Wreckless Intentions

by K. Marie

  I shook my head sadly. I never wanted to see anyone lose their job, but Broggs had dug his own ditch. Plus, he was a Class-A asshole.

  “Do your troubles end with the Chvetski’s deaths?” I asked worriedly.

  “I can’t say for sure, I’m still working to ascertain that. But, I don’t want you to worry, sweetheart.”

  I held his gaze, then shook my head. “It’s not me I’m worried about,” I said softly.

  “I can take care of myself,” he asserted, lifting my hand from where it rested in my lap and placing a kiss on the back of it. “Are you going to put your suitcase away now?” he asked, face serious.

  “I don’t know…that depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “On whether or not you’re honest with me.”

  “I thought we just went over that?”

  “Our son has a passport in the safe that I don’t recall applying for, explain.”

  “The right amount of money can buy you anything you want.”

  Word games again. “Why does he need one—and why couldn’t we just go through the proper channels?”

  “Everyone should have a passport—even newborns, and going through the proper channels isn’t always expedient.”

  “Why the rush, is he going somewhere?” We could do this tennis match all night.

  “I’m sure he is, one day.”

  “To a Greek island, perhaps?”

  Garland smiled in amusement. “Perhaps.”

  “You know, I was thinking…a Greek island might be the perfect place to escape to when someone’s trying to kill you.”

  “It can be multipurpose.”

  “I love you.”

  “I know.”

  Garland never did anything without a purpose. If he’d purchased a Greek island, it was for a reason beyond the stated one. If he’d gotten his newborn son an expedited passport, it was also for a good reason. Having one’s own private oasis to escape to in case of emergency was genius.

  And, knowing how to manipulate one’s husband into compliance was golden.

  That suitcase was merely a prop. Sure, I had a moment of panic, but I would never abandon Garland when he needed me most. I was just sharpening my skills and getting damn good at playing him at his own game. Checkmate.

  Because Roman and I both had doctor appointments, I didn’t make it back to the hospital until noon the next day. However, when I entered Viktor’s room; I got quite the shocker.

  “Marie!” I gasped in surprise, pulling up short. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

  “I’m here courtesy of your husband; and before you go nuclear, I asked him not to tell you. I wanted to savor that stupid look on your face,” she replied with a self-satisfied smirk.

  I walked closer to where she stood. “Okay, you’re here—you and Garland apparently conspired behind my back again. But, I don’t understand why you’re here; your move isn’t for another month.”

  “Don’t sound so happy to see me,” she responded tartly.

  “I am happy to see you; it’s just surprising, unexpected. Both you and Garland suck for not telling me; I’m not so sure I like it. I’d like an explanation, though,” I told her sincerely.

  Marie’s eyes traveled to Viktor as she spoke. “You said he might die, I-I wanted to be useful. I texted Garland yesterday to ask if there was anything I could do, he said yes. So, here I am; he sent his plane this morning.”

  Oh. I studied Marie curiously, before shifting my gaze to Viktor. He looked the same as he did the day before, and I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one. Garland went back to the hospital last night after his ordeal with Broggs; he said there’d been no change since the seizure.

  “Marie?” I called to get her attention. When she looked my way, I cocked an eyebrow. “When?” I demanded.

  “When, what?” she asked in confusion.

  “When did you have sex with Viktor? And don’t even bother denying it.”

  “You’re crazy—I did not have sex with Viktor!”

  “Bullshit! No woman rushes to a man’s bedside after he’s been injured unless she’s having sex with him—or is in love with him!”

  “Caring about my future employer being injured doesn’t equate me banging him, nor being in love with him. My interest is purely professional,” Marie said defensively.

  I stared at her in slack-jawed disbelief. Purely professional, my ass! Did she forget I knew her better than anyone else on this planet? Did she think I didn’t know when she was lying to me—or that I didn’t notice the tell-tale redness in her eyes that signaled she’d been crying? Marie is a caring person; but not that damn caring to jump on a plane less than twenty-four hours after hearing her “future employer” had been shot.

  “He doesn’t look like the same person, does he?” I asked softly, eyes going back to Viktor. “He’s always so tough and badass—so in control, seeing him in such a weakened and vulnerable state is hard to digest.”

  Marie didn’t say anything as she stood staring down at Viktor. I wondered what was going through her mind; wondered when and how long the two of them had been hooking up. Marie wasn’t typically so tight-lipped about her sexcapades.

  “Do you think he’s going to die?” she murmured after a moment, a rare vulnerability in her voice.

  “I-I really don’t know, but, I’m praying like hell he doesn’t,” I told her. Snaking an arm around her waist, I pressed my side to hers until our heads rested against one another’s.

  “Shit, Cam…I’m so pissed at myself,” Marie whispered woefully, leaning into me for support.

  “That must have been some epic bang,” I remarked triumphantly, glad she couldn’t see my smile. I knew I’d get her to confess.

  “Hands down,” she confirmed, sounding none too happy about it.

  “I thought you were keeping away from his magic stick?”

  “I thought so too.”

  “When did that start?”

  “The night we went to that sushi restaurant. I was horny and got it into my head to drunk-text him offering to sit on his face. He accepted; it was apparently put-up or shut-up time, so he picked me up from the hotel and took me back to his ridiculous penthouse condo.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “You seriously offered to sit on his face?”

  Marie’s lips pursed as she tried not to smile. “I did; but I was only halfway serious, he’d never taken my flirting seriously before. So, imagine my surprise when he texted me back, ‘Either I pick you up in twenty minutes, or you quit fucking with me.’ I imagined him saying it in that Russian accent and chose the former,” Marie said on a sigh.

  I shook my head in amusement. Marie had been flirting with Viktor relentlessly for months; he’d apparently decided to double-dog dare her. “So, it was just that one night, then?” I asked curiously.

  “It should have been,” Marie snorted cynically. “Like a fool, I went back a second time—the night before we left.”

  “You are such a hooker!” I accused, turning my head to smile at her. “But wanting to go back a second time is always a good thing; it means the first time didn’t suck. So, what was the status between the two of you when you left?”

  “There is no status—it was just a hook-up, nothing more.”

  Um hmm. “I guess that explains you being here,” I said innocently.

  “I just had sex with the man a week ago—I’m not completely immune, I do have a heart. However, my offer of help was genuine. With Viktor, well, here; I figured I could be useful at the security firm,” Marie argued.

  It made sense business-wise, but she wouldn’t convince me her being here was purely professional. After all, she wasn’t at the firm right now; she was here, watching over Viktor.

  “Whatever the reason, thank you for coming, Marie. I’m glad you’re here. Garland’s under a lot of stress right now; I know he appreciates your offer of help,” I told her.

  “That’s what family is for. Garland’s like my brother from a
nother mother, he’s been nothing but kind to me from day one. Plus, he flew me here on that sick-ass jet of his—and I mean sick in a good way, I couldn’t pass that up,” Marie grinned.

  “Where will you be staying, with us?” I asked hopefully.

  “No offense, but I don’t want to be smack in the middle of your domestic scene. Besides, a girl needs her own space and privacy; I’ve got a suite at The St. Regis until I find something more permanent.”

  “I understand your need for privacy, but that fancy-smancy suite had better be courtesy of Vidov Enterprises; I don’t want you going broke, Marie,” I said sternly.

  She snorted humorously. “Of course, it’s courtesy of Vidov Enterprises—otherwise, I’d be at a Courtyard or Best Western.”

  I nodded approvingly. The company was paying Marie’s relocating expenses as part of the deal; it was expensive as hell to live in Miami. I knew Garland would ensure she got housed somewhere appropriate.

  “Did you ever get more information? Are you going to tell me what happened—how he ended up in here?” asked Marie, pointing her chin towards Viktor.

  When we last spoke, I didn’t yet know what happened; so, I had no need to lie. Now though, I stood here contemplating Marie silently; going over everything that Garland told me. Heck, everything that had happened. The shit was way too complicated and probably best left unknown. So, instead of lying, I reluctantly shook my head in the negative.

  “I’m sorry, Marie, but, I’ve never lied to you before, and I don’t want to start now. It’s probably best I not say anything…perhaps he’ll tell you himself when he recovers.”

  Twenty-Nine

  G A R L A N D

  “Internal Affairs has officially launched their investigation, I was called into their office today for an interview,” reported Detective Hernandez, as soon as I’d answered his call.

  “My attorney informed me this morning, Detective Broggs had been placed on two weeks suspension. The punishment seems more lenient than deserved; but I'm hoping IA’s investigation will take care of the rest,” I replied.

  “I apologize for Broggs, I had no idea what that scum was up to—he went completely off-reservation, he knew I’d never go along with it. And that’s exactly what I told IA,” Hernandez supplied.

  “You’ll be under scrutiny now as well; which means we speak only when necessary, and only using the burner phone. Keep me apprised of all developments on the investigation and on Broggs himself,” I imparted.

  “Wait!” Hernandez urged before I could hang up. “The girl; Broggs is convinced you were responsible, he won’t let it go so easily. You should expect more trouble from him,” Hernandez warned.

  “Noted,” I acknowledged before disconnecting.

  That ass-bag Broggs had more problems than just one, Internal Affairs was the least of them.

  “Where were we?” I asked of Sloan, who’d paused speaking mid-sentence when I took Hernandez’s call.

  “The satellite images that I was able to tap into from that night bared fruit. Drakos, Joe and I, have been going over it the past two days and we all agree; the second team was never detected because they were never previously there,” Sloan said triumphantly.

  “Explain,” I commanded impatiently.

  “None of the images from as far back as the past week showed that black jeep or any of those men,” Sloan explained, pointing to the black and white photos laying on the desk in front me.

  They weren’t the clearest of images, but I could make out the jeep, as well as three men in various states of climbing out of the car and standing outside of Savin’s house.

  “The men didn’t show up until that night and parked a distance enough away to suggest they didn’t want to announce their presence. Call it pure coincidence or just ironic timing, but we’re convinced those men weren’t Savin’s—but were instead a hit-team sent there to eliminate him,” Joe concluded.

  “The Ostrovsky’s?” I quizzed.

  “Shit, it could be any number of dirtbags considering Savin’s clientele,” Joe grunted contemptuously. “But, the Ostrovsky’s would definitely get my vote. After the failed assassination attempt, Savin would have become a liability—he knew too much, especially if the Ostrovsky’s were working with someone else as you suspect.”

  “So, the Ostrovsky's hired Savin; who botched the hit they paid him to arrange, then sought to eliminate him to cover up their involvement?” I recounted for clarification.

  “Exactly. They knew you’d go after Savin; the Ostrovsky’s—and more importantly, whoever they were working with, couldn’t let that happen,” answered Drakos.

  Makes sense. The only way to ensure information was kept secret was to eliminate its source; to tie-up all loose ends.

  “Now that the Ostrovsky’s have been eliminated, whoever they were working with are still out there, presumably, wanting me dead. How close are we to figuring out who that is?” I questioned, eyes scanning the three men surrounding me.

  “We’re still connecting the dots from the cellphones recovered at both scenes; we’re also narrowing down the Ostrovsky’s most likely connections that would stand to gain from your death,” Sloan supplied.

  The problem with that is, it could be a long-ass list. I’ve made my share of enemies, but I had also inherited my father’s enemies as well. Not to mention, sometimes, a man’s enemies weren’t the only ones who might want him dead.

  “Keep on working that angle,” I told Sloan and Drakos. “In the meantime, I’ve cast a few nets of my own, something should bounce back soon enough.”

  After the two men departed, I turned my gaze on Joe. “Did everything get taken care of with Hoffman?” I asked. The man had been wounded the same night as Viktor—took a bullet to the upper back, but was expected to make a full recovery.

  “Yeah, he extended his thanks for your generous offer; but declined, said he doesn’t believe in being rewarded for doing his job,” Joe replied with a humorous twist to his lips. “Hoff’s a tough bastard; he’s been giving the doctors hell and already demanding to leave the hospital. I hear he made one of the nurses push him in a wheelchair down to the ICU to visit Viktor last night,” he added.

  I couldn’t argue with a man’s sense of pride nor honor; it seemed a common trait in men of uniform. However, Vidov Enterprises always takes care of their own. Money couldn’t replace true honor or loyalty—but it could prevent someone from drowning in debt over hospital bills.

  “The security firm will ensure he’s properly compensated,” I insisted, despite the man’s prideful wishes. “On the other hand, I don’t know that I can ever properly compensate; nor thank you, for what you did for Viktor,” I added solemnly.

  Joe’s brows lifted in question.

  “The belt—had you not taken action, Viktor would have likely died before he ever reached the hospital,” I elaborated.

  “No thanks necessary, boss, and I for damn sure don’t want compensation of any sort. I was trained to save lives as well as take them,” Joe replied gruffly.

  “That might be, but it doesn’t make me any less indebted. Plus, Camry’s already purchased you a new belt—so you’ll have to accept, she’d be crushed if you didn’t,” I countered.

  “That’s dirty,” Joe charged, disapproving eyes admonishing me for using Camry as leverage.

  “It’s true,” I said with a shrug, trying not to smile.

  Before Joe could utter another word of protest, my phone started to vibrate on the desk. “Vidov,” I grumbled in greeting.

  After listening to the man on the other end, I disconnected the call with a ball of apprehension forming in the pit of my stomach. “There’s been an incident at the marina,” I told Joe.

  When we arrived at the marina, we were greeted by a flood of activity and commotion. Emergency response vehicles lined the parking lot, blocking the path for any cars to enter or leave. As Joe, Stack and I, made our way towards the docks, we passed stands of people who were just milling about and gawking at the disas
ter in the distance.

  My boat. At least, what used to be my boat.

  As the three of us drew closer, my jaw clenched angrily at the sight that greeted me. The yacht had been decimated, destroyed. Fire no longer raged—it had already been extinguished, but smoke could still be seen curling up from its twisted, heated frame. What was left of it was hardly recognizable. All of the upper decks had been blown to oblivion, and the lower half of it was warped and charred. The surrounding waters and beyond was littered with massive amounts of debris that floated atop its otherwise still, blue surface.

  That was one hell of an explosion.

  I was almost positive it was no accident—boats didn’t just spontaneously combust. Whoever rigged the yacht had to know I wouldn’t be on it. Which meant, someone was sending a message.

  “Mr. Vidov!” a voice shouted, just as we’d neared the perimeter that had been cordoned off by the police. I looked left to see, Sosa—one of two managers at the marina, rushing towards us from an adjacent dock.

  “Sir, they just now managed to get the fire under control. With the amount of fuel onboard, the boat burned quickly. Man, I can’t tell you how sorry I am to see her destroyed, the Maxim was one of the most beautiful boats in these waters,” Sosa said with a sad shake of his head.

  Maxim…the name of my first-born son. The boat had been named in his memory but was now destroyed. Along with a yet unknown person.

  “You said there was one casualty when we last spoke, has there been any others?” I asked in concern. Having innocent bystanders injured or killed on my property not only made me liable but was also a nightmare for public relations.

  “No, Sir. Luckily, all the slips surrounding your boat are empty, which limits the chance of people and other vessels being close by,” Sosa responded.

  That was the desired effect sought when ordering the slips closed; and one of the benefits of ownership. Call me rude, but I enjoy privacy—I preferred not having to interact with neighbors whenever I came to the boat. Also, not having neighboring vessels made it easier to navigate in and out of the slip. Having avoided anyone being killed or injured today, would have been another added benefit.