Savage Vendetta (Fire & Vice Book 4)

by Nikita Slater

  Her trust in his guidance thawed some of his annoyance. He nodded his head. “From what I have heard, Mercer is good man to have on our side.”

  She caught his unsaid meaning right away. Mercer would not be a good man to have on the enemy’s side. She nodded and turned to King, ignoring the deadly man standing eerily still beside him, “We accept your generous offer.”

  “Oh shit!” Claudia said covering her mouth, green eyes wide as she looked up from her phone. “Umm, Anya’s here.”

  “You told her?” King asked sharply with a frown.

  Claudia frowned back at him. “She’s his sister, she has a right to know.”

  Boris grunted, “We will not be bringing Miss Sitnikov with us. One female is enough.”

  Jane would dearly love to knock some sense into Boris and impress on him the virtue of having a ‘female’ in a combat situation, but she didn’t have time if she was going to get out of there before Anya made it up to the top floor. The last thing they needed was the high-strung Anya charging in and trying to take down the entire Russian mob by herself (the ones not on her brothers side – and Jane didn’t trust the girl to differentiate while she murdered with extreme prejudice).

  “Let’s go,” Jane said, shoving Boris in a move to get him off the chair.

  Boris, Jane and Mercer took the Cadillac back down the car elevator while Anya made her way up to the penthouse in the actual people elevator. If they were smart, King and Claudia would lock the door, because Anya was likely to kick some serious ass until she got some answers. In fact, Jane hoped that the girl didn’t hold a grudge when Jane next saw her. She wasn’t entirely certain she could take Anya in hand-to-hand and come out the winner.

  They arrived down the block from the warehouse twenty minutes later. Jane prayed fervently the entire time they drove that they arrived in time. She couldn’t bring herself to imagine Vlad dead. The thought froze her heart and made it difficult to breath. She’d never had such a visceral reaction before. In all her years on the force she’d learned to calmly assess each situation and do what was necessary to resolve it. Now she fought the panic down in an attempt to force her brain to function.

  During the drive, the three of them had come up with several scenarios and plans of attack depending on how many guys Petrov had and where they were situated. Boris kept Vlad’s enforcers on the line so they would know what to do. Mercer came up with the best plans, earning Jane’s respect. She suspected that he had been military at some point in his colourful career. He thought like a field sergeant who was entirely focused on bringing out his man and taking out the enemy. Jane might even admire him except for the feeling she had that he was a savage wolf hiding poorly among the flock in his sheep’s clothes.

  Mercer was driving, with Jane in the back seat and Boris in the front passenger seat. He stopped the car in an alley a block away from the warehouse. He’d cut the lights several blocks away, gliding silently through the night. Mercer leaned under the steering column and pressed a button. Jane felt the bump of the trunk releasing. She frowned.

  He got out of the car and held a hand out to Jane. “Let’s see if there’re any weapons in this thing.”

  Jane supposed that made sense and let him help her out of the back of the car while Boris clambered painfully out his side. As soon as Jane was in front of Mercer, he grabbed her and spun her around. Her scream was cut off by a rock hard arm snaking around her throat. His other arm went behind her head in a position Jane instantly recognized. Mercer was trying to choke her out!

  He held her tightly against his body, countering every defensive move she tried to make. She wasn’t able to land a single kick as she fought for breath. Her struggles grew weaker, her fingers gripping his thick wrist uselessly. The last thing she saw before passing out was Boris, his face twisted in anger, rounding the car and reaching for them. Before the darkness embraced her, her last thought was that she hoped Boris broke every bone in Daniel Mercer’s body.

  CHAPTER THIRTYTWO

  She’s still alive, Vlad told himself over and over again as he sat waiting for Petrov to appear. They wouldn’t murder the only leverage they have over you. They need us both alive.

  Intellectually, Vlad knew his words were true. But inside, his thoughts were black and murky with rage. He couldn’t erase the vision of Petrov grabbing Jane from behind and lifting her off her feet. She had screamed Vlad’s name and reached for him. He had been helpless to get to his woman while she was afraid and suffering.

  Vlad contented himself with imagining every way in which he could torture Petrov while still keeping him alive. He wanted Petrov to understand, to truly understand the colossal mistake he’d made in touching Jane. Vlad had been willing, for friendship’s sake, to let the boy leave the city unharmed, though it might weaken him in the eyes of the organization. Instead of accepting his generous offer, Petrov had declared war.

  The enforcer had sacrificed his life the moment he moved against Vlad, but he’d ensured in touching Jane that he would die a long-suffering, undignified death. Vlad sat in a metal chair, his hands bound in wire. Blood from his head wound dripped steadily down his face. His jacket, shirt and shoes had been stripped from him while he was unconscious, which meant they planned on torturing him.

  He was tied up in his own damn warehouse, he realized looking around. He was in one of the back offices, which wasn’t currently in use. Eyeing the drain in the concrete floor, he realized with professional interest this would make a very good torture room.

  Vlad was becoming restless. He didn’t like Petrov’s absence. He should be here with Vlad, enjoying his victory over the Boss. Vlad could only assume if Petrov wasn’t with him, he must be with his other hostage, Jane. And given Jane’s penchant toward mouthiness and physical violence, Vlad didn’t see a man like Petrov putting up with her attitude for long.

  Struggling against the wires that were twined around his wrists, Vlad began shouting in Russian. He called Petrov every vile thing he could think of, which was pretty colourful given his background. He felt the metal slice into his wrists and blood begin to flow. He used the blood to help lubricate his skin.

  The door opened, slamming into the wall. Petrov stepped through, his face an ugly twisted combination of triumph and anger. He had brought the Boss low, yet even now, the older man refused to show respect. Vlad thought perhaps the young man could have been a handsome boy if it weren’t for his unhinged nature.

  Vlad said one word, infusing a wealth of meaning into it. “Jane.”

  Petrov smirked. “You don’t need to worry about your little bitch, Vladimir, my men are taking care of her as we speak. You never said she was such a hot little fuck or I might have tried to get in those tight little jeans earlier.”

  Vlad’s eyes turned to flint. He didn’t so much as flinch to give away his rage, but the air in the room cooled noticeably. Petrov didn’t look happy with Vlad’s non-reaction. He stalked closer, his eyes narrowing.

  “Of course, I couldn’t abide her disrespectful tongue, so I cut it out first. It is easier to enjoy a woman when she isn’t screaming, da?” he said, watching Vlad carefully. “Do you hear that, Sitnikov,” he tilted his head to the side and pretended to listen. “I don’t either.”

  Vlad’s entire body flexed in the chair. He’d wanted to remain cool for this meeting, to push Petrov further toward the edge of madness. Instead, he was the one that was about to break. His brain tried and refused to process the image of his beloved Jane, bound and bleeding.

  “What do you want?” Vlad asked in Russian, his voice a guttural growl.

  “What do I want?” Petrov laughed. He paced the room as though unable to stand still for long. He was limping slightly and Vlad wondered if Jane had gotten a hit in. She was small but fierce. “I want your toys Vladimir. It’s really that simple.”

  “Take them,” Vlad snarled. “Give me Jane and I will give you whatever you want.”

  “Everything?” Petrov tossed at him. “You would give me everyth
ing, just for this woman? I admit, she was good, but she isn’t worth that much. Especially now that we’ve broken her.”

  Vlad clenched his teeth so hard he thought they would break. Negotiating with this fucker was the last thing he wanted to do. But he needed to know Jane was alive. Once he had her safely away from Petrov he would show the motherfucker why Vladimir Sitnikov was not to be messed with.

  “Yes, I will give you everything,” he answered.

  Petrov shrugged and sighed, “Even if I did believe you, which I really don’t. I’m afraid it would be too late. Your wife is a small woman and my men are not gentle. Even if she isn’t dead yet, she soon will be.”

  Petrov’s taunting hit the mark. Vlad was unable to contain the rage that burned through him like an inferno. He threw himself at the younger man, ramming himself and his chair into the smirking Russian. Petrov stumbled back and hit the wall hard with the force of Vladimir’s shoulder in his stomach.

  Petrov brought his elbow up and brought it down into Vlad’s neck, but he didn’t have enough force behind the blow to take him down. Vlad stood as much as he could in the confines of the chair with Petrov on his shoulder.

  “Help!” Petrov shouted for his men. “Help me! Get the fuck in here!”

  Vlad rammed him back into the wall with as much force as he could manage. The blow completely stunned Petrov, and when Vlad backed up, Petrov slid to the ground clutching at his ribcage where several of his ribs had probably been crushed.

  Vlad kicked him viciously when he tried to raise himself up enough to reach the gun in his holster. Petrov sprawled on the floor next to the wall. Vlad brought the foot of his chair down on Petrov’s hand and then sat with enough force to break the bones.

  Petrov screamed.

  Standing again, Vlad brought his knee down on Petrov’s windpipe with force. Petrov clawed at him, but couldn’t get enough of a grip with only one hand to shove Vlad away. Vlad watched his eyes as he slowly choked.

  Two men came rushing into the room with guns drawn. Vlad recognized one of them as a waiter at the restaurant, Nikos. It seemed the boy wanted to move up in the organization and wasn’t willing to earn his place the old fashioned way. When the Boss’ merciless gaze landed on Nikos and the youth saw the mess that was Petrov, his eyes flared wide with fear. He brought his gun up and squeezed off a couple of wild shots.

  Cursing the chair Vlad rolled off of Petrov and tried diving away. He felt fire along his side as one of the bullets grazed his flesh. He continued to roll until he was standing in a crouch. There was no furniture in the room, nowhere to hide. He would be an easy target for Petrov’s men.

  Blyad, he thought. If he was going to die, then he was going to take Petrov with him. He lunged for the body of his enemy, but was stopped short by the sound of gunfire in the warehouse. The shots distracted his assailants for the few precious seconds Vlad needed to throw himself at them.

  Nikos brought his gun back around, but it was too late. Vlad plowed into him, which knocked both of them into the other man, one of Petrov’s enforcers. All three were scrambling to get to their feet when Boris and a man Vlad recognized as King’s security, Daniel Mercer, burst through the door.

  Petrov’s enforcer was scrambling for a gun, but Mercer stopped him with two shots to the head. Vlad lay panting in his chair on the floor. Mercer stepped over to the crumpled form of Nikos and pointed his gun at the boy’s head.

  “Not that one,” Vlad said sharply. “He will need a lesson in loyalty before he goes.”

  Mercer nodded and tilted his head in the direction of a groaning Petrov.

  “Also mine. Now untie me,” Vlad said shortly.

  Boris reached for the chair and whistled. “Is mess back here Boss. Hands are like ribbons.”

  “Just get me out of here,” Vlad growled impatiently. “I have to see Jane. Do you have her? Is she…?” He couldn’t continue. Images of his beloved wife, beaten and broken, flooded through him.

  Boris grunted. “She’s fine.” He sent a look toward Mercer who was busy collecting weapons.

  Vlad barely dared to breath, the blackness that had threatened to throw him into a bloody rampage cleared a little. “What do you mean?” he demanded.

  “She’s not here,” Boris said. “She wanted to be. But he insisted she wait in car. She wasn’t happy about it.”

  “No I am fucking not happy,” Jane snapped, storming into the room. Her gaze swept the occupants coldly before landing on her husband.

  “Vlad,” she breathed and dropped to her knees in front of him just as Boris untwisted the last knot.

  Vlad brought his arms up, ignoring the agonizing pain the movement caused his cramped muscles, and grabbed hold of her. She winced as his fingers bit into her skin.

  He shook her as if he couldn’t believe she was really there and snarled, “I saw him take you, Jane. He told me what they were doing to you. They were raping you, all of the fuckers, and they cut your tongue out.”

  “No, no they didn’t,” she cried out, trying to hold him so he would stop shaking her. “Vlad, I got away from Petrov! I kicked him, I rolled under the car.”

  “Blyad woman, I wanted to die,” he gritted his teeth in pain at the thought of Jane suffering in his enemies hands. “After I killed ever last motherfucker and their families, I would have followed you into death.”

  “Vlad!” Jane cried out, unable to bear his harsh hold.

  Boris brought a hand down on Vlad’s shoulder, drawing his attention. Vlad whipped his head around glaring at his most trusted enforcer. Boris said quietly, “You’re hurting her.”

  Sanity returned and Vlad loosened his hold. With a sob, Jane wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him. Heedless of the blood he was smearing all over his wife, Vlad gathered Jane into his arms and sat up with her, pulling her into his lap, rocking her gently and drawing in deep breaths of her sweet scent.

  “I’m okay, Vlad, I’m here,” she murmured against him. “I’m not going anywhere. We’re both safe.”

  Vlad scooped her up against his chest and stood slowly, holding her tightly. He stared at Petrov who was huddled in the corner of the room cradling his hand against his broken chest. Blood was bubbling out of his mouth. Good, Vlad thought, he had punctured a lung.

  “I need you to go for a few minutes, malysh,” Vlad said gently into her hair. He strode toward King’s bodyguard, who was standing motionless, watching the scene with his dead eyes. “Mercer will take you back to the car. I have need of Boris right now.”

  “No!” Jane snapped, surprising Vlad. She struggled in his arms reaching for her boot. Pulling out an absurdly large switchblade, she flicked the weapon open and held it out in front of them toward Mercer. “If he so much as touches me, I’ll fucking gut him.”

  Vlad frowned and looked at the other man questioningly, wondering if he would have to take another life tonight. Mercer shrugged. “We had a slight disagreement about her willingness to stay in the car.” His dark eyes flickered over Jane. “That explains how you got out though.”

  “Yeah,” she said snarkily. “You owe Vlad’s soldier some new upholstery in his back seat.”

  Vlad looked down at his lethal wife. “I want you to leave Jane.”

  She looked up at him and shook his head. “No, Vlad. I need to stay. I’m your wife. I should be at your side.”

  “Not for this.”

  She sighed. “If I’m going to walk at your side then you’ll have to let me stay. This man betrayed both of us. If I had my way he would die by my hand for touching my husband. But I know you’re too much of a chauvinist to allow that.”

  He smiled grimly. “You are correct wife.” He let her legs slide down his arm, ignoring the discomfort as her jeans passed over his abraded wrists. “However, I will let you stay. For a moment at least.”

  His eyes flickered down to her blade. “Give me that.”

  She did without question.

  Vlad turned to look at Petrov, an unholy glow in his eyes as he appro
ached the cowering man. His voice was soft, but hard as steel when he said, “I believe you boasted of cutting out my wife’s tongue?”

  CHAPTER THIRTYTHREE

  Vlad looked down at his wife while she worked quietly. She sat crosslegged on the floor on top of his expensive rug in front of the roaring fire she had insisted he light for her. He’d demanded a kiss in return for the favour. When she had laughingly refused, he had, like the thief he was, stolen it from her and then proceeded to steal so much more.

  It amazed him yet, this intense feeling he felt for his wife. He knew it was love, yet he couldn’t bring himself to say it. What he felt went beyond the calf-like love he witnessed in others. He had wanted to possess Jane in a way that would bind her to him for eternity. Even now, he felt anxious that she wasn’t as much his as she should be.

  He could make men bleed without thinking twice. He took anything and everything he wanted, leaving destruction behind him if he encountered resistance. Yet Jane had defied him on numerous occasions and he could do nothing but claim her again and again. She was a strong woman, not to be broken easily. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, so he had gone easy. Yet he worried there might be some occasion in the future that would force him to truly introduce her to the darkness within him. God help her if that day ever came to pass. She knew what he was, but she also did not know.

  Disturbed by his dark thoughts, he said abruptly, “Come here.”

  Her dark head turned and she looked at him with a mischievous smile, thinking he wanted to play with her. When she saw the look in his eyes her smile melted, replaced with concern. She stood and softly walked toward him. When she was within reach, he seized her by the waist and dragged her down into his lap, burying his face in the curve of her neck.

  Jane wrapped her arms around his shoulders and wordlessly held him close. He inhaled her fragrance deeply, his hands tightening around her. She gasped and wiggled a little. He was seized with the need to bury himself in her gorgeous, willing body. He felt as though an invisible enemy may come at any time to tear them apart and he couldn’t survive without taking his wife one more time. He wondered if he would always feel this way with her. Without further thought, he began pulling the clothes from her body.