Her Ruthless Russian (Karev Brothers Book 1)

by Leslie North

  Peter wetted his lips. He looked like he wanted to say more. Madison returned his helpless gaze with a flat one of her own, trying to ice all the warmth from her brown eyes. Finally, he nodded and turned, brushing by her on his way to the exit. Madison accepted his retreat… for now. As soon as she was finished perusing every correspondence he had sent her father, she would have a better idea of how willing she was to trust him.

  With a sigh, she turned to consider the picture mounted on the wall. It hung crooked on its frame… odd. She hadn't noticed before, and she was always meticulous with how things were displayed. She reached forward to readjust it and was startled when a piece of paper slipped out from underneath it. She bent to pick it up.

  "Numbers?" she puzzled. Madison was normally good with figures, but she didn't understand the arrangement of these. She turned the note over and spotted a name. "Vlad?" she read aloud incredulously.

  "You rang?"

  Madison jumped and whirled. Vlad was standing behind her, holding a bouquet of… wait, were those roses? Had he seriously brought her flowers? Madison's heart began to hammer erratically in her chest. There was no way he could have overheard her conversation with Savannah, was there?

  "This… has your name on it," she said. She could only handle one mystery at a time.

  "What is that? A love letter?" Vlad asked in amusement as he stepped up beside her. He studied the sequence of numbers briefly; Madison watched as the penetrating quality of his blue gaze sharpened with unmistakable clarity.

  The bouquet slipped from Vlad's hand and fell to the floor, petals scattering like droplets of blood upon impact. Startled by his reaction, she almost relinquished her hold on the note—but then his empty hand was gripping her wrist, and Vlad was half-escorting, half-dragging her out the emergency exit.

  "Are you serious?" she exclaimed, clutching her briefcase as he shoved the door open and pulled her after him down the steps. "I didn't write it! I found it!" she protested as he bundled her into his car. She resisted only minimally; if a man like Vlad Karev was this unsettled by a set of numbers, then she wasn't dumb enough to protest his urgency.

  "Where? Where did you find it?" Vlad demanded. He had his sunglasses on, she noticed, and was reversing them back out of the alley.

  Madison lifted the note; the paper trembled in her hand, even though she had promised herself she wouldn't respond outwardly to let the Russian know she was afraid. After a minute, Vlad snatched it from her and single-handedly crushed it into a ball in his fist.

  "Madison O’Connor, please tell me why the fuck it is I always find you holding a note you shouldn't have?"

  Her fear dissipated all at once, and her temper at being spoken to in such a tone of voice threatened to boil over completely. She glared at Vlad's tattooed hands now gripped around the steering wheel, noticing and simultaneously dismissing the way the flesh beneath the designs that mapped his knuckles bleached as white as bone.

  "I was holding it because I found that note behind one of the gallery paintings," she said. "A painting that Peter Franklin was standing in front of only seconds before. You want to know who wrote that note, you'd have a hell of a lot more luck taking me back to work and kidnapping him instead!"

  They were parked outside the apartment building now. Soon enough, they were mounting the stairwell. Vlad pushed her up the steps in front of him like he was escorting her to a prison cell. For all Madison knew, he might as well be.

  "On top of what he makes as a lawyer, Peter is paid extremely well by my family," Vlad argued with her. "Why should I believe that he would write this note?"

  "Maybe I can help you figure that out if you'd just tell me what the note means!" Madison snapped. She turned to brace herself in the doorway to her apartment, but she was still holding the briefcase; Vlad easily shoved her the rest of the way in and slammed the door behind them.

  "It means there's a hit out on me!" he exploded then. Madison blinked, the briefcase slipping from her fingers to fall to the floor with a heavy thunk. Its contents seemed less than pressing now in the wake of Vlad's revelation.

  She studied the man in front of her for a long moment. She had rarely seen Vlad's mask slip, and it was only during sex that the man she couldn't get enough of let some of his walls come tumbling down.

  "I don't know who to trust anymore, Maddie." He gave a dark, desperate laugh, and the sound sent chills racing through her. "My family? You?"

  "It doesn't matter anymore if you trust me. I want out." Tears sprang unbidden into her eyes. "I want out of all this. When you came along, I lost sight of everything. I want my family out from under the thumb of your organization, and I… I want out of this. I'm trapped, Vlad. I'm bound to you, and I… I don't want to feel this way anymore."

  "What you feel is what I feel, too." The Russian came toward her, but for once it wasn't to pursue, wrangle, or catch her up in his arms against her will. Madison fell against him the moment he opened to her, wrapping herself in him, taking what shelter was offered for however long he thought to offer it. Maybe they couldn't express what was happening between them in words, but understanding came easily here inside Vlad's arms.

  He took her into the bedroom. They didn't come together in the bed often, which made it all the sweeter that he should take her there now, sliding her out of her clothes and then allowing her to undress him.

  He's making love to me, she thought in wonder as Vlad wrapped one warm, muscular arm beneath her and eased them both down into the embrace of the mattress. Have we ever done this before?

  It was a strange series of thoughts to be having in the moment, but Madison couldn't help it. Where once she had considered the relationship she had with Vlad to be fraught and unnamable, his tender, almost worshipful treatment of her now was enough to make her second-guess what she meant to him… and what he meant to her.

  What could this man, this black-clad, tattooed social outlier, really mean to her, if she allowed her remaining walls to come down? Too late, she realized that those walls had come down probably from their first moments together but she’d been too stubborn to acknowledge it.

  She felt Vlad's hand between her legs, caressing her, parting her, and she sighed in defeated bliss. She wanted to be had by him, body and soul. She wanted to be possessed by the man who bent and broke everything that stood in opposition to his will. She let his mouth claim her own and let his masterful touch pleasure her most intimate recesses. When he slipped his length inside her, laying claim to the space between her legs, Madison had never felt more fulfilled.

  They moved against each other, burying themselves in one another, until Madison forgot to fear her feelings for her former enemy. Instead, under the cover of darkness, she embraced them wholeheartedly.

  The next morning, Madison rose early and got dressed; she checked the time on her cell phone, before pocketing it without a second thought. She had about ten minutes to get down to the gallery to meet Peter, and not a single e-mail read. Sighing in defeat, she moved into the bathroom, careful to carry her shoes and avoid waking the slumbering Russian who had once again found his way into her bed. She couldn't let herself think about all the ways last night had been different.

  She couldn't allow herself to be in love with Vlad Karev.

  Madison gazed at her rumpled reflection in the mirror. She wetted her hands in the tap and attempted to smooth her curls down. When she dropped her eyes, she noticed the purchase from the store she had unpacked earlier the day before. With all the excitement of the past twenty-four hours, she had nearly forgotten the problem already on her doorstep.

  She couldn't bring herself to wake Vlad. She still had one last mission to complete on her own, to confront the man who wanted Vlad as dead as his father; and then…

  Madison reordered the contents of the box, leaving them out on the bathroom counter. Hoping, and then pushing that hope aside. Then she quietly slipped from the room and out of the apartment.

  8

  Vlad woke to his cell phone buzz
ing. He cursed in frustration and rolled over to answer it; he normally left it on silent, but he had evidently forgotten to last night. He raised the phone to his ear.

  "Vlad," he stated flatly. "Someone better be dead."

  "Really?" an acerbic female voice demanded. "You're answering her phone for her now?"

  Vlad blinked. He pulled the phone away from his ear and read the contact name: Savannah. He didn't have anyone in his address book by that name. What the hell was going on?

  "Are you… Madison's Savannah?" he guessed after a long moment.

  "She didn't mention you were smart," the voice sassed back to him.

  "Shit." Vlad drew a hand down his face as his brother's obnoxious observation replayed in his mind. You guys even have the same phone. He turned to find the bed empty beside him. "I'm sorry… Savannah. I think Madison took off with my phone."

  "Took off?" The voice sounded perplexed now, maybe even a little worried. "She doesn't work until later today. Did she say where she was going?"

  "No." Vlad's eyes cut across the room to the briefcase on the floor, and the crumpled note left on the counter.

  It hit him all at once: Madison still wanted out. She had said it herself the night before. Even if they had allowed themselves to get carried away by their feelings, that still didn't change the fact that she had a mission outside of her relationship with him, and that was protecting the interests of her family at all costs. And if that involved confronting the man she thought was the killer and gaining collateral with the Bratva…

  "She's gone to the gallery," Vlad stated as he yanked on his jeans.

  "How do you know that?" Savannah demanded. "What's going on?"

  "She's going to confront Peter. Peter Franklin." He paused. "I don't know how much she's told you…"

  "Shit," Savannah swore, seemingly to herself. "I know enough. Don't worry," she continued. "I've got eyes on her down there. If there's trouble, we'll know about it."

  The line went dead. Vlad stared at the screen of Madison's cell for a long moment. Savannah had eyes on Madison? Just what the hell was going on?

  Vlad entered the bathroom, hunting for a clean shirt, when his eyes fell to an open box on the counter. He was in a hurry, but even then he couldn't fail to recognize the scattered contents in his haste.

  He had never seen a pregnancy test before in his life, but he didn't need to; once was enough.

  "Shit."

  MADISON AT GALLERY.

  PETER ARRIVING NOW.

  "I knew it!" Madison whispered heatedly as she paced the floor of the west wing, glaring at the phone in her hand. "I knew you were spying on me, you son of a bitch!"

  It was all too apparent now whose phone it was she had taken with her that morning, but it was too late to correct her error. She didn't know Vlad's password to unlock his cell phone, but she could still see the banner notification pop up every time he got a text from Lukas.

  She couldn't leave now, so she settled for glaring up at the camera mounted on the ceiling, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. With any luck, Lukas Safin would be able to read her body language and understand her complete disapproval of the little operation he and Vlad had set up behind her back. She considered flipping him the bird, just in case he missed a signal, but another set of footsteps alerted her to Peter's entry into the gallery. She turned away from the camera, ever conscious of her placement in front of it. She was going to use Vlad's paranoia to her advantage.

  On Vlad's camera, she would get Peter Franklin to confess to Sergey's murder.

  The rose bouquet was still littered at her feet, discarded and forgotten. Madison studied it, trying to calm the nervous beating of her heart, as Peter's shadow detached from the gloom of the main room and approached her. She had to be strong, for everyone she loved. She would protect Vlad, solve a murder, and earn herself the leverage she needed with the mafia to get her family out of the criminal underworld… all in one fell swoop.

  "I found your note after you left yesterday," she stated without glancing up. "I know what it means."

  Peter stopped abruptly, still several feet from her. "You don't know anything," he stated finally. "And whatever you think you know, it's better if you keep quiet about it."

  "I also know you've been in contact with my father more than usual this past month," Madison pressed on, undeterred by the man's veiled warning. "Since Sergey's death. The timing can't be coincidental. So tell me honestly, Peter, did you murder him?"

  Did my father? a traitorous voice asked in the back of her mind. Madison suppressed it quickly. Maybe her father had met with Sergey before his death, but there's no way the man who raised her—a man who locked his desktop computer with a pun —was capable of brutally ending another man's life with an ice pick.

  "You don't know anything," Peter repeated in a desperate whisper, although he sounded less certain this time. "You only suspect me because you… because I lied to your family about my involvement with the Bratva. But there's more to it than that, Maddie, believe me. I'm not just some double agent padding my pockets on both sides of the playing field. I answer to someone else."

  "Someone who wants Vlad killed? Someone who murdered Sergey?" Madison demanded. "Who, Peter? Who?"

  "The FBI," Peter stated. Madison stepped back, stunned, and it was only after the admission left his lips that Peter came forward into the light. His eyes flashed so brightly he might as well have presented her with a badge. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came to her. No protest, nothing. She couldn't account for Peter's sudden assertiveness, like he had just dropped every mask he was juggling to finally reveal the face he had hidden from her for so long.

  "If what you say was true, then your e-mails to my father…" She turned it over in her mind, trying not to reel with the revelation. "Did he know who you were? Were you advising him all along on how to get out?"

  Peter inclined his head in a slow, noncommittal nod. "The FBI is who I answer to, Maddie," he said instead. "But they didn't kill Sergey, and neither did your father. I know who did."

  Madison closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her forehead, summoning the strength to endure what she was about to hear.

  "It was Maxim Karev, Maddie. Vlad's brother. He's the one who murdered their father."

  When she opened them again, she saw a red dot emblazoned on Peter's forehead.

  Madison's scream cut through the gallery, but it only succeeded in spurring Vlad on faster. He pounded up the building's west steps and wrenched his way through the backdoor, just in time to see Peter Franklin fold and collapse backward in a pool of his own blood.

  "Madison! Get down!" Vlad roared. She whirled; even from a distance, Vlad could see that her terrified face was flecked with blood. His heart seized in his chest. Was she shot? Was she hurt?

  Was the baby?

  All other obligations flew from his mind, and in that moment Vlad understood what was most important to him. He doubted if he'd ever forget, now that he had finally found it.

  But there was no time to meditate on this new discovery. "Vlad!" Madison called to him, his name bubbling up on a sob. She looked about to run into his arms, but Vlad gestured swiftly, violently. Too late. Another shot rang out, but it flew wide and hit the sculpture to Madison's left. She screamed and ducked down, hugging her head as chunks of plaster and a glittering rain of something else showered down around her.

  No time to think. Vlad sprinted through the glistening field toward her, crunching winking lucid gemstones beneath his boots, heedless of their value, caring only about the immediate safety of the woman he loved. As soon as he was before her, shielding her, Vlad drew his handgun, twisted his body, and fired, his shots clipping the remaining pieces of jagged glass from the upper window. A stray bullet exploded the plaster head of another of the sculptures, and more precious stones rained down around them.

  "Are you serious? You were using my gallery to launder diamonds?" Madison shrieked. "How could you?"

  "I knew nothing about th
is!" Vlad shouted as they sought cover behind the platform. "And is that really the question you should be asking right now when we're both getting fucking shot at?"

  "Oh, God. They shot Peter." Madison rocked beside him, and Vlad didn't need to glance at her twice to know she was in shock. Maybe he could afford to ease up with his own questioning, if only for the moment. He took himself away from her, only for a second, to lean around the side of the podium and fire off another round toward the building opposite. His bullets went unanswered, and Vlad knew he had the sniper on the run. Whoever it was, they were working alone, likely under orders from some faceless higher-up… and the shadow of authority had told them to retreat.

  There were sirens wailing from down the street. Vlad turned and saw flashing lights emanating from behind the gallery's glass-front doors.

  "Good man," he said, facing up toward the security camera. The light blinked off, an acknowledgement. Lukas had likely put in an anonymous tip to the PD before shutting down operations. Vlad would catch up with him later, but right now, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

  He reached down to lift Madison to her feet, and she came with him, unresisting for once. He tucked her beneath his arm and against his waist, half-carrying her out the front doors and into the awaiting bedlam. Below them in the street, officers and agents ran this way and that, too busy answering the reports of gunfire from the other building to do anything yet but check the couple superficially for gunshot wounds and usher them to safety.

  "Savannah… is on the Blood Diamond Task Force," Madison stated as Vlad maneuvered her between cop cars. "She'll know. She'll know about the diamonds. God, what is going on here?"

  "It's nothing for you to worry about now. You're safe." Vlad yanked a navy FBI coat off the backseat of one of the open vehicles and settled it around her shoulders, shooting a glare at the young agent nearby who looked about to object. The boy snapped his mouth closed abruptly with a click.