by Leslie North
From the way she was fawning all over the enemy and Rez’s sudden infatuation with her, Nik suspected Daphne just might be more adept at this than he’d thought. Didn’t make him like it anymore though. He took another gulp of vodka, gaze narrowed and never leaving the couple on the couch. Daphne had leaned closer to tell Rez something and he laughed, the sound rough and dirty. Then he shrugged and patted his side where his weapon was holstered.
Good girl, Nik thought. Get him talking. Get him to confess all his sins.
Kaz pressed his hand to his ear where the tiny receiver was that was attached to Daphne’s mic and gave a curt nod in Nik’s direction, indicating she’d gotten Rez to talk about the night Tolya was shot. Several more minutes passed and the pair on the sofa drew closer together while the knots of unbearable tension in Nik’s gut tightened. Finally, Rez placed his hand on Daphne’s thigh and the already frayed tether on Nik’s control snapped.
He plunked the bottle of Stoli down on the bar with one hand and drew his weapon with the other, snarling as he charged across the room to where Rez sat, his focus solely on the man who’d murdered his friend, the man who was now fondling the woman who belonged to Nik.
“Remove your hand from her now, you pathetic shit, or I’ll remove it for you.” Nik cocked his gun and held it between Rez’s eyes. Daphne scrambled back into the corner of the sofa, her eyes wide. “I know you’ve been selling shit drugs. I know you sent that dirty cop after Tolya and let Tolya take the bullet, you fucking liar. Now, we have your confession on tape.”
Rez scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never had anything to do with killing Tolya. I wasn’t even there--”
“Stop lying,” Kaz said, moving in beside Nik. He removed his earpiece and held it up before Rez’s eyes. High or not, the guy would pay for his crimes. “We have you recorded. We know what you did. Now the world will know too.”
Desperation written on his face, Rez moved fast, barreling into Nik and Kaz in front of the sofa. The momentum knocked them off their feet and Nik’s gun fired wide, the bullet ripping through the wall near the ceiling. The next few moments were a blur as a struggle ensued.
“Get Daphne!” Nik yelled to Kaz. “Keep her safe!”
Rez had pulled a knife now and stabbed blindly at Nik as they tumbled across the floor. A sharp sting issued from Nik’s left bicep as Rez’s blade glanced off his arm, slicing through the fabric of his suit and into his skin. At last, Nik managed to land a hard punch in Rez’s stomach and roll over so the scumbag was beneath him. With his knees pinning Rez’s shoulders to the ground, it was only seconds until Nik had wrenched the knife from his opponent’s hand and turned the tables.
Rumpled and out of breath, Nik grabbed Rez’s right wrist–his shooting hand—and held it up, placing the knife blade against the base of his trigger finger. “Tell me how that tainted smack got into our supply lines.”
Rez spat then grinned up at Nik, his eyes wild and his grin maniacal. “Fuck you!”
The knife dug into flesh and tendon and Rez screamed. Nik forced words out past his constricted throat. “Tell me, or I swear to God you will lose all of your fingers and toes!”
Daphne wrenched free of where Kaz held her near the wall. “Don’t, Nik! Please! You don’t have to do this. We have his confession, enough to lock him away. Enough to give Hornbull.”
“Hornbull?” Rez asked, going still beneath Nik’s weight. “You’re working with him?”
“Not working with him, but we have a deal,” Nik said, pressing the knife deeper into the guy’s flesh. “Either way, this is not ending well for you, Rezan. And I thought you were my friend.”
“I was your friend,” he howled. “I am your friend. I just…” He panted. “I just wanted a tiny piece of the action for myself. So I started making my own mixes of heroine. Hornbull and his pals were happy to look the other way as long as my boys kept delivering cash to line their pockets, until his daughter got hold of a bad batch and fried her brain. Now he’s got some vendetta against me.”
“He’s not the only one.” Nik spat on the floor beside Rez’s head then pushed off of him, cursing as he jammed the blade of the knife into the wall. “You’ll be lucky to survive the night. If Hornbull doesn’t kill you, the Bratva will. But I won’t. I won’t stoop to your level. Not anymore.” He gave Kaz a look over his shoulder and his brother took off to deliver the recording to Hornbull. “I treated you like a brother, Rez. I would’ve died for you. Now, I can’t stand the sight of you. Go!”
Rez struggled to his feet, his bloody hand clutched to his chest as he inched toward the door. “You’re an idiot, Volkov. I’ll run. You won’t find me again. No one will find me. And you better watch your back. You and your girlfriend. I’ll strike when you least expect it.”
More exhausted than he could ever remember, Nik raised his gun one last time and aimed for Rez. “Consider your words carefully. They may be your last. You will leave this place and you will spend your last hours contemplating all of your sins. Make amends with your God because you will be meeting him soon.”
Rez opened his mouth, closed it, then took off out the door without another glance back.
The man would die tonight, but not by Nik’s hand. He would honor their previous friendship and his deal with Hornbull enough to let someone else do it.
Once they were alone again, Daphne rushed to him and held him tight. “I was so scared. I thought he would kill you or you would kill him and I couldn’t, I just couldn’t…”
Her words broke him out of his thoughts and Nik sank down on the sofa with Daphne in his lap. “Shhh. It’s over now, baloven’. Don’t cry. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
After a few moments, Daphne raised her tear-stained face to his. “You’re not?”
“Not what?”
“Going anywhere?”
“Oh.” He exhaled slow. He’d always expected to die a Bratva, but now this glorious woman had come into his life and shown him there was more to life than the violent, power-hungry world he knew. He wasn’t sure exactly where the future might take them, but he was certain of one thing. “Yes. I’ll be here for you, for as long as you want me.”
9
Daphne
A month later, Daphne answered her door to find Nik waiting for her, another bouquet of flowers in his hand, this time yellow roses—her favorite. He smiled at her over the top of them, doing nothing to hide his face this time.
She smiled back. “Come in. I just need to grab my purse and sweater and I’ll be ready to go.”
Nik walked in and closed the door behind him, looking dapper and debonair in his tailored black suit and crisp white dress shirt. Her breath caught at the sight of him. As he set the flowers in the kitchen then milled about in her living room, Daphne headed back to her bedroom to grab her stuff. A lot had changed since that night in the seedy lounge connected to that safe house apartment.
The murder charges against Nolan Hornbull had been dropped after Rez’s confession had gone public, though Hornbull had ended up in jail anyway—arrested about two weeks later along with several of his crooked cohorts for accepting bribes one of Rez’s minions had delivered on the regular. He’d been permanently terminated from the Chicago Police Department and would serve jail-time for his crimes. It helped put Daphne’s mind at ease knowing once he was released he would still be able to care for his disabled daughter, who was staying in the same nursing home as her mother for the time being.
Rez’s body had washed up on the river bank two weeks after he’d run out of the safe house lounge, his body too badly beaten and decomposed for forensics to make a proper ID at first, let alone find enough evidence to find his killer.
Daphne’s life had slowly gotten back to normal in the past thirty days. She’d gone back to work, spent two evenings a week with her mother and had even gone to lunch with Nik’s mom a couple of times. Turns out they had a lot more in common than she’d thought—they both liked flea market shopping and the
local farmers’ markets. Plus, they both cared for Nik. More and more every day, in Daphne’s case.
She slipped on a lavender-colored cardigan over her little black dress, then grabbed her evening bag and walked back into the living room. They were going out for dinner tonight and a musical at the Schubert Theatre afterward. Funny how much they both loved art and music and dancing too. He’d even tried to teach her how to salsa last week, though she’d spent more time stepping on his toes than moving her hips to the beat like the other girls did. Still, he made her laugh and feel cherished and held her through the night in his warm strong arms. It was all she’d ever wanted and never thought she’d find.
“Ready?” he asked, glancing back at her over his shoulder. He stood in front of her windows, highlighted by the sunset over the Chicago skyline. Her stomach flipped from the sheer beauty of him—his brown hair slicked back and his green eyes glowing with heat and affection. He walked to her and took her hands, his expression oddly serious. “I have something I need to tell you, baloven’.”
Her chest squeezed, this time from nerves and not lust. He’d been very careful to keep his career separate from her since that night in the lounge, which was just as well. The thought of him getting hurt or worse, kept her up on those rare nights when he wasn’t sleeping over at her place. She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak.
“I spoke to my Bratva leaders today,” he said, staring down at their joined hands and her hopes sank. Despite their deepening relationship, she’d always known in the back of her mind that his job could rip them apart. He could be ordered to leave town, be sent away at any time, be shot or stabbed or… “And I am leaving the family.”
It took a moment for his words to penetrate her whirling thoughts. “I’m sorry?”
“I’m leaving the Bratva.”
Daphne frowned.” But how? I thought you told me once you’re in, there’s no getting out.”
“There is a way,” he said, lacing their fingers together and tugging her closer. “If a high-ranking officer performs a duty of extraordinary service or sacrifice, the Pakhan will make certain exceptions.”
Her hopes flared anew. “And?”
Nik shrugged. “And they considered my bringing Tolya’s murderer to justice such an act. So, they are letting me go.”
“Oh, baby.” She hugged him tight. “I’m thrilled, but are you okay with this. What will you do now?”
“I’m fine with it,” he said, leaning back slightly to smile down at her. “I’ve already spoken to Ben, and he said I can work with him at his construction company. It won’t be as exciting as Bratva work, but it could have its advantages.”
“Yeah?” She grinned as he pulled her tighter against him. “Like what?”
“Like I get to spend more time with you.” He nuzzled her neck, his lips soft and warm against her skin. She shivered from the contact. “Like my first project will be to restore a lake house I found just outside the city where we can live together. There’s even a guest house where your mom can come and visit. Mine too. If you’d like that.”
“If I’d like that?” She sighed, not quite able to believe all her dreams were coming true. “Of course I’d like that. In fact, I’d love it.” She placed her hands on his chest, right over his thumping heart. “In fact, I’d love it. Just like I love you.”
His lips stilled on the side of her neck and his body froze. “You love me?”
Daphne bit her lip. She’d not meant to tell him quite like that, but now that her secret was out there was no putting it back inside. “Yes. I do.”
Nik pulled back and stared down at her, his expression a mix of shock and awe. “I love you too, my Daphne. I don’t deserve you, but I promise to spend every waking hour becoming the man you need.”
Smiling through her tears, she cupped his cheek, letting all her emotions show—love, gratefulness, adoration. “You already are, baby. You’ve always been the man I need, Nik. Always.”
End of Her Russian Rescuer
The Volkov Brothers Series Book Two
Blurb
Sometimes love thrives, even in the most dangerous situations…
Fashion boutique owner Allison Charman isn’t surprised to learn her brother is in deep debt to the Russian mob. What she’s not prepared for is the man who comes to collect. Mob enforcer Kaz is massively tall with scarred, tattooed skin, but Allie refuses to be intimidated. She offers her store as payment, but Kaz has already set his sights on her. It doesn’t take long for her to be seduced, but when Kaz offers to personally pay off the loan, Allie won’t be bought. She may have fallen under the Russian’s spell, but she’ll take care of her family on her own terms.
Since he was a teenager, Bratva enforcer Kazimir Volkov has been doing the Russian Mafia’s dirty work. His size and demeanor have served him well in the most dangerous situations, but with only days left to collect a debt from a runaway borrower, Kaz risks his boss’s wrath. When he meets his mark’s sister, Kaz is instantly taken by the perfectly polished Allie. Both her courage and her curves entice him to her bed, but she turns cold when he offers to pay what her brother owes. The fiery redhead may have an independent streak, but Kaz will do what it takes to save Allie’s shop and keep her out of harm’s way.
Allie’s life is at stake, and Kaz doesn’t want anymore blood on his hands. With danger at every turn, will Kaz and Allie recognize that their connection is more than just skin deep in time to save them?
1
Kaz
Kaz Volkov stood outside the non-descript red-brick building on Damen Avenue in Chicago. Blue summer skies shone above and he shielded his eyes from the sun as he stared up at the pink and white sign affixed above the door.
Charmante it proclaimed in elegant script lettering.
Hmm. Not exactly the digs he would’ve expected for a scumbag like Danny Charman, but with a wily weasel like him, anything was possible. Kaz glanced to either side before straightening his black T-shirt and heading inside, ducking slightly to avoid beaning himself in the head with the shiny brass bells hanging from the door. He fought the urge to cover the Bratva tattoos on his arms. Not that he was embarrassed by his heritage or his work, but in places like this sometimes going more incognito was better.
Inside, the long narrow room had more exposed brick walls and gleaming pickled oak floors. Along each side of the space were racks of clothes in all different hues and lengths and styles. Cold air blew down on him from a vent in the ceiling and the air smelled of lemony floor polish and expensive perfume. It was the sort of establishment where even the brass fixtures screamed pricey.
Several of the snooty ladies milling about the place stopped and openly gawked at him, only making Kaz feel more out of place than he already did. Given his height, six-five, and his profession, Bratva Boyevik or warrior, he was used to getting his share of stares. The frequency, however, did not make him like it any better. He shook off his awkwardness and strode confidently forward through the displays of silk pieces and clean, crisp tailored separates that looked sharp enough to cut him if he handled them the wrong way. He preferred classic, well-made clothes with clean lines and no-fuss details. Like the T-shirt and Levi’s he wore today. Things like that never went out of style.
He headed over to a long white counter against the opposite wall and the woman standing behind the cash register, apparently engrossed in whatever was on her laptop screen. She’d not looked up at all since he’d walked in, only said a polite “Hello” and “Let me know if there’s anything I can help you find today” in a distracted voice.
Broad shoulders squared, he approached the woman, taking in her slim yet curvy shape and brilliant red hair gleaming beneath the recessed overhead lighting. She appeared younger than him—maybe mid-twenties—and had the most spectacular pale skin, like silken cream. Kaz stood before the desk and cleared his throat to get her attention. She still didn’t acknowledge him, which only made him more determined to get her attention. Summoning his most commanding tone, he sai
d, “My name is Kazimir Volkov. I’m looking for Danny Charman.”
The woman kept on working on her books, frowning and tapping the tip of her pen against the paper. It was almost like she purposely wanted to avoid him. Maybe she did. He wasn’t exactly the “right” kind of clientele for her shop. “He’s not here.”
Annoyed, Kaz stepped closer. Usually he stayed in the background, knowing many people found his size intimidating, unless he planned to use his bulk to get his point across. But this woman was pushing all of his buttons today. Either that or it was just a typical Monday afternoon. Or both. “Where is he? It’s imperative I speak with him immediately.”
The brusqueness in his voice finally had her meeting his gaze, the piercing olive-green of her stare nearly knocking him back a step. He’d always been partial to green eyes, but man-oh-man. That gaze of hers took her from being merely pretty to being downright gorgeous. Not that he noticed. Nope. Not at all. Her jaw jutted out stubbornly as the toe of her designer pump tapped a staccato rhythm on the hardwood floor. “What do you want with him?”
It took him a moment to draw his focus away from the way the silky top of her dress hugged her slender curves and the soft plumpness of her pink lips to concentrate on the conversation again. When he did, however, Kaz found her expression showed supreme annoyance.
“We have business together,” he said, matching her prickliness and upping the ante with a side of aloof arrogance. “The rest is none of your concern. He said this was his address.”
“I see.” She closed her laptop at last and leaned forward to rest her arms atop it, giving him a perfect view straight down the V-neck of her black silk top. He could barely see a hint of her black lace bra and the valley between those creamy globes and his body tightened a bit in response. “Well, I’m sorry, but it should be apparent to you, this is a place of business. My brother’s not here.”