The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2)

by Nancy Haviland

  “It’s bullshit anyway,” Vincente added. “Playing with pain does not do to a body what I just saw. Now stop fucking around, Red, and tell us why you’re covering—badly—for that dead man you’re married to.”

  To save my brother’s life! she wanted to scream. Instead she snapped, “Thank you for ruining my attempt to make my brother feel better, Mr. Expert.” Her need to get out of there was suddenly a screaming roar in her head. Kevin was going to be off the rails.

  Unless she could somehow get that memory stick before he started in on her and get the hell away from him.

  “I’m going to find Eva,” she said, stalking toward the door. “She’ll vouch for me. She knows what I’m into.” How can I say that without laughing hysterically? She stalled and put up a hand when they both went to follow. “Oh no you don’t.” If only she could tell them what was going on and bring them with her for protection. But no. Because if it wasn’t the memory stick she’d felt in the suitcase, then the evidence against her brother was elsewhere. And if she showed up with these two and Kevin learned their secret was out, he wouldn’t hesitate to send that footage to the police and Caleb would go to jail. Her brother would lose his freedom and wouldn’t get it back until he was in his fifties. She couldn’t let that happen.

  “You two stay here, and I’ll bring Eva up. It’s bad enough you’re making me drag her into this on her wedding night. I don’t think she’d appreciate talking about it in front of her guests.”

  Nika spun on her heel and stormed out. It was all she could do not to take her shoes off and run. But she walked at a steady clip, without being followed, and made it down the stairs. Crossing her fingers when she reached the spacious foyer, and feeling guilty as sin because she was ditching Caleb, she went straight for the front door. She waved at the three goons and walked out to the low hum of voices coming from the living room.

  As she lurched down the stone steps to the waiting cab—thank God it had arrived—Nika prayed like she never had before that she would make it through the night.

  CHAPTER 6

  Vincente was rooted to the spot in the middle of Gabriel and Eva’s bedroom.

  Nika was lying. She had to be lying. Rough sex didn’t do to a body what he’d seen marring her statuesque frame. Holy fuck.

  When he’d first come out of the bathroom—after retrieving the gift Gabriel had sent him up for—and he’d seen Nika standing there in nothing but a bra and underwear set, he’d nearly fallen to his knees in worship. But then he’d noticed the fading bruises on her silky skin, the yellow and green and gray coloring to them, the raised bumps on her delicate shoulder blades—which meant, if they were still that swollen when the contusions were healing, they must have been worse than brutal when she’d received them. And the look of horror in those emerald eyes when she’d turned to him, of a tragic secret revealed.

  That expression hadn’t been embarrassment over her sex life.

  Vincente’s stomach heaved; his throat worked as he swallowed. “It wasn’t sex that did that to her, Paynne.”

  “What did you see?”

  Caleb sounded ill, and he hated to add to it, but . . .

  “Dozens of marks. Some old, some not. Deep and dark. On her bones—” He sucked in a furious breath. “What the fuck are we waiting here for? I know she’s lying!”

  Caleb looked unsure, but he still followed Vincente out. “What if she’s not?”

  “She is.” Vincente had learned a long time ago to listen to his instincts, and those motherfuckers were screaming so loud his head felt as if it were about to explode. To know those injuries had been put there by a man’s hand. Fuck. The power of his rage was frightening, even to him.

  Her husband had something on her. Nothing else would explain why she stayed with the abuser. Kevin Nollan, that sonofafuckingbitch, had something on Nika.

  He and Caleb hit the foyer, and the first thing Vincente saw was Eva laughing at something her father was saying to her. They were just inside the living room, and she looked over at their approach, the smile sliding from her face.

  “What’s wrong? Caleb? Where’s Nika?”

  “She said she was coming down to get you.”

  “I haven’t seen her since the ceremony. I was going up to look for her, but Maksim said you’d all gone into our bedroom and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  Maks was obviously keeping an eye on the security cameras. Vincente looked around and waved over the man in question.

  “What’d you two do to scare her off?” the Russian drawled as he raised his vodka rocks and took a drink.

  “She left?” Vincente questioned. “Why the fuck didn’t you sound the alarm?”

  “Wasn’t aware I should. Cab pulled up, and she came down a minute later. We going after her?”

  “Caleb and I will go. We don’t need a bunch of bodies drawing attention.”

  “To what? Why did she leave?” Eva exclaimed. “What happened?”

  A now-frowning Vasily put an arm around his daughter’s shoulders as Gabriel descended on the group, looking curious.

  Caleb rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands so hard Vincente was surprised the orbs didn’t pop right out of their sockets. From the lines of strain around the poor guy’s mouth and the pallid tone to his skin, it was clear the biker had accepted Vincente’s suspicions as truth. Dammit. He was going to fall to guilty little pieces any second now.

  Vincente knew what that was all about. “Paynne. Let’s go.”

  The biker’s head came up and he just stared, as though he didn’t know what else to do. And Vincente felt something in his chest hurt. No one, least of all him, wanted to see a man like Caleb Paynne brought to his knees like this. And Vincente knew firsthand the mind-numbing self-condemnation that came from failing to protect a little sister.

  “Go where?” Vex chimed in, the sound of his boots thudding as he too walked over with a beer in his hand. “What’s up, brother?” he said to Caleb. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “We were right about Nika,” Caleb croaked.

  Vex stilled, his features hardening, and his blue eyes turned as frosty as Vincente had seen Alek’s do a time or two.

  “Fill me in, V,” Gabriel said. “Where is Nika?” He took over from Vasily and tucked Eva into his side.

  “She left,” his wife told him.

  “Paynne,” Vincente repeated. “Let’s go.”

  Vex stepped up, and Vincente shook his head. “You stay.”

  “Fuck you, Romani,” Vex growled.

  Maks moved in, halting mere inches from the ODMC president’s back.

  Father Russo discreetly made his exit. Thank God the kid could be trusted not to go hightailing it to his brother the second he left the house. That’s all they’d need is fucking Lorenzo breathing down their necks, wanting to handle this by the book.

  “Do you know where she is?” Vincente asked Vex, whose jaw rolled in a nice wave before he shook his head once.

  “Well I do—so Caleb and I go.” For some reason, even though Vincente had always liked Vex, he didn’t anymore. Could be because of the way the goof—yeah, he’d said it—had given Nika that overly familiar hug when he’d first seen her. Or the way the biker had stared at her all evening.

  Tired of waiting, he grabbed Nika’s brother by the collar and yanked him toward the front door. “You better take a breath and snap out of it, boy,” he growled into Caleb’s ear.

  “Take one more step and I’ll shoot you both in the back of your stubborn fucking heads.”

  Vincente stalled. Shit. He didn’t have time for this. He turned and met Gabriel’s cold gaze.

  “I want something other than ‘she’s gone,’ ” Gabriel said.

  Vincente looked pointedly at a now-pale Eva.

  “Tell us, Vincente,” she implored.

  “Nollan uses Nika a
s a speed bag. Saw the evidence myself.”

  Shock and horror swept the group.

  “Go.” Gabriel rubbed a hand down his face. “And make sure you call the boys for a cleanup when you’re through with him. But get her somewhere safe first.”

  “Bring her to the clubhouse,” Vex said as he followed Vincente and Caleb out the door. “I’ll meet you there.”

  Caleb nodded and jumped into the passenger side of Vincente’s truck as he slid behind the wheel. At this point, Vincente wasn’t overly concerned with where she ended up. As long as it was away from the bastard who’d put those marks on her body.

  Nika unlocked the door of the hotel room with the key—which right there showed what a classy place it was that they still used the metal trinkets—and slipped quickly inside, her heart slamming behind her sternum with thick, heavy beats.

  Her dread was instantly realized when she felt her hair being grabbed and yanked back. Kevin’s furious face hovered over hers, but only for a second. In the next instant she was flying across the room. She landed hard on the floor, skidding into the end table and knocking the lamp over.

  Fear squeezed what little was left of the air from her lungs as she kicked her one remaining shoe off and scrambled to her feet. Just in time to meet the fist that came flying at her face. At her face! He never went for her face! Which meant he was gone. And so was she.

  Hard knuckles connected with her cheek, snapping her head sideways. There was nothing, and then pain exploded behind her eyes. She fell half on the bed, half off, and fought with all her might when Kevin’s heavy body landed on top of her.

  “You are fucking dead this time. Do you hear me, you lying bitch?” he said in a low voice that terrified her. “Where were you? What were you doing? Who were you doing?”

  She scratched at his face, punched, landing a hard knock to his nose, then lifted her knee and felt it connect with his useless junk. He gasped and groaned but didn’t let up. His long fingers encircled her neck and began to squeeze, his expression vicious as he strained over her, blood from his nose dripping onto her cheeks. Black spots began dotting her vision as she struggled to breathe. He was killing her. He was really going to kill her this time.

  “Fuck you,” she rasped. She hadn’t come this far to let him win now. She pried her clenched fingers from his T-shirt and threw her arm to the side . . . reaching . . . reaching . . . until she grasped the fallen lamp. And with all the power she had, she swung it down on his head.

  The metal made a twanging sound as it hit his skull, stunning him enough for his grip to loosen on her throat. She sucked in mouthfuls of fiery oxygen and shoved him as hard as she could, just enough to slip out from beneath him.

  Scraping and clawing, she crossed the bed, but before she could make it off the other side his hand manacled around her ankle and yanked her back. Another fist hammered into her, this one hitting her in the chest. She could have sworn her heart stopped for a second before speeding into a damaging rhythm that pumped faster than ever. Pain was a thing of the past as Nika struggled to breathe, survival first and foremost in her mind.

  “You’re not getting away, you cunt. I’ll never let you get away. You belong to me.”

  “No. I. Don’t,” she gritted out. She jammed the heel of her hand under his chin, slamming his jaws together, and swung her elbow, connecting with his eye socket. Another grunt shot from his mouth.

  “You’ve never been like this, Niki. I fuckin’ love it,” he panted. Then he added, “And so will everyone else. You’ll see. This is how it’s gonna go down. You fighting them off.” He wrapped her hair around his wrist and slammed the side of her head into the headboard. With his free hand he captured one of her arms.

  Around her sudden dizziness, she punched at his face, the ring on her middle finger slicing into his skin to leave a long gash that started to bleed.

  “They’re gonna slap you around, and then once they beat the shit outta your spirit, they’re gonna fuck you, Niki. That’ll be your debut vid into the porn world. You’ll be a little worse for wear,” he said with a sick smile as he twisted her arm hard and jammed his thigh between her legs, “but you’ll still be takin’ it right here from four guys tomorrow night.”

  Only if it’s my corpse, she thought through a tsunami of panic at what she felt on her thigh. He was aroused. For the first time in a year, Kevin had an erection. Because of the ferocity with which she was fighting him?

  “Nika!”

  Everything happened so quickly after that, she was barely able to follow.

  Kevin shot off her so fast it would have been comical if the situation wasn’t so tragic.

  “Nika? Open the door!” Vincente shouted again.

  She watched in horror as Kevin grabbed the suitcase and dove for the open window with the fire escape outside.

  No!

  Nika sprang up and lunged, her fingers closing in an iron grip on the cheap leather case. “No fucking way,” she wheezed, holding his evil glare as she yanked. He yanked back, pulling her with him, until she felt the warm garbage-tainted breeze from outside brush over her face.

  A hard slam against the door had Kevin’s eyes rounding with fear, and he shoved her, and the case, back into the room. The sound of his scrambling footfalls on the metal steps rang in her ears as Nika flailed. Her feet tripped up in the blanket that had fallen from the bed, and she went down, smashing the back of her head on the dresser behind her. At the same time, the door burst open and her brother and Vincente poured into the disheveled room.

  “Nika!” Caleb flew over, sliding most of the way because he’d fallen to his knees.

  God, she had to get the water out of her ears, she thought in confusion as she tried to focus. Her vision was blurred as hell; fireworks and black spiderwebs nearly covered her sight. “Knife,” she panted.

  “What? He had a knife?”

  Vincente’s voice. She tipped her head, or she thought she did, and saw him beside her. “Where is he, babe? Goddammit, Red!” he exploded. “Why didn’t you stay with me?”

  The tortured sound of his voice faded in and out. Why was he here? Did he really just ask why she hadn’t stayed with him? And had he called her babe?

  “Knife,” she mumbled again as she struggled to sit up through the waves of vertigo assaulting her.

  “What knife, Nik?”

  “I need. A knife!”

  She’d wanted to scream, but her words came out weak and slurred.

  “Here.” Vincente handed her an open butterfly. Bless his bloodthirsty heart.

  She took it from him with shaking hands. “Fire escape,” she breathed, wanting them to know where Kevin had gone. She accidentally cut herself twice, shoving her brother’s hands away when he would have confiscated her tool. But, finally, she sliced open the fabric on the side of the suitcase enough to work her bruised and bleeding hand inside. Her fingers wrapped around a smooth plastic shape.

  And Nika’s tears fell.

  Soundless sobs tore from her throat, racking her body as she pulled the stick free. She held it up for her brother to see. “I got it,” she whispered hoarsely, voice raw. “I saved us, Caleb. I did it.”

  Vincente’s strong arms came around her waist to pull her back, but she kept her eyes on her brother. He shook his head, his expression a mix of utter confusion, horror, and grief. “Nik, I don’t understand.”

  She couldn’t dredge up enough energy to explain. Not with the heat from Vincente’s body suddenly surrounding her. Not with his gentle palm stroking so softly over her wet hair.

  Wet? Why was her hair wet?

  She saw his hand come away with a bright-red smear on it. It was then she slipped down, sliding like mist into the dark.

  Just gave up and floated away from her broken body.

  Vincente watched the blood drip off his wrist and felt panic frost his organs. Without hesitating, he wh
ipped out his cell and called Tegan.

  “Hey. Gabriel said you might—”

  “What do I do for a profusely bleeding head wound?” His voice cracked like a whip.

  “Something clean. Firm pressure. Lay them down. Who is it, Vin? Are you okay?” Tegan slipped into MD mode without missing a beat.

  “Hang on.” He grabbed a pillow that was half under the bed. Fuck that—it was filthy. He shouldered his shirt off, sliding it behind Nika’s head. With his palm on her forehead, he pulled her back so that his chest acted as the wall against the makeshift press. He needed his hands free to carry her. Snatching his phone back up from the grungy carpet, he talked fast. “I’m fine. Nika isn’t. Are you still at the house?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll get there as fast as we can. Please, T. Be ready. She’s . . . bad.”

  Why wasn’t the state of emergency siren wailing in the distance? he wondered as he hung up and stood. How could the hotel and the buildings around them still be standing through the funnel cloud that was warping his thoughts? Nika’s weight barely registered in his arms as he and Caleb got moving.

  “You okay to drive?” he asked the biker, whose eyes were locked on his sister. “We’re going back to my place, not the clubhouse.”

  “Of course. What the fuck did she mean she ‘saved us’?” Caleb asked as the color slowly, too slowly, returned to his face. “Gimme the keys. I’ll bring the truck around back. Actually, no, that’ll waste time. No one’s gonna bother with questions in this shithole anyway.”

  And he was right. Not one person—and they passed by seven of them from the room to the hotel entrance—even raised a brow at the sight of two obvious heavies carrying an unconscious, bleeding woman away. Vincente wanted to rage at that but was too busy trying to tamp down his alarm at how utterly still Nika was.

  The second he was in the backseat of his truck, with her body sprawled across him and Paynne flying out of Brooklyn toward Old Westbury, he was on the phone again.