’t seen that expression aimed at me since I was in hu
nting mode. First woman I ever had to chase,” he said to Sacha. “Caught her, of course, but it took some work. Used to think she was just a fine piece of ass.” His goatee curved into a smile. “Little did I know how much more I’d be getting.” His focus was back on the woman he was speaking so openly about. But, with Maksim, you had to expect that. “You look at me like that and it kind of makes my palm want to get busy because there’s no justification for it. It isn’t my story to tell.”

  The quiet sound Sacha made at the mention of an itchy palm was ignored. Well, ignored by everyone but the idiot sitting all achy and shit on Alek’s thigh.

  “If I understand what that means,” Sydney drawled with her nose tipped in the air. “Might I ask that you close the bathroom door before you begin satisfying that palm. Maybe even get in the shower, so there’s no awkwardness afterward when we pretend we didn’t hear you making those odd noises. Isn’t that the normal way of things?”

  Alek found himself watching Sacha’s reaction to the backtalk. She’d rarely offered Alek any. Though in his favor, he’d never been quite as tactless as Maks was capable of being. Right now, Sacha was looking between the couple, appearing to hold her breath.

  “If we’re in the shower, princess, your tight little bod might slip out of my hands. Then where would that well place swat land?”

  “Well, if I were to climb onto your shoulders, Russia, most likely right where it should.”

  It was obvious Maks was totally enjoying himself as he slid to the edge of the seat and reached for his woman’s dainty ankle. Sydney didn’t pull away when he started massaging her calf. “Why are you mad at me?”

  “I wasn’t, really, until you opened your mouth. It’s more about being mad at all of you.” She included Alek in that, then said to Sacha, “Because no one will tell us—and by us I mean the ladies of the house—why you left him, we’re left to imagine the worst case scenario. Now that there’s a baby involved, and you still stayed away? Wow. Just, wow. The worst case scenario suddenly seems that much more painful.” She patted Sacha’s leg again before clasping her hands together in her lap and looking out the window, muttering about men in general. With her history of being left pregnant and alone at seventeen, Alek didn’t hold it against her.