Feeling generous because he was getting his way, he gestured to his annoyed-looking Aussie. “Ask the lady. That is, if she’s gotten clearance to go over there . . . ?”
Turning to the men, completely excluding him, Sydney said, “We can go over, but you can’t touch anything yet.”
Off the group went.
“Is the condo in the Upper West Side empty?” he asked Alek.
“Yes.”
“That’s where we’ll take her then.”
“We? I was going home—”
“No,” he said a little too quickly. He cleared his throat and glanced around. “Come with. I think you could use the company.”
Alek gave him a discerning look as he withdrew his phone and hit up a number. As he put the cell to his ear, he muttered, “Pitiful to need a chaperone at your age, don’t you think? Hey, Eva,” he said when his cousin picked up. “Change of plans . . .”
It was pitiful. But with the way Maks was feeling, and knowing himself as he did—he was self-indulgent to the core—he could not be alone with Sydney right now. From year fifteen on, he’d become a hedonist. A pleasuremonger. His go-to? Sex. He had it on his terms, in the way he liked, his women under his control with their heads bowed, mouths shut, ears open as they awaited his instruction. He enjoyed them. Took pride in making sure they enjoyed the hell out of him. Said good-bye. End of story. Next. That’s the way it was. No commitment. He didn’t get to know them. There was no drama. No risks. Just the sex and the power of knowing he was in control. He needed the control.
And he needed the sex, he realized, his gaze once more finding Sydney.
But he would not become that guy—the untrustworthy one, the disloyal one—just because his determination to honor the vow he’d made to Vasily was beginning to limp.
So a chaperone it was.
Sydney’s request to get some things from the loft had been refused again, both by the police and the two workmen still jotting notes and talking about possible structural damage from the blast. She’d also just been informed that she wasn’t allowed to open the club for at least tonight, if not longer, and she took a few minutes to call some staff members and ask them to spread the word to the others who were on the schedule. After Maksim’s workmen reassured her that they’d get a new door put on right away, she thanked them and went to join the Russians.
Nerves fluttered in her belly. Not because Maksim was now taking her to a safe house but because of what she’d been mulling over in the back of her mind for the last hour.
She had to tell him about Andrew. The realization had come to her when she’d been speaking to the detective and had had to interrupt him a half-dozen times so he didn’t let her and Andrew’s relationship slip out to Jeremy. She was horrified, but she left the lawyer with the impression she was cheating on Maksim. The men had continued to give her odd looks at her insistence that they refer to Andrew as simply “the other person,” but no one had pressed the issue. Maksim would have. She knew it.
She also now knew he wasn’t going to run off in search of her parents and Andrew’s father to see if they might be interested in starting a custody battle with her over her son. That just wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be Maksim. After listening to him, particularly when he spoke of his friends and Vasily, she was coming to see that her Russian lived by a code of honor and loyalty so fitting in his line of work it was almost cliché.
All of that aside, she simply couldn’t hide her son’s existence from him any longer because this entire thing was going much deeper and becoming much larger than the simple warning she’d naively assumed they’d give Luiz. Maksim had to be aware of the stakes. Of what she could have lost today.
She looked back at her car and then to the door of her building, the debris . . . She shuddered.
“Are you all right, Sydney?”
She looked up into Alek’s pale-blue eyes and shook her head, shrugging, because she couldn’t give a rhetorical answer when what she really wanted to do was unload. She wanted to come clean, tell them her real story, admit she’d been supplying half-truths from moment one. She wanted to brag about her beautiful son.
Instead she headed toward the mouth of the alley, not really interested if they followed or not. She’d sit on the curb and wait for them if they weren’t done here. The police had given her clearance to leave, and she wanted to take advantage of that. She also wanted to call Andrew to make sure he was okay, but that would have to wait until she was alone because she’d most likely cry if she heard his voice right then. She didn’t want to do that in front of these men.
She heard their footsteps behind her as she crossed the street to where Maksim had hurriedly—by the looks of it—parked the Hummer. Seeing him reach for the driver’s door handle, and Alek motion for her to go around and take the front passenger seat, Sydney pretended to be blind and hurriedly jumped into the backseat. She didn’t want to sit beside Maksim now. Was too afraid she might give in and crawl across the seat to curl up against him so she could draw from the abundance of power he seemed to have.
She didn’t look when the doors opened and closed to see who sat where. In fact, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the seat, turning to face the window when the bump on the back of her skull protested. She knew who was beside her, though. Didn’t need to see to know it was Maksim who leaned across to pull her seat belt out of its slot and snap it into the buckle. The scent of rich dark chocolate filled her nose, and the sensations that stirred inside her hammered hard at her weakening resolve to keep her distance.
A short time later they were pulling into the underground parking garage of a high-rise she could never afford to live in. The quiet elevator ride up and her first glimpse into the spacious apartment confirmed it: the Tarasov organization was a big-money operation. But she’d already guessed that. If this was a safe house, she’d bet their actual homes were pretty damned impressive.
Alek entered the apartment ahead of them, traveling a short hallway that widened into an open-concept area that showed stainless-steel appliances in the bright kitchen and a comfortable-looking sectional center stage in the living area. A shadowed corridor across the way had to lead to the bedrooms.
She put her hand out to stop Maksim from walking farther into the unit. “Um, is Alek staying long?” she asked quietly.
That silver gaze remained straight ahead for a split second, blinking once, and then his head swiveled so he could look down at her. One brow went up. “Sorry?”
Heat filled her cheeks at why he thought she was asking, and the backs of her fingers automatically connected with his forearm in a light swat usually reserved for when her son needed to remember she was his mother. “Cut it out.” She flashed a quick smile at Alek when he looked over. “I, er, need to speak with you.” She looked to that hallway and wondered if the bedrooms were far enough away so that a conversation couldn’t be overheard. “And I’d rather we were alone.”
The cross on the front of Maksim’s throat rippled as he swallowed, and then his expression tightened. “Whatever you have to say can be said in front of him. He’s one of the most loyal and trustworthy men I know.”
“I didn’t mean to imply he wasn’t,” she soothed, giving the forearm she’d just smacked an apologetic squeeze. “I would just prefer you and me and no one else.”
“You need to stop saying that, Australia,” she thought he grumbled before saying louder, so that Alek could also hear, “I’m going to go pick up some lunch. Be back in a few.”
Before she could so much as offer a token protest, he was gone, slamming back out of the apartment as if the place were on fire. Shit.
She sighed and turned toward the massive room and its one remaining occupant, who gave her a curious look before turning away. So much for trying to come clean.
CHAPTER 9
As Maksim cursed his way back to the SUV, he called Micha.
“Anything?” he asked as he drove up from the garage, wondering if Sydney liked shawarma. He could have it delivered. By someone other than him. Because he needed some distance between them. A lot of distance. Goddammit. She was lucky he hadn’t dragged her into his lap in the SUV and cuddled the shit out of her. She’d looked like a lost kitten sitting there all fucking tiny and shit.
“I was going to call you once I got our guests settled.”
He almost sideswiped a parked Lexus. “What?”
“Did some recon and found out who’s who on Morales’s team. Picked up the two responsible for planting an explosive device on a BMW that had been valeted last night at a fancy restaurant uptown.”
Maks knew “did some recon” was code for picked up one of Morales’s men and did certain things to him that had made it impossible for the guy to stay silent.
“You at the club?”
“Yes.”
“I’m on my way.”
He hung up and called Alek.
“Yeah.”
“You’re going to have to babysit longer than expected. Micha got them.”
“I don’t know why that surprises me. It’s only been, what, a few hours?” Alek kept his voice quiet.
“I know. I’m coming around to admitting he’s a hair better than me. But just a hair.”
“What should I do with the lady?”
Maks tried not to grind his teeth and kept his voice as even as possible. “See if she plays Xbox or something. Watch a movie. There’s cable. The place is well stocked with things to amuse yourselves. Do with her the same as you’d do with anyone in a situation like this.” Thank God it was Alek he was talking to. The huge plus in Maks’s favor was that the guy was still in love with his ex and wouldn’t be tempted even if Sydney pranced out of the bedroom naked with feathers taped to her lush ass. The guy would see it as cheating even though he and Sacha had been apart for more than a year now. Loyalty was a beautiful thing.
“We should have brought her to the house,” Alek said. “I’m sure the girls would have enjoyed entertaining her.”
Fuck that. Bringing Sydney home would be too much like bringing Sydney home. Introduce her to his family? No. Besides, this wasn’t personal, it was a job—see? He remembered.
“Stay put. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Before he made it to Rapture, he made a few more phone calls, one of which was to Vasily to give an update.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” his Pakhan said slowly when he heard about the bomb. His incredulous tone wasn’t one Maks heard often. “I spoke to Luiz only hours ago, and he’d relented. Wished you luck, as a matter of fact, the lying cocksucker. Goddammit, why can’t these people just admit they’re pissed so we all know what fucking page we’re on?” Something slammed in the background. “The message you send that bastard better be a good one, Maks. He attempted to kill a woman he thinks you’re in love with. Do you have any idea how your life would have been affected if this thing between you and Sydney were real? Look at Sergei, at Alek. You take someone’s most loved, you take their life without even having to touch them.”
Was that what had happened to Vasily last summer when a rival family had killed Kathryn Jacobs, Eva’s mother? Was Vasily speaking from experience? Or simply from watching what remained of his nephews as they tried to go on without the women most important to them?
“The message I send will not be ignored,” he promised before saying good-bye.
Another call was made to bring in some of the boys they referred to as shadows. He told the one in charge to make sure the area was clear and then to set up a perimeter around Pant, warning him that the cops would be doing the same. He also had a few more sent over to Morales’s restaurant. When Luiz showed, he wanted to know it. The second he got to a computer, he’d get the fucker’s home address. Multiples, no doubt.
After parking behind the club, Maks entered through the back entrance and headed straight to the basement through the trapdoor that was under the roll-away bar in the corner of his office. It had already been moved. He knew Gabriel and Vincente chose to do their dirty work in a neutral location, a warehouse in Brownsville, but Maks preferred to keep things close. If they were talking mass interrogation, Vasily usually insisted they use his place in Brighton Beach.
Lifting the full-size panel, he took his coat and suit jacket off as he descended the concrete steps to enter an enormous well-lit room that had hundreds of crates filled with weaponry of all sorts taking up a good chunk of the real estate. To the right of the stairs were a couple of metal desks, the type found in any office, with rolling chairs and a half-dozen open laptops.
It was the back corner Maks was interested in, though, which was decked out with links attached to the concrete walls, an industrial-size spool of chain, and an assortment of tools. Oh, and there was a drain in the floor that had come in handy when he and Caleb Paynne, Nika’s brother who was VP of the Manhattan chapter of the Obsidian Devils MC, had used the facilities to question a couple of guys on Vincente’s behalf not long ago. That hadn’t ended well for the two assholes who’d been paid to lure Nika into an alley so that her abusive husband could get at her again.
Satisfaction filled him when he saw two captives bound to metal chairs. Micha stood a few feet away, leaning against an exposed support beam. Maks dropped his things on an empty metal chair and went to clap his friend on the shoulder. “You’ll be at the top of my list during Thanksgiving dinner,” he said in Russian, which he would continue to use when communicating with him during this interview. Even though these two wouldn’t make it out alive, he preferred they didn’t hear any exchanges he and Micha might have.
He continued over and clamped his hand around the throat of one of their captives without slowing his progress. The effect had chair legs scraping until the metal back hit the wall, along with the guy’s head. He bent and came in close.
“You almost killed a woman today who doesn’t deserve death, motherfucker. Now you’re going to pay for that.”
The guy’s head bobbed for a second or two before Maks loosened his hold on his trachea so a little air could get through.
“Was d-doing my job, man. Same as you.”
Maks delivered one solid jab to the guy’s solar plexus and was pretty sure he felt his knuckles touch a spleen. “Don’t compare us again. Ever.”
“Don’t answer him nothing, Juan,” the partner said in a voice that pegged him as a couple-of-packs-a-day smoker. “We’re done anyway.”
Maks turned. When he received a glare loaded with cynicism and aggression, he released Juan and went straight over. He slid his Glock from the holster under his arm. “Okay. Since you’ve proven you’ll be no help to me, your time is up.” He leveled his weapon at a forehead as wide as a barn door—made sure to step over so that Micha couldn’t become a secondary target—and pulled the trigger. Complete silence filled the basement after the echo of the shot faded, until dribbling sounded. Juan’s bladder gave up the fight.
When Maks returned, the overpowering smell of urine coming up had his glands working overtime, but he ignored it. “Before you join your comrade, I’m going to give you the opportunity to redeem yourself in the eyes of whoever it is you’re praying to right now. If you know of Morales’s plans for the woman you missed this morning, tell me.”
“Why would he let me in on his plans? I don’t know nothing, man.”
True. Because someone in Morales’s position would have no reason to share with a lowly worker bee.
“Micha?”
“I believe him,” Micha said as he came over and passed a blade through the zip ties holding Juan’s wrists and ankles together.
His assumption confirmed, Maksim snapped out his arm when his victim would have bolted. He pinned Juan to the wall so his feet dangled, his hand a manacle around the guy’s neck. With a small smile, he put his free arm b
ehind and under his shirt to extract Angelina from the sheath strapped across his back.
The sweet ring of steel coming out of its holding filled the air with a smidge of terror.
“Your associate got off easy, Juan,” he said quietly. “But I’m afraid you won’t be so lucky.”
Panic had the guy hyperventilating even as Maks loosened his hold and let his feet once again touch ground. “I didn’t know it was the blonde’s car. Really! I didn’t!”
The monsters created in the Academy, and strengthened in that cell, swooped in to take over Maksim as the shell of Sydney’s Bimmer flashed in his crowded mind. An image of what would have been left behind had her small body taken the brunt of the blast tortured him. What would he have had left to bury?
The shudder that rattled through him was violent. “If you didn’t know it was her car, how did you know she’s blonde, asshole?” With a quick grab, he pinned Juan’s arm to the wall next to his head and held it steady so Angelina could slam solid and sure through a skinny wrist, easily passing through flesh and tendon and, with a little added pressure, bone. The shrill scream that reverberated through the room covered the sound of that hand hitting the floor with a slap. Not that Maks would have noticed because he was already on to the other arm, which got the same treatment. He kicked both appendages out of the urine and his mind calmed as swiftly as it had erupted, allowing him to see Juan’s wide-open mouth keening an agonized song that grated on the ears.
He jammed his hand under the guy’s hanging jaw and cut the sound off. Could tell by the labored breath and rolling eyes that Juan was going under. Maks slapped his cheek to keep him awake as Micha slid a chair over before heading for the medical supplies and equipment sitting on a small table off to the side.
“This little exercise will guarantee you don’t attempt to hand out death again, especially to someone that belongs to me. If I find you again after we release you tonight”—he brought Angelina’s tip to the guy’s groin and pressed it in until he heard a weak moan—“this will be lying on the floor during that session. I promise.” And Juan was out.
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