Revenge

by Lexi Blake

  Bran held it open. “Hey, you’re walking away from a big meeting and not telling me why. Shelby’s a reporter. She’s done this for a while. I know she probably shouldn’t have used the jet the way she did, but she’s smart. She doesn’t need you to hold her hand.”

  He frowned his brother’s way. “If Carly was meeting with some weird man you’d never met, who might or might not be a criminal, would you shrug and go back to your job? I’m going with her, and she and I are going to have a long talk about the way this relationship works.”

  Bran stared at him for a moment. “Holy shit, you’re in love with her. I thought this was some weird reaction to the rest of us getting married, but you’re actually serious about Shelby.”

  “I moved her in with me. Yes, I’m serious. I don’t know that I would call it love, but it’s definitely like, and we work well together when she’s not meeting with criminals behind my back or telling me who I can or can’t fire.”

  Bran threw his hands up with a frustrated huff. “You’re telling me. I would have fired Matty, too. No Lannister belongs on the Iron Throne.”

  At least someone understood reason. “We’ll have to find something he’s doing wrong. See if he’s watching porn on his work computer. I’ve got to deal with Shelby.”

  “Drew?” Bran asked.

  “What?”

  “I’m happy for you.” Bran turned and walked away, humming as he went.

  Drew shut the door. Somehow Bran’s approval meant something to him. It shouldn’t, but knowing Bran liked Shelby, approved of their relationship, did something odd to his chest.

  And it had felt good to shove his responsibilities for the day off on Bran. Bran would take care of it. He was a man now. When had Bran moved from a responsibility to a partner? Riley, too. His brothers were grown and they were good. They’d figured out a way to move past their own damage.

  Could he do the same?

  He pushed the question aside. He had something he needed to do. He dropped the sheet because this was a conversation better had while naked.

  He strode into the bathroom, steam hitting him. His woman liked it hot. He watched her for a moment, her back to him as she soaped her chest. His reasonable anger warred with lust. Did they have to war? Wasn’t this one of those cases where he could do both?

  He stepped in behind her. “Baby, would you like to explain why my corporate jet is on its way back from Moscow?”

  She stopped, though she didn’t move away as he pressed his front to her rear, his cock rubbing against the small of her back. “Well, you did tell me to do whatever I needed. I needed to send the jet to Moscow to pick up my witness. Would you rather I had gone to Moscow myself?”

  “I think I advised you to call him up.” He let his hands drift up to her breasts. “I assume we’re talking about Yuri Volchenko’s brother.”

  She’d mentioned that Charlotte Taggart had found the man.

  She turned and her hands came up, caressing his neck and shoulders as though trying to soothe him. “Yes. His brother is still alive and I have some questions for him. He wouldn’t talk on the phone or over the computer. He’ll only talk in person, and I thought the fastest way to deal with him was by sending a jet so he can’t change his mind. I’m meeting him at noon. We’ll talk. I’ll give him some cash and then he’s heading back home. You told me I could spend what I need.”

  He wasn’t pissed about the amount of money she’d spent, but there was something he was upset about. “Yuri’s brother is also a member of the Bratva.”

  “I know. It’s why he’s going to be such an interesting witness,” she agreed with a smile. “As long as I have him here, I’m going to ask him a couple of questions I’ve always wondered about. I have a whole list. Like what guns does he prefer to use? Does the organization provide those, or is he responsible for that on his own? It’s the kind of thing that will help me in my fictional world.”

  Her fictional world? He’d kind of thought it was filled with safe things like sex and daisies and stuff. He needed to shut this shit down now. “McKay-Taggart already tried to talk to this guy. He gave them nothing. He’s using you to milk me for cash. Have the plane refuel and turn around.”

  “He wouldn’t talk to McKay-Taggart because he’s a member of the Gorev syndicate and Charlotte Taggart has ties to their rival, the Denisovitch syndicate. I’ve got no ties to anyone. Just heaping mounds of your cash. I can get the information we need.”

  “What kind of information could he possibly have?” He didn’t want to let her go.

  She went up on her toes and brushed her lips against his. “I won’t know until I ask. I promise I will give you a full report when I’m done.”

  “You won’t need to.”

  She grabbed a towel and stepped out, wrapping it around her body. “You’re not interested? Drew, I think he might be able to tell us a few things. I’ve asked around. He was close to his brother.”

  Drew turned the handle of the shower from hot to cold. He wasn’t getting any love and affection this morning. “You won’t have to tell me because I’m going to be there. Bran is handling my meetings. I’m going with you.”

  He stepped under the now chilly water. Yes, this was what he needed. His lovely morning had turned into an interview with what would likely be some chain-smoking criminal who reeked of vodka.

  A look of pure horror crossed her face. “Drew, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t think any of it’s a good idea, but that doesn’t seem to matter. I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  She turned, irritation obvious in the way she stomped off. If she hadn’t wanted him to find out, she should have used her own private jet.

  He was smart enough to not say that out loud.

  Drew let the cold water wash over him. It wasn’t fair to be annoyed that she was doing the very job he’d hired her to do. He knew that. But every step she took brought them closer to the day when she would find out what he’d done.

  Or he could honor the spirit of the contract and let her write the damn book. She didn’t need to know he’d given himself a hard out. She wouldn’t read that contract again. It would be nothing more than a cute way he’d gotten close to her. It didn’t have to be the thing that broke them up.

  She would have her book and he would survive the press. The never-ending press that would savage his family. The media would smell a great story and his status would fuel the fire. He could handle it. He could roll his eyes and move on, but what would happen to Mia’s child? He remembered vividly when the kids at his school found out about his past. The best that would happen was a nauseating sympathy. The worst . . . he’d seen some parents who wouldn’t let their kids around his brothers because the family was trash. They’d painted him with the same violent brush that had tarnished his father.

  Now it would be a national story, fanned by his success. The story had died down, but a book by Shelby would go global, and all his family secrets would be laid out for the world to pick apart and use as entertainment. Billionaire Software Guru’s Mother Tries to Kill Him. The headlines would write themselves.

  Perhaps he could handle it, but Mia wasn’t the only one who would soon have a kid. He knew Ellie and Riley were already talking about it. Bran and Carly would be next. A whole new generation who would have to deal with the scandal.

  What would his father want? His name restored or his grandchildren protected? Did it even matter since his father was dead and everything rested on Drew’s shoulders?

  Yeah, mornings sucked.

  • • •

  Shelby sat down across from the Russian and pulled out her notepad. “Do you mind if I make notes?”

  He’d been clear that he wouldn’t accept any kind of recording. He didn’t trust phones or computers. He would only speak to her in person and only if she sent a jet. He seemed to enjoy flying fi
rst class.

  Pavel, who must have been almost sixty but looked rather older, pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. “If you do not mind if I be smoking. They do not allow on plane.”

  “Sorry, buddy, but this is a nonsmoking establishment,” Drew said with a smirk.

  He was going to be so much fun. There was a reason she hadn’t mentioned today’s meeting to him. “You own this building, Drew. He can smoke and then he’s heading back to Russia.”

  They were meeting at a private airfield, in 4L’s personal hangar. She’d made sure everything was nice and friendly. A luncheon had been placed on a well-set table in the corner of the hangar. She’d attempted to make sure Volchenko felt like a welcome guest.

  Drew kept looking at him like he was going to murder someone at any moment.

  She sighed and passed Pavel a coffee mug to use for the ashes. She wasn’t thrilled about the smoke, either, but one did what one had to do to get the story. Lord knew she was putting up with Drew’s broody ass. “Please, feel free.”

  “Yes, to give us all cancer,” Drew muttered under his breath.

  Pavel waved him off. “You Americans. I don’t understand you at all. Do you think to live forever?”

  “Not the way he eats, he doesn’t,” Shelby said under her breath. “So you’re Pavel Volchenko and your brother was a man named Yuri Volchenko.”

  He lit the cigarette, taking a long drag before sitting back. “This is correct. I have several brothers. Yuri was worst. He is horrible person, but good brother. He go into mob to help his family.”

  “Is that why you went in?” She had to admit, she found the whole scenario fascinating. This was a man who had an entirely different experience in his life than anyone she knew. Even if he didn’t have information she might be able to use, she would still be interested in talking to him.

  He shrugged. “Some people go into army. I choose this path, though not the same as Yuri. He had different talents than I.”

  “You mean he was good at killing people,” Drew said with a frown.

  If it bothered Pavel, he didn’t show it. In fact, a hearty smile crossed his face. “He was so good at it. Such talent. When he was working, no one survived. He take the job. He does it professionally. Some assassins, they feel the need to be . . . how do you say? Peacocks. Yes, peacocks showing their feathers. You know what I say?”

  “Murder them fast?” Drew snarked.

  She sent him her sternest look. “Will you stop?”

  Again Pavel plowed through. “I say killing is profession like any other. You get to work, do job, and don’t be hole of ass. You know what it take to keep blood to minimum? This is mark of professional.”

  “Did Yuri ever talk about the job to you?” She was thankful Drew sat back in his chair. He seemed to settle in, so she continued. “From what I understand, you remained close to him. You worked for the same syndicate, right?”

  He waved a hand, taking a long drag off his cigarette. “Bah, Yuri moved around. He liked to work for several. Yuri was all about paycheck, but I wanted to move up in world. I become a vor for Gorev almost forty years ago.”

  “A vor?” Drew asked, his natural curiosity coming into play.

  She’d done her homework on the Bratva. “It means thief. He was a made man in the syndicate.”

  “Pretty girl is smart, too,” Yuri said, winking her way. “She is correct. I become brigadier years later. That mean I have my own men within the family. It also mean I don’t discuss business with shits like Denisovitch. He can eat my balls. If you speak with that fuck, I will come back and deal with you.”

  Drew’s face went red, but Shelby had already prepared for this eventuality. Apparently being one of the world’s most sought-after CEOs hadn’t prepped Drew for small Mafia skirmishes.

  She put a hand on his chest and looked at the mobster. “You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t have any ties to Dusan Denisovitch. The closest Drew comes is his sister is married to a man who’s a half brother to a man who’s married to his cousin who never gets back to Russia. We’re practically strangers, and neither one of us has any loyalty at all to the Denisovitch syndicate.”

  Pavel seemed to settle back. “You’re sure?”

  “America isn’t like Russia,” she assured him. “We don’t keep our ties to the old world. Is this why you wouldn’t talk to McKay-Taggart when they questioned you?”

  “Charlotte Taggart is daughter of enemy,” Pavel replied. “I will not be telling her anything. But if you have no ties and are willing to pay, I talk to you. What does Yuri care? He is dead. All he has left is his reputation, and that has been maligned.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. “How has your brother’s reputation been maligned?”

  “My brother would never have made mess of job. All his years of work and he never fail.” Pavel’s expression turned grave. “Yuri was dedicated to job and took money seriously. He is paid based on how risky job is.”

  “Risky?” Drew asked. “I would think all murders would come with some risk. Prison comes to mind.”

  “Prison is always chance we take,” Pavel allowed. “But certain jobs, there is more risk. A rival brother in Russia, one who is known to police, he will not be missed. Police will turn other way because they consider a matter for the Bratva. This is cheap job. Depending on who it is, some assassins would do this job for fun. A government employee who is not cooperating with something boss needs, this is more. People notice and police must investigate, so he charge more.”

  “So an American businessman would be expensive?” Shelby asked, knowing the answer.

  “He would have charged a hundred thousand for American,” Pavel said, flicking his ashes into the mug. “Americans very expensive. American dies and everyone is in uproar.”

  “Excellent. We know nothing more than what we already did,” Drew said with a long sigh. “Can we be done now?”

  “Are you listening to him? According to everything we know, the assassin who killed your parents was paid two hundred thousand dollars. Yuri charged a hundred grand a piece.” For someone who was so damn smart, he wasn’t following the conversation well. “Two people, Drew. He got paid for two people who would have caused him no end of trouble had his plan not worked. Had anything gone wrong, the heat would have been incredibly high, hence the cost of two hundred thousand dollars. For two people.”

  Drew frowned, the weight of what she was saying finally seeming to sink in. “For two people, but there were six of us in the house that night. He must have only gotten paid for the ones he managed to actually take out.”

  “My brother never fail once, and he always require money up front,” Pavel said solemnly. “Too many people decide not to pay if you do not get money in the beginning. And one rule my brother has? He never, never kill children. He watches our mother lose our sister. He never kill a child. Some say he make this rule because of his carefulness, because killing child can attract much attention, but I know truth. My brother would never have taken a job where children were involved. He would have gotten in, killed his targets, and left children peacefully sleeping.”

  Drew had flushed slightly. “So there’s honor among murderers?”

  This was precisely why she hadn’t wanted him involved. He couldn’t look at this rationally. It was why she shouldn’t have tried to investigate her own brother’s death. She was too close to it. Logic and reason had to come into play, but all Drew could hear was someone speaking kindly of the man who’d pulled the trigger on his father.

  Pavel simply shrugged. “Even killer has line he will not to be crossing. My brother does not do this for fun.”

  Drew was quiet for a moment. “If he wasn’t hired to kill the children, then why were the doors barred? Why set the fire at all?”

  Again he shook his head. “My brother, he was afraid of fire. When we were young, we were in apartment bu
ilding that caught fire. It is how we lost sister. She burned to death and Yuri said he could never forget how she screamed. He would never have set fire. He was simple man. He used poison when job required finesse, a bomb when it required certain level of shock, and gun all other times.”

  Drew stared directly at the man. “And I should believe you, why?”

  “Why would I lie? My brother is killer, but does have some honor.”

  She wanted so badly to reach out and hold Drew’s hand because the answer was right there, but he’d drawn in on himself. She needed to get everything she could out of this interview. “Did he ever talk about this particular job? How did the clients find him?”

  “He has contacts in many parts of world,” Pavel explained. “Oftentimes he is contacted through syndicate by private persons . . . how would you say . . . the people who look into problems. Not police.”

  “Private investigators?”

  He nodded. “Yes, this is word. Sometimes he is contacted by investigators, sometimes it is lawyers. You think assassin is bad. Lawyer is worse, I say,” Pavel theorized. “But I believe in this part of America he spoke with investigator. A man.”

  “Does a man have a name?” Drew asked, his voice tight.

  If Pavel was worried about Drew’s tone, he didn’t show it. “Most do. I believe this one was called Williams. I do not remember first name, but he live in Dallas with cowboys. He would make arrangements for payments. Always through private banks. Nothing traceable. He have connections to syndicate. Even syndicate needs outside eyes to come in from time to time. It is better this way. Too many emotions among the families. And outside contacts would deal with police for us. In return they send clients and would be given a fee for bringing in work.”

  “Is there any way to find out who contacted your brother?” She would be interested to know who the go-between was.

  “Everything would have been taken care of remotely, and he would have received instructions from handler here in Texas. This man Williams would have set up payments and everything would be private.” Pavel poured a bit of the vodka she’d had set on the table. “He would do job, but never meet client. If he did, he would have to kill client and this is bad for repeat business, if you know what I mean.”