Why did she feel differently about him than she did about her father? He was just as brutal and just as cold…
“Maya?” Nikolai asked.
The fear inside of her burst, leaving adrenaline in its place. Maya shook her head. Her whole body trembled. “What the hell are you doing? That intruder you’re threatening to kill? He’s just a kid. He’s from the shelter. Let him go!”
The kid—Michael—had nothing to do with her father. He was a gay teen who’d been thrown out of his family’s home and left to survive on the streets, and who’d subsequently developed a nasty addiction. He must have discovered her address while at the shelter and decided it’d be worth his while to try to break in.
But Nikolai? He may not remember anything, but the evidence was piling up against him being innocent. The fact that he’d been left to die in the alley, dumped on top of garbage, and the malevolence rolling off of him as he held the unconscious teen beneath his arm, along with that cold gleam in his eyes…
If anyone was on her father’s side, it was him, and Maya was going to get to the bottom of it.
“Put him on the couch,” she instructed. “We need to have a talk.”
She only hoped that talking was all it would be, and that she wouldn’t find herself the next target of Nikolai’s fury.
6
KOSTYA
Kostya dropped the kid on the couch. Upon impact, he simply groaned. One of his arms draped over the seat and his knuckles dusted the floor. For now, he wouldn’t be a threat. Come five or ten minutes from now, he might be, but by then, Kostya hoped to have taken action. He couldn’t understand why Maya wouldn’t order him to kill the man who’d broken into her apartment. Was she looking to get herself hurt?
“We do need to have a talk,” Kostya said as he turned to face her. She stood just behind him. The door was closed and locked, and they were alone. If anyone else was lurking inside, Kostya hadn’t discovered them yet. If there were others here, he would deal with them accordingly. “Why don’t you want him dead? Even if you know him, he’s violated your trust and threatened your wellbeing.”
“He didn’t threaten anything!” Maya crossed her arms over her chest.
Kostya shook his head slowly. He reached unceremoniously into the pocket of the kid’s hoodie and pulled out a switchblade. “Do you really think that he didn’t mean to threaten you? If you’d come in alone and found him here, he would have hurt you, Maya. He wouldn’t have thought twice about sinking this knife between your ribs. I know his type. Kids like him are all the same. They act on impulse.”
“Like you’re any different?” she demanded, her fists clenched so tightly that they trembled.
A sharp tongue. If it was any other Sokolov but me, she would have regretted saying that…
Kostya looked into her eyes, challenging her. Maya looked back, steadfast. It was a rare occurrence when a woman had the courage to face him, and rarer yet when one dared face him after he’d performed a take-down. But, despite her bravery, Kostya did not deign to answer. The more he said, the more he incriminated himself. Whatever he’d come to London to do, he was sure it was supposed to be quick and secretive. He didn’t need to cause a scene.
“Are you not going to talk to me anymore?” she asked, tightening her shoulders like she was getting ready to attack. Her fists were still clenched. The sign of aggression didn’t frighten him. Even while injured, he didn’t doubt his abilities. If he could take down a punk with a switchblade, he could take down a woman with closed fists.
Not that he wanted to.
Maya had helped him when he needed help, and besides that, she was beautiful, even if that beauty was untraditional. Her hair style and the clothes she wore didn’t define her—it was the glow of passion in her eyes, and the determination of her spirit, that made her shine. Kostya did not enjoy hurting pretty women, much less ones he felt an attraction to.
“I’m only speaking the truth,” she pressed. “You took that boy down on impulse. You didn’t think twice about it. The way you rushed into my flat and hunted him down… you know too much about how to do this. Who are you? Why are you so familiar with how to address an intruder? A normal person wouldn’t know how to do that so easily.”
Kostya bit his tongue. Silence rolled off him in waves. He faced her down, however, unwilling to answer. He would not lie to her again. The more he obscured the truth, the harder it would be to keep his lies in check. The best course of action was silence. If she could not accept that, it would be her problem.
“Who are you?” Maya demanded again. She took a small step forward, but Kostya held his ground. He would not allow himself to be intimidated by her.
But... he would not leave her defenseless, either. Between the phone call in her office and the teen who’d broken into her apartment, there was something more going on with her than she was willing to let on. He had his secrets, but she had hers, as well. Until he knew for sure that she was safe, he wouldn’t leave her. The tiny sliver of his conscious that still remained forbade him from letting her face whatever trouble she was going through on her own.
“It doesn’t matter who I am,” Kostya said finally, his tone leaving no room for argument. “What matters is that I’m here now, and that I owe you a debt for helping me when I couldn’t help myself. As long as you are in danger, I will be here to make sure that nothing happens to you. I will keep you safe, even if that means that I have to keep you safe from yourself.”
That said, Kostya turned back to the teen on the couch. He was starting to come to. With a grunt, Kostya lifted him from the couch and slung him over his shoulder. His back ached in protest, but Kostya pushed the pain aside. Right now, his priority was getting the intruder out, not respecting the needs of his body.
“Nikolai! What are you doing?” Maya demanded.
“Returning what belongs to the street to the street,” Kostya stated. He carried the teen across the living room, feeling him twitch and stir. By the time they reached the front door, he’d be conscious enough to support his own weight. “There is no need for him to stay here. He will go back to where he belongs.”
Maya trailed after him at a distance, but didn’t argue. Kostya got the impression that she was irritated, but he couldn’t care less. Her safety came first, and that meant that he needed to put the thieving rat back out on the streets. If he was smart, he’d never come back.
With his free hand, Kostya opened the front door. He stepped onto the stoop and pushed the teen out with him. “Go.”
The teen stumbled, his feet barely catching the next stair. He seemed dazed. Kostya braced him with one hand, his expression unyielding. The kid could play it up as much as he wanted—Kostya wasn’t changing his mind.
“If I see you around here again, I won’t hesitate to kill you,” Kostya told the boy. “Get the hell out of here and don’t come back.”
The boy clutched the railing for additional support, then shook his head and fled down the remaining step. He patted at his hoodie pockets. Kostya produced the switchblade he’d taken and flicked up the blade. “Looking for this?”
With a gasp, the teen stumbled a few feet back on the walkway. His eyes were wide, largely consumed by his dilated pupils. Kostya sighed and tossed the knife onto the ground between them.
“If you’re serious about breaking and entering, you’ll have to learn to never let your guard down, and to always assume the worst.” Kostya’s voice was flat. “Any mistake you make could be your last. I was one word away from killing you tonight. You should thank the young lady who lives here—she was the one who saved your life.”
The teen scrambled forward and picked up the switchblade. He tucked it against his chest then and retreated just as rapidly, never turning his back on Kostya. Kostya watched him retreat. The night was dark, but the light streaming out from Maya’s flat lit the kid up enough that Kostya saw the track marks in the crooks of his arms. He shook his head, and called out again before he’d gone more than a few more steps.
The kid left the halo of light from the flat. Kostya watched him as he raced through the shadows and off into the night. Maybe he’d gotten through to him. More than likely, he hadn’t. It didn’t matter. He was no white knight, and saving those who needed it wasn’t part of his game. He would help Maya because she had helped him, and once he’d eliminated the threat she faced, he would never see her again.
It was how it was supposed to be.
And whether she liked it or not, he’d make her understand that. She’d shown mercy to the Mad Dog of the Sokolov family. He would show her enemies his teeth.
7
MAYA
“You can’t stay here,” Maya insisted.
Nikolai didn’t budge. He’d come in through the front door after showing Michael out, and now he refused to leave.
“You need to go back to the shelter.” Maya crossed her arms and stood in defiance of him. Still, she knew that, when it came down to it, she had no chance whatsoever against a man like Nikolai. He was efficient at what he did, and it looked like what he did was hurt others. With hands as strong as his, he could snap her neck in a fraction of a second, or break her bones without a second thought. Still, Maya had known men like him. She couldn’t claim that she understood them, but she’d been around them long enough that she knew they could smell weakness from across the room. She had to remain brave and stern, or he would walk all over her. “You need to leave the house,” she said.
“I won’t leave. You’re unsafe here.”
“That’s my problem, isn’t it?” Maya asked in a huff. “I’ve got a phone. I can dial 999. It’s in your best interest to get out.”
“It’s a shame that my best interest isn’t my priority.” Nikolai shrugged. He moved across the room as if he owned the place then, headed for the couch. “I’ll be staying out here tonight, on alert in case someone else attempts to break in. In the morning, I’ll walk you to work.”
“This is overkill,” Maya said with a sigh. A part of her had known this was coming—Nikolai had proven himself to be strong-willed by insisting he walk her home, and now that they’d come across an intruder, it didn’t surprise her that he’d want to stay. Even though he denied it, he had to have some connection with the criminal world. There was no way he could take care of a threat so easily unless he’d been trained for it. What she didn’t understand was why he was so concerned with keeping her safe. He didn’t owe her anything. “It was just a kid looking to pawn some of my stuff so he could get his fix… it’s not going to happen again.”
“But whatever happened when you were in your office might come to call.” Nikolai sat on the couch. He folded one leg over his knee and leaned against the back rest. “I won’t have you put in harm’s way. I will remain here until the morning, at least, to make sure that nothing will happen. Perhaps it is overkill, but I prefer it to the alternative.”
“Like what?”
“Like, where you are killed.” Nikolai fixed her with a cold look. “Pretend that I’m not here. I won’t interfere in your life, apart from making sure that no one harms you. You can go about your business as usual.”
Usual wasn’t going to happen. Maya huffed. She knew she could call the police and have Nikolai removed, but there was a part of her that was flattered that he was so invested in keeping her safe. She’d saved his life, and now he was doing his best to repay his debt. It was noble, even if it was annoying.
“I’m going to bed,” Maya said after another minute had passed. She’d given up the fight. Nikolai wasn’t going anywhere, and nothing she said was going to get him to move. She’d come to terms with that. By tomorrow, hopefully, he’d consider his debt repaid and he’d move on. Her father had already seen them together, after all. If he stayed an extra night, so what? He was already on the Popov radar. “I’m not happy, but I’m not going to chase you out, either.”
Nikolai said nothing.
“Goodnight, Nikolai,” she said at last.
“Goodnight.”
Maya shut herself in the bathroom to get ready to sleep. She brushed her teeth and washed her face, but all the while, her mind turned over what it had learned and attempted to form new connections based on her gut instincts. Nikolai was Russian. He’d come from America, he was trained in the art of combat, and he had no qualms about taking human life. And, he’d been left to die in an alley…
All signs pointed to mafia connections, and while Maya had been out of the game for a few years, she still knew enough that she was confident she could find some answers if she tried.
When she was done in the bathroom, she locked herself in her bedroom. She stripped the sheets, changed the bedding, and then curled up under the blankets with her tablet. A part of her felt bad that she hadn’t given Nikolai bedding, but another, far more sensible, part told her it was in her best interest. She didn’t want to encourage him to stay.
When she was settled, she turned the tablet on. First, she checked on what was going on with her family. If her father was in London, something had to have happened, and there might have been a news story published that would cast light on what was going on.
Nothing.
So, it must not be the Feds, then… Maya swiped back up to the search bar. Her family had rooted itself in Boston, and she figured browsing the recent local news there might help her figure out what was going on.
Nothing again.
Maya’s nose scrunched in confusion. If that was how it was going to be, she’d just change her tactic. First, she’d investigate the families linked to hers, either through allegiance or through hatred. The first name that came to mind was the biggest of them all—Sokolov. Her father had simmered with rage over their iron grip of the East Coast for as long as she could remember.
That simple name search brought up a flurry of results. Maya ignored the news articles, accessing the image results instead. There were pictures of grim, older Russian men in suits, shirtless thugs with tattoos, and then, something that surprised her. Maya squinted at the screen, momentarily paused in her search as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.
It was a candid photo of Viktor Sokolov, the current head of the Sokolov family, along with several people she didn’t recognize, and Maya’s own sister, Elena.
It made no sense. Elena was loyal to their father, but she looked happy in the photograph, her eyes set dreamily on a man Maya couldn’t identify.
What in the world was happening?
Disturbed by what she’d discovered, Maya dug deeper. She scrolled through a few more pages of results, until…
Nikolai.
Maya stared at the image on her screen. There was no denying it was him. In the image, he had the same buzzed blond hair which was so light in color that it almost looked transparent. He had the same piercing eyes and the same unforgiving expression on his face—the one she’d seen earlier that evening. Fearing the worst, she tapped on the image to bring up more info. The picture linked to the public records of one Konstantin Sokolov, who’d been arrested for a vague traffic violation. The rest of his records had been scrubbed clean, so far as she could tell.
Sick to her stomach, she returned to the search bar and refined her terms. Konstantin Sokolov brought up multiple images of the man staying in her living room, as well as a few new pieces of information about him. According to the summaries she read, Konstantin Sokolov went by the name Kostya, and he was the Mad Dog of the Sokolov family—the one who broke bones, sliced open skin, and ended lives.
Maya exhaled slowly through her nose. She dropped her tablet onto her chest, unable to bring herself to keep reading.
The Sokolovs were enemies. Kostya sho
uld have killed her on sight. Instead, he’d sworn to protect her.
What was going on?
If Kostya really didn’t remember who he was, then she was in for a whole world of hurt if he suddenly regained his memory overnight… but Maya didn’t get the feeling that he’d forgotten, now that she truly thought about it. The cruelty in his tone when he didn’t get his way, the knowing glint in his eyes, and his incredible resolve in the face of danger led her to believe that Kostya knew exactly who he was. There was only so much muscle memory could account for, after all.
Perhaps the answer to his protectiveness was that she’d saved him, and even if she was a Popov, that meant that he was indebted to her. Although he was cold, ruthless, and shut-off, the way he acted toward Maya wasn’t in line with the actions of a man who wanted her dead.
Or maybe he knew that she’d defected from the Popovs and gone to live in London on her own all those years ago, hoping to disappear from beneath her father’s watchful eye. An enemy of her father’s was a friend to her, too, and although she didn’t wish her father dead, she felt like she was safer with a Sokolov in the house than she would have felt with a man who’d sworn his loyalty to the Popovs.
For now, she would leave it be. Even though Kostya was a Sokolov, she would see where this went. He was different than her father. He had compassion. She’s seen it when he’d let Michael go free, and she’d seen it again when he’d insisted on staying so he could protect her. A niggling part of her whispered that she was only thinking of him in this way because she found him attractive, but Maya refused to subscribe to that notion.
The Sokolov Brothers: The Complete Series Page 24