Russian Mobster's Stolen Wife

by Bella Rose

  “I know he does.” Flynn didn’t bother to hide her smile. “Which is why we’re going to go tell him.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Grigori didn’t take his eyes off Teller as Igor and Ivan secured the man to a chair with ropes and plastic zip ties. The tall, slim man had barely uttered one word since they’d abducted him. He had been calm, controlled, and cooperative. That alone had made Grigori jumpy as hell about the man’s intentions.

  They were in an old garage on a piece of property halfway between the DC area and Richmond. Grigori kept the place as a sort of hideout. He had caches of weapons and money buried all over the area. And if he ever needed to perform an interrogation, this would be his preferred place to do it.

  “He’s good, boss,” Igor said in Russian.

  They had been speaking nothing but Russian since they’d picked up Teller, but Grigori couldn’t be sure that the man didn’t speak or understand both languages. Especially since Flynn had some Russian. Obviously the DA valued multi-lingual people.

  “All right, Teller.” Grigori paced slowly back and forth in front of Teller. In one hand Grigori held a knife. He flipped it idly, catching the weapon by the hilt over and over again. Teller’s eyes were following every movement of the knife. It was a good beginning.

  “You can ask me whatever you want, but I’m not inclined to tell you anything of use.” Teller’s cultured voice suggested he was absolutely serious.

  “I’m sure that’s true.” Grigori nodded. “You seem very loyal to the DA’s family.”

  “He’s an impeccable man.”

  “And yet you seemed rather annoyed with him when he considered striking his daughter out in the open where anyone could see,” Grigori pointed out.

  “Obviously he wasn’t going to strike her.” Teller’s jaw jumped a little, a sure sign of tension. “He doesn’t hit his children.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “So is Flynn.”

  Grigori squatted down and gazed right at Teller. “Flynn didn’t tell me that. You did.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Now Teller looked alarmed.

  “People have little expressions they use when they lie. Everyone does it. Some of us are very good liars, but it’s impossible not to betray yourself just a little.” Grigori gestured to Teller’s face with the knife. “The muscles around your mouth tightened. And around your eyes. And your nostrils flared, but your pupils contracted. Those are all signs of a liar.”

  “That’s bullshit!” Teller snorted.

  “No. You’re just angry that you’re giving away information on the good DA, whom we all know is not that good a man. In fact, he’s rather a monster.” Grigori gestured to Ivan. “He is such a monster that he arranged for his daughter to be murdered so that he could reap the benefits of a public spectacle, drum up some support from people’s pity, and inherit his daughter’s fortune.” Grigori placed the tip of the knife against the end of Teller’s nose. “In my book, that is a very bad father indeed.”

  “Perhaps he did it, boss,” Igor said with a grunt. “Maybe he’s the one that put a contract on Flynn.”

  “I don’t give a shit about Flynn.” Teller laughed. “You idiots are barking up the wrong tree.”

  “Is that right?” Grigori drew blood with the tip of his knife, carving a very tiny cut in the end of Teller’s nose. “And what tree should we shake instead?”

  Teller jerked away, the action reflexive though it actually did more damage to his nose. “Your own tree, you sadistic bastard!”

  “Our own tree,” Grigori murmured, working it through in his head.

  Someone pounded on the door. Ivan and Igor both spun around, weapons drawn. Grigori lifted his hand, asking them to stand down. He had a feeling he knew exactly who was on the other side of that door.

  “Boss?” Igor said urgently. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Well, I’m going to go answer that door.” Grigori tossed a look at Teller. “If there are unfriendlies at the door, I want you to shoot Teller in the head and then shoot whoever else aims a gun at you.”

  “Deal.” Igor glared at Teller as though he were ready to shoot him right now.

  Ivan fell in behind Grigori. The two of them shared a look as Grigori reached out and put a hand on the big lever that would push the door wide open. Grigori mouthed the countdown from three. He watched Ivan’s burly body tense as he prepared for the worst.

  Grigori shoved the door open just far enough to get his gun arm outside.

  “Don’t shoot!”

  Grigori dropped his gun hand, rolling his eyes. “Anson?”

  “Da!”

  Muttering oaths in Russian, Grigori groped around until he felt his friend’s beefy arm. He dragged Anson inside.

  “What are you doing here?” Grigori demanded in Russian.

  “It’s my fault.” Flynn followed on Anson’s heels, speaking in Russian and acting as though she were just a part of his crew.

  Grigori closed his eyes, fighting for control. “I thought we agreed you were going to stay safe at home.”

  “That was until I discovered something that you need to know,” she said.

  “And you’ve never heard of a phone?”

  She looked pointedly at the bulge in his left hip pocket. “Do you ever pick up?”

  There was really no arguing with that. He hated phones anyway. She could have called a thousand times and he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

  “So?” he asked pointedly.

  She gestured to Teller. “I think we need privacy.”

  “As you wish.” Grigori looked at his men. “Keep an eye on him and don’t get distracted.”

  “Yes, boss,” they chorused.

  FLYNN COULD NOT tell if Grigori was really angry with her or not. She suspected not, but his face was stormy and almost mean looking. It was time to put on her big girl panties and let him know that she wasn’t going to be just another piece of fluff in this relationship.

  “I spoke to my sister about your little appearance at the house,” Flynn began.

  The breeze rustled through the trees that blanketed the property. The sound was a little spooky, especially since the dark shadows gave almost anyone the perfect place to hide. When Anson had first driven her to the property, Flynn had been shocked that Grigori owned such a place. Then she had quickly realized that it was the perfect way to store things like guns and money, and probably bodies.

  “And?” Grigori prodded.

  Flynn wrapped her arms around her midsection. Her shoulder was still sore, though not too painful. Still, she was kind of wishing that Grigori would hold her. Ugh! What was that about?

  He reached out, gently touching her face. “Are you all right?”

  “Just a little worried. My sister says that my father has been colluding with a Russian named Yuri for the last several months. She mentioned kickbacks, and a contract. I’m thinking that the contract she’s talking about is on me. And yeah, that freaks me out.”

  “If Yuri put a contract on you, he would have had to hire someone outside the family.” Grigori stared off into the distance. His face was impassive, but something told her he was unspeakably angry.

  “Would Yuri do this? Go behind your back like we talked about?” She gingerly touched his arm. His muscle was rock hard with tension. “What about your brother? Are you certain of his loyalty?”

  Grigori drew back as if she had slapped him. “Are you asking if my brother would take the contract on you?”

  “I’m just wondering if your brother actually got deported.” She knew this possibility was hard to swallow. “Look. If someone told me that Cynthia was trying to murder me, I’d think they were insane. But look at the evidence. Yuri has to have someone to fulfill a contract, right? What are the odds that he would go outside your crime family, or whatever, to do that?”

  Grigori was holding a knife. He lifted his hands and put them both on his head, pulling at his hair.
“You realize what you are saying?”

  “Yes. And I’m sorry. But someone is pulling the strings here, and we need to find out who the puppets are so we can trace them back to their masters before it’s too late.”

  There was a rustle in a tree roughly thirty yards away from their position in front of the outbuilding. Flynn turned sharply. That wasn’t the wind, and it was no bunny rabbit either. There was a huge animal coming at them, and she was all too afraid that it had two legs and carried a gun.

  “Hello, brother.”

  A man walked out into the open. He was just a hair shorter than Grigori, but equally broad in the shoulders and with the same black hair and swarthy complexion. The only light came from the floodlights on the front of the garage. It was just enough to see the murderous intent on the man’s face.

  “Yakov?” Grigori said incredulously. “How…?”

  “You know,” Yakov said, walking closer. “I admired you for years when I was trying so hard to attain my rank as an assassin.”

  Flynn was feeling really twitchy, but she could tell that Grigori wasn’t there yet. He didn’t seem to have noticed that Yakov was coming well within shooting range while making what was probably his evil villain speech.

  “I think that’s close enough,” Flynn said loudly. “Unless you want to put your weapon on the ground so we can all talk like grown ups.”

  “I don’t think so, no.” Yakov glared at her. “You are remarkably difficult to kill for a woman.”

  Flynn gave him a sweet smile. “Or you’re just a really shitty assassin.”

  Grigori’s knife hand hung at his side. She could feel the cool metal blade right next to her own hand. There was no way he was going to be able to throw it. Not now. Not at his own brother. And she couldn’t blame him. But if Flynn didn’t do something, they were going to die.

  “You?” Grigori was aghast, staring at Yakov as though he were seeing him for the first time. “You have been trying to kill Flynn?”

  “Well, to be fair, her father is the one that wants her dead. But yes, that was me at the college yesterday.” He glanced around. “Or I believe it might be yesterday by now. It’s so hard to tell what time it is here. But it really doesn’t matter one way or the other.”

  Yakov raised his gun, leveling the barrel at Grigori. Flynn could feel Grigori’s shock. It was a palpable thing. He still hadn’t realized the depths of his brother’s treachery.

  “You would kill me?” Grigori said in a flat voice. “To make a place for yourself with a man like Yuri who would pit one brother against the other?”

  “Obviously,” Yakov said sarcastically.

  Time slowed to a crawl. Flynn could see Yakov’s finger tense on the trigger as he got ready to shoot. She snatched the knife from Grigori’s hand. The heft of the blade was a smooth weight as she lifted it. Drawing back, she let it fly with one fluid motion.

  Grigori wrapped an arm around her body, throwing his weight sideways just as the gun went off. The sound was deafening, but the shot went wild. The flood light over the garage shattered. A hailstorm of heavy-duty glass and plastic fell on them as they hit the ground.

  The garage door slid open. Grigori’s men spilled outside with their weapons drawn. Flynn’s ears were ringing so loudly from the gunshot that she couldn’t make out what Anson was yelling. But since he had his weapon pointed at Yakov, she didn’t care.

  Then time seemed to speed back up to a normal rate, and Flynn realized Anson was babbling to Grigori in Russian. He was saying over and over again that the knife was buried in Yakov’s eye.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Grigori’s brain was spinning. He couldn’t seem to latch onto any one thought. Yakov had never left. Yakov had tried to kill Flynn. Yakov had intended to kill Grigori as well. And now Yakov was dead. The carousel of horror went round and round inside his skull.

  Anson was shaking his shoulder, but it was Flynn who finally got his attention. She was trembling beside him. They were both still on the ground. She sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, rocking back and forth. Her expression mirrored what he felt inside. The sight of her seemed to jar him back into the moment. She had been so brave. She had done what he never could have.

  “Come here, my love.” He gathered her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her.

  She burst into tears, pressing her face to his chest. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

  “You did a very brave thing.” He smoothed her tangled hair away from her face. “I never could have done that.”

  “I know.” She pressed her forehead to his. “I wouldn’t have been able to hurt Cynthia, either. No matter what she was doing.”

  A wave of tangled emotion and adrenaline-soaked hormones flooded Grigori’s brain. He gently pressed his lips to hers. When she eagerly received his kiss, he deepened the contact. He hungrily devoured her mouth. But it wasn’t enough. He felt the now familiar curves of her body with his hands. He stroked her and ran his fingers through her hair.

  There was a certain sense of desperation to their kissing. Her fingers scored his scalp and twisted in his hair. He enjoyed the pain as a beautiful counterpoint to the pleasure of making love to her with his mouth. He felt her tentatively rub her tongue against his, and he immediately sucked the tip of her tongue and felt her respond eagerly.

  “Ahem.” Anson cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Boss?”

  Grigori waved his hand, telling his friend without words to go away. He wasn’t done with his wife. He shifted her position, picking her up and moving her to straddle his lap. He felt the heat of her crotch against the erection now pressing on the fly of his jeans. She made hungry little noises and rocked against him. He teased her by grabbing the rounded globes of her ass and pulling her even closer to the friction building between their bodies.

  “Uh, boss!” This time it was Ivan. “We really hate to interrupt, but we still have a scumbag in there to deal with.”

  The haze of lust and sexual need cleared just long enough for Ivan’s words to penetrate. With regret, Grigori ended his kiss with Flynn. He kept her in his lap though, within the circle of his arms where he could feel her warmth against his chest.

  Had the situation been anything else, it would have been laughable. Ivan, Igor, and Anson had turned their backs and appeared to be deliberately not watching whatever was going on between Grigori and Flynn.

  Flynn started to giggle. “I think we’ve made them uncomfortable.”

  “I believe you are correct.” He was glad to see that she could still laugh about something. “Are you all right?”

  “I am now.” She bit her lip. “I was afraid that you would be angry with me.”

  “I’m sad that Yakov is dead and that I apparently didn’t know him at all.” Grigori couldn’t even think about that right now. “But I’m grateful to you for saving my life.” He nuzzled her neck. “That’s supposed to be my job.”

  “You did save me,” she said softly. “You saved me from a life of being my father’s puppet. You gave me freedom.” She touched his cheek with her hand. “And love. You gave me love.”

  “And now we need to protect all of that,” he told her firmly.

  Flynn got to her feet, and Grigori quickly followed suit. He gazed at Ivan and Igor, and then at Anson. The four of them were going to become Yuri’s enemies if they went through with the plan that was forming in his head. He needed to give these men a choice.

  “What?” Anson demanded. “I can see your mind working. What are we to do?”

  “You three need to make a choice,” he told them quietly in Russian. “This will be the end of your association with Yuri. At least unless he decides to pretend none of this happened. I do not want to ask you to choose sides, but in this case I must.”

  “We’re with you,” Ivan grunted. “Igor and I have little respect for Yuri anyway.”

  “I think you should kill him and take his position,” Anson suggested.

 
Flynn squeezed his hand. “These are your men, Grigori. Never mistake that.”

  “Then this is what we need to do,” Grigori began.

  The men and Flynn huddled around, and he felt himself smile. He was really going to piss Yuri off, but he couldn’t say he truly cared anymore.

  “What about Teller?” Flynn wanted to know.

  “Tie him up good and put him in the van. We’re bringing him with us.” The plan taking form in Grigori’s head had a touch of insanity to it, but sometimes that’s what made things work.

  “And the body?” Ivan gestured to Yakov.

  This was harder to stomach. “Bring him too.”

  FLYNN FELT A palpable sense of excitement. She was nervous too, but she had complete faith in Grigori. She rode next to him in the van as they drove to Yuri’s house in Richmond.

  “What are you thinking?” Grigori asked, glancing over at her from behind the steering wheel.

  She couldn’t see much in the eerie green glow of the dash lights, but he looked determined.

  She reached over and affectionately punched his shoulder. “Oh you know, I was just thinking about how much more pleasant it is to ride in the passenger seat of the van when I’m a passenger.”

  “Ah yes, I was rather rude when we first met.”

  She snorted. “I beat you with a piece of wood.”

  “You were attacked by feral cats.”

  The memory made her giggle. “Yes. I was. I was so angry at those stupid cats for giving away my position.”

  “I knew you were there.”

  “You did not!”

  He snorted. “Your breathing was so loud I was surprised you didn’t knock down the porch with each exhale.”

  She suddenly sobered. It felt wrong to laugh and joke when she had just killed Yakov.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I feel like I don’t have a right to be happy after what I did to Yakov.”

  “He very likely wouldn’t have batted an eye after murdering you.” Grigori’s expression suggested he did not like that idea at all.