Ivan 2 (Her Russian Protector Book 10)

by Roxie Rivera

  I read the note again, paying attention to his reasons for ending his life. He mentioned one bad decision leading to another and that he let greed rule and ruin his life. He apologized for everyone he had hurt and warned that his full story would be told soon.

  What did that mean? Had he spoken to someone? A journalist? A detective? The FBI? Was there an investigation in progress?

  My phone rang and startled me. Clamping my hand over my mouth to stifle my shocked yelp, I tried to show my racing heart. I reached into my purse for my phone, gaze fixed on Teague’s strangely peaceful face, and answered without looking at the screen. I had barely put the phone to my ear when I heard Ivan’s voice.

  “Erin!”

  “Ivan! Where are you? Are you okay?” My earlier fear for his well-being trumped the fact that I was standing in the middle of a suicide scene. “I know you saw the email from the clinic, and you have to know—"

  “Not now, angel moy. Not now,” he insisted. “We’ll talk about it later. Are you with Teague?”

  “How did you know?” Gasping as realization dawned, I spun around, expecting a shadowy bodyguard to be standing somewhere behind me, and hissed, “Are you having me followed?”

  “Clearly, I had reason to!” he exclaimed. “Please tell me you haven’t shot him yet.”

  “Of course I haven’t!” Did he really think I planned to walk in here and start popping off rounds? Looking back at Teague’s body, I said, “I didn’t need to.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “He’s already dead.”

  There was a long moment of silence before Ivan lost it. “Get out of there right now, Erin. Turn around and run.”

  “Will you calm down? He wasn’t murdered. He killed himself.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” he said loudly. I could just imagine him wiping a hand down his face in exasperation. He grumbled something in Russian, reminding me yet again that I really needed to apply myself to the course I had purchased, and then switched back to English. “Call the police. Report the suicide.”

  I hadn’t been expecting that advice from him. “Are you sure? Usually, you tell me not to talk to the police.”

  “This is different. He may have a video security system. If he doesn’t, his neighbors might. You’re there. It’s barely getting dark. People are coming home from work. Someone has already seen you. If you run now, if you don’t report it, you’re going to come under suspicion.” He went quiet and snarled under his breath, “Eto piz ‘dets.”

  He was right. This was fucked up.

  With a tired sigh, he instructed, “Call Eric.”

  I was sure I had misheard him. “You want me to call Eric Santos. Eric, Vivian’s cousin. Eric, the detective who hates you and who you hate right back?”

  “Yes, Erin, that detective. He’s an asshole, but he’s honorable. He’s honest. You can’t trust anyone else right now. We don’t know how far the corruption in the jail goes, zvyozdochka.”

  He was right. There wasn’t anyone else in the department I could trust. “Okay. I’m calling Eric right now.”

  “Go out to your car. Get inside. Lock the doors. Keep it running.”

  “I will.” I glanced back at Teague. “What about Ruby? Kavanaugh took her.”

  “I know. I’m on my way to get her back.”

  “How?”

  “Kostya,” he said—and that was all he needed to say.

  “Please be careful, Ivan.”

  “I will be. I’ll see you as soon as possible. And, Erin, if you see anyone that looks like a threat, you fucking leave. Do you understand? You leave, and you drive to Nikolai’s house. You’ll be safe there.”

  “Oh!” I remembered suddenly. “Vivian is having the baby!”

  “What? Right now? Blyad. You’ll still be safe there even if Vivian and Nikolai are at the hospital. It will be crawling with his soldiers. When you’re done with Eric, ask him to escort you to Nikolai’s house. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Erin?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  I closed my eyes and let his voice wash over me, calming me and centering me. “I love you, too.”

  “Hang up. Do exactly what I said.”

  I hung up and dug Eric’s card out of my wallet. It was creased but readable. I dialed the number and walked to the front of Teague’s house, stopping to peek out the curtains before I opened the door and stepped onto the porch.

  “Eric Santos speaking.”

  “Eric? This is Erin Markovic.”

  “Erin.” He seemed surprised to hear from me. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Are you in trouble?”

  “No, I'm not in trouble.” Yet. “I’m actually at a friend’s house, and um,” my throat tightened as the reality of what I was about to say hit me, “he’s dead.”

  “Where are you? The address.”

  “Wait, Eric! Please, don’t call anyone. Please!”

  “Why not? What’s going on, Erin?”

  “Listen, do you remember at the hospital when you accused me of hiding the truth about the attack?”

  “Yes.”

  “You were right,” I said in a rush as I hurried out to my SUV and nervously checked each window to make sure no one was lurking inside. “I was hiding something, but it’s not what you thought it was.”

  “What was it?”

  A woman straddling a motorcycle at the end of the block interrupted my train of thought. She wore a helmet, so I couldn’t see her face, but she waved at me to communicate that she was friendly. I kept my eye on her as I got into my vehicle and locked the doors. Watching her in the rearview mirror, I finally answered Eric. “The men who attacked me were trying to scare Ruby and me.”

  “Ruby? What the hell does she have to do with anything?”

  “Something is going inside the jail, Eric. Something really, really bad,” I said and started my engine. “Rape. Murder. Sex trafficking. Ruby was one of the victims. She was in the room when some guards murdered a prisoner. An ICE prisoner,” I explained. “They targeted those women because nobody would listen to them, and they were going to be deported anyway.”

  “Fuck!” Eric shouted. “I heard a rumor,” he admitted. “More than one. About sex inside the jail. I thought it was the usual bullshit of guards trading favors for sex. I didn’t think...” His voice trailed off. “The priest at my mom’s church told me that undocumented workers were going missing. I looked them up, and they were all ICE holds. I assumed they were deported and left it at that.” He seemed pained as he confessed, “I didn’t care. They weren’t guns or gangs. They were just dishwashers and maids. Fuck.”

  “Eric, listen, you can berate yourself later, but right now, I need help.”

  “Where are you?” After I rattled off the address, he said, “Stay there in your car. If anyone else in a cop car shows up, you call me, and you keep your doors locked. Don’t get out. Wait for me.”

  “Not a problem,” I assured him. The woman on the motorcycle was still there. She picked up her phone and seemed to be aiming it at my vehicle. A second later, my phone dinged. I glanced down at the screen to see a message from an unknown number. I swiped to open it.

  Unknown Number: My name is Sunny. I work for Kostya.

  I sagged with relief against the seat and typed a text for her. I’m waiting for Detective Santos.

  Sunny: Good call. He’s one of the few I trust.

  Feeling much safer with one of Kostya’s associates so close, I let my thoughts turn back to Ruby and Ivan and Teague. My heart was heavy as I remembered the last time I saw Teague. Should have I known then? Should I have recognized the haunted darkness in his face as a sign that he was going to end his life?

  I wasn’t sure how to answer that question. I suspected nothing I could have said or done would have changed his mind. He was too far gone to help. Whatever he had done, he must have known that he was going to be killed to ensure his silence, or he was going to spend the rest of his life in prison.


  Kavanaugh.

  I scowled at the thought of that prick. I wasn’t sure how things would shake out when Ivan went to retrieve Ruby, but if I knew Ivan, he wasn’t letting Kavanaugh out of his sight until he paid dearly—and with a great deal of pain—for his crimes against my sister.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kostya beat Ivan to the storage facility not far from the Baytown landfill. The scent of rotting garbage was heavy in the air when he stepped out of his SUV. If it was this bad on a chilly January evening, he couldn’t even imagine how disgusting it must smell during the summer.

  “You’d think a real estate mogul would remember location, location, location,” Kostya joked before tossing a pump shotgun at him. “It’s loaded, but you might need these.” He slapped a box of shells against Ivan’s chest. “And this.” He handed him a bulletproof vest. “It won’t do much for that giant potato head of yours.”

  “I’m not shooting anyone.” He handed back the shotgun, shells, and vest. “And neither are you.”

  “I’m not?” Kostya seemed surprised to hear that. “Isn’t what why I’m here?”

  “We are not going to shoot up Nikolai’s rivals while his wife is in labor with their first son,” Ivan decreed. “We’re going to talk to Mueller in the way he understands best.”

  “Money?” Kostya asked with a scowl. Like a petulant child, he threw the weapons and vests back in the trunk. “Do you know how long it’s been since I did any work?”

  “Not long enough,” Ivan remarked, noticing the way Kostya favored one leg over the other. “You need rehab.”

  Kostya sighed and rubbed his face in both hands. “Not you, too.”

  “What?”

  “Holly. All day. She’s demanding I go to rehab.”

  He watched the stiff way Kostya moved and said, “If you fuck like you walk, I can see why.”

  Kostya slapped him on the back of the head. “Fuck you.”

  “I doubt you can move your hips enough to even get it in,” Ivan needled.

  “You know, for someone who needs my help, you are a serious asshole.”

  Ivan grabbed Kostya’s shoulder and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “Stop being a stubborn dickhead and go to physical therapy.”

  Kostya shrugged off his hand and slammed the trunk of his car closed. “Being a stubborn dickhead is all I’ve got left.”

  Ivan didn’t doubt that at all. Holly had to love Kostya as much as Erin loved him to put up with him when he was like this. Falling into step behind him, Ivan surveyed the windowless building. It looked like every other storage facility and distribution center along the channel. Most were filled with cargo that came from the nearby port. Furniture, electronics, vehicles, clothing—if it came across the ocean on a ship, it ended up in warehouses along the bays and bayous.

  “How many men are here?” Ivan had a feeling they were about to be vastly outnumbered.

  “Not that many,” Kostya answered and reached back to adjust the pistol tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He lifted his leather jacket to cover it. “But enough to kill us if they want.”

  “Let’s hope they don’t,” Ivan groused as Kostya jerked open the door and entered the brightly lit building.

  Ivan let his eyes adjust from the dusky darkness outside to the bright fluorescent light overhead. Kostya paused, letting him take the lead. He walked deeper into the warehouse, surprised by how empty it looked inside. Only a quarter of the space was filled with pallets and containers. There was no way this place was making any money at all. It had to be a front.

  “Ivan!” Mueller greeted with a sickening smile. “So good of you to come! I wasn’t sure you would accept the invitation.”

  Someday, he swore silently, I’m going to knock that smile right off Mueller’s stupid fucking face.

  “I would have come sooner if you had sent an invitation directly to me.” He stopped a few feet in front of Mueller. “Where is my sister-in-law?”

  Mueller whistled, and two men brought her out of a room on the right side of the building. Her face was swollen, and her nose looked broken. Seething, Ivan snarled at Mueller, “Who the fuck hit her?”

  “Not me,” Mueller assured him, his hands raised to show he was innocent. “I told him to take her without causing any injury, but he doesn’t listen very well.”

  “He?”

  “Kavanaugh, of course,” Mueller said and indicated the man holding her by the right arm. “He’s very fond of putting his hands on your sister-in-law.”

  Ivan’s nostrils flared at the disgusting remark. “I hope he’s enjoyed using those hands. When I'm done with him, he won’t even be able to scratch his ass.”

  Mueller laughed. “You know, Kav, I think he’s actually serious.”

  Kavanaugh, stupid as he was, grinned. “He can try.”

  “I won’t be trying anything,” Ivan promised, staring down Kavanaugh until he dropped his gaze like the soft little punk he was. Turning his attention to Mueller, he demanded, “What the hell do you want?”

  “Well, what I really want, I can’t have,” Mueller replied cryptically. “I mean, I could have it, but I don’t think my wife would appreciate that dalliance any more than you would.”

  As Mueller’s meaning sunk in, Ivan’s hands curled to fists at his side, but he kept his temper in check. Knocking his teeth down his throat wasn’t going to solve anything. At least, not tonight.

  “The property,” Mueller said finally. “I want your property. For free,” he added as if Ivan needed the clarification. “I need that land to secure the rights to develop and to get my hands on that big pile of government money.”

  “You did this,” he gestured to Ruby’s face, “over some fucking property?”

  “I tried to buy it from you, but I could tell when Erin left my office that you two weren’t going to sell. I would have tried to sweeten the deal to get your cooperation, but my hand was forced due to unforeseen circumstances. So—here we are.”

  “Teague?” he asked, wondering how Mueller knew about the man’s suicide.

  “Yes,” Mueller said with an exaggerated sigh. “Him getting fired this morning over the firm’s audit and the missing money has caused significant problems for my investors and me. The auditors will turn over their findings to the board, and the firm’s board will launch an investigation that will probably catch the attention of the Feds. Just a few hops and skips and the Feds will realize that Teague tried to replace his massive loss by laundering money overseas. Africa,” he said with a disgusted look on his face. “I warned him about touching those people and their money.” He turned toward the corner of the warehouse and the pallets there. “And their guns.”

  Ivan glanced at the pallets and shipping containers. “That stupid bastard worked with arms dealers?”

  Mueller shrugged. “He’s book smart, not street smart. That will be a problem once he’s in prison.”

  Ivan hid his shock at the realization that Mueller didn’t know about the suicide. He thought Teague was still alive.

  “Unless he talks,” Ivan warned. “Negotiates a deal with the Feds.”

  “He knows what happens to men who snitch,” Mueller replied confidently. “He’ll stay loyal and do his time.”

  “Sounds like you have it all worked out,” Ivan said, all the while wondering how angry Mueller would be when he realized he had it all wrong.

  “Plan your work, work your plan,” Mueller parroted smugly. “So, do we have a deal? The sister for the land?”

  Ivan shook his head. “No.”

  Ruby whimpered with shock. She sent him a pleading stare, silently begging him to save her. Did she really think he would leave her?

  “No?” Mueller echoed. “What do you want?”

  “You can have those two pieces of property and three others in my portfolio.”

  “In exchange for?”

  “Ruby.”

  “Obviously.”

  “And him.” Ivan pointed at Kavanaugh.

  Kava
naugh’s face went slack. He whipped his attention to Mueller and seemed finally understand he was expendable. “Sir, you can’t be— ”

  Mueller shrugged. “Sure. Take him. He’s replaceable.”

  “Wait! Sir! Mr. Mueller!” He let go of Ruby and tried to reach Mueller, but two of his former friends showed how little loyalty they had by blocking him.

  “It was nice doing business with you, Ivan.” Mueller ignored Kavanaugh’s continued shouts and pleading. “I’ll have my lawyers get in touch tomorrow.”

  Without even a glance at Kavanaugh, Mueller walked away, proving what Ivan had always known. The man was a hateful little coward.

  Speaking of cowards...

  Ivan stalked toward Kavanaugh who looked ready to bolt. Kostya kept him from running by lifting his weapon and warning, “I’ll shoot you in the dick if you make me chase you.”

  With Kavanaugh under control, Ivan reached for Ruby and tugged her into a brotherly embrace. She collapsed with relief and clung to him. “For a second there, I thought you were going to let them keep me.”

  “I told you before,” he said gruffly, “you’re family.”

  “Jesus, you almost sound as if you actually like me,” she said with a sniffle and a laugh.

  “Well, you’re growing on me,” he admitted and awkwardly patted her back. “Like a mushroom.”

  “Jerk!” She punched him with her balled-up fist, but he barely felt it. “I’ll have you know if I were a mushroom, I would be a white truffle, expensive and rare.”

  “And loved by pigs,” Kostya commented.

  Ruby frowned at him. “Who asked you?”

  “No one,” Ivan said, stepping between them before they started to argue. He turned his attention to Kavanaugh, who looked like he was about to piss his pants. “Not so fucking tough now, huh?”

  “What are we going to do with him?” Kostya asked, a ravenous gleam in his eye. He had been sidelined too long and needed to get back to doing what he did best.

  “Where’s your closest black site?”

  “About ten minutes from here.”