Savage Vendetta (Fire & Vice Book 4)

by Nikita Slater

  Jane sat in stunned silence for a moment. This is what she had been waiting for! She finally had him. She lunged across the booth, grabbed Desiree and kissed her quickly on the lips. She dropped an envelope in Desiree’s lap and slid out of the booth.

  Desiree chuckled deeply, “You know I don’t go for girls, coplette.” She looked Jane up and down. “Although I might be convinced to experiment.”

  Jane laughed and winked. “Make sure you give a little to your friend that likes to hang with the Russians. You both earned it!” She dropped some money on the counter on her way out, paying for the coffee and cake before speeding off to collect on an outstanding favour from a judge and get herself a search warrant.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jane’s heart sped into overtime as they approached the gated mansion located in an exclusive sprawling community on the edge of the city. She tried hard to retain her composure, but it was difficult. She was excited and afraid. She’d been investigating Sitnikov for so long now she was used to thinking about him day and night. During the day she worked on finding evidence of his many crimes. At night… she remembered the way he had threatened her when he had come to her apartment. How he had forced her body against his and exposed her breasts to his predatory gaze. She couldn’t think of him without picturing his hard body pressed against her.

  She looked across the unmarked cruiser at her partner. She was impressed that he’d finally stepped up in their investigation. After she had told him about her conversation with Desiree and the search warrant she was able to achieve he’d taken it upon himself to organize a unit to search the Sitnikov property with them. They had to move quickly on the warrant while there was still evidence at the mansion, and he’d actually come through for her. Gruber wasn’t known for doing anything on personal time. He was usually last in the office and first out in the afternoon. Jane would be sorely annoyed at the quality of the partner she had been saddled with except he was a fine detective with a number of collars under his belt.

  The lead cop car explained their purpose to whoever had answered the gate call. Moments later the massive iron gate swung open, admitting the five cars that made up the search team. The house loomed in front of them, dark and imposing. Most of the brick front was covered in crawling ivy, giving it a gothic castle-like feel. Jane knew from studying blueprints of the unique building that a massive ten-car garage lay to the side of the main house. The meticulously cared for grounds sprawled around them on all sides, with towering trees lining each wall of a ten foot fence. It was a beautiful fortress.

  “Just remember,” Gruber said, awe leaking into his voice, “when the Boss is pissed off and ready to slice up the person responsible for messing up his stuff, this whole thing was your idea. If your CI has a care at all for his life, he’ll flee the city sooner rather than later.”

  Jane snorted. There was the cowardly partner she had come to know so well. “I’ll be sure to explain that to him while I’m shoving the search warrant down his arrogant throat.”

  Gruber shot her a look that stated clearly his thoughts on her mental capacity, but said nothing more.

  Jane climbed out of the vehicle as soon as it stopped. The door to Sitnikov’s mansion swung open and the man himself stood in the shadows, aloof and commanding as always. He wore a dark suit, tailored to his tall lanky proportions, giving a hint to the superb musculature beneath. Jane held the warrant tightly and approached him, glad she’d chosen an outfit of utility over looks. He didn’t deserve to see her as the woman he was attracted to. She wanted him to know that he didn’t affect her on a personal level and he didn’t scare her.

  His dark eyes followed her every move, devouring her as she climbed the stone stairs. He stepped foreword out of the shadow of the doorway. His eyes swept over her, taking in the black jeans, dark blue turtle neck sweater and police issued vest and boots. Her dark hair was tied back into a tight bun and she wore no make-up.

  “Vladimir Sitnikov,” her eyes held his, her voice was strong and clear. “This search warrant gives us permission to search this house, anything in the house and the garage. The search will take place immediately, so if you wish to have a lawyer present you’ll need to notify them immediately.”

  Sitnikov finished stripping her with his eyes. He left no doubt that he was picturing her as he had last seen her, clad in a clinging robe. He met her hard gaze again. Rather than the anger she had expected to see reflected in his eyes, he stared at her with blazing triumph. Jane stumbled, eyes wide. He stalked foreword, reached out and took the paper from her hand. He didn’t bother to look down.

  He pinned her with one searing look. She knew instantly that she had somehow played right into his hands. Her mind whirled, trying to work out how.

  “My lawyer is already here, enjoying my hospitality,” Sitnikov said, his voice unperturbed. “He will be glad for an opportunity to earn some of his rather large retainer. You may search to your heart’s content Detective McKinley.”

  He stepped back into the house, leaving the door wide open and strode away from her down a long dark hallway. Jane released the breath she had been holding and gestured for Gruber to get their unit organized. She followed after Sitnikov into the dark, imposing house. Trying not to be impressed by the obvious wealth, she looked around the front entrance, taking in every detail of the heavy, ornate furniture. A round table with a huge flower arrangement stood between the front doors and the wide staircase that flowed up to the second floor of the house.

  Jane turned and squinted into the dark hall as a deep voice announced, “The boss invites you to personally search his study.”

  The biggest man Jane had ever seen stepped into the sunlight spilling in from the open doorway. She stared with her jaw open and eyes wide. This must be the Russian enforcer, Boris Grekov, come straight from Russia to protect Vladimir Sitnikov and his American empire. She had seen pictures of him in the passport database and on surveillance she had of Sitnikov. Nothing she’d seen on a photograph prepared her for the enormous, deadly looking man before her.

  Her fist instinct was to tell Boris that she had no interest in doing anything that might please Sitnikov, but she badly wanted to get her hands on Sitnikov’s office. She jerked her head in a nod and let Gruber know she would be in the study. She turned to follow Boris, who led her into Sitnikov’s most private sanctuary.

  Once more she was struck by the heavy formal beauty of the Russian’s home. His office walls were lined with dark bookcases that held a variety of books in many different languages. A gorgeous and extremely expensive rug sprawled across the room drawing her eyes to his very big, very masculine desk with a worn leather chair behind it. A small bar with a variety of liquors stood to the side of the desk under an ornate mirror.

  She thought that there should be a cozy fireplace in the room with a comfortable sofa where he could read his books. She shook the fanciful thought away and looked at Sitnikov who was silently studying her. He spread his hands as though to tell her she could begin her search anywhere. He had nothing to hide. She sent him a derisive look and began rifling through his desk.

  “This drawer is locked,” she said right away after trying the drawers. “Open it, now.”

  Sitnikov raised a thick eyebrow and gave her a slightly chiding look. She didn’t care if he thought she was being rude. She was determined to find something in his home and her intuition was already pinging in alarm at his casual, almost pleased acceptance of the search. She was terribly afraid her search would end in nothing but a nasty lecture from her superiors on wasting police resources.

  Sitnikov came to her side and, crowding her, reached over to unlock the drawer. She couldn’t back up without falling against his desk chair or making a production of shoving it back to get extra room. She flushed in annoyance as he deliberately brushed the back of his hand against her hip before pulling the drawer out for her. He straightened to his full height but didn’t move back. She looked up at him almost a foot above her and tried to calm the frant
ic beating of her heart. She was caught between fear of a man that she knew down to her bones had killed people and the animalistic attraction that sparked between them every time they were in the same room together.

  Jane glanced down at the open drawer and let out a gasp. A handgun rested against the bottom of the oak drawer. Her hand flew to her own sidearm, but he was faster. His hand came down heavily over hers, trapping her fingers over the butt of the pistol. He grabbed her other wrist in a firm grip, holding her captive in a cage contrived of the bookcase to her one side, the desk to her other, the chair to her back and him to her front. Her heart hammered and she sucked air into suddenly starved lungs.

  “You went to see my sister,” he said, his black eyes gleaming down at her chillingly. “I warned you about persisting in this investigation, Jane McKinley.”

  “Let go of me!” Jane snapped furiously, struggling to break out of his grip. She glanced down at the gun in the drawer. Would he try to use it on her? She thought not. He was too smart to shoot Jane in a house full of police officers, but he was definitely threatening her safety in a not so subtle manner.

  He ignored her frantic demand and drew her closer into the shelter of his arms. She felt the heat of his body against her and arched back. “I warned you Jane. I gave you the chance to disappear from my notice. You chose to take the opposite path and now you’ve as much as given yourself to me.”

  “I have not,” she said between gritted teeth.

  “No more warnings,” he said, his voice becoming husky. She felt his body hard against hers and had to force herself to remain stiff. Arousal and something darker, more dominant rolled off of him and washed over her. “Now I make promise to you, Jane. You belong to me.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him to back the fuck off, but he released her and stepped back. Jane immediately drew her gun and held it on him. She reached for the gun in the drawer and brought it up to inspect.

  “I have a license for all of my weapons, including that one,” he said in a disinterested voice. He was done playing with her, for now.

  “No doubt,” she said sarcastically. When she found the chamber empty she replaced the gun and continued her search.

  Jane spent several fruitless hours going through paperwork and bookshelves with another officer. She pushed a dusty hand through the stray hairs that had escaped her bun, shoving them back. She had carefully replaced every book she had taken off the shelves. She wanted to toss them as she searched and take perverse pleasure in messing up his home and annoying the smug mobster, but she couldn’t bring herself to treat the beautiful old books with such careless abandon. Not when books had saved her life once, when she had lived in a colourless place whose only pleasure lay in the fantasy worlds between smuggled pages.

  Sitnikov stood silently, staring at her the entire time, his eyes taking in her every movement like a hunting predator about to pounce. The stark tattoos rippling up his neck from the collar of his shirt and marking his long fingers drew her unwilling gaze again and again until she wanted to demand he leave the room so she could search in peace.

  Finally she turned to him in frustration and asked, “Where’re your computers? We can’t find any in the house.”

  His relentless stare bore into her. “I have no computer. I do all of my business on paper.”

  Jane understood immediately. He didn’t want to leave an electronic paper trail that might live for eternity. He was smart. Which is why he had evaded suspicion coming down on him for so long.

  “What about your phone?” she asked. “I assume you have a smartphone for emailing and such?”

  He shrugged. “I do. But there’s nothing in the warrant for my phone.”

  Jane gritted her teeth and swore silently at the peculiarities of police warrants. “I don’t suppose you’d like to just give it up for a search? Just to appear cooperative.”

  “Not particularly.”

  Jane almost wished he would look smug, just so she could hate him for it. Despite several more hours of searching, the team came up with nothing and was forced to leave empty handed – not even a hint of any kind of illegal activity turned up. Jane was frustrated and furious as she turned to follow her partner out of the house. Gruber mumbled something about hoping she would finally give up her vendetta against the untouchable Vladimir Sitnikov. She wanted to yell at all of them, that far from being put off she was now more determined than ever to nail Sitnikov to the wall.

  His deep voice halted her before she could cross the threshold. “Jane.” She looked back at him. He stood at ease, surrounded by shadows staring across the room at her, silently pinning her before she could fly away from his imposing presence. “I’ll be in touch.”

  She turned on her heel and stalked out the door.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Fired.

  Jane sat slumped in her car, her cold face pressed against the steering wheel, her hands gripping the hard plastic on either side of her head. She felt broken. Like she couldn’t sit up properly and breath. She could only lay against the steering wheel of her car, motionless, outside of her former place of employment where moments before she had been forced to give up her gun and her badge.

  In a humiliating meeting she’d been called into the department head’s office and made to explain her relentless pursuit of an upstanding citizen that led to his complaining to her superiors and threatening to withdraw funding from vital city projects. According to Jane’s boss, Vladimir Sitnikov’s lawyer had demanded the person responsible for dragging Sitnikov through the mud be held accountable. Of course, she knew it was by his order, not the lawyer’s.

  A sob escaped her lips and she shook her head in despair. She had always been a cop. Right from the moment she turned eighteen and could enter the academy. She’d turned her back on her home and her family and made her way in the only other place she had ever known, the city she loved. The city she loved to protect.

  All for nothing. Because he had beaten her. He’d won.

  Instead of seeing him rot in a jail cell, she had lost her job. The job she loved. The job that defined her. Now she was nothing.

  Hot tears coursed down her cheeks and splashed against the hard plastic of the steering wheel. She sat in her car and cried in broken-hearted abandon. After several minutes she scrubbed her hands over her face and forced her spine to reassert itself. She took gasping breaths and tried to calm herself enough to drive. She needed to do something before she could set about rebuilding her shattered life. She scraped rough fingers through her hair, dislodging the bun she had so carefully tucked her hair into that morning in anticipation of executing the most important search warrant of her career. Her hair slid free in silky dark waves, tumbling to her shoulders.

  As she turned the key in the ignition she looked up to see Gruber standing on the steps of the police department, watching her with shadowed eyes. It was beginning to rain and she had to turn her wipers on to see him clearly through the drops. She wondered if he wanted to talk to her, but he just stood there looking at her as though lost. That was Gruber though. He had never been fully comfortable with Jane as his partner. She was too dogged, too honest and persistent. They’d often clashed. She imagined he was sad to see her go, if only because the department had lost a great officer in her. Maybe he would get a partner more to his liking now. Jane didn’t know and she no longer cared. She lifted her hand in a quick salute and steered her vehicle out of the parking lot for the last time.

  * * *

  The moment Sitnikov opened the door to his mansion, Jane lost her cool. She slapped him as hard as she could, which was a far cry from how hard she wanted to hit him. She was a good deal smaller than him and couldn't put enough weight behind the hit to really emphasize to him how much he had pissed her off. She stood on his doorstep, her hair and clothes soaked from the rain, seething in anger.

  He stared down at her, his gaze a strange combination of utter triumph and anger from the hit she meted out. She was exactly where he wanted her. Alone
and friendless. No longer a cop. She had planned on confronting him in a more civilized manner. Congratulating him on his victory and then telling him to stay the hell away from her, but something about him brought out the savage part of her nature.

  "You ruthless bastard," she hissed, venom dripping from each word. "You knew this would happen to me. You knew I would lose my badge. Somehow you set me up, knowing this would be the result."

  He didn't answer, just stared down at her with icy triumph. He didn't need to speak. She knew the truth. He had set her up almost from the beginning. He probably even had his plan set in motion before he visited her apartment. Somehow he had leaked information to her CI and orchestrated the search of his own property.

  "Why?" she asked, her voice a cry of anguish and resentment.

  He took a moment to speak, but finally answered in his deep accented tones, "Because I wanted you. There was no other way."

  "Because you fucking wanted me?" she snarled, slapping her palms against his chest and shoving.

  He barely moved so she kept doing it, slapping her hands against the muscles of his chest over and over again. Finally he grabbed her hands when she curled her fingers into fists and went for his face again, managing to rake a fingernail over the scar on his jaw and drawing blood before he could stop her.

  "Enough," he growled.

  "It's not enough, I can’t ever hurt you enough!" she snarled back, tugging on her hands. She brought her leg up in a kick, driving her knee hard into his side. He grunted, but retaliated quickly, bodily picking her up off the ground and tossing her over his shoulder. He booted the door closed and turned to the table in the front entrance. He swept the crystal vase off the table, heedless of the shattering glass and spilling flowers across the marble of the entryway.