He allowed her to settle into some happy thoughts as he drove and avoided Micha’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Rather, his gaze went back to her shoes once he stopped at another red light. Because he was who he was, he took his phone out and texted, since he wouldn’t disrespect either of his passengers by voicing what was on his mind.
“It’s so fluffy—I’m gonna die!”
Micha jerked upright in the backseat, his head coming into view between them. “What the fuck is that?” he demanded.
Sydney laughed and turned back to wave her phone. “Text tone. Despicable Me. Have you seen it?” she asked, tongue-in-cheek.
“Buddy’s life story?” the idiot questioned, nodding at Maks as he disappeared again. “No. Can’t say that I have.”
“Just for that, I’m going to make you watch it,” Sydney muttered under her breath as she opened the text Maks had sent.
I want you in nothing but the shoes.
Her lips curved, and she lifted a leg to twirl her slim ankle, showing off the strappy black heel. “I like them, too. Oh! Can you pull over, please?” She pointed to the Starbucks just ahead. “I never did grab the gift cards I need.”
He slowed, giving her a strange look. “Gift cards for who?”
“You and all your friends. For helping me,” she said dryly. “For Andrew’s teachers, silly. Look. It even has a walk-up window. I won’t even have to go in.”
After swinging out of traffic, he pulled up so that all she had to do was get out and walk across the sidewalk. There were two people ahead of her. One guy, one girl. The guy did a double take that Sydney didn’t even notice because she was digging her wallet out of her bag.
“Gift cards for teachers and finding long-lost loved ones? You’re one scary motherfucker,” Micha drawled.
Maks ignored him and looked at Sydney’s phone as it started to ring. She’d left it in the console. Seeing the name of Andy’s school on the display, figuring the kid had forgotten something, he overstepped and answered.
“Hey, kid, what do you need?”
“Oh, um, I think I must have the wrong number.”
“No,” Maks said quickly before the guy could hang up. A guy that wasn’t Andy. “Who’s this?”
He gave his name and identified himself as the principal of the school. “And you are?”
Maks ignored the question. “Are you calling about Andy? Andrew,” he corrected, doubting the faculty would shorten the kids’ names.
“Is Sydney with you?”
Getting annoyed and concerned, Maks snapped, “Yes. She is. Where is Andrew? Is he okay?”
“I need to speak with her immediately, sir. Time is of the essence.”
Those words hammered at him, and, seeing Sydney crossing the sidewalk, he told the guy on the phone to hold tight. Before she made it to the door, he quickly reached out and snapped open the glove box to grab a small black bag that he threw into the backseat. “Get one ready,” he told Micha, who cursed the minute he recognized what had come flying at him.
The second she hopped into the SUV, he handed Sydney her phone and then gunned the engine so he could pull farther up the sidewalk, away from a newly forming line for coffee. His jerky actions as he threw it into Park and the expression on his face killed her smile. “What?” She all but tossed her purse at her feet.
“Something’s happened,” he said, covering the mouthpiece. “Be careful what you say. It’s Andy’s principal.”
She pushed the phone to her ear. “Dale? It’s Sydney. Is Andrew okay? What? When? Who was he?” Her expression was suddenly wild, her chest pumping up and down alarmingly fast, her face chalk white.
“Tell him to hold on. Tell him!” Maks whispered fiercely.
“Just a s-second, Dale.”
He reached over himself and muted her phone. “What is it?”
“A m-man in a blue Lincoln t-took Andrew. Longish b-b-black hair, olive skin tone. Maksim? My son, Maksim,” she choked out.
“Ready, Micha?” he aimed behind him before grabbing Sydney by the shoulders and giving her a slight shake to jar her into paying attention. “You have to tell Dale that it was Andy’s uncle and you forgot he was coming for him.”
“But I wouldn’t forget something like that.”
Jesus Christ. “I know, baby. But you have to pretend. They can’t involve the cops. We’re fucked if they involve the cops. It was Andy’s uncle, and you forgot he was coming for him.”
“But we don’t have anyone,” she said, shaking now. “No uncles. The school knows we’re alone. It’s just me and Andrew.”
Having to clear the thickness that jammed in his throat at that, he forced his voice to whip out like a slap. “Sydney! Listen to me! You were supposed to call the school but forgot. Are you hearing me? Tell Dale you arranged for your boyfriend to pick Andy up to go to a ball game. Tell him the kid will be taking the day tomorrow, as well, but don’t say why. Be vague and get it done.” He cupped her cheek and held her steady, his stare boring into her overflowing eyes. He hardened his breaking fucking heart and repeated what she had to say a few more times before hitting the button so the principal could hear her again. Maks helped her put the phone to her ear, holding it when she couldn’t, and mouthed the words once more.
“Dale? I’m sorry. I’m so f-forgetful lately. I meant to call and let you know about the pickup. My b-boyfriend wanted to take Andrew to a ball game and the s-soonest one was during school hours. Sorry for that. Yes. Dark hair, falling in his eyes, right?” she all but wailed, making Maksim grind his teeth. She was no actress. “I’m fine. You caught me during my morning run through the park and I just got hit by a sprinkler. Sorry. We’re all good. They’ll no doubt get in late so I’m going to keep Andrew home tomorrow. We’ll see you Wednesday, Dale. Have a good day.”
Maksim hung up the phone and had never felt as helpless as he did watching her fall apart quietly rather than losing her shit. She wrapped her arms around her middle. “Not my baby,” she whispered through chattering teeth as she rocked back and forth.
He placed his hand on her back, patting lightly in an attempt to gain her attention. “Sydney.” She didn’t give it. “We’ll get him back,” he said anyway, as he glanced at his phone when it rang. Vasily. He’d get back to him.
She didn’t seem to hear him. “Please. Not my boy. I need my boy. It’s just us. It’s always been just us. I can’t be without him.”
“Micha.”
She didn’t even flinch when Micha pushed the needle into her upper arm right through her thin coat and depressed the plunger to administer the sedative.
“I can’t lose my Andrew,” she whimpered as she pushed her knuckles to her mouth. “Oh, God, baby, what have I done to you?” She mumbled a few more unintelligible things while she weaved, and Maks caught her when she went under. He helped Micha get her into the backseat. As his friend strapped her in, Maks’s purpose became fixed.
His heart rate settled, emotions leveled off, and cold as ice was all he knew. His breathing became nice and calm and he dialed his Pakhan.
“Eberto wasn’t on the flight,” Vasily said on answering.
“He has Andy.”
“Oh, fuck no,” Vasily whispered after a heavy pause. “Oh, fuck.”
Maks knew what was going through his head. The same thing that had gone through his own a few seconds ago. Those packages. The ones a member of the Baikov family had unceremoniously dropped at the foot of Sergei’s driveway last year. He and the boys had opened them, and found but parts that would have made up Sergei’s wife and fifteen-year-old boy, had they been able to reassemble them.
“Where’s Sydney?” Vasily asked carefully.
“Sedated. I’m dropping her at her club because it’s closest and then heading out. Are you around? Will you come sit with her so she’s not alone when she comes to? She needs someone familiar.”
/> “Of course. We’ll meet you there.”
Maks hung up and put the SUV into gear. As he drove, he refused to think of anything but an acceptable conclusion to this development. Last night, tucked into the corner of the sofa in the basement, watching TV with Sydney pressed against his ribs, she’d mentioned how much Andrew would love to see the shooting range. Knowing it was smart for a kid to learn about guns in a controlled forum, Maks had promised to take them this weekend. So now he pictured Sydney and Andy standing in front of him. Both of them wearing headphones and safety glasses. Both wearing smiles. Both of them with their arms straight out in front of them, doing what he’d promised they’d do.
He kept that image in his mind’s eye until he pulled up in the alley behind Sydney’s club and saw a couple of vehicles already there.
Everyone who’d been planning on joining them for lunch had gathered to offer their support.
Looked like his Aussie wasn’t alone, after all, he thought as he got out of the Hummer.
They walked into Apetito in a V formation. Maksim led, then Micha and Alek, then Vincente and Jak. All of them knew where their attention should be, and it never wavered, guaranteeing every back was covered. Quan could be seen ghosting up the far side of the room.
Six more Tarasov soldiers would be gaining control of any heavies stationed in the back of the restaurant at that moment. Pausing, and paying little attention to the diners enjoying their lunch, or the few already scrambling for the door, Maks met and held Morales’s eyes where he sat with two men at a large booth.
Micha checked his phone that had just gone off. “All clear out back,” he murmured in Russian.
Perfect. Maks continued forward, keeping to his course. He halted at the table Luiz was now standing beside. They were both fully aware there were probably a handful of iPhones pointed their way and recording in that moment.
“Lead the way to somewhere very private, or I’ll give the word to have the apartment you’ve stashed your wife and son in breeched. You have one chance.” He held up his phone and didn’t have to wait even a moment before Morales was striding for an exit.
Their group followed and went through the steamy kitchen, which held more than a dozen fearful staff members. They came to a large prep area that cleared of workers within seconds.
The minute they were alone, Maksim acted. He grabbed Luiz by his pricey Armani lapels and swung him around to slam the guy’s back twice into a board filled with schedules, and then a third time, wishing he could rip the fucker’s throat out like the crazed dog he felt like right then.
“Where’s the kid?” His voice was eerily calm.
“Kirov, explain. What’s happened? I don’t know what this is about,” Luiz choked out. “What has Eberto done?”
“Where. Is. Her. Kid?”
Luiz shook his head in confusion.
Impatience ripped through Maks, and he wanted to roar in frustration. So he did. Right into Morales’s ear. “Your brother took Sydney’s boy! Where would he be?”
Luiz tried to cough, his face puce. He forced something out in Spanish that had the word God in it and then reverted to English. “I don’t know . . .” He tried to cough again and motioned with a wave of his hand to two of his men who’d followed them from the dining room.
Micha stepped in, shaking his head. In his hands were two Glocks that had come out from under his black suit jacket so quickly even Maksim had missed it. The barrels were now pointed at each man’s forehead. “It’ll be over before you twitch.”
Luiz gained Maksim’s attention by shoving at his fists, which were still full of Armani and jammed tight into his neck, cutting off his blood supply with every second that passed. “They’re”—cough—“Eberto’s”—cough—“men. He’s been with”—cough—“my brother for over a decade.” He pointed at the one with the small mustache.
Maks released him instantly and turned away, leaving Vincente, who’d sidled up, to stand guard. More coughing sounded as Maks pulled out his own Glock and jammed it so far under Mustache’s chin he was sure he touched the roof of the guy’s mouth.
“My patience is gone. Where will I find him?”
“They’ve given me all of Eberto’s hideouts already,” Luiz wheezed. “And I’ve given them to you. So that question won’t help.”
“His women. Where does he fuck?”
“Whorehouses,” Mustache gasped, giving him a few addresses. Vincente cursed when two of them just so happened to be the ones where the Koreans had caused the disturbances the other day. No doubt at Eberto’s request.
Maks released him also and felt his monsters thrashing to break free. “We’re wasting time here,” he growled. “The guy doesn’t have one regular pussy he fucks? I can’t believe that.”
Mustache scrambled back, moving closer to Luiz. “I swear he doesn’t. Not since Emily.”
“Then where—” Maks had been in the process of wheeling away so he wouldn’t shoot the fucker, but he stopped and swiveled his head back as if he were an owl. “What did you say?”
Eyes widening, Mustache rambled. “It was a long time ago, but Emily was the only girl I ever saw him spend any time on. He was nice to her for a while. But then she fucked off. Completely disappeared. Eberto lost his head and kept searching for her until he found her working at a club in Hell’s Kitchen last year. By then he hated her. Had one of our guys sell her some bad shit that killed her. Ever since, if he leaves his new place at all, he fucks mainly Vietnamese girls who like it rough.”
By the end of the story, the pieces had fallen into place. “Eleanor is Eberto’s daughter,” he said to Micha in Russian. Then to the guy, “Which address was his new place?”
“None of us have it. He wouldn’t tell us.”
Maks didn’t need to be told. He’d found it himself through Eleanor’s school records. “So he’ll be there on his own?”
Mustache nodded, but Maks was already rushing for the door. He stalled and pointed to two men who carried the title of boyevik, or soldier, in the Tarasov organization. Two of their best, actually, which was why they were here.
“You and the others bring these four”—he pointed to Luiz and the men he had with him—“to the club. Put them in the basement.” He looked Luiz in the eyes and went on in English. “If that boy is in any way damaged, I will keep you in that room under my club for months and months. And no matter what I do to you, I will not let you die. Do you hear me?” He met four other pairs of eyes that couldn’t hide the anxiety of the owners. “And believe me—you will wish for death with every breath I allow you.”
Back to Luiz he went, coming right in close. “And if the boy is dead? You will be set aside, and your family will take your place on my wall. Not your son,” he stipulated, “because I’m no monster. But anyone else I parade by you; if anything that even resembles affection flashes in your eyes for them, they will suffer.” Drawing his arm back, he gave the Mexican a right hook that had to have rattled the guy’s brain. “That’s for putting your hands on Sydney before you came to Rapture that night.” Another hit landed, and some blood sprayed. “And that’s for telling her to get used to being on her knees in front of you. You’re lucky I don’t end you for that.”
In minutes, they were back in the two vehicles and speeding through the city streets. Maks programmed their destination into Google Maps on his phone and prayed the NYPD weren’t going to bother them. He kept to a reasonable number on the speedometer just in case.
“Explain the connection you made back there,” Alek said from the back.
“Emily was Sydney’s best friend. She OD’d last year, which is the reason Sydney began doing all of this. She has no clue Eberto is Emily’s ex or the father of her daughter. Sure as fuck has no idea Emily was deliberately killed. Shit. There’s that personal connection between them. Never thought it would be something like this.”
“And you know
where we’re going how?” Alek pressed.
Maks shook his head in disbelief at how some shit just worked out. “Sydney said the state had taken Eleanor away the day after her mother died. Wasn’t the state—it was Eberto. Fucking guy didn’t even bring the girl to her mother’s goddamned funeral. There’s a scar for you.”
“Anyway, my Aussie really seemed to miss the girl, so I asked her if she wanted me to try to find her. Last night, thinking Eberto had left town and I had some spare time, I went on a search to see if Eleanor had stayed in New York. Found her listed as a student at a school in Bushwick, home addy and everything.”
“Does Sydney know that?” Alek asked.
“I told her earlier. Before the call about Andy came in.”
“So, we’re, uh, likely to find both kids at this place?”
The hesitation in Alek’s voice had Maksim’s skin shredding. He blocked it. He just couldn’t go there. “I can’t even imagine what a year living with Eberto Morales has done to the young girl. I can’t fucking wait to end this guy.”
For the rest of the drive, aside from asking one of the boys to pass him this so he could slip it in his pocket or hand him that so he could tuck it up his sleeve, Maks was silent. They all were—Micha beside him, Alek in the back.
They slowed around the corner of their destination not long after, and Maks pulled into the driveway of a cemetery, parking behind the main office, which was closed.
They got out and met up behind the Hummer with V, Quan, and Jak. First thing Maks did was designate drivers.
“You and you”—he pointed at Alek and Jak—“might as well get back in the trucks because you don’t need to hear this.”
Alek, whose eyes were smudged with fatigue as it was, thankfully didn’t put up a fight and walked away. The truck shook as he got behind the wheel.
Jak looked to V, his superior when Gabriel wasn’t around.
“Either of you know this area?” Vincente asked him and Quan.
Quan shook his head. Jak, with a resigned twist of his mouth that pulled at the scar on his face, held out his hand. Quan dropped the key into it, and off he went back to the Kombat.
An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) Page 36