by Jasmin Quinn
Chapter 45
Two weeks and Rusya was physically healing. His arm was in a sling so his dislocated shoulder would mend, a small tear in a ligament near his knee, which was bandaged and after a week of rest, he could get around with a cane. The cut on his forehead should have been stitched, but it was too late by the time he received medical attention. It would scar, but that held little importance to Rusya. Bruises and scrapes were healing. And the concussion, the one he got from the blow to the head from Anto, was better. He tired easily but he thought that was maybe a state of mind more than a reality. Christmas passed and he instructed Janice to take down the decorations the following day. He had neither desire nor reason to celebrate.
Anto had brought him home. Looked after him. Made a speech. Explained why he let Esma walk away, back to Jackman. Why he cold-cocked Rusya. Rusya understood. Might have done the same in his position. Neither talked about Anto’s betrayal, if that’s what it was. Neither mentioned what both knew. That Anto had an association with Jackman that Rusya had been unaware of.
Still, Rusya had to know. Anto was keeping a low profile. Told Rusya he would come to him to explain when Rusya wanted him to. But Rusya hadn’t been ready. Not in those first few days. His emotions were too raw. Esma, the idea of her gone from his life ate at him.
He kept recycling the night of the crash, couldn’t get past it. He’d almost killed her himself. Might have, had his plane not crashed. But he couldn’t know for sure. He was blinded by rage, but would he have gone through with it? This woman had his heart and if not for the crash, he might never have given her a chance to redeem herself.
As he sat alone in his office, he made up his mind, he knew what he needed to do. He called for his driver and car, rose slowly and put on his winter gear. Well, a warm jacket, hat and gloves – so good to be back in Vancouver and then sadness hit him again as he was reminded of Esma, still in Russia. He limped to the front door. Eduard was there, holding it for him. “When can I expect you back, sir?”
Rusya wondered about that. “Today, later. I don’t know.” No other explanation and he knew it would make Eduard uncomfortable not knowing where he was going or who he was meeting with. Eduard would survive, he thought.
He instructed the driver to take him to Anto’s building and then sat back and gazed out at the Vancouver traffic, not really seeing it. He wondered what he would say to Anto, what Anto would say to him. Wondered if this was the end of their association. Anto saved his life. Saved him and Esma, but then gave Esma up to Jackman’s men, let her walk away. It was hard to fathom, but then Anto really hadn’t known the extent of the relationship between Rusya and Esma. Anto didn’t know Esma.
At the building, he stopped by the security desk and instructed one of the guards to walk with him to the private suite of elevators. “Of course, Mr. Savisin,” the younger of the guards said. Eager to please, wanting the glory of escorting the mob boss. Rusya could see it in his eyes.
At the elevators, Rusya removed his gloves, hat, and coat, which he draped over his arm. Then he spread his arms out and widened his stance. “Search me, please. For weapons.”
The guard paled. “Sir?”
Rusya was tired, impatient, wanted to bite the kid’s head off. But he kept a leash on his temper. “You heard me. Search me for weapons and do a thorough job.”
“Yes, sir.” The guard did as he was trained and patted Rusya down, a complete search including his coat and hat. Then he stepped back. “You’re clean, sir.” The guard was confused, slightly amused.
“Thank you. Now go back to the desk and call Mr. Kharzin. Tell him I’m on my way up. That you’ve searched me for weapons and I had none.”
“Yes, sir.” The young man’s face looked wary now, suspicious. But Rusya ruled Vancouver, including Anto Kharzin and the guard knew this. No questions. He turned away but Rusya stopped him.
“Then come back and swipe the access panel to his suite.” Perhaps it was self-evident, but Rusya didn’t want to have to return to the front to find the guard if he was too dense to figure it out on his own.
“Of course, sir.”
Rusya waited, his patience thin. Always thin these days, everything was wrong and he felt helpless to set it right. The guard returned in five minutes. “Mr. Kharzin’s expecting you.” He swiped the access panel with a card and then once Rusya stepped into the elevator, swiped the panel inside the elevator. The doors closed and the elevator rose to the penthouse suite.
Anto was waiting when the doors opened. He was still Anto, still big, bearded, a small smile on his face, wearing a long-sleeved Henley and jeans. “Rusya,” he said in greeting as Rusya stepped out of the elevator.
The doors closed behind him as Rusya nodded. He was aware that he was alone with a man who could easily kill him with his bare hands. But he’d been alone with Anto before, many times. Anto had always been respectful, honourable. Anto had always been the single person Rusya felt he could trust unconditionally. His throat tightened at this thought.
He surveyed the condo – it was his first time here. It seemed incongruent with Anto and Marisol, high in the sky, glass everywhere, shiny, new, modern. But the penthouse had an air of desertion. “Where’s Marisol?”
Anto shuttered his eyes. “She’s on a little trip. A vacation. She’ll be back soon.”
Rusya nodded. Understood. Anto had hidden Marisol away in case Rusya retaliated. It would be a thing he might do, get at Anto through Marisol, if that’s what he wanted to do. “With her parents?”
“No. Alone.” Anto’s tone made it clear the conversation about Marisol was over. That the parents were in the dark about her whereabouts. The implicit message was that there was no point in terrorizing the family. They had nothing to offer.
Rusya nodded again. Looked around. “Shall we have a drink and talk.”
“Yes.”
Rusya’s heart lurched in his chest as Anto turned his back to him and led the way to the living room. A show of trust and if Rusya had a gun he could have ended Anto’s life. Maybe it was good he came unarmed. So he couldn’t be tempted. He limped behind Anto, then made his way to an armchair and sat. Anto set two glasses on the coffee table and seated himself on the couch, in the centre. He poured from the bottle he was holding, double shots of exceptional vodka and handed one of the glasses to Rusya. They made a small toast, saying nothing and Rusya took a mouthful, savoured the burn as he swallowed it down.
He mulled over what his words should be as he watched Anto swallow half the vodka in his glass. How to start. Finally, after a lengthy silence, he said. “Tell me, Anto.”
Anto nodded. “I will. I’m loyal to you, Rusya. You need to know that.”
Rusya said nothing. Waited and watched the big man.
“I’m telling you that because after, if you decide my loyalty isn’t enough, I ask that you leave Marisol alone. She’s innocent in this. She’s just my wife.”
Rusya took a sip of his drink and considered Anto’s words. He was fond of Marisol, but in relation to Anto. They were good together, she was good for him. “I can’t make any promises.” It was a risk to seem a threat to Marisol because he had no defences against Anto. The man could crush him. It was his own show of trust that he came unarmed but if he agreed too readily to Anto’s request, the big man wouldn’t believe him. He waited.
“Several years ago, Jackman took me out of a prison in Russia. I was in for life, so not released after time served as I’ve led you to believe. I worked for him after that, nothing bratva related, but Jackman always has an agenda. At least back then.” Anto paused, refilled the glasses and set the vodka bottle down on the table. “Jackman planted me in your organization over three years ago.”
Rusya felt ice layer over him, frozen. The same story Esma told. Someone in need of rescue with assets that would be useful to Jackman. Would earn him loyalty in the short term, obviously not in the long term. He waited as Anto paused, took a drink of his vodka. Rusya raised his glass to his lips. Might be a g
ood day to get drunk.
“I was never loyal to Jackman – he’s a snake of the worst kind. I never knew loyalty until I worked for you. Jackman was a paycheck. When I came to you, I was mostly happy to be earning two paychecks.” He shrugged, added carelessly, “I’m a simple man.”
Rusya nodded but knew that was not true.
“Did I feed information back to Jackman? Yes. In the early days. Not good information. I wasn’t far enough up in the ranks. But as I rose, so did my loyalty to the bratva. I felt like I’d found the home I never had.”
Anto paused, shifted, drained his glass. He was choosing his words carefully. Rusya reached for the vodka bottle. Refilled their glasses. Waited.
“You are a good man, Rusya. You are good to work for. Loyal to your men. And I would do anything for you. Did anything for you. Jackman and I were at odds, he knew was losing me. This past year so much has happened and I stopped my association with Jackman entirely. He knew he’d lost me. I needed to tell you but didn’t know how or when. Then Marisol happened.”
Rusya watched as Anto’s face reddened. The man would do anything for the woman he kidnapped to save. He saw Anto’s devotion to Marisol in the emotions he was sheltering, and in that moment understood Anto’s devotion to him.
“You gave her your protection. You treated me like a brother. I am your servant, Rusya and I will do almost anything you ask of me to prove it.”
Rusya looked down at his glass. Empty again. How could he have drank it so quickly? “What happened out there? Why did you give up Esma?”
Anto shrugged. “She made the choice to go with them, I don’t know her reasons. I don’t know Esma. Not well. I came to rescue you and her by association. You understand? I know you didn’t want to let her go, but there was a rifle aimed at your head by a man who wanted you dead. And Dean, the leader of the group. He was in prison with me. He is directly responsible for getting me out of that prison. I would be dead by now if not for him. Dean is loyal to Jackman. I am loyal to you. That can’t be reconciled as long as you and Jackman are enemies. I choose you, Rusya.”
Rusya held his glass over to Anto as he poured the vodka shots. “You risked your life to save mine. Jackman will have a bounty on your head.”
Anto nodded. “And you, Rusya?”
Rusya twisted the glass in his hand. “You knocked me out to prevent me from stopping Esma.”
“Yeah. She’s a Jackman agent. She can’t be trusted.”
Rusya barked a laugh at the irony. “I knew that about her. I hadn’t quite figured out what to do, but she has a similar story to yours. And holds the same level of hate you have for Jackman. Maybe deeper.”
Anto was stubborn. “My loyalty is to you. Out there, I had to make a choice, because it might have been a blood bath if we refused to let Esma go. She chose to go. She walked away.”
Rusya frowned because he understood the truths Anto was telling. “Why would she do that? She loathed Jackman.”
“How do you know that, Rusya?”
A wave of dizziness hit him. Yup, he was drunk. The only times he ever got drunk was with Anto. Twice in a year if he counted – no, three times now. “I know, Anto. Like I know your depth of loyalty to me. Knew when you had made the choice to be with me 100%. It was the day you brought Marisol to my house. The day I gave her my protection.”
Anto nodded, drained the last of the vodka into his glass and tossed it back. “Esma knew that they might open fire and kill us all. She made the choice to return to Jackman. Maybe to save us. Maybe she thought she would fare better with him than you. Or maybe it was all an act. Her hatred of Jackman, her devotion to you.”
“Maybe,” Rusya said softly.
Anto rose a little unsteadily, picked up another bottle of vodka from the bar and brought it back. As he reseated himself, he twisted the cap and poured a measure into the empty glasses. “Where do we go from here, Rusya?”
Rusya leaned his head against the back of the chair, his eyes wandering over the ceiling tiles. A couple of them were a little off centre and Rusya thought that would drive him crazy if he lived here. He’d have to have it fixed. “Would you have shot him? This Dean? If it came down to it, would you have taken him out?”
Anto blew out a breath. But there was no indecision on his face, only grief over what might have been. “Yes.”
Rusya shifted, sat forward in his chair, felt the room spin. As he took another swallow, he thought how much he was going to fucking regret drinking this much tomorrow. “I want her back, Anto. I want Esma back.”
Anto nodded. “We’ll get her back.”
Rusya studied his Russian 2IC for a while. “I trust you more than anyone I know. I can’t give that up.” He looked down at his drink, grinned. “It might be the vodka talking though.”
Anto’s face reddened. “Thank you, brother.”
Rusya took a deep shaky breath as he stood. “You have my word, Anto. Marisol is safe. No matter what, Marisol will not be harmed by me.”
He saw the sheen of tears in Anto’s eyes. A promise from Rusya Savisin was like trading in gold. His word was his bond.
Chapter 46
Anto was pacing. Morning again and he was trying to decide what to do. Marisol was still gone – with Katerina. No word from either, exactly as he’d intended. Despite Rusya’s promise of Marisol’s safety, Anto was not yet willing to bring her home. Christmas was over, the tree Marisol had decorated still standing in the corner of the living room, the unopened gifts under it.
It broke his heart. He missed his wife. Her family called looking for her; her father, Andrew Doherty, not quite believing Anto’s truths. Anto promised that Marisol would be in touch soon, that he had nothing to gain by lying to his father-in-law. It was for her safety that she was in hiding, which raised Andrew’s ire. He was the former Vancouver Police Chief, not often willing to back down, not afraid to go toe-to-toe with Anto.
“Tell me what the fuck is going on!” he’d shouted over the phone.
Anto kept his temper, kept his calm. Marisol was his wife after all. His responsibility. “She’s safe. That’s all I can say. But I’ve forbidden her to make calls, not to me, not to you. You have to trust me.”
But Doherty was not placated. “Why? Why the fuck should I trust you, you goddamned criminal?”
His father-in-law was pushing Anto’s boundaries and he was glad for Andrew’s sake that the conversation was not taking place face-to-face. “Because we both have her best interests in mind. We both love her and you fucking well know I would never do anything to hurt her. But she’s my wife now, so back the fuck off. I’ve told you what I can. I’ve told you that she’s safe. This conversation is over.” He ended the call. Hated that he hung up – hated being that fucking dramatic.
He felt the loss again, of Marisol, of Rusya’s trust. Anto needed to prove his loyalty to Rusya. Rusya wanted Esma back. He didn’t know Rusya’s motives, didn’t know if he would keep the little Turk or kill her. It was irrelevant. Sure, he liked the little force of nature, but Marisol was more important. He didn’t think Marisol’s life hinged on Rusya getting Esma back, but he thought maybe his own life did. He considered reaching out to Dean Copeland, the man he would have shot to protect Rusya. His brother, the one man in the world who stood by him years ago, used his influence to rescue Anto from a certain death behind bars in Russia. But Dean would be unforgiving of Anto’s betrayal and that was fair. Anto would feel the same if the circumstances were reversed.
His alternative was to find a way to get to Esma. Not through the front doors of the compound – he’d get shot before he got within 50 kilometres. As his mind considered all the possibilities, he landed on the Turkish deal. Jackman planted Esma because Rusya needed her skills and Rusya needed her skills because the Turks approached Rusya’s father, Yuri, with an opportunity. That had Jackman’s fingerprints all over it. Even if the deal ultimately panned out, there was a logic to how it went down. Fucking Jackman and his manipulations.
Who was t
he inside Turk? Anto wondered. Maybe it was time for an overseas trip, time he went to Istanbul to have a chat with his new friend, Salik Guvan, the man who had wanted Esma as part of the deal. He went upstairs and packed a bag, called Janice and told her he was on his way over to talk to Rusya. Then he called for his car and headed out.
Chapter 47
Rusya felt like shit. His head hurt, his eyes hurt and he was thirsty. Fucking Anto and his vodka. And now the prick was in his study, looking like the most he drank yesterday was a vanilla milkshake. If Rusya had a gun, he might have used it on the fucker.
Anto was seated next to him, talking too loudly and drinking coffee like he was a fucking camel. He had a plan, wanted to track backwards from the deal. Go to Turkey, talk to Salik Guvan.
Rusya nodded, then stopped as a bolt of pain lanced across his forehead. “Maybe.” It was all he could manage.
Anto took an unreasonably loud slurp of the coffee then set the cup on the coffee table with an unholy bang. “Tell me how you came to have Esma. How’d she get inside?”
Rusya tried to think, remember. He sighed. “I put a call out for someone who could speak Russian, English and Turkish. Not many people out there who can. Word filtered back through Yuri about Esma. A woman in trouble with the law in Turkey. On the run. Recommended by a Turk in Cyprus.” He stopped, tried to think of the name. It wasn’t coming to him so he got up and limped to the door without his cane, opened it and called for Janice. She came promptly, helping Rusya back to the couch like he was a goddamned invalid, then sitting in a chair across from him.
“Who was Esma’s reference?” he asked.
She twisted her face in thought. “A Turk by the name of something… uh…” She stood. “I’ll check.” She went to Rusya’s desk, leafed through a drawer, then pulled a file, and returned with it.
She thumbed through the pages, then stopped. “Burak Emin. When I called him, he said she was very good at her work. Capable, reliable. Trouble not of her making in Turkey, but she couldn’t return.”