The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2)

by Nancy Haviland

  They reached the kitchen just as Eva was twisting the lid off a large jar. She scooped a ladle—an actual soup ladle—of green olives into a bowl before placing the container back in the double-door refrigerator. As she popped two into her mouth, Tegan spoke.

  “I’m all for wallowing in anxiety, but anyone interested in one hell of a distraction?”

  Nika had gone over to steal a tangy treat from the bowl clutched against Eva’s chest, and they turned to look at the MD. “Yes,” they said together.

  Tegan sailed across the room and grabbed a small black case off the counter. She waved for them to follow her as she left. “Tell me again what your problem is,” she called to Eva over her shoulder as she headed down the hallway.

  Eva quickly stuffed four olives into her mouth and then placed the bowl on the counter. She looked at Nika, pursing her lips. “She could at least sound like she cares,” she muttered.

  “Heard that,” Tegan sang as they followed her. “Now start talking, Moretti.”

  Pride parted the gloomy clouds on Eva’s face at the sound of her new name. “I’ve been getting headaches for a couple of weeks now. They just come out of nowhere, and when they go I’m left feeling nauseous and a little shaky.”

  Nika looked at her as they walked. “You never told me that.”

  They all entered the large bathroom off the foyer and gathered around as Tegan withdrew a few things from her bag. “Have you mentioned this to Gabriel?”

  Eva laughed. “Uh, no. He’s a little controlling, in case you’ve forgotten who we’re talking about,” she said wryly. “He’d never let me out of bed if he thought I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “He’s been keeping you on the couch watching ‘a show he’s wanted to see’ a lot lately, huh? Sitting out on the deck, you snuggled in his lap? Lazing in bed, wrapped all over you, till noon?”

  Eva’s cheeks flamed. “Well, yes, yes, and yes. How do—”

  “He knows.” The confidence in Tegan’s tone was indisputable. Nika started to get nervous, and she shelved her own problems for the moment. “Gabriel is not a sedentary person,” Tegan added. “So that must mean”—she pointed at Eva like a Price Is Right model—“you’re the cause. What? You thought your man was lazy?”

  “No!” The denial was instant, vehement and fierce, and Nika had to smile as defense of her husband brought out that little beast Eva kept hidden. “How dare you say something like that, Tegan? Gabriel is the most—”

  “Look, I’m just—”

  “I wasn’t finished!”

  Tegan reared back at the authority that rang in Eva’s voice and shut her mouth immediately. Nika smirked.

  “Gabriel is not lazy. And I never thought for one minute that he was. He’s caring and loving and affectionate, and I just thought he wanted to spend time with me, the way I want to spend time with him. I didn’t . . . realize . . . Is he letting his responsibilities slide? Neglecting his duties at TarMor? He can’t be, because we work on stuff all the time. Is he not dealing with things within the family that need his attention? Just so that . . .” A sob escaped, and Nika moved in to hug her.

  Tegan beat her there.

  “Hey,” the doctor cooed, gathering Eva into her arms as if she’d been a mother for fifty years. The tenderness of her actions, and the sincere remorse on her face, had Nika fighting a few stupid tears of her own. “I never meant to imply you were holding him back or that he was doing something he didn’t want to do. Shit. If he could throw in the towel on every responsibility he has so he could spend every waking moment in your presence, you know damn well he’d do it. He loves you like nothing I’ve ever seen before, Moretti. Which I don’t mind admitting is sometimes sickening to watch.” She pushed Eva an arm’s length away. “Forgive me?”

  Eva sniffled. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly, her eyes glittering. “I’m so stupid lately.”

  “No, you’re not. Let’s get this done.” Tegan put herself nose to nose with Eva. “We good, you and me? I never meant to upset you.”

  Eva laughed and accepted the tissue Nika handed her. “Yes, we’re good. Just . . . I don’t know. Don’t insult him again.”

  “No worries there,” she said, giving Nika an obvious eye roll. “Whew. That’s all I need is that man pissed at me for upsetting the queen bee.” Tegan reached into her small bag and took out a plastic cup. After tearing the seal that was taped over the orange lid, she shoved it at Eva. “Pee.”

  Suspicious sapphire eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  This close to pulling her friend’s pants down herself, Nika grabbed the cup from Tegan and waved it under Eva’s nose. “Please, Eva! I’m about to lose it here!”

  “I think you’ve both already lost it,” Eva muttered, but she shoved down her tights, squatted over the toilet, and peed in the cup.

  After opening a small container that held some little sticks, Tegan accepted the liquid and dunked the tip of one of the sticks in. She then, annoyingly, put it behind her back to wait. Nika started to sweat. What the hell was this? Could Eva have some residual problem left over from when Gabriel’s brother had kidnapped her? Internal bleeding or something? Or had Gabriel listened to her diabetes warning and they were checking for ketones in her urine?

  “Tegan?” Eva was biting on her bottom lip as she washed her hands. “You’re starting to scare me.”

  The doctor whipped the stick back around and . . . squealed like a piglet—sending Eva and Nika scrambling back.

  Within two seconds, pounding footsteps came from the direction of the front door. “Eva?” The panic in Gabriel’s deep shout was heart wrenching.

  “In here,” his wife called, her frown turning into a glare as she extracted herself from the shower curtain and moved to the door. “What is going on, Dr. Evil?” she snapped.

  The door flew open, and Gabriel nearly mowed his woman down as he burst into the huge bathroom, shrinking it to nothing with his size. His head whipped around as if he’d expected to find them tied up and being robbed. Nika had to smile. Quan caught her eye from just beyond the door and winked, shaking his head as he walked away.

  “I heard a scream,” Gabriel said, stilling now that he saw they were all free of harm. His eyes flared when he saw Tegan’s medical bag on the counter. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “I just performed a test on your wife,” Tegan said around a swallow that had Nika’s heart hammering. “It’s a little thing that measures the human chorionic gonadotropin, or HCG, in . . . uh, Gabriel?”

  Nika was listening so raptly to the MD that she hadn’t noticed Gabriel listing to the side. Eva jammed her shoulder into his armpit and tried to hold him up. “Gabriel!” she cried as he fell heavily onto the closed toilet seat. “Are y—oopf!”

  Eva was suddenly enveloped in a hug that had to have been sent straight from heaven. Gabriel’s strong arms embraced her, big hands caressed her; his horrified face buried itself in the hollow of her neck.

  “Save my life right now, T, and tell me there’s nothing wrong with my wife.”

  The emotion in the room heightened instantly. Nika tented her hands over her mouth, never having heard anything so touching in all her life. Eva wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and melted as she kissed his jaw.

  Tegan then smiled tenderly at the couple and announced quietly, “You guys are having a baby.”

  Nika grabbed a towel off the counter and stuffed the fresh-smelling terry cloth in her face. She collapsed onto the cushioned bench along the wall and tried not to sob. Thank God there was nothing wrong with Eva. She was just pregnant.

  Holy shit.

  Tegan came over and helped her up. “She’s okay. I got her,” she said as she led Nika out of the bathroom, face still covered. They left the still-silent couple intertwined on the toilet.

  “Man, I love, love, stunning people like that,” Tegan murmured as she closed the
door behind them.

  Her best friend was having a baby. Thank God Gabriel had come back home to share in this life-changing moment with her.

  But where were Vincente and Caleb?

  CHAPTER 16

  Maksim Kirov scanned the area around him, noting pretty much everything before he widened his scope to include the rest of the club. Originally a large movie theater, the place was long and narrow, every inch of the walls covered with misshapen mirrors to reflect warped and distorted images that looked exotic rather than strange. The ceilings were a good thirty feet up, also mirrored to throw the blue-and-green-shaded floor lights around in seductive flashes. The patrons, most barely dressed, he noted without much enthusiasm, stood on a gradual incline, unless they were grinding it on the packed dance floor that took up a good chunk of the real estate down below.

  Scattered through the massive space were five huge steel birdcages, each of them with male or female exotic dancers inside. One of them with both.

  “Big difference from Rapture,” Micha, Maks’s right hand, commented as he slid a glass over on the clean bar top. “Too much noise.”

  Maks shrugged. He didn’t mind the noise. Better than what went on in his own head. “The woman’s smart,” he allowed, referring to the club’s owner, who he’d been hearing good things about. “Great layout, well staffed. It’s obvious just by looking around that she knows her clientele and serves them well.” But Micha was right; Club Pant was nothing like Maksim’s place. This was all about high energy. The patrons ranged on a wide arc from the kid on scholarship at Columbia to the Lindsay Lohans and Miley Cyruses of Celebrityville. Rapture was the opposite—low-key, tastefully luxurious—and Maks catered to those who enjoyed a certain anonymity.

  “I’ve heard talk of this Australian,” Micha said as they clinked their glasses together before emptying them of the chilled Stoli.

  “As have I. Vincente said she has a surveillance system that rivals Rapture’s. Can’t imagine it, but V doesn’t bullshit.” Maksim still didn’t believe it. There was no way it could be anywhere near, or better than, his own. Not that he’d mind the competition. Normally, he just didn’t get any.

  Micha nodded at the bartender. “Two more, and would you tell Ms. Martin someone’s here to see her?”

  The bartender looked skeptical around his eager-to-please nod and went off to do Micha’s bidding. Maksim sighed in annoyance at having to wait and wondered when the others would get there.

  Vincente had called and asked him to drop in and get the ball rolling—since he was closest, Rapture being a few blocks west. He was to check out some security footage that would most likely show Kevin Nollan slipping that threatening note into Nika’s purse. Shit situation for that girl, he thought, his mood deteriorating even more at the reminder that it had taken him so long to pin the goof down. But he’d finally hit gold when researching Nollan’s family again and had come up with a New York addy for a Darren Nollan. Cousin on the father’s side. Maks would be putting a smile on V’s face when he shared the info in a few.

  He knew Gabriel and Quan had gone back home. The boss had said something about not feeling right leaving the girls on their own—which they weren’t really, not with Tegan home and Alesio and Vito on duty. But, regardless, none of them ignored their instincts when they pinged, so Maks got it, even as he scoffed silently. The security system he’d installed at the house was also faultless. Nothing was getting by it, and nothing went on there without him knowing about it.

  Case in point: the moment Tegan, his best bud of many years, had screamed earlier, his system had picked up on the high-pitched sound and alerted Maksim. He’d called up his program, had flipped from camera to camera, switching to the mics when he couldn’t get a visual on the girls—even he had enough respect not to put eyes in the bathrooms or bedrooms. He cleared his throat at what the sound equipment in the foyer had picked up coming from the bathroom.

  “G’s having a kid with Vasily’s daughter,” he announced to Micha, who turned to him with a shocked look. Which meant his brow quirked slightly over his pale-green eyes.

  “No shit. Already?”

  Maks grinned. His boy worked fast. “Already. But keep it on the DL until I say. No one should know yet.”

  “Yet you do,” Micha murmured. “Good on him. Wonder how Vasily’s going to feel about being a grandfather.”

  “First his daughter, and now a grandchild? A little man he’ll have close enough to mold?” Maks shook his head and tipped his glass back to swallow his second of the night, feeling envious. “He’ll be pleased.”

  “Gentlemen? What can I do for you?” questioned a female with a sexy-as-shit Australian accent.

  Reminding himself to be polite, because Vasily had told him Sydney Martin was a friend of Lucian Fane, Maksim turned.

  And didn’t even attempt to hold in his loud groan. Thanks for the warning, V, you fuck, he thought as he closed his gaping mouth and figuratively wiped the drool from his chin.

  Sydney Martin was damn fine. Small tight body, long silver-blonde hair, luminescent skin that proved she’d never smoked a cigarette in her life. Her bone structure was ridiculously perfect, the feminine jaw and high cheekbones almost too fragile.

  Delicately curved eyebrows a few shades darker than her hair went up, and she blinked, practically fanning him with her long lashes. “Mr. Kirov? May I help you with something?” She knew him. How? He’d find out later. Pillow talk.

  “Hello, lover,” he greeted, settling into their new roles right out of the gate.

  Her expression didn’t change, but Maks could have sworn she rolled her eyes without having actually rolled her eyes. She looked to Micha and missed Maks’s grin.

  “May I help you?”

  Micha, being the smart guy he was, had obviously noted Maks’s interest, and he deferred back to the hand that fed him without a word. He simply inclined his head Maksim’s way so that Sydney had no choice but to bring her attention back where it belonged.

  She shifted on her high-heeled shoes and looked up at him, irritated now. She was one small woman. Would probably only reach high enough to press those lickable lips of hers to the middle of his chest if he didn’t feel like bending for her. But going by that level stare and tipped chin, she clearly wasn’t in the habit of taking any shit from anyone, stature be damned.

  Deciding he could get his fill of what she looked like—naked—at a later date, he relented and got to the point of their visit. “Our mutual friend, Vincente Romani, is requesting a viewing of your security footage from last night.”

  She folded her arms over her middle and tapped her tongue on the back of her top teeth. Again, her expression didn’t alter, but it suddenly seemed as if she was glaring at him. “Does this have something to do with the redhead he escorted out?”

  “Yes,” Maks said simply, offering nothing more.

  “Do I have the option to refuse this request?”

  He reached out and caught a lock of her hair to rub between his fingers. It was as soft as it looked. “No, lover, you don’t. This is too important.”

  She flipped her head, pulling her hair away. “Fine. Come with me.” She turned away.

  They followed her to a metal staircase that ran up along the wall to a grated, exposed second-floor corridor. As they climbed, Maks felt something poke uncomfortably in his chest when he saw the five-inch heels on her Louboutins. Shit, without those stillies she’d be fucking tiny. He’d be able to lift her to position her however he wanted with no trouble at all.

  They stopped at the only door and waited for her to tap a code into a keypad. “You take your security seriously,” he commented.

  “Of course,” she returned as she opened the door and waved them into what had to be her office.

  Maks stiffened when they were met by a somewhat familiar face. Gheorghe Fane—cousin to the notorious Lucian—nodded as he rose from a
long sofa that sat against the wall.

  “Kirov. Micha.” They all shook. “What are you boys doing here?”

  Micha melted off to the side without a word, as was his way, while Maks cursed the fact that Gheorghe had obviously beat him to the punch where the Aussie was concerned. Very disappointing. He totally wanted to sulk.

  “Your lady has some security footage we’re interested in seeing,” he said, working to keep his tone neutral. That must have been how she’d known his name. They’d probably caught sight of him and Micha on camera, and Gheorghe must have told her who they were before she came downstairs.

  “I’m not his lady.”

  Maks unclamped his jaws and looked up to see his little sprite take up position behind a desk that held nothing but a phone and closed laptop. In fact, the entire office was barren, giving no clue as to the personality of its owner. There wasn’t even a plant or a calendar on the wall. Just furniture: desk, chair, file cabinets, and sofa.

  And had she just clarified her single status for his sake?

  Maksim went over and sat on the edge of her desk, close enough for it to be considered an invasion of her personal space. She appeared to ignore him completely, but he knew women well enough to know she was aware of him. Could tell by the way her gaze shifted to the side. Not quite looking but enough to pinpoint his proximity.

  “Whose lady are you, Australia?” he asked quietly.

  “Mine,” she said shortly, still not looking at him. “Do you have a specific timeline for the footage you want? Or would you prefer the entire night?”

  “Most definitely the entire night,” he said immediately.

  Her gaze flashed to his when she caught his meaning, and Maks felt a jolt of pure energy zap him in the chest. Her eyes were purple! “Jesus Christ.” He took her chin in a gentle hold between his finger and thumb to tilt her head up for a better look. “What do they call that color?” He was honestly curious. And he’d been told his own eyes were unusual.