by Livia Grant
"Have you seen visual proof?"
"Only photos."
"Any insider corroboration?"
"Police scanner transcripts. Funeral home hearse arrival/departures. State news reports. So far everything validates Marshall's claims."
Ryder refused to get his hopes up. There was too much at stake to get it wrong.
"And he's sure the count was three? Anything less than that is meaningless."
"I was able to get someone into the church for the joint funerals. There were three caskets."
"Open or Closed."
"Closed."
"Next of kin?"
"Three grieving widows and one grieving mother."
Ryder thought of Irena Volkov, dressed in black playing the part of the wife in mourning. He suspected she'd be relieved in private that the days of being beaten by her husband were now over.
Could he possibly believe his most dangerous enemies were dead?
His boss proved how well he knew Ryder by parroting his very thoughts. "I know you won't believe it until you're able to verify the job is done on your own."
"Yeah, and don't get me wrong. I'm grateful for you tracking me down to get the news to me, but why exactly couldn't this have waited until I came into the office in a few days?"
Webster's sardonic laughter filled the line. "Because Marshall or his aides call me three times a day, badgering me about why he hasn't connected with you yet. He's driving me fucking nuts."
"Why does he have such a hard-on to talk with me?"
"That's the best part. The asshole wants to offer you a job. Can you believe that shit? Seems he's looking to invest in other business partners who have your rather unique set of language and organizational skills, if you get my drift."
"So he asked my current boss to pass along the word that he's trying to poach me from active duty?"
"Can you believe the set of balls on the asshole?"
Ryder chuckled. "Actually, I can. It's the size of your balls I'm questioning. Pussy-whipped?"
"Fuck you. We both know Nicolai Romanovski is done in Russia and you're not the 'sit at a desk' kinda guy. So maybe I see an opportunity for a bit of a win-win-win here. Marshall wants you to consider being one of his new business partners. You have your next career move lined up that will put your unique skill set to work while allowing you to live your life in the open. Not to mention, I'm guessing he'll pay top dollar, unlike Uncle Sam."
The idea of being able to be seen in public with Khloe terrified him. What if their sources in Russia had been bought out? What if the stories of the Volkov men's demise had been a fabrication?
But what if it wasn't? Could he and Khloe really be free to live their lives together? Could the house in Malibu with the proverbial white picket fence be within his grasp?
"You said win-win-win. What's in this for you, Webster?"
"Nothing specific. I admit, it'll be nice to have a billionaire owe me a big favor. And I like the idea of having friends like you, with the right skills, available to me when I need to take an investigation off the grid, if you get my drift."
Ryder got his drift perfectly. Chip Marshall wouldn't be the only one who would owe Brandon Webster a big favor. If Ryder resigned to work for Marshall, his boss would be expecting to collect something in return at some point in the future. That was how these things worked.
The two men let a long silence fall between them as Webster gave Ryder the time he needed to think through all he'd learned.
"I'm not sure I can walk away yet. I'm gonna need to see the evidence collected so far first, but I will take Marshall's phone number. After all, talk is cheap, right?"
"I expected you'd say that. The bodyguard has a sealed envelope. It should have everything you'll be looking for. I had Hansen deliver it himself to the Marriott."
Ryder hadn't asked how his old handler was doing, but was happy to hear he was well enough to be up and on his feet.
He'd almost forgotten he was surrounded by some of their good friends. As Ryder looked up at Trevor who was standing a few feet away, he caught the bodyguard staring at an intense discipline scene taking place on one of the nearby platforms with great interest.
"Good enough. I'll be in touch then." He was about to end the call, but decided to add a final word at the last minute. "Thanks for tracking me down."
"No problem. Take care."
The call dropped, but Ryder wasn't ready to talk about all he'd heard. Not yet. He kept the phone to his ear for another full minute, using the time to think back through all he'd learned and make some decisions on what it all meant.
He wanted to believe that the Volkov men were all dead more than anything else in the world, but it all felt a bit too sensational. Knowing the crime family the way he did, he found it hard to believe they'd let their guard down long enough to get themselves dead, particularly all of them at the same time. Still, he knew they were often together and that they would have certainly all attended their father's funeral. Had he been on the ground with Marshall's business partners––AKA hitmen––that's where he would have made his move.
"Ryder?" Khloe's shaky voice penetrated his thoughts.
He gave up the ruse of listening, letting the phone drop onto the couch beside him as he hugged his woman hard against his chest. He let hope take seed, spreading through his body like a cool breeze on a hot day.
"Baby."
"Who was that?" she asked tentatively.
"My boss."
"What did he say?" Her question was almost a whisper against his ear.
He'd cut his right hand off to keep from knowingly hurting her. Could he get her hopes up only to dash them later?
Just as he prepared to lie to her for her own good, a flash of their goodbye back in February came to his mind. He'd lied to her that night. No matter that it had been to protect her, he couldn't bear the thought of hurting her again. Not now. Not if he didn't need to.
This was a hell of a time to take a leap of faith, but as he pulled her out of their embrace far enough so he could look into her watery eyes, a sense of calm he'd never felt before settled into his gut. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced and yet, it felt oddly like he was finally coming home.
Home was where Khloe was.
"He said..." Ryder paused, unsure himself what words would come out of his mouth next. She was patient, waiting for him to clear his throat and announce the conversation to her and their friends. "He said that London is beautiful this time of year."
Khloe's mouth gaped open, almost as wide as she'd need to open to take in his erection. It was his turn to put his finger under her chin to lift up. "See something you like, baby?"
"Does this mean what I think it means?"
"Well if you think it means that I'm going to be there to watch what you eat every day and spank your ass before bed every night that you start to lose weight, then yes... it means what you think it means."
Her squeal of delight went straight to his privates. Despite having emptied his load less than thirty minutes before, his rod decided to rise to the occasion yet again.
Khloe was so excited she was pelting him with sweet kisses all over his face and neck. Their audience of friends had obviously heard the good news because he could hear Emma crying tears of joy behind him while her famous Doms took advantage of her obvious excitement.
Ryder was about to pull his cock out and try to make Khloe's who-ha even more sore when he realized Trevor was standing near the end of the couch looking like a fifth wheel.
Trevor chose then to announce to no one in particular. "Well, my work here is done. I guess I'll be going now." Ryder didn't miss the sadness in the bodyguard's tone. He got the impression Trevor was saying goodbye for more than just the night.
As the taller man moved in the direction of the entrance to the club, Ryder watched him weave his way through the kinky scenes of unknown club members, doing his best not to gawk at the X-rated medical examination in progress.
Like the res
t of his decisions over the last hour, Ryder followed his gut. He pulled out of his embrace with Khloe to stand, sitting her on the couch and instructing her to "Stay." He took off after Trevor, having to almost jog to catch up to him just before he disappeared through the door that would lead him back through to Danny in the locker room.
"McLean. Wait up!"
Trevor stopped, but didn't turn around. "I need to leave. I don't belong here."
"Maybe. Maybe not."
"There is no maybe not. This is your world. Yours and Khloe's"
"You're wrong. This isn't our world. This is our playground."
The taller man turned around to pin him with a glare. "What difference does it make? She doesn't need me anymore. She has you now."
Ryder tamped down the pang of jealousy he felt at recognizing Trevor's clear affection for Khloe. He'd always known it was there. In fact, he'd counted on it.
"Listen, I'm not stupid. I know you have feelings for her, too." He paused, noticing her bodyguard didn't bother denying his accusation. "Here's the thing. I won't be able to be with her twenty-four seven. I don't know what this job offer is going to turn into, and I know that I need to help Axe find his missing daughter, even if it is to just bring her body home. He needs closure."
Ryder hadn't had nearly enough time to think through the options he would have in a world without the Volkovs. He would need a lot more time to know what path he would take. But he didn't need any time at all to know one thing.
"I love her, and it scares the shit out of me. This time the stalker threat was bogus, but what about the next time? We both know how truly talented she is. She'll only become a bigger celebrity––a bigger target––with every movie she releases. Every award she wins."
To his credit, McLean didn't interrupt him and he was grateful. It wasn't often Ryder had to give emotional speeches like the one he was presently delivering. "She needs you... I need you. I don't trust easy and since she is now the most important thing on the planet to me, it's important to me to surround her with people I trust."
A sly smile played at the taller man's mouth. "So you actually trust me then." It was a statement, not a question.
"To protect her with your life, sure." Ryder grinned as he added, "You just better keep your dick away from her. I don't share."
Trevor had the audacity to chuckle. "You don't say. I'd never guess that about you."
"Smart ass."
McLean's gaze locked on something behind him as Khloe rushed between the two men. She glanced back and forth between them as if she were prepared to break up a fight. If McLean didn't take his eyes off her skimpy outfit, she might have to.
"There you are, Princess," he said as he reached out to pull her against his side, wrapping his arm around her waist. She melted against him, exactly where she belonged. "McLean and I were discussing the plan for tomorrow's flight to London, weren't we?"
Trevor took one last look at Khloe and then locked his gaze with Ryder. "Yep. I'll have Ricky make the flight arrangements for you to join us. I'll be at the entrance to the Psychic Shop with the limo at eleven, that is unless you'd like me to come up and act like your bellboy again."
Ryder grinned. "Naw, I think I can manage."
"That's good, because my bellboy days are over. Got it?"
"Fair enough."
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna head up to Runway and throw back a few beers. I'll see you two kids in the morning."
For a second, it looked like he might lean in to kiss Khloe, but then he thought better of it. Once the door slammed closed behind him, Khloe looked up at Ryder, tears in her eyes.
"What just happened there?"
Ryder pulled her tighter against him. "Nothing you need to worry about, Princess. McLean and I had a few details to iron out."
"Like what?"
He scooped her into his arms and turned to carry her towards the dungeon room where he had the sudden desire to recreate one of their scenes from Valentine's night. "You don't need to worry about it, baby. In fact, I think you'd better start worrying about all of the devious things I'm planning on doing to this gorgeous body of yours."
As he pushed into the expansive medieval inspired space, he was happy to see they had the dimly lit room to themselves.
Only after he scaled the steps to the stage did he put Khloe's feet on the floor. She craned her neck to look around the space, taking in the pointed wooden horse, St. Andrew's cross and dozens of punishment implements on display.
"I was so afraid of you the last time we were here together. It feels like a lifetime ago."
Ryder understood completely, yet her words bothered him. "So are you still afraid of me, Princess?"
Her smile could light a full-city block. "The only thing that still scares me is you leaving."
Ryder unbuttoned the buttons at the cuff of his left sleeve and then began rolling up the fabric. As he rolled up his right cuff, he took a step closer to Khloe. Their eyes locked as he moved to unbuckle his leather belt. He purposefully let the leather snap as he quickly pulled it free of his belt loops.
Khloe's eyes widened as she realized he was stalking towards her. The sadist in him fed on the lick of fear he saw jump into her gaze as he cracked the belt against the empty wooden pony. They were going to have so much fun playing out every single deprived kink his dirty mind could think of, but not until he did one thing first.
He stopped his advance on his submissive to ask. "Princess, what's your safeword tonight?"
And just like that, the fear in her gaze was replaced with a love that he wouldn't trade for the world.
Khloe grinned her most mischievous smile before answering, "Roulette."
"Perfection."
Epilogue
Alexi Ivanov pulled the collar up on his jacket to keep the early May chill at bay. Had he known when he left the house that morning that he'd be sitting on a bench in the cold for almost an hour, he would have made different choices in wardrobe.
He took his final cigarette out, wadding up the now empty wrapper and throwing it into the last remnants of a dirty, melting pile of snow already polluted with a garbage can's worth of trash. Not for the first time, he considered leaving.
He replayed the details of the anonymous phone call he'd received on his personal cell phone hours before. The phone that no one but his Volkov brothers had the number to. The mysterious voice on the other end had been brief, but had dangled a carrot he couldn't resist; information on enemy number one.
Only the promise of getting a lead on tracking the traitor Nicolai Romanovski kept him waiting in the chill.
Alexi may not share the Volkov last name, but he was more aware than ever before that he shared their blood. Now that his cousins had been murdered like their father before them, the remaining members of the Bratva were looking to him for leadership.
To say he was in over his head was an understatement.
All his life, he'd been a second-class member of the family at best. Unlike his cousins, his mother had shielded him from the harsher realities of growing up a Volkov, making sure he enjoyed the freedoms of attending university and traveling abroad. He hadn't been groomed for leadership since he was a kid like his cousins Artel, Vladimir and Oleg had been, and it was already showing.
He didn't know the first thing about setting up arms deals with the dangerous underground criminals of the world or smuggling drugs or flesh across the Russian boarders. He'd been a simple soldier. A mule.
Muscles who took orders.
With his cousin's sons all under the age of ten, the remaining Volkov Bratva henchmen now looked to Alexi as the heir apparent to the Volkov kingdom. He was to give the orders now instead of take them. He had dived in, determined to learn as fast as he could. So far the hardest part of the job had been figuring out exactly who he could trust.
While there were many things he was still unsure of, there was one mission he knew he needed to carry out with great clarity. His Uncle Viktor would never rest easy in hi
s grave until Nicolai Romanovski was hunted, tortured and killed. That he and Nicolai had been good friends only angered Alexi that much more. He had trusted the arms dealer and he'd been duped; made to look like an idiot and he didn't like it.
It was dark, almost nine, when a nondescript sedan pulled up to the sidewalk in front of the bench he'd been perched on. The back passenger door sprung open, but no one exited the vehicle. After a few long seconds, Alexi rose on his stiff legs and slowly approached the vehicle. The windows were tinted so dark, he couldn't see anything or anyone inside.
"Please join me, Mr. Ivanov."
That voice. It was so familiar, yet he couldn't place it. Desperate for information, Alexi took a leap of faith and took a seat in the back of the black car. There were no interior lights to see by, so the passenger in the seat next to him remained a shadow. The eyes of the driver met his in the rearview mirror as they passed under an overhead street lamp. He was relieved to see it was George, his uncle's chauffeur.
"It wasn't wise to get into the car without knowing who was picking you up."
His fellow passenger choose to lecture him, which Alexi found ironic.
"Considering you refused to identify yourself to me on the phone, I'm not sure what option you left me."
"Considering the men in your family have been hunted like prey, I'd think you'd be a bit more careful."
Alexi tried not to get defensive, but failed. He needed to know who the fuck dared to talk to him with such superiority. He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and turned on the flashlight app, shining it directly into the face of his fellow passenger.
"Yurdin. Why didn't you tell me you wanted to talk with me? I would have driven out."
Relief to find his uncle's longtime butler sitting next to him was quickly replaced with confusion.
"It wasn't safe to make contact until I knew you weren't being followed."
"And how did you do that?" Alexi inquired.
"I had you followed, of course."
The men rode for several minutes in silence. Alexi's mind raced, trying to understand why the longtime Volkov household servant had contacted him.