by Leslie North
He continued. “I have been a member of the Bratva since the age of sixteen. I make good money for what I do and I’ve invested well.”
“I still don’t see what this has to do with me.”
Kaz sat forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his hands dangling between them. “My deal to you is this. I will provide you with the funds to pay off your brother’s debt. You then will pay me back.”
“Like a loan?”
“Da. In a way.”
“Why in a way?” The nervous energy inside was making her hands tremble so badly she had to hold them tight in her lap. She had no idea what this new deal might entail, but if the sizzling sexual tension between them was any indication, she could be in major trouble here. “We would need to draw up contracts, negotiate interest rates.”
“Nyet. If we agree to this, it will be completely secret. No one can know about it. Salko would not take the fact I’m making my own deals behind his back well.”
“I don’t know.” Now, it was Allie’s turn to pace around the perimeter of the open-plan living room space. “You’ve seen my bank statements. I don’t have the means to pay you back right now. Everything I make these days goes to either living expenses or straight back into Charmante.”
“I want us to conclude this deal in the best possible way for both of us,” Kaz said. “By paying off your debt and solving both of our problems.”
“Why?” She stopped pacing and stood behind the granite breakfast bar, never diverting her attention from him. “What’s in it for you? We barely know each other. We just met early today. We shared one meal together.”
“And one incredible kiss,” he added, with a small smile.
“That kiss was a mistake, you said it yourself.” Allie did her best to steady her trembling hands. The last thing she needed was for him to think she was scared, even though she was terrified. “Besides, I haven’t even talked to Danny yet. How do I know you’re even telling me the truth?”
“Allie, listen to me. I realize this all sounds a bit crazy, but you need to trust me. Calling Danny will only waste time and could put you in more danger if he shows up on your doorstep. Salko gave me four days to collect the money owed. There is no way you can find a buyer for all of your inventory and get all the legal paperwork finalized in time by yourself. You need my contacts in order to do that.” He narrowed his gaze at her slight flinch. “I know how much your business means to you and I don’t want to see that happen to you so I’m offering an alternative. Granted, I’ve not had a chance to work out all the specifics yet, but I think my idea could be mutually beneficial.” He headed for the door. “I should go, give you time to think over everything. Please know I respect what you’ve accomplished with Charmante and I admire your devoted work ethic. I would not offer to put up my own money if I didn’t believe in your skills as a businesswoman.”
Allie battled the rising tide of nausea inside her at his words. Four days. Oh, God. Four short days to kill her dream and bail out her brother. Four short days to either somehow come up with a quarter of a million dollars on her own or join forces with a Russian mafia hitman to save Danny. Her heart was racing so fast she thought it might beat out of her chest and she couldn’t seem to be able to catch her breath. Shit. Shit. Shit. Through the panic threatening to overtake her, Allie managed to say, “How will I get in contact with you? With my decision?”
Kaz turned at the door and pulled a business card from his pocket. “My number’s on here. Call me once you make up your mind. But don’t wait too long.” He tapped his watch for emphasis. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Allie Charman.”
As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, she ran across the room to bolt the door. Locked safely in her apartment, she slid down the wall to the floor, blinking several times against the unshed tears stinging her eyes.
Pure, unadulterated fear threatened to drown her. Fear for Danny’s life, fear for her own survival, fear that no matter what decision she made, it would be a bad one. She rested her head back against the wall and sighed, closing her eyes.
Perhaps taking his money would’ve been the easy way out. It certainly would’ve saved Danny and kept her parents happy. But how could she have lived with herself knowing she’d basically sold herself to the highest bidder? Sure, he’d amended his original statements to say her sleeping with him wasn’t part of the bargain, but she wasn’t an idiot. What other way could she repay him if cash wasn’t involved?
And yeah, the chemistry between them was red-hot, as evidenced by that searing kiss they’d shared. But just because they’d shared a passionate kiss and just because she’d invited him to her apartment didn’t mean she was going to hop into bed with him. He was a virtual stranger. He was a professed bad guy. He basically bullied people for cash as his living.
It was crazy to get involved with a man like him, no matter how compelling.
Allie leaned forward, resting her forehead on her knees and wrapping her arms around her bent legs to curl her body into a tight ball. Letting Kaz walk out tonight without making a deal with him might not have been the best choice, but she didn’t see any other choice she could have made and still maintained her self-respect. She wanted love and passion, not some financial transaction. But she would find a way out of this mess. She had to. Her brother’s life depended on it.
3
Kaz
Why you come here and take my money?” the stout Russian woman screamed at Kaz. Mrs. Zelenka knew damned well why Kaz was here. Hell, he showed up at her shabby little house every Wednesday at three p.m. like clockwork. Still, she put up her token fight, as always.
Kaz gave a long-suffering sigh and braced his legs apart to maintain his balance, in case she charged at him again like she’d done the week before. Mrs. Zelenka might be close to eighty, but she was built like a bull. Add in her reputation as one of the most ruthless drug dealers in the West Englewood projects and it made every second he spent inside her rat-infested, filthy flophouse apartment a true joy. Or not.
“Go fuck yourself you, Bratva bastard. I give you nothing.” She spat on the floor near his feet. “Perhot' podzalupnaya!”
He let her insult pass. Yeah, she’d called him the Russian equivalent of a genital fungus and spit on his toes again, but he’d dealt with much worse in his profession. Kaz kept his gaze fixed on the wall across the room and his expression stoic. He was good at keeping calm under pressure. Everyone said this. It was why he was so effective in his job. It was also probably why he’d never really had a serious romantic relationship with anyone. Love and affection had no place in his line of work and it was hard to turn one’s emotions on and off like that.
Finally, Mrs. Zelenka came at him with a rusty kitchen knife and Kaz put an end to her tirade. He didn’t hurt her, just reached out fast and grabbed her wrist, squeezing slightly until she dropped her weapon and winced. “The money. Now.”
His flat, stern words were met with silence.
For several moments, the woman just stared at him, a visual Mexican standoff, until she stomped over to a small metal safe on the floor and dialed it open, cursing at him in Russian under her breath the entire time.
“Here.” She thrust her monthly payment of five-thousand dollars at him with a sneer. “Tell that pussy boss of yours to leave me the fuck alone. Bad for my business.”
As Kaz finished counting the bills, his phone rang in his pocket. He exchanged the money for the device and grinned at Mrs. Zelenka. “Maybe this is him. You can give Salko your kind words yourself.”
She blanched slightly. She might put up a good front, but no one screwed with the Bratva and lived to tell the tale. No one.
Kaz zipped up his now bulging jacket pocket to keep the funds from falling out then scowled down at his phone screen. Not Salko.
Shit.
The caller ID said unknown number but his instincts told him it was Allie. He’d done his best to keep her from his thoughts, to forget that passionate kiss they’d shared in her apartme
nt. But now all those physical sensations and emotions came rushing back full force.
Clearing his throat, Kaz strode over to the rickety front door of the home. Before he answered, he turned back to Mrs. Zelenka one last time. She’d picked the knife back up, he saw. “See you next time.”
“Poshyol ty'!” she yelled, letting her rusty knife fly. Fuck you. Nice. The blade thwacked into the wall near him but Kaz just shook his head as he walked out of the shithole house. It had to be close to ninety with high humidity, but cold sweat still trickled down his back as he answered Allie’s call.
“Yes,” he said, doing his best to sound professional.
“Kaz?” Her tone sounded uncertain.
“Da.” He stared over at the black Towncar where his fellow Bratva enforcer waited. They always did these jobs in pairs due to the dangerous nature of collections, but the guy with him today was new and he didn’t want to take any chances of one of Salko’s minions running back to tattle to their boss about Kaz’s little deal with Allie. He walked away down the sidewalk in the other direction for privacy. “What do you want, Miss Charman? I’m working.”
“Oh.” The smallness of her voice made him want to kick his own ass, if that were possible. What had happened to the confident businesswoman he’d met the other night? He wanted her to sound like that, like herself, even if she was a pain in his butt. “Well, I wondered if your deal was still on the table.”
Relief and no small amount of pride burst inside him like fireworks. So, she’d come to her senses and decided he was right. This was good. In addition to dreaming about her and that kiss they’d shared, he’d also had nightmares about his boss capturing not only her brother, but Allie as well. Things would not go well if Salko got his hands on them. Her brother, they would torture and kill. Allie, they’d rape, then most likely sell her off to the highest bidder in some Asian sex trade operation to recoup some of their lost investment. With her beauty, she’d fetch a high price. The thought turned his stomach and steeled his resolve. “Yes, it’s still on the table, but only until tonight. There are only two days left until your brother is a dead man. We need to act fast to save him.”
“Right.” She still sounded distant, but Kaz was glad she’d trusted him enough to call him back. “Fine.”
He savored the small victory and smiled, the sun hot on his skin. He had one more stop to make in this neighborhood, at a house in slightly better shape than the one he’d just left. Kaz gave a brief wave to his partner in the Towncar, then walked to the end of the block and crossed the street, heading for the green shuttered two-story on the corner. “Why don’t I come over to your apartment again after I’m done working and we can work out the details of our arrangement.”
Allie hesitated again as he knocked on Mr. Vasiliev’s door. The older gentleman answered on his first knock and waved him inside before dead-bolting the door behind Kaz. He walked over and pulled out a checkbook. These weekly visits with Mr. Vasiliev were as routine as the ones with Mrs. Zelenka, though much more pleasant.
“Still fifty dollars?” the old guy confirmed, his Russian accent heavy.
“Da,” Kaz replied. Fifty dollars. He had earned hundreds of thousands from the Bratva for his mother’s treatments but he hadn’t been able to stand it when he heard how much the Bratva was going to charge Mr. Vasiliev for his daughter’s gene therapy.
“What’s fifty dollars?” Allie asked.
“Gene therapy,” Kaz answered before he realized what he was doing. Damn. Where was his mind? But he knew. Just hearing Allie’s voice made him think all manner of distracting things. Made him lose his head.
“Fifty dollars?” Allie asked, her voice pitched high with disbelief. “What kind of gene therapy is only fifty dollars?”
Truth was, Mr. Vasiliev’s payments were so low because Kaz supplemented them with his own funds to make up the difference. The gene therapy wasn’t fifty dollars per week, as he’d told Allie, but the payments were still far larger than a man on a fixed income like Mr. Vasiliev could afford. But the old guy had been desperate to save his daughter’s life and Kaz had a soft spot for those in need.
Speaking of soft spots, he focused his attention back on Allie. “Listen, I need to go. I’ll come by your apartment later to discuss our deal again. Say, six-thirty?”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He hung up and took the check Mr. Vasiliev handed him, folding it neatly before shoving it in his pocket alongside Mrs. Zelenka’s wad of cash. “Thank you, sir.”
“I’m glad you’ve found someone nice,” Mr. Vasiliev said, gesturing toward the phone Kaz still held in his hand. “You deserve love in your life.”
“What?” Kaz frowned. “Oh, no. It’s not like that between us. She’s another collection case of mine, caught up in her brother’s bad debt. We’re business associates, that’s all.”
Except business associates didn’t generally kiss the living hell out of each other like he and Allie had the other night.
“Hmm, that’s too bad.” Mr. Vasiliev walked Kaz back to the front door. “I imagine you deal with all kinds in your line of work. Some greedy, some unlucky, some desperate. Which kind is your friend there?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Kaz was still considering the answer to that question as he made his way back to the car and they headed north, out of the projects and toward Salko’s seedy little office in a rundown industrial park near the lake.
When they walked into Salko’s office, the guy was behind his desk as usual. Short, scrubby, with grayish-brown hair and a perpetually sour expression, Mikhail Salko wouldn’t be winning any beauty pageants these days. In his mid-fifties and wiry but strong, he’d always reminded Kaz of a mean old guard dog who’d missed one too many meals. He was hungry and weathered from being out in the cruel world and wouldn’t hesitate to bite the hand that fed him if it meant his survival.
Kaz unzipped the pocket of his jacket to pull out Mrs. Zelenka’s wad of cash and tossed it on Salko’s desk. He left Mr. Vasiliev’s check in his pocket, however. Instead, he unzipped his other pocket and pulled out a different check, this one for the full amount of fifteen thousand dollars, signed with Kaz’s fake signature for Mr. Vasiliev and drawn on the dummy account he’d set up under the old guy’s name to cover his tracks. That way Salko got his money, Mr. Vasiliev and his daughter stayed safe, she got the medical treatment she so desperately needed, and no one was the wiser.
Like he’d said, he made damned good money in his job for the Bratva and he was a single guy. So, why not do some good with it?
Salko finished recounting the cash and locked it away in the safe near his feet then studied Kaz’s check. His frown deepened as he stared at the signature. “This isn’t Vasiliev’s handwriting. It’s too sloppy. Besides, this is worthless. The last check didn’t clear the bank because they questioned the signature.”
“The guy’s old, shaky hands,” Kaz said, the knot of tension in his stomach tightening. Salko seemed to be spending a lot more time going over things today. That wasn’t good. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.” Salko stood and came around the desk to lean against the front, lessening the space between him and Kaz to only a foot or so. He stood several inches shorter than Kaz but what he lacked in height he made up for in pure evil. “I’ve known you since you were fifteen years old, Volkov. You think I don’t recognize your handwriting when I see it?”
Well, shit. He’d imagined this situation many times, thought about what he might say or do if Salko ever picked up on his ruse. Being face-to-face with the man now though had him far more shaken than Kaz had expected. Cold sweat tickled the back of his neck and he gripped the arms of the chair tight to hide their tremor. Part of his brain said that he’d be better off admitting what he was doing, helping these people, while the other part of him scrambled to figure out a way to save his ass.
The younger Bratva enforcer who’d waited by the door up until now, moved closer, essentially blocking Kaz in. His
first instinct was to fight. He could take the kid, no problem. But Salko was ruthless, and smart. A deadly combination. So, he swallowed hard against the lump of anxiety blocking his throat and slumped down into the chair before Salko’s desk, hyper aware of his surroundings in case he needed a fast exit. The creaking floorboards beneath their feet, the stench of old cigarettes and musty air from the decades old ventilation system overhead, the grime covered window to his left. If worse came to worse he’d break through it and make a run for it.
“Kaz, Kaz, Kaz,” Salko continued, his beady brown eyes narrowed. “I know you’ve been making payments for some of your collection clients. The ones you feel sorry for, the ones who can’t make the payments themselves. And do you know what that makes you?”
A good person? Kaz wanted to say, but kept his mouth shut.
“Soft, Kaz.” Salko crossed his arms and shook his head, as if Kaz had committed the most unforgivable of sins. “Soft and weak. Those grateful clients of yours talk, you see. Now, word has gotten around and guess what? They think I’m soft now too. Me. Mikhail Salko. Soft. It’s disgusting and disgraceful.” He cringed. “Worse, it makes douchebags like Danny Charman decide they don’t have to pay.”
Kaz forced his tense muscles to relax and forced out the words he hoped would placate Salko for now. “I am not soft. I am trying to do good business for you. You want me to bust down doors and beat up clients? You think the cops wouldn’t be all over that shit in two seconds? Law enforcement doesn’t take too kindly to people who rough up little old ladies and desperate men trying to save their dying children.” And yes, Mrs. Zelenka was meaner than a starving Siberian tiger, but Salko didn’t need to know that. “Besides, healthy clients are paying clients. You can’t get money from a corpse.”