The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2)

by Nancy Haviland

  Eva went over and put the milk away. “Yes. A very good thing,” she agreed when she returned. “I just hope the process is a quick one.” She sighed, and they both pushed their eggs around their plates. “No matter the venture or where in the world you are, everyone’s the same, aren’t they? Power and money draws out the greedy, and the craving for both usually turns violent, sometimes deadly.” She forked up a slice of peach and reached out with her free hand to go to work on Samnang’s spice rack, lining up all the labels to within an inch of their lives. “It sucks that both my husband and father are at the top of the food chain in our small circle of it all.” Her smile was stiff as her hand brushed across her navel. “I have to say, having Quan and Vincente watching Gabriel’s back helps. And Alek and Maksim, too. I’ll feel even better when Jak gets here from Seattle. He used to be a US Navy SEAL. Isn’t that crazy?”

  Nika pushed her plate aside and brought her coffee forward, her appetite having deserted her. Yeah, crazy. She truly was glad that Gabriel was well covered, sure, but who would have Vincente’s back when, and if, the time came?

  Vincente stood outside the closed door, anxiety clawing at his insides. He’d gotten so tired of hearing the guy inside yammer his denials—that had soon turned into excuses—that he’d had to get the fuck out of the room. He wished he could have kept walking because what he really wanted was to get the fuck home!

  The desperate thought didn’t faze him.

  Well, it shouldn’t, since he’d been having it every minute and a half for the past five goddamn hours. He’d never dragged his feet more than he had when following Gabriel and Quan out of the house. Quan had smiled most of the way to Brooklyn. The bastard. G had smirked a little, after asking him how he’d gotten the “bruise” on the front of his throat. Vincente wore Nika’s mark with way too much pride.

  Shit.

  He’d screwed himself by having her. Royally, because he now wanted her again.

  And again, and again, as he’d known he would.

  Shit. Shit.

  His head snapped up when he heard heavy footfalls coming from around the corner in the lower level of the empty office building they were in. He palmed his SIG, keeping it pressed to his thigh, and relaxed only when Gabriel, Quan, and Maks came into view. Fuck. Finally.

  “What the hell took you so long, Kirov?” he snapped as they drew near. The idiot’s choice of T-shirt didn’t even make his lips twitch; it read, I Shaved My Balls for This?

  Maks gave him a hard look. “Get off my ass, V. I’m not in the mood. I haven’t gotten laid in days. Days. Yes, you heard that right. I’m going on next to no sleep. And that little Aussie’s still refusing to play by my goddamned rules.” He threw open the door Vincente was standing next to and looked inside. “Yeah. That’s him. Nice to be the head of the operation, huh, asshole?” he said to the guy as he raised the Glock Vincente hadn’t even seen in his hand and fired off three rounds, pulling the door closed before the echo finished its thing. “Why the fuck is she playing hard to get? Who does that anymore? You think she’s playing me? Do you think she thinks she’s getting to me? Or do you think it’s possible she really doesn’t want—”

  Vincente cut him off. “You couldn’t have identified that fuck from the pic I texted and saved me an hour of standing here with my finger in my ass?”

  “Was blurry. Didn’t want an innocent to die for nothing.” Maks shrugged. “Anyway, so that’s what she says, in that fucking gorgeous accent. ‘I’ll pass.’ What the fuck.” He shook his head as he went back the way he’d just come. “I don’t get it. I’m going home,” he called over his shoulder—sounding distinctly sulky—before he disappeared around the corner again.

  Quan took a breath as if he needed the oxygen after that spiel.

  “I could have taken another!” Vincente yelled.

  Gabriel looked over, amusement lurking in his dark-green eyes. “He’s right. Has to be a positive ID. So much for getting details on the dealers from the distracted motherfucker.”

  Vincente wasn’t overly concerned about the whys. “Sydney Martin might as well give in and cuff herself to his headboard. Because he isn’t giving up until she’s there.”

  “No shit.”

  Relief made him feel good when they finally headed for the exit. Almost to the truck, he stopped Gabriel with a bump on the arm.

  “Give us a minute,” he said to Quan, who nodded and carried on to get behind the wheel of the Escalade.

  Gabriel looked curious. “What’s up, V?”

  “I wanted to apologize for my lack of enthusiasm yesterday morning. I’ve been strung out, not that that’s an excuse.” It was what it was, and he wasn’t trying to justify his actions. He kicked away a dirty cigarette butt. “I just want you to know I’m happy as fuck for you and Eva. You’re brave, man. Braver than me.”

  His boy took his outstretched hand and pulled him in for a hug. “Thanks, V. But it’s not about being brave. It’s about being determined. No one is getting at my wife and child. No one. If I have to give my life to make that a reality, I’m more than willing to do it.”

  Vincente nodded once, love and respect for this man making his chest feel swollen. “Nothing is going to happen to you, my brother. You’ll be here to raise your son, or daughter, because if anyone dares to attempt a takedown, they’ll be answering to me long before they get anywhere near you.”

  As they climbed into the truck and got on the road, Gabriel’s words echoed in Vincente’s mind. Determination. Was that all it took to keep your loved ones safe? What about their freedom of choice? Eva could choose to go to the office tomorrow and get knifed in the belly on the sidewalk in front of TarMor by the partner of the dealer they’d just put down. And there would go a wife and child. How would Gabriel’s determination help her then? Unless G locked her up, taking her freedom from her, the possibility that someone might get to her lived.

  Yeah. And they might take one head-on along the freeway halfway home and never make it there. They might get struck by lightning as they walked across the driveway to reach the front door of the house. He might slip on the top step and break his neck as he tumbled back down to the foyer before he even reached Nika in his bedroom.

  Fuck. The possibility of shit happening was just there. All the fucking time. And Vincente had to find a way to live with that.

  Before he drove himself, and everyone around him, nuts.

  They reached Old Westbury in record time. Vincente waved Gabriel and Quan inside and hung back in the garage. He had to get his head on straight before he saw Nika. Didn’t want to spook her with his mood.

  Taking what he hoped was a relaxing breath, he leaned against a spotless worktable and took his phone out. He texted Caleb, asking if they had anything new on Nollan. The bikers had gone back to Crown Heights last night. Probably scared the fuck out of the heavies in the neighborhood, giving the impression the ODMC were moving in.

  Vincente smirked, still waiting for a reply, and looked over when the door leading into the house opened. His breath whooshed from his lungs in a hot rush.

  Nika stood there in a white top—which looked too much like pajamas for her to be walking around in front of the others in—a pair of hip-hugging jeans that left her slim ankles bare, and shoes that would bring her pretty mouth as close to his as he needed right then.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  That musical voice of hers almost had his eyes closing. He shook his head once, at the same time motioning her over with a flip of his fingers. He kept his hand out and pulled her in when she placed hers on his palm.

  Without a word, he brought her closer so that they’d be hidden behind the Kombat if anyone were to come out—for her sake—and then crushed her mouth under his, backing her up against the wall of the garage at the same time. She hit, making a line of extension cords hanging next to them thump against the pegboard. He growled when her fingers tunnel
ed through his hair, the tips sinking into his scalp.

  “Good morning,” he greeted against her lips, his body singing when she rubbed against his erection.

  “Morning,” she whispered. “I’m happy you’re home.”

  A glow lit off somewhere around the region of his heart, but he smothered it. “Me, too.” He picked her up, pulling her thighs around him as he walked toward the door on rubbery knees. Modesty be damned. It wasn’t like Gabriel and Eva hadn’t broken everyone in on what it was like living with new lovers.

  He shoved through the heavy steel, letting it slam behind him after hitting the button to lower the garage door. Making a beeline for the stairs, he tightened his grip when he felt her lips and then warm breath around his ear.

  “Gotta stop that,” he warned roughly, trying to stay on his feet through a jarring body wobble. “Otherwise I might just fu—”

  “V?”

  He stiffened and froze as if he’d just heard a gun go off. Fuck. Double fuck when Nika lifted her head.

  “Later, G.” He kept going, freaking out inside that Gabriel was going to insist on speaking with him right that minute. “Give me an hour,” he said threateningly.

  The chuckle that met his ears had his muscles unlocking from bone. “By the way, you’re in serious shit, Nika,” Gabriel called up as they rounded the corner.

  “Oh, damn.” Guilt suddenly radiated from her. “Eva just texted Gabriel that we were going to take a drive over to the clubhouse to see Caleb. I should explain—”

  “I’ll explain for you,” Vincente growled. “Later. Right now it’s you and me.”

  A slow smile wiped the tension from her features. “But Eva shouldn’t have to deal—”

  “Later,” he repeated in a loud bark.

  “Okay, okay. Later.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No. Thank you.”

  Her thighs tightened around his waist, and he stumbled, catching himself on the doorknob. “Don’t thank me yet.” He slammed his bedroom door behind him and threw the lock.

  She giggled, and he went right for the bed, following her down, his mouth already feeding on hers as they went for each other’s clothes. He felt her kick off her shoes as he did the same with his boots. Multitasking at its best. Her shirt gone, his hands found her breasts.

  “Where’s your bra?” he demanded even as he molded them to his palms, hissing when her nipples beaded into two small pebbles.

  “My blouse has a built-in one.” She pulled the hem of his shirt up and went at the button and zipper on his pants.

  Not wanting to release the gorgeous mounds, he did anyway, forcing his hands down to slide her jeans and underwear down her long legs. Once she was blissfully naked, he whipped his shirt over his head to throw it behind him before pinning her to the mattress again. Her hands were everywhere at once, burning a lasting trail over his heated skin as he kissed his way from her jaw down her neck and across her chest to suck one of those little berries into his mouth. He cupped the other one, kneading and forming it to his palm. His body gave a mighty jerk when he felt her fingers close around his cock; the sensation made him grind into her as if he could become a part of her.

  “Your pants, Vincente.”

  He tore his mouth from her breast and stood, losing his jeans in record time. Still standing, he grabbed Nika’s calves and dragged her to the edge of the bed. After snatching a pillow, he tucked it under her hips to raise her up for him, his knees nearly giving out at the sight she made. Her hair was a mass of color around her head, her creamy skin already flushed with a light sheen of sweat, her eyes now a dark sultry green, filled with desire. Core, ready and waiting for his possession.

  She nodded eagerly. “Give me something to thank you for.” Her hips came up in invitation. One he readily accepted.

  He donned a condom and, gripping her thighs, entered her in one deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt, both of them moaning at the sensation of her inner walls clutching the entire length of his cock. Gripping it. Squeezing.

  Standing had been a bad idea, he realized as his body trembled and flexed. Very bad. He tried to distract himself by concentrating only on Nika, by thinking how incredibly right it felt to be buried within her giving body. He ran a hand down her inner thigh and brushed his thumb over her clit and watched how it made the tendons in her neck strain in reaction. He took his other hand and pushed down her other leg, spreading her wider. Beautifully flexible. Beautifully everything.

  The muscles in his thighs shook as if he’d just run a marathon, but not from physical exertion. No. The weakness he was experiencing was all emotional. Feelings bombarded him—guilt, rage, vengeance, and anxiety, on the one hand, and, on the other, infatuation, protectiveness, possessiveness, adoration, and tenderness.

  “Don’t go anywhere this time, Vincente. Don’t . . . check out. Stay with me?”

  He looked up from where they were joined as she brought her arms down. She’d been gripping the sheets above her head. Now she ran her nails across his abs, scraping a path to his groin as he slid in and out of her. How well she knew him already. But he wasn’t going anywhere else. Especially in his head. He was so far into this moment it was frightening.

  “Just want it to last for you, babe. Nothing else,” he promised through gritted teeth. How could there be anything else?

  “Don’t. Just give me what you’ve got.” Her long fingers circled around his wrists, grounding him. That, coupled with the sounds she made every time his hips pushed forward, and the connection he felt because she made sure to hold his gaze, had him feeling a humbling amazement at what he’d found in her.

  At what he couldn’t keep.

  Her eyes slid closed, back arching suddenly. The movement thrust her breasts up, and she stiffened as she came. The bands of muscles in her core constricted and loosened on his cock, driving all thought from his mind. He quickened his rhythm, unable to do anything but, which had him joining her in her release. His roar of satisfaction drowned out her mewls of approval.

  Gabriel leaned against the granite-topped island in the kitchen and took a drink of his coffee as he watched his wife check on the poached eggs she’d insisted on making him. She sailed over and popped the lever on the toaster down before coming back to take a plate out of the cupboard.

  “Markus called,” she said and yawned, making him frown. She’d slept like the dead last night, barely stirring when he’d left her around three o’clock. Or had that been an act on her part? Had she lain awake all night worrying over him, as he’d been doing with her lately? Or maybe it was normal for her to be so tired.

  He studied her as she took a slotted spoon from the utensil drawer, her eyes shifting to the entrance, as if she expected Samnang to come barreling in and yell at her for daring to lift a finger in his kitchen. Guy probably would, but in the nicest way possible.

  What would she look like when her pregnancy started showing? Would she soften much? Grow curvier? Remain slim?

  He looked to the ceiling and out through the skylight, sending up yet another thank-you. How was it he’d been so blessed?

  “Sit.”

  He brought his head down to see Eva standing before him with his eggs and toast on a plate. He looked at her perfect breasts, which were covered by a pretty black sundress that had daisies all over it.

  How heavy would they grow?

  “See?” she said, her shoulders drooping. “I really think you should go take a nap. Quan did.”

  He shook his head and went around to get a stool, taking her with him by grabbing a handful of her dress. She placed his breakfast in front of him as he wrapped an arm around her narrow waist to draw her close. Lowering his hand to her navel, he silently said good morning to his little guy or girl. “I’m not tired, sweetheart. I was actually wondering what you’ll look like once you’re showing.”

  She pushed his fork cl
oser, making him smile. “From what I’ve been reading, I’ll be round, swollen, and cranky.”

  He chuckled as the sound of a Harley rumbled at his elbow. Definitely not his ringtone, but he reached for the cell anyway.

  “That’s Nika’s.” Eva snickered. “Caleb’s influence, obviously. She must have forgotten it after we had break—”

  Gabriel jumped to his feet and shoved his stool back so hard it skidded across the floor and fell to its side. The previewed text and image on the screen kicked him right in the stomach.

  I’m tired of this game. I want you back right fucking now!

  The text was from Kevin, and the photo was of Caleb tied to a chair and beaten to shit.

  “What happened?” Eva sputtered as he pulled her by the wrist out of the kitchen and down the hallway, shoving her gently toward the stairs.

  “Go up and get Vincente. He’s in his room with Nika. Now,” he snapped when she opened her mouth. He cringed when his pregnant wife went flying up the stairs, and then he hauled ass to the basement door and yanked it open. “Maks! Get up here!” He looked again at Caleb’s pic. One eye was swollen shut, mouth puffy, dried blood under his nose and on his lips. Motherfuck! How the hell had Nollan gotten him?

  In no time, the sound of heavy footsteps coming from above heralded V’s arrival. The guy bounded down the stairs two at a time, slipping his T-shirt over his head as he went, the top button of his jeans still undone. “What the fuck—”

  Gabriel held up a hand and shook his head. Vincente clearly knew something big was going down because he got that look. The one that made a man’s nape tingle when he saw it.

  Lighter steps, but no less urgent, came seconds later. Once Eva and Nika joined them, he handed the phone over to the Reaper. And received the exact response he’d expected.

  Vincente looked at the message and went still as a statue. He then looked through the phone, as if his mind had gone someplace else, his big chest motionless for a few beats, and then it started pumping. “Where’s Maks? Kirov!” His shout filled the foyer and had Gabriel wanting to cover his ears.