Violette's Vibrato [Golden Dolphin 3] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Skye Michaels

  The Golden Dolphin, The Port of Miami, Miami, Florida, March 15, 2014 – Saturday Morning, Day Twenty-Four of the Cruise

  Con and Alex were on the bridge as the harbor pilot brought the Golden Dolphin in to the wharf and docked. “Jesus, what a fucking voyage. I’m glad it’s over. Are we ever going to have a nice, quiet cruise without any problems?” Alex shook his head in amazement.

  “I’m beginning to think that is not going to happen on this ship. What else could possibly go wrong? And with the boss on board. I’ll be glad to see the last of Cortez and Montenegro. Mr. Interpol can take that scumbag back to Brazil and good riddance to both of them.”

  Con knew Alex was still unsettled about the Baylee-Barbee matter, not to mention the latest attempt on Violette O’Reilly in which Baylee had played a part. It made him shudder to think how badly wrong that all could have gone if not for the vigilance of the security team and the impromptu help of Baylee Baxter. As far as Con knew, Alex had not spoken to either Baylee or Barbee other than to issue some rather brusque orders. Alex was usually an easygoing guy, but when the machismo thing surfaced, all bets were off. Not that he wouldn’t have felt the same way if his Greek pride was involved. He and Alex were alike in a lot of ways. “Are you going to talk to her—them—either of them—before they leave the ship?”

  “There’s nothing to say. It is what it is—and I don’t fucking like it.”

  “Come on, Alex. I think you need to have a talk with her—Baylee at least. She did a good thing in helping Violette. Without her intervention, the story might have had a different ending.”

  “The security team was already on the way up to intercept them.”

  Con could see the stubborn look on Alex’s face, and it didn’t bode well for this discussion, but he pressed on anyway. “Alex, if you didn’t have feelings for Baylee, you wouldn’t be so pissed off now.”

  “Con, leave it be.” Con could see that Alex was not going to relent, so he’d let it go for the time being.

  * * * *

  Barbee and Baylee had packed their bags in preparation for debarkation the night before. They knew they would be busy helping the passengers to pack in preparation for leaving the ship today. The first and last days of a trip were always the most hectic for the crew.

  “I’m glad this godforsaken trip is over. If anything else could have gone wrong, I don’t want to know about it. We’re lucky we’re not going off this boat in handcuffs—and not the cute little fur-lined ones either. I don’t suppose you’ve spoken with Alex.” It wasn’t a question as she could plainly see the misery on Baylee’s expressive face that was usually a mirror of her own. It was their emotions and personalities that set them apart. Barbee knew she was a bit of a harder nut to crack, and she was glad about that. Her emotions weren’t right out there on her sleeve for everyone to see.

  “No. He doesn’t want to talk to me, and I can’t really blame him. I know we made him feel like a fool, and he’s not going to forgive that—even if that wasn’t exactly our intention.” Baylee reached down to absentmindedly scratch Saltydawg’s ears. He had paid them a visit as he made his daily rounds of the ship. Barbee thought the little beggar had been a godsend over the last few days of the cruise. He had helped to distract Baylee from her misery and given her something warm to hug. His rough coat had absorbed a fair amount of tears since their deception had been discovered.

  “I had a feeling the sharing thing was going to come back and bite us in the ass. I just didn’t foresee exactly how. Anyway, I’ll be glad to walk off this ship and keep going. I will miss old Salty, though.”

  “Me, too. I want to forget the whole thing.” But Barbee knew that wasn’t going to happen. Baylee had a soft heart, and it had been pretty badly bruised, especially after the way Alex had cut her dead. She would really like to give him a piece of her mind…not that he didn’t have a point. What they had done was wrong. There were no two ways about it, but she hated to see Baylee so torn up.

  * * * *

  Nik and Violette said their good-byes to the Captain and crew and then to the Devereaus and Rossiters. Plans were made to meet in New York for dinner in the next month or so.

  As Jamie shook Nik’s hand, he said, “Call me if there is anything I can do to help with the Russian thing. I haven’t come up with a good plan yet, but I’m still thinking about it.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it. I’ve got some ideas of my own. There is one thing I had hoped not to have to resort to, but I’m still thinking about it. I’m just hoping I can keep a lid on Violette when we get back to the city. I know how she is, and even though this whole thing has shaken her up, I don’t think it’s going to be enough to keep her reasonable for long. She’s going to want to go back to performing, and I know she will resist working with my security team.”

  “Yeah. Independent women are a pain in the butt. I guess that’s why we love them.”

  * * * *

  Violette kissed Anne and then Harper on the cheek. She had really become fond of both of them over the last twenty-four days. The cruise had been a blast for the most part, and she knew she would miss them.

  “Ladies, let’s keep in touch. I think we all deserve a shopping spree in the city.”

  “Absolutely.” Anne had a tentative look on her face. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Violette, but please be careful and don’t give Nik too hard of a time about security. This was no joke. You could have been killed.”

  “You’re right, Anne. I’ll try. And, Harper, let’s have lunch in a week or two since we’ll both be in the city.”

  “Sounds good. If you need to talk, just call me.”

  Nik took her arm and helped her into the limousine as the chauffeur loaded their bags into the back for the trip to Miami Airport and the flight back home. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and she could see that he was still stressed. She knew he was worrying about what would happen when they got back to New York. She was, too. The problem had not been solved.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nik Rossiter’s Fifth Avenue Penthouse Condo in Rossiter House overlooking Central Park, New York City, Saturday evening, March 15, 2014

  Nik and Violette walked into the apartment. Nik flipped on some lights as they made their way through to the library overlooking the park. He turned on the gas fireplace and pulled a bottle of brandy and two crystal snifters from the bar cabinet. He poured two short brandies and put them on the coffee table in front of the sofa facing the windows.

  “It’s good to be back, Nikki. It was a wonderful trip, but it sure had some hairy moments. Thanks for everything, babe. I really had a good time—mostly.” She laughed up into his face as she went into his arms for an exquisite kiss.

  When they came up for air, he said, “We have to talk, Vi.” He led her over to the sofa and sat down. When she was seated beside him, he took her hand, interlacing their fingers, and squeezed. He hated to break what seemed to be a very promising mood. He always took advantage of his opportunities, but he knew they had to discuss what they were going to do about Katya Kosakova and Andrei Sokolov. “What are your plans about going back to work? Can you take a few more weeks to recuperate?”

  “Nik, I really need to get back to the orchestra. I’m dying to get back to work. It’s like a physical need crawling up my spine.”

  “Violette, I think it’s still too dangerous. If you snatch Katya’s big moment back from her, there is no telling what she and Andrei may try to do. Why don’t you just say your wrist needs some more time to heal and let me see what I can do. Both my security team and my legal team are working on it. It’s possible with the evidence we already have the district attorney can get warrants so we’ll have some evidence admissible in court or with the Immigration and Naturalization Service. My company was a heavy contributor to his reelection campaign. Maybe we can get her ass kicked back to the Caucasus. I know she doesn’t have a green card yet, just a work permit.”

  “Nik, I need to play like I need to brea
the. I don’t want to wait. I’m not going to let that ungrateful bitch steal my life.”

  “Will you at least cooperate with my security team? You could be putting yourself in an extremely dangerous situation. Promise me that you will at least make use of the car and Daniels. He’s ex-military and licensed to carry a weapon. I would feel a lot better if you weren’t out there alone.”

  “Nik, I’ll try, but I can’t promise one hundred percent cooperation. I am not going to live my life hunkered down in a cave.”

  He stood up and began to pace. He was trying to keep a lid on his temper, but he was getting pissed. This change in attitude was so Violette. “I knew this was going to happen. I knew that as soon as we were back in your familiar territory, you would get stubborn. I don’t like it, Vi. This is not a joke. These are extremely dangerous people with no moral compass whatsoever.”

  “I know, Nikki. Please don’t be mad at me. I just have to be who I am.”

  “At the expense of your life? These assholes are not fooling around.” He threw himself down on to the sofa again and picked up his drink. He took a healthy swallow. “Will you at least stay here? Melrose is already here, and it’s a secure building. I don’t like the idea of you being alone in your apartment.”

  “I can cooperate to that extent, and I’ll use your car, at least at night. Thank you, Nik. I’m really not trying to be difficult.”

  “Hell, no. It just comes naturally to you. You don’t have to try at all.” He gave her an angry look, but he couldn’t keep it up when she curled into his arms so sweetly. He was secretly pleased she had acquiesced on both points, but he wasn’t going to let her see that. He wanted to wring as many concessions from her as he could.

  * * * *

  Violette knew she was taking a dangerous chance in going right back to work, but she really didn’t feel she had a choice. She wasn’t stupid, and she knew that sometimes she let her stubborn Irish streak get the better of her common sense. She was at the top of her career right now, and she was an extremely popular member of the orchestra. She didn’t want to waste this valuable time, and she didn’t want to give her fans time to bond with a new muse. Although it was an art, music was as competitive as any other business.

  “I’m going to call the Director on Monday and let him know I’ll be coming back to rehearsals with the intention of resuming performances in a couple of weeks. That should give your team a little more time to work on the problem. How’s that?”

  “Better than nothing, I guess. I’m not thrilled, but you are right about it giving me some more time to work on the problem.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Office of the District Attorney for the Borough of Manhattan, New York County, New York City, Monday morning, March 17, 2014

  On Monday morning Nik Rossiter, Tom Hassler, the head of his security department, and Evans McAllister, the head of his legal department, met with the New York County DA, Francis “Frank to his friends” Gallagher in his office at One Hogan Place. It was a testament to Nik’s political clout and the size of his campaign contributions that he got an immediate appointment with Frank Gallagher.

  “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Frank. I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important.”

  “Always glad to see a citizen, Nik.” The DA’s smile was only slightly oily. He was a politician after all.

  After Nik had explained the problem and they had shown him the video of the original accident and of Katya and Andrei in his apartment, his smile was slightly more strained. “I realize the material we have just shown you may not be admissible in court, and that is why I’ve come to you. I was hoping you might be convinced to look into this matter and perhaps obtain the necessary warrants to put Kosakova and Sokolov under surveillance. Not only did they institute an attack against Violette here in the city, they made two attempts against her life in Brazil through mob contacts there and one on the return cruise. They are determined to get to her.”

  “Well, Nik…” He now looked uncomfortable and far from happy. Nik could see the writing on the wall. It seemed favors only went in one direction in this office.

  “Don’t tell me you’re hesitant to take on one small Russian violinist—or a low-level Russian Mafia guy, Frank.”

  “Well, of course not, Nik.”

  “I would be very disappointed in the man I backed for this office if that were the case. I think Ms. Kosakova would be happier back in Mother Russia playing for the Moscow Symphony, don’t you?”

  “The Joint Organized Crime Task Force may be able to help with this. Let me look into it and get back to you.”

  Nik’s attorney, Evans McAlister, was starting to look a little uncomfortable. “Nik, we wouldn’t want Mr. Gallagher to feel pressured here.”

  Nik just smiled at Gallagher. “Well, of course not. I hope I can count on your help in this matter, Frank. I don’t have to tell you how important Ms. O’Reilly is to me and to the City of New York. Frankly, I think she’s a treasure, and it would be a shame to deprive the citizens of New York of her great talent. I’d hate to have to take this to the media.” Nik knew that now he was playing dirty and that Gallagher wouldn’t appreciate it. Well, too damn bad. If the man wanted his financial support for his next campaign, he’d have to step up to the plate—and hopefully help him knock Katya Kosakova out of the park and all the way home to Russia. Unfortunately, Nik didn’t have too much confidence in Frank Gallagher. He had one more card to play although he really had not wanted to have to go this route.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Anya Antonova’s Estate in Brighton Beach, New York, Monday, noon, March 17, 2014

  Nik directed his chauffeur to head to his great-grandmother’s five-acre walled estate on the ocean in Brighton Beach, a predominantly Russian section of the Borough of Brooklyn, New York. The mansion had been built in the late 1800s and extensively renovated by his great grandfather before his death.

  Nik did not know exactly how much influence Anya Antonova still had in the Russian community since the assassination death of her husband, Ilya Antonov, in1982. But he thought it would be worth a drive out to Brighton Beach to see if he could enlist her help. He was fairly sure that several of his uncles and cousins had continued in the family business. His great-grandfather had been enormously wealthy and was suspected of being one of the heads of Russian organized crime in America although it was never proven. Ilya and Anya Antonov had immigrated to the United States in the early 1950s and settled in Brighton Beach.

  While the Rossiter family had distanced itself from the Antonovs, Nik had maintained a cordial, if not very close, relationship with his great-grandmother. Her daughter, Nik’s grandmother, Anastasia Rossiter, had curtailed her relationship with her family after her marriage to Declan Rossiter. She had ended her ballet career to become a wife and mother, and the large and boisterous Rossiter clan had taken all her time and energy. She had known about the dark side of her family history and did not want it to bleed over into her new life. After her death from breast cancer, the family had seen even less of the Antonovs, but Nik’s father, Devlin Rossiter, had made sure that Nik spent some time with Anya at the Brighton Beach estate every summer. He had just felt it was the right thing to do, although Nik knew he was always nervous until Nik was safely back at home again. Nik had a nodding acquaintance with most of the Russian cousins in his generation but didn’t maintain a close relationship with any of them. A little distance was a good thing.

  When the limousine pulled up to the heavy cast iron gates of Odessa, the Antonov estate, Daniels engaged the speaker embedded in the stone wall. “Mr. Nik Rossiter to see Mrs. Antonova.” The gates swung open silently, and he drove through. “Do you want me to stay with the car?”

  “Yeah, Daniels. This is my nana’s house after all, but keep alert nonetheless. Turn the car so it’s pointed down the drive and be ready to leave quickly.” Nik laughed self-consciously. “This is my family, so we can’t be too careful.” Nik exited the car and walk
ed up the steps to the sparkling lead-glass trimmed double doors which were opened by a bald-headed muscular man wearing all black.

  “Welcome, Mr. Rossiter. Your grandmother is in the parlor. May I take your coat? Can I bring you tea, or perhaps a vodka?”

  “Nothing at the moment, Dmietriev. Thank you. I’ll just go in and see Nana,” Nik said as he shed his black cashmere overcoat and handed it to the butler cum bodyguard who opened the ornate double doors. He turned and walked into the huge, old-fashioned parlor. Anya Antonova was sitting in a rose velvet armchair by the windows overlooking the winter gardens and beach, a small needlepoint in her hands. Nik walked over to his great-grandmother, leaned down, and brushed a kiss on her papery cheek. Despite her age, which he knew to be in her late eighties, she was still beautiful. She was dressed in a pale-green silk afternoon dress with matching shoes. Her white hair was carefully braided and gathered in a bun on top of her head, and she wore white pearls around her neck.

  “Hello, Nana. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, Nikolai. How are you? I’m sure you are not calling on me in the middle of a weekday because you have an overwhelming desire to see your Nana.”

  Well, that was par for the course. The old lady had never been one to dance around the bush, so to speak. “I’ve just returned from a cruise to Brazil for Carnaval. Before we left, Violette had an accident in the subway, and while we were in Brazil, some other unsettling things happened.” He explained the circumstances, and without going into intimate detail about his team’s surveillance efforts, he explained what he had learned about Katya Kosakova and Andrei Sokolov.

  She listened carefully and then she said, “I presume you are here for my help in this matter. I’m going to ring for a tea tray. I might as well enjoy your brief and rare visit.” She smiled at him as she rang to signal Dmietriev. “Please have tea brought up for my great-grandson and me.” She turned back to Nik. “I don’t know if I can do anything directly, but I can speak with someone about these people who are giving your Violette a problem. Am I to presume you are seriously interested in this woman? I know you have been seeing her for several years. I have read about it in the newspapers.” She gave him a disapproving look. Nik had not thought it prudent to expose Violette to the Russian side of his family.