Russian Enforcers Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)

by Nic Saint

  She shook her head, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

  He smiled. “Now when you look at me like that, can you blame a man for going a little crazy? Small wonder I’ve loved you from the first.”

  “Loved me? You…love me?”

  He held her cheek in a loving gesture. “I do. From the first time I laid eyes on you at the club. But you were so young, so innocent: I really couldn’t allow myself to come near you.”

  “You silly man,” she sighed.

  “Yes, I am,” he agreed. “But now I’m healed. After this…” He gestured to the man at their feet. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again. Ever.”

  She shivered as she realized how close she’d come to the end. As she buried herself against his chest, she whispered, “Never let me go, Alex. Never leave me.”

  “Trust me, I won’t.”

  “I love you too, you know.”

  “Good. Then it’s settled.”

  Her mouth found his again, and she gave herself over to their kiss, surrendering to him. As she opened her lips, their tongues exploring, she was still dazed, but allowed their embrace to absorb the heartache she’d felt. She curled her fingers in his hair, and let their kiss take over, the warmth and tenderness doing much to heal her wounds.

  Surrounded by the rapture of nature, they celebrated their newfound love with an abandon she’d never known before, and Alex, too, discovered there were experiences he’d never fathomed, feelings he’d never allowed himself to explore, love he’d never known could exist.

  He loved this woman, with a profundity and irrevocability that seemed so obvious now that he cursed himself for not having realized it sooner.

  Then the sudden wash of helicopter blades hung low in the air, the thump-thump of the powerful rotors invading their world, and when they looked up, they watched in surprised awe as a helicopter descended from the heavens and homed in on them.

  CHAPTER 27

  The helicopter gracefully touched down but a few dozen feet from where they were standing, crunching down in the snow, and Laura looked on in trepidation as the rotors slowed, and finally the door of the chopper swung open and a man clad in a long black overcoat stepped out.

  “Gornakov,” hissed Alex at the sight of him, and Laura’s heart constricted. So they’d found them. She stared at the dead man at their feet, and the bloodied rock that had ended his life. Too late to conceal him now, she thought. Unlike Boris, they wouldn’t be able to deny having killed him.

  She watched the tall man stride up to them. He was younger and more handsome than she’d thought, and looked more like a businessman than the head of the Russian Mob. His hair was fair and curly, and his face open and friendly. It was hard to believe he’d come all this way to mete out revenge.

  The moment he was within earshot, he called out, “Alex Petrov and Laura Armstrong, I presume?”

  Alex nodded curtly, and Laura decided to keep her tongue.

  As he walked over, he glanced down at the fallen man. “One of the Gorevs?”

  “Semyon,” grunted Alex, putting himself between Laura and the new arrival. If the man was going to get to her, he would have to go through Alex.

  The man eyed the gesture with an appreciative smile. “I’m Yulian Gornakov, but then you knew that already, of course.”

  Alex didn’t speak, but merely eyed him with suspicion.

  Yulian studied him for a few moments, then turned his gaze on Laura and awarded her the same treatment. His eyes were kind, she thought. Not the eyes of a gangster at all.

  “It’s been hell to find you,” he finally said. “Your father wasn’t very cooperative, Alex.”

  “My father loves me.”

  Yulian smiled. “That, he does.”

  “How did you find us?”

  “The men in your family might be a little slow-witted, Alex, but fortunately for you the women aren’t. I talked to your mother, and she explained to me exactly what happened at The Blue Moon.”

  Alex’s eyes went wide. “Mom told you where we were?”

  Ignoring him, Yulian went on. “In my experience, when you want to know—really want to know—you talk to the women involved. Men have such a habit of muddling things up.”

  “You could have talked to me.”

  “What do you think I’m doing?” He shook his head sadly. “You should have called me, Alex.”

  “Told you,” murmured Laura, who couldn’t keep her tongue any longer.

  “I didn’t think you’d take kindly to the death of your favorite cousin,” bit Alex.

  To her surprise, Yulian laughed. “Now that’s a first. Let’s make one thing clear, all right? Boris Sarnovsky was never my favorite cousin. He probably started that rumor himself. He was a miserable little shit who got exactly what he deserved.”

  At this, Alex’s eyebrows shot up. “Come again?”

  “You heard,” said Yulian easily. “I’m cleaning up the organization, Alex, but an endeavor like that takes time. People like Boris have a habit of resisting change, and my team can only do so much so quickly. Sooner or later, Mr. Sarnovsky would have been removed from his position. Only you took care of him before we could.” He bowed graciously. “And for that, I thank you, young man.”

  Alex, still confused, gestured at the dead man. “What about him? If you’re so grateful to me, why did you send your killer after us?”

  Yulian eyed the man with distaste. “You’re quite mistaken, Alex. I never asked for this. Apparently he thought it was the right time to exploit what he perceived as a weakness in the Petrov family’s armor. To prove his loyalty to me, he offered to bring me Miss Armstrong.” He shook his head. “The total and utter fool.” He spoke seriously now, his anger apparent. “Let me make one thing clear, Alex. Your family has served my family well for a very long time. I want you to know how much I appreciate all you’ve done. And I hope to continue this collaboration well into the future.” He shook his head. “I have absolutely no intention of antagonizing the Petrovs. And as far as the Gorevs or the Demiakovs are concerned, I have nothing to offer them but my contempt.”

  “It was self-defense,” quickly stated Laura, making matters plain. “Same thing with Boris. He attacked me, and Alex stood up for me.”

  “I know,” said Yulian. “And I’m very sorry you had to go through all this, Laura. If only you had come to me sooner, none of this would have been necessary.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s one of the things I’ll have to address. Perception.”

  Laura smiled, and Yulian returned it, adding some wattage of his own. The man was quite charming, she thought. For the head of a crime family.

  Yulian suddenly extended a hand. “I hope you’ll continue to work for me, Alex. My family can really use a good man like you.”

  Alex nodded, and took the hand. “So this is settled, then? Laura is safe?”

  “She is,” confirmed Yulian, then cocked an eyebrow. “You two an item?”

  For the first time since the chopper had landed, Alex smiled. “We are. We’re getting married soon.”

  “We are?” asked Laura, surprised.

  “If you’ll have me, that is,” he faltered.

  She pressed a finger to her lips. “Mh. I’ll have to think about that.”

  “Oh, dear,” murmured Yulian, amusement in his eyes.

  Laura burst into a peal of laughter, and threw her arms around Alex’s neck. “Of course I’ll marry you, you doofus! Just say when!”

  “When,” grunted Alex, and then kissed her with a passion and a heat that turned her spine to water and her legs to jelly.

  “Oh, dear,” repeated Yulian with a chuckle.

  As he started walking back to his chopper, he called out to his pilot, a stern man with a face like a halibut. “Oh, Ruslan.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “You see that dead man over there?”

  “Yes, sir,” spoke the pilot, unperturbed.

  “Bring him along, will you?”

  “Of course, sir.”
>
  “By any chance, do you know a lake where we can drop him?”

  The pilot thought for a moment, his ruddy face creasing into a frown. “There’s Lake Champlain, sir.”

  “Deep, is it?”

  “Quite deep, sir.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Oh, and Ruslan?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Remind me to buy a wedding present. Something ridiculously ornate and repulsively expensive.”

  The man arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Are you getting hitched, sir?”

  “Good Lord, man, not for the life of me. But those young people over there are, and they just saved me a lot of trouble by getting rid of one of the major blots on the family escutcheon. You didn’t know Boris Sarnovsky, did you?”

  “Can’t say I did, sir.”

  “Good for you.”

  They both stared at Laura and Alex as they kissed, the sun framing the couple in a halo of sunbursts. They looked happy, and united, Yulian thought. He sighed. “Young love, Ruslan. Doesn’t it warm the cockles of your heart?”

  “Quite, sir. Now, where do you want the dead guy stuffed, sir?”

  As the helicopter rose to the skies, Yulian waved to the couple beneath. They looked adorable, he thought. Soon, they would be married, the first of the Petrov brood to tie the knot. He was sure others would follow. Such was life. People met, fell in love, and got hitched. But not him. Never him. Unlike most, Yulian Gornakov wasn’t fit for matrimony.

  And that was all right by him.

  TO DEFY A RUSSIAN BILLIONAIRE

  Russian Enforcers 4.5 (Yulian & Julia)

  Nic Saint

  CHAPTER 1

  “Any regrets, Yulian? I mean, if there was anything you could change about your life, what would it be?”

  The peppy blonde leaned forward and eyed him intently. She’d been firing questions at him like a well-trained machine gun operator, and he was growing weary. They’d warned him about the media hounds in this country, and he had to admit his friends were right on the money.

  The woman’s piquant face was scrunched up into an expectant look, her short-cropped blond hair framing a heart-shaped face, with large blue almond-shaped eyes that kept drawing him in. She was a looker, no doubt about it, but each time he felt that thrill of attraction rising in his belly, he had to remind himself she was the enemy. Under different circumstances, he might have asked her out on a date. Now? He was fighting to keep his cool.

  He leaned back in his chair, irritation coming off him in waves. Not the studio lights were bothering him, nor the embarrassment of having his personal life dissected on camera. It was the sheer gall of the woman that caused his temper to rise precipitously. Even though his assistant had handed her a list of topics that were off limits, those were the ones she insisted on bringing up.

  The reporter had already asked all about his life in Moscow, about his rise to the top of the Russian business establishment, about his stupendous wealth, and about his family. Now, when the interview was finally at an end, her questions were starting to circle the drain of the journalistic gutter. In spite of the fact that he remained conspicuously silent, she didn’t bat an eye. She wanted her pound of flesh, no matter the consequences.

  Julia gave an inaudible sigh. When she’d accepted this assignment, she’d both yipped with delight and cringed with trepidation. Yulian Gornakov, the big, bad billionaire with alleged ties to the Russian Mob, wasn’t an easy subject to crack. Still, when she accepted a job, she really dug in and went for the jugular. That was her style, and she figured that if the head of her department had thrown Gornakov in her lap, he knew what he was getting.

  Yulian’s assistant, a broad man with a face like a halibut, had handed her a list of topics she wasn’t to broach at all cost. She’d simply brushed the list aside, and had started deeply probing some of those ‘taboo’ subjects.

  The Gornakov interview was her big break, and she was damned if she was going to settle for a superficial approach when she could push on and dig deep instead. Yulian Gornakov’s life had a lot of dark corners, and she was determined to shine a bright light on them. Like the fact that the Gornakov name brought up images of Mafia hitmen and Russian enforcers. Or the rumors he’d brutally shoved both his father and uncle from the family throne to claim it for himself. The man was ruthless, calculating and possibly a killer.

  And yet, when she’d taken a seat in front of him, she’d found him both charming and dazzlingly handsome, with a ready smile. With his curly brown hair, his remarkable gray eyes, and his clean-cut features, he could have been a male model. Young, too. Much younger than she’d anticipated one of the richest men in the country to be. He was thirty-two, she knew, but could have easily passed for twenty-eight.

  He’d been affable, until she’d started bombarding him with her list of prepared questions.

  After stepping into the ring and taking him to task on the source of his wealth and the nature of his ‘special relationship’ with celebrity singer Aurore, his amiability had quickly withered and died, to be replaced by a cold hostility. Now he was eyeing her wearily, and seemed not to have heard her last question. Not one to allow her subjects to get away so easily, she repeated, “Any regrets, Yulian?”

  He gave her a wintry smile. “The only regret I have is agreeing to this interview.” His gray eyes bored into hers with an intensity that left her reeling. Even the cameraman seemed shaken.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” she asked, taken aback.

  He steepled his fingers, anger simmering in his eyes. “It’s obvious you don’t know the first thing about conducting an interview, Miss Stern. Or else you wouldn’t have managed to antagonize both me and my entourage with your outrageous questions. As it is, I’ll be lodging a formal complaint with your CEO.” He shot her a devastating look that heralded danger. “After this interview is over, I can assure you that you will never work in this business again.”

  She had to swallow away a lump of uneasiness. Even though she was ever the professional, she barely managed to keep her cool, and when she spoke next, her voice shook with righteous indignation. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Gornakov, but if this is your idea of a joke…”

  The corners of his mouth lifted in a humorless smile. “No joke, Miss Stern. A promise. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than sit here and listen to your bullshit.”

  And with these words, he abruptly rose, brushed the lapel microphone from his costume and threw it in her lap with a flick of the wrist.

  She was too stunned to react, then stammered, “But—but Mr. Gornakov. Yulian! You—you can’t just walk out of an interview!”

  He whirled around, barely controlled rage lacing his voice. “Watch me.”

  He strode off imperiously, followed by his ruddy-faced assistant, who seemed unperturbed by the altercation.

  She turned to her cameraman and held out her hand. “What just happened?”

  The man merely shrugged, making sure he got Yulian Gornakov’s exit on film, then turning the camera on her to pick up the surprise and shock on her face. This would be a hit, the man knew. A train wreck like this would garner millions of views on YouTube within a day.

  She held up a helpless hand. “Dammit!” she muttered.

  “Well put,” the cameraman chuckled, ecstatic he got it all on camera.

  As Yulian stormed down the corridors of the media conglomerate of which he owned a fifty percent share, he was fuming. How could he even have allowed the interview to go on this long? He should have ended it a lot sooner, perhaps even after her opening quip that this was probably the first time a billionaire mobster ever sat down for an interview.

  The gall of the woman! She knew these topics were off the table, and yet she’d insisted on addressing them. They’d even discussed this before the camera started rolling. He’d told her he was prepared to talk about anything and everything, as long as she didn’t touch on his personal life. His priva
te affairs were exactly that: private. As in: none of her business, and most definitely not things he felt comfortable sharing with an audience of his peers.

  Business Hour was supposed to be devoted to business matters only. The state of the economy, the trade relationship with Russia, predictions about the gas price. But no, the woman had behaved as if she was employed by a Celebrity TV, not BSS, the premier business network.

  From the first, she’d traded barbs with him over his contentious relationship with the American authorities, touching upon his past as the alleged head of a crime family, then had probed into his relationship with his parents, most notably his father Yury Gornakov, who was now spending his golden years in a Moscow sanitarium, after devoting his life to monetizing crime in all of its forms.

  And, finally, when the dirty looks he shot her hadn’t induced her to stop this line of questioning, Julia Stern had devoted the last part of the interview to his much-publicized affair with famed singer Aurore.

  This was where he’d drawn the line.

  His private life, and most certainly his relationships with women, were something he didn’t share with the Julia Sterns of the world, nor with the 50,000 viewers of Business Hour.

  As he rode the elevator down, he was already on the phone with BSS’s CEO. His threat hadn’t been an idle one. He wanted the interview buried, the digital evidence destroyed, and Julia Stern thrown out on her ear, never to work in media ever again.

  As far as he was concerned, she was finished.

  CHAPTER 2

  Julia sat tapping her pen against the desk nervously. She’d never been summoned to the CEO’s office before. This was either the big break she’d been hoping for, or big trouble. The interview with Yulian Gornakov had been edited and delivered to the newsroom for processing, and she was proud of the work she’d done. The elusive Russian oligarch, famously reticent about his personal life and almost a recluse when it came to interviews, had really offered a glimpse into a world hitherto a closed book.