“Number Thirteen, Haley Sullivan. An aid worker. My men found her wandering the streets with the homeless and mistook her for one.”
“Does it matter?”
“No.” It was tidier kidnapping people no one would be looking for, but by that point, it was a moot issue. “Besides, the authorities located the discarded bodies in the dump on the western side of downtown Chicago.”
Haley had been the first to survive. And Anton had gotten greedy. The woman happened to also be smoking hot. All that red hair and pale skin… She wasn’t his usual type, but something about her…
He’d wanted a piece of her, and when he had the main doctor working for him transport her to his home, all hell had broken loose. Before Anton even arrived to get a taste of that sweet little morsel, those damn Russian fighters of his—the defected group who’d moved to Chicago and transferred their allegiance to Abram Gromov in Anton’s absence—swooped into Dr. Christianson’s house and saved the bitch.
In the mayhem, two of Anton’s men and the doctor had been killed. Shots came from both the fighters and the SWAT team on the scene.
Of course, if it hadn’t been for Anton’s stupidity in keeping those two idiots, Boris and Erik, on his payroll, none of it would have happened. That was Anton’s fault. That and his greedy cock that ached to slide into that slippery bitch’s cunt.
The fighters—Mikhail, Ivan, and Leo—had pissed him off royally. It wasn’t the first time the little shits had taken a woman from him.
Soon after the complete fuck-up, the last two of the group still under Anton’s control fled Vegas to join their friends in Chicago. Sergei and Nikolav.
Viktor interrupted his rambling thoughts. “What about your contacts with the FBI? Any new word from them?”
Dayton and Millings. Invaluable players in this game. And they well should be. Anton was paying them a mint to keep him informed, probably more than they made for the FBI. “They’re keeping tabs. They don’t know anything about my father or even that I’m not in Chicago right now.
“They’ve been following a journalist, Belinda Gallo. Seems she hooked up with Andropov. Bitch is meddling in my business.”
“Damn. Can you put a stop to it?”
“Intend to. First chance I get. Would have done so already if I weren’t here.” Dealing with my father’s death…
Viktor nodded. “So sorry, sir. I know this is a hard time for you.”
Hard didn’t begin to describe the pressure Anton was under. It bubbled up under his skin to the breaking point thinking about everything happening in Chicago while he was in New York dealing with the funeral preparations.
Anton spun around in his father’s office and slammed his fist into the wall. He screamed when it hurt like a mother fucker. The wall didn’t give way. His fist hurt like hell.
Viktor slipped out of the office, for the best.
Anton slid onto a maroon leather chair and leaned his elbows on his knees. He turned his thoughts back to the drug trials, shaking other matters from his mind. There had been another survivor of the experimental drug. Number Seventeen. A random stranger this time. Homeless guy. He was not only alive but responding to phase two.
Phase one was injecting the test subjects with the drug that could change humanity. It killed most of them. And Anton would like to know why sooner rather than later.
Phase two, after surviving phase one, was to inject the subjects with a myriad of illnesses to ensure they caught nothing—proving their immune system had started to ward off random viruses. It had proven successful.
Why? Why the fuck had two people survived the first phase and no one else? He needed Jorge to figure this out ASAP.
He also needed to wrap things up in New York and get his ass back to Chicago. He had more drug trials to administer.
On himself.
Chapter Four
When Alena stepped into the kitchen for the second time that day, she wasn’t wearing a towel. She was completely dressed this time. And super aware of her clothing selection. She had on her favorite slim jeans and a white blouse that was almost too tight from too many washings. She never wore it anymore.
Lucky for her, although she hadn’t been to a mall or even a single shopping center of any sort since arriving in the US a year ago, she did know how to use the Internet. And she’d perfected the art of online shopping. This had opened up the possibilities, and she currently owned several cute matching bra and panty sets.
Had she chosen a subtle nude set today? Hell no. She wore a navy lace bra that could easily be seen under the tight material of her shirt.
Take that, Ivan.
She smiled demurely at him as she entered the kitchen and headed for the fridge. The last thing she wanted to do was eat. Her stomach was a ball of nerves.
No, that wasn’t true. The last thing she wanted to do was give Ivan the satisfaction of thinking he’d bested her. So, she would eat. Force the food down her throat and swallow every bite, even if it felt and tasted like saw dust.
Ivan leaned against the counter in the same place she’d encountered him the first time she stepped into the kitchen area.
“How was your shower?” he asked.
“Lovely.” She glanced at his hair and found it wet. “Yours?”
“Excellent.”
“Good.” She pulled out meat and cheese and bread and proceeded to make herself a sandwich, pointedly not asking Ivan if he wanted one also. That was totally out of character for her since she fed the man nearly every meal most days.
But today wasn’t most days. Today was the day she’d put her heart on the line and let him trample on it.
She felt his gaze boring into her, but didn’t look up at him again.
He pushed off the counter and came to her side, surprising her. But she let out a breath when she realized his intention was to make his own sandwich.
When hers was ready, she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and turned to sit at the table. It was made of wood. A rectangle. But painted black. Same as the matching slatted chairs. She eased into one.
She loved the kitchen. It was sleek and black and modern, unlike anything she’d ever had in Russia. She’d worked as a nanny for a wonderful family with two kids before her stupid existence turned into a complete nightmare one day, and that family had a fantastic kitchen, but not like this one.
It was just an apartment, but it was new. White cabinets. Black counters. Gray speckled tile floor. It was a dream.
She flinched at the memory of the family she’d never seen again in Russia. Every single day of her life she worried about the fate of those two kids. She’d loved them. But all that had been taken away one day when a van pulled up beside her, snatched her right out from between the children, and drove away, putting a period on that chapter in her life.
The next six months she’d spent in something like a jail cell in nearly solitary confinement for no reason anyone ever gave her. She was fed, had medical attention, and was given clean clothes and toiletries. But few people spoke to her, and she had no idea why she’d been kidnapped in the first place.
And then one day that chapter also ended just as abruptly when masked men in black broke into the facility where she was held and essentially kidnapped her again. Before she knew it, she was on a plane bound for the US with promises the men were the good guys and she would be reunited with her brother.
She hadn’t seen Mikhail in eleven years. Not since he’d been brought to the US by Anton Yenin. Suddenly there he was, in the flesh. The only relative she had. His new manager, Abram Gromov, had arranged for her passage to the US, though to this day, she still couldn’t comprehend how he’d pulled it off.
All she knew was Mikhail owed the man an exorbitant sum of money for getting her out of Russia, and he made payments to Abram every month. It didn’t take long to figure out all the guys made payments, but Ivan did it most often, perhaps more than Mikhail. He seemed intent on paying that debt. She wasn’t his sister. But he did it anyway.
“You gonna eat that or just look at it?” Ivan asked as he took a seat across from her.
She glanced down at her sandwich, realizing she’d been pondering how she got to this point in her life instead of eating. “Go to hell,” she repeated, but not with the same level of oomph as the first time, and certainly not with the volume.
He chuckled. “I think I’ve heard that one before.”
Was this funny?
Ivan finished his sandwich in just a few bites, and downed his bottle of water too. “I wasn’t kidding this morning when I said I needed to go to the gym. I hope you’re up for it because I have no idea where Sergei is.”
“It’s fine,” she muttered around a dry bite of sandwich.
Getting out of the apartment was probably a good plan. Especially since there would be numerous people at the gym. The place was usually hopping with interesting men on a Sunday. Guys who didn’t ordinarily have the time to work out during the week came in to fill the place.
She never had minded the testosterone or the smell. Both of those things grounded her, made her feel alive. Sometimes the damn gym was the only place she went all week. At least until recently.
Two weeks ago she’d started volunteering at Katie’s clinic. It was the only other place the guys would agree to let her go to get out of the apartment. And the arrangement had changed her life. She might have been suffering from a level of depression, but she’d snapped out of it as soon as she got busy helping people.
She didn’t care if she never got paid, and so far she’d insisted Katie take her on as a volunteer. After all, she had few skills and knew she was the one who made out like a bandit having been given this opportunity.
She didn’t want Katie to feel obliged to pay someone she hadn’t intended on hiring. Besides, the clinic ran almost entirely on grants. It wasn’t a lucrative business and never would be. Katie got it up and running on a trust fund her grandfather left her, but she insisted it was almost self-sufficient now.
Alena’s life was on the upswing these days. She had a job of sorts and went regularly to the gym with one or another of the guys. No one trusted Anton Yenin enough to leave her at home. And the issue wasn’t open for discussion.
Not that Alena would complain with much force. She recognized the level of danger she was in and didn’t trust Yenin any more than the guys.
The man couldn’t stand that his six fighters had all left to move to Chicago. But that wasn’t all. Yenin was into something far more serious and sinister than managing a few fighters. He wasn’t as boring as a regular Mafia guy who might own a few meth labs to keep himself rolling in the money.
No. Anton Yenin had another gig going on the side. And that venture scared the fuck out of every one of the guys and their girlfriends.
∙•∙
Ivan stared at Alena while she finished her lunch. He could tell she was barely holding it together, pretending their day hadn’t started out weirder than ever with her naked body on his bed and her smooth skin in his arms.
Jesus.
“I’ll just go grab a book to read while you’re working out. Give me a second.” She stood and fled the room without another word.
Yeah, she was embarrassed. So much so she hadn’t taken her plate to the sink or the dishwasher, which was totally not like her.
There was no way for her to avoid the awkwardness, and it was hard for him to feel sorry for her since she brought it on herself. But he also intended to use this time to get his shit together, speak to her brother, and then confront her again later when things cooled down between them.
Ivan cleaned up the kitchen, finishing as Alena returned from her bedroom.
“Okay, I’m ready.” She grabbed a jacket from the hall closet and shrugged into it. Thank God, because he didn’t want to have to confront her about the tight blouse she wore that did nothing to conceal the navy bra underneath.
He was certain she’d selected the items intentionally. And he had no interest in giving her the satisfaction of commenting. But he sincerely hoped she kept her jacket on at the gym.
They drove in silence, an uncomfortable silence that made him wish this morning had never happened. But it had. And he had to face it and confront her on it again. Soon. Alena was into him. She’d put herself out there like nobody’s business. To ignore that wasn’t possible.
Especially considering the fact that he couldn’t get images of her nude body out of his head, and his dick had been hard ever since. Even jacking off in the shower had done nothing to alleviate the pressure.
As luck would have it, Mikhail was at the gym when they arrived. As was Haley.
Without saying a word to Ivan, or even glancing his way, Alena headed straight to where Haley was seated along the wall on a row of uncomfortable folding chairs.
Mikhail frowned as Ivan dropped his gym bag on the floor next to the weights and started stretching. “What’s up with Alena? She looks pissed.”
Ivan cringed. “Yeah, we need to talk about that, but not in front of the women. Later.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Yeah, well you won’t like anything about it, but I kid you not. We can’t discuss it in front of them. Later,” he repeated.
Abram emerged from the locker room with perfect timing and interrupted them. “You guys gonna spar? I’ve reserved the ring for you, but you need to get on with it. Two other guys are waiting to go after you.”
Ivan nodded. “On it.” He ducked under the ropes while tugging on his gloves, and then he continued stretching.
Mikhail entered in a few seconds, and the two of them started bouncing around on their feet, sizing each other up.
Ivan glanced over at Alena and Haley, wondering what Alena would tell the other woman. He had no idea, and staring at them gave him no clue, either. Women talked. They shared the craziest things with each other. But this? Would Alena tell someone she’d dropped her towel and gone all out to get a man to notice her?
He wasn’t sure, but not knowing drove him crazy.
Abram leaned against the outside of the ring. “Ivan, you’re distracted. And after the loss you suffered last weekend, you need to get your head back in the game.”
Mikhail chuckled. “What are you staring at?”
Ivan jerked his attention back to the ring. “Nothing. Why?”
“You’ve hardly taken your eyes off Haley and Alena since you got here.” He had a weird look in his eyes, and he tipped his head to one side. “Haley thinks you have a thing for my sister.” He chuckled.
Ivan stopped jumping around to gaze at his friend. “She said that? When?”
Mikhail shrugged. “I don’t know. Last week, I guess. She wanted me to set Belinda up with one of my friends. I suggested you. She started laughing.”
Ivan still didn’t move. He was watching Mikhail closely, trying to discern his reaction.
Mikhail threw a few punches into the air and then stopped dead. “Wait. Is it true?”
Ivan opened his mouth but couldn’t manage to get sound to come out. He didn’t want to have this conversation here. Now. With the women close-by, possibly watching.
He glanced at Alena again to find her twisted sideways, her attention focused on Haley.
Mikhail stepped into Ivan’s space. “It is true.”
Ivan glanced back at his friend, his mouth pursed.
Shit.
For a moment, they stood in a sort of standoff, trying to read each other. And then Mikhail’s shoulders fell. “I assumed Haley was crazy. Made it up. Saw things that didn’t exist. I didn’t take her seriously.” His voice rose as he spoke. “Does Alena know?”
“Not in so many words.” That wasn’t a lie. Ivan hadn’t given her what she needed at all. Not verbally or otherwise. But his chest had been tight since that morning. And he needed to get this out.
“Jesus, Ivan. She’s my sister,” he pointed out.
“I’m clear on that. And I wouldn’t bring it up if it weren’t crucial.”
Mikhail closed the space farther until only a few inches existed between the two men. They weren’t being particularly quiet, but at least Mikhail controlled himself enough to keep Abram from hearing his hissed out words of disapproval. “You didn’t bring it up. I did. And this wasn’t the reaction I expected. I was kidding. Sharing a funny thought of Haley’s. Not stating the obvious.”
“I know.”
“Is this what you wanted to talk to me about later?”
“Yes.”
“Well it’s later now.” Mikhail rolled his head back to face the ceiling. “Fuck.”
“There’s no need to freak out.” Ivan flinched as soon as those words left his mouth because the look in Mikhail’s eyes suggested otherwise. Ivan needed to give Mikhail an opportunity to wrap his mind around this concept.
They stared at each other for several moments, both breathing heavily before Mikhail spoke again.
His eyes were drawn together, serious. “We’ve been friends for over a decade. You’re like a brother to me. You’re a good guy. I’d trust you with my life. I’ve also trusted you with my sister’s life for over a month. And I haven’t been around much to do so myself. That doesn’t mean I expected you to get in her pants.”
Ivan narrowed his gaze. “Glad you hold me in such high esteem,” he stated sarcastically. “And for your information, I have not been quote ‘in your sister’s pants,’ so take a deep breath.” That was true. She hadn’t actually been wearing pants this morning. But more importantly, what Mikhail was fishing for was whether or not Ivan had slept with Alena. And the answer, thank God, was currently still no.
Mikhail exhaled long and slow. “Are you into her or not?”
“I am. And I’m aware she isn’t someone I could ever make a move on if I wasn’t dead serious. I also wouldn’t approach her with anything like this without talking to you first.”
“We’re talking. Go on.” Mikhail widened his stance, tapping his gloved hands in front of him as if with one wrong word from Ivan, he would level him.
“We’ve spent a lot of time together. I’m attracted to her. Both her mind and her body.”
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