The Life (The Russian Guns)

by Bethany-Kris

  Anton scoffed. “Oh, no. My wife has a hell of a lot more intelligence than that. In fact, she told me very little about your encounter. What I learned, I heard from your friend George. Nice guy, but trust he knows which is the safer side for him to be on, Vanessa. That was probably a better outcome for you. If I had heard it from my wife, I would have shoved my gun so far down your throat that when I pulled the trigger, you’d have felt the bullet rip through your esophagus before it killed you.”

  Water formed behind Vanessa’s eyes as she breathed shakily. “Please …”

  “Yeah, now is the time you’d want to beg, girl. Unfortunately, my patience for you is already worn terribly thin. I think it’d make my wife awfully upset to wake up tomorrow morning to a broadcast about a Long Island University student who went missing the night before.”

  “You’re not going to—”

  “No,” Anton said, his gaze narrowing. “And you’re fucking lucky. It wouldn’t have bothered me a bit to end someone’s life who made my wife unhappy. But, I will tell you what you’re going to do, Vanessa.”

  Swallowing audibly once more, she asked quietly, “What’s that?”

  Anton nodded his head to Erik who was watching their encounter ten feet away with a bored fascination. Now, with Erik being so close to the quiet conversation, Anton knew he understood exactly why he had been asked to meet his boss at the gym.

  “See him?” Anton asked.

  “Yes.”

  “His name is Erik, and he’s a very good friend of mine. When I leave, you’re going to have a nice conversation with him. I’m sure the little chat you two will have will clear up any confusion regarding what I’m about to say.”

  Taking a deep breath, Anton sighed. “Tonight, you will go to work. It’ll be your last shift. Then, you’ll go home to your father and tell him you both are moving out of state. I don’t care what excuse you use, or how much he argues, you’re to make him understand without bringing up my name. There isn’t a soul who would believe you if you did, anyway. Tomorrow afternoon, you’ll go to the university and unregister from your classes. I want you gone. I don’t give a fuck if it’s the next state over so long as it isn’t New York. That man over there will write you a check. Name your price. Everyone has one.”

  “I can’t leave,” Vanessa said feebly. The slight sniff at the end of her words mixed with the tremble in her hands told Anton she was terrified. That was good. It was exactly how he wanted her. “You can’t just make me—”

  “What’s the price of your life worth? One million? Two? Believe me, there isn’t a number big enough that I won’t pay so I can feel assured you will never look in the direction of Viviana Avdonin again. Say it, and I will have it paid by tomorrow night.”

  Vanessa’s mouth popped open. “You’re serious.”

  “You’re goddamn right. Name your price.”

  *

  “Boss, we’ve got a major problem right now.”

  Anton cursed as he zipped up his leather jacket. He hadn’t even made it out of the gym and already there was something else going wrong. Why did his life have to be so stressful?

  “What is it?” he asked Joe as he walked out of the locker room. “Surely it can’t be that bad. Isn’t Viviana with Sasha visiting Daniil?”

  At least, that’s where his wife should have been. There wasn’t much trouble to be had in a hospital.

  “Yeah. But, uh … well, maybe you should get over here to the hospital, Boss. And hurry up about it.”

  Anton’s heart leaped into his throat. “Is Dad …?”

  “Not that I know of. He seemed okay when I was up there a few minutes ago. Tired and groggy because of all that Demerol they’ve got him high with.”

  “Well, what the fuck is it, then?”

  “Boss, really—”

  “Let me talk to Rory,” he interrupted angrily.

  Joe swore severely. “Can’t, Boss. He’s in the hospital with Vine.”

  Anton’s mind stuttered over what his wife’s bull was telling him. “Do you mean to say neither one of you were outside watching her car?”

  After the bomb incident that nearly killed his wife, unsupervised vehicles only served to make Anton nervous. It wasn’t hard to check if they’d been tampered with, but it was dangerous. He made sure his guys knew to never leave Viviana’s car unattended when it wasn’t parked in their secured garage.

  “Shit, I’m sorry, Boss. Rory’s phone must have died. I couldn’t get a hold of him so I went upstairs. You need to get here and fix this before Vine comes down here and sees it first.”

  “What happened?” Anton asked. It’d be the last time he did or Joe wouldn’t like the consequences.

  “Somebody slashed her tires,” the bull replied quietly. “Every damned one of them.”

  It took Anton half of the time it normally would for him it make it to the hospital. In the underground garage, he found Joe standing next to Viviana’s new black Bentley. Sure enough, every white-letter tire had a large gash and the car was resting on nothing but useless rubber and five-thousand dollar rims.

  It wasn’t that Viviana would have a freak out over the damage, but more so that someone had done it at all. That was Anton’s problem, too. How likely could it be that someone randomly chose her tires to slash out of all the cars in the hospital’s parking garage, never mind that it just happened to occur when her bull left the vehicle for a few moments?

  Not likely at all, Anton thought.

  The remnants of Tatiana’s previous appearances still left a bitter taste on the back of Anton’s tongue. This kind of nastiness screamed guilty with ten fingers pointing straight at her. Because he still didn’t have any proof about whatever plans the Jersey bitch might have had, Anton wasn’t comfortable bringing it up and causing issues that might not be there. He hated feeling out of the loop.

  “Why the fuck would somebody do this?” Anton asked as he surveyed the damage.

  The tires were completely ruined but he had two spare sets in a warehouse not far from his club in Brighton, and a set of rims. He knew he had to get the tires changed before his wife noticed what happened. Anton couldn’t have Viviana worried and frightened while she was pregnant. This would definitely do that to her, but it was also seriously screwing with his head, too.

  What with the unknown photographer and his suspicions about Tatiana, this act screamed with alarm bells that it was probably related. Anton had to put a stop to this shit before it escalated anymore. Slashing tires wasn’t as irksome as a photographer, but it was just as personal and twice as threatening.

  He also had to consider what Boris said during their private meeting. Maybe this did have something to do with the Italians. The Cosa Nostra crime family in Long Island was known to drop dangerous hints until someone got the point and called a sit down to resolve the issue. Anton couldn’t figure out what the issue would be, though, if there even was one.

  After all, Anton killing their old boss wasn’t just to his benefit. The cousin of Sonny Carducci—Conrad—the man who helped them and gave them information on the side had taken over the family’s head without much trouble at all. So, Sonny’s murder at Anton’s hand had been a win-win all the way around for Conrad.

  Regardless, Anton needed to find out if the Italians were involved and why. If they weren’t, which he thought was more likely, maybe they’d have some information he didn’t as to who possibly was.

  “Boss, I’m so so—”

  “Shut up,” Anton barked, glaring at Joe. “You know the rules. You don’t ever leave her car unattended. Remember what happened the last time?”

  Joe averted his eyes and dipped his chin down. “Yeah.”

  “Call that tow company we use. You know where the extra tires are, so get on it. I want her car back in our driveway within the next two hours. Don’t say a goddamned thing to Vine about it. Understood?”

  “Yeah. I’ll call Rory right now. Get him down here to help.”

  Anton frowned. Hadn’t Joe s
aid Rory’s phone was dead?

  Not important, he thought.

  What was important was keeping his wife calm. Anton turned and left the bull without another word. If he stayed in the man’s presence for too much longer, he might blow his fucking top. It wouldn’t be unusual for Anton to pick up Viviana somewhere and get her bulls to drive her car home, so she wouldn’t question his sudden presence. Keeping what happened away from her was an easy feat.

  He wondered if that had been the perpetrator’s point.

  Again, he considered the Italians. With the cell phone in his hand, Anton dialed Ivan’s number. The lawyer picked up on the third ring.

  “Yeah?”

  “Call the Italians,” Anton said immediately. There was no point in pleasantries. “Request a meeting with the Don as soon as we can get it.”

  *

  “What in the actual fuck, Anton? Where do you get off—”

  Viviana’s rant stopped short at the sight staring back at her. Dread washed the color from her face as the silence answering back only seemed to grow, making her even more uncomfortable than she was.

  She hadn’t bothered to knock before entering her husband’s office at Seven Lights. Maybe she should have, considering there were four other men inside the room, two of which she didn’t recognize at all. The other two, Ivan and Erik, sported matching expressions of shock and amusement.

  Anton’s eyes flitted over to her spot, surprise and anger registering in the blue of his irises before one of his usual masks replaced the emotions. “Excuse me?”

  “Um …”

  Viviana tittered, unnerved by all the stares currently leveling on her. One of the older gentlemen coughed under his breath, hiding his laughter poorly. Another man, younger than the first but older than Anton, scowled back over his shoulder at her. His obvious disdain of having a woman walk in on business was obvious.

  “I’ll uh … just wait, yeah, outside.”

  Coldly, Anton responded with, “Please do.”

  Outside in the hallway, with the office door shut tight behind her, Viviana groaned. Squeezing her eyes shut and pressing the heels of both her palms to her forehead, she resisted the urge to bang her head repeatedly against the nearest wall. Embarrassment welled up in her heart.

  She should have known better than to just storm in like that. Hell, she did know better.

  Sure, Anton would apologize for her rude interruption of his meeting—likely a Bratva meeting—and blame it on the pregnancy hormones. Viviana knew she’d have to apologize to him, as well.

  When things like that happened, no matter if it was a mistake or not, it only served to make Anton look positively ridiculous. As if he couldn’t control his wife, her actions, and her temperaments. Not that he did try to control Viviana, because Anton didn’t. But, there were certain appearances they had to keep up outside of their home for the obvious reasons related to his status, and this was one of them.

  Viviana screwed that up royally, again.

  Regrettably, she didn’t miss the question being asked inside the office, either.

  “How much tighter do you have to yank on your wife’s leash before she understands her place, Boss?”

  Scowling, Viviana fought off the urge to walk back into the room and give the man a piece of her mind. She couldn’t. It would only make Anton look more like an idiot. She would feel horrible afterwards when her husband was left either explaining, or hiding a pile of bodies because she couldn’t keep her opinions to herself.

  “Mind your fucking wife and I’ll mind mine,” Anton replied, his voice clipped.

  “Yes, because you’re doing such a superb job as it is.”

  Goddamn it, way to go, Viviana thought miserably.

  Yeah, Viviana definitely owed Anton an apology. Right after she got hers, of course. Because he owed her a big one after the crap she learned today. Sometimes being Anton’s wife had a million and one benefits, and other times she had to excuse or ignore his decisions and behaviors a lot more than she liked.

  Fucking Anton and his lack of a moral compass.

  Deciding it would be better for her to be far away from the office when the men left, Viviana made her way down to the main floor of the club. In the kitchen, she found Jen bent over the counter reading papers. At Viviana’s sheepish appearance, the older woman smiled knowingly and snorted under her breath.

  “Honey, I told you not to go up there,” Jen said, laughing.

  Viviana stuck out her tongue. “You didn’t say why.”

  “By now, I shouldn’t have to.”

  That was true enough. Sighing, Viviana rested herself up on a stool, crossing her fingers over her rounded stomach as she considered her course of action when Anton was done with his meeting. Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed Jen coming over to rub her hand over Viviana’s bump with a sentimental smile.

  “How’d your appointment go with the doctor yesterday?” Jen asked.

  Viviana frowned. “My sugars are out of control. He wants me to start taking insulin the moment I can have the prescription he wrote filled. I just … ugh.”

  “Needles, huh?”

  “Yeah, that and I’d have to listen to Anton tell me I told you so again,” Viviana explained with a roll of her brown eyes. “I know he will.”

  Jen looked flabbergasted. “You haven’t told Anton, yet?”

  “Yeah, no. He’s going to make a big deal out of it. I was just going to send him out on an errand and hope he figured it out on his own when he got to the pharmacy. Then, by the time he got home, he’d be over it.”

  Laughing loudly, Jen said, “That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

  Even Viviana had to admit she hadn’t thought out her plan well enough. “I know.”

  “He only worries because he loves you.”

  That was exactly the problem. If every little thing Anton did could be explained or excused away simply because he loved Viviana, then everybody would be happy. A lot of his decisions were attributed to his intense feelings for her. More often than not, he didn’t think things out when it came to her because his first reaction was to fix the problem and make whatever it was go away.

  Unfortunately, sometimes it backfired.

  God knew Viviana loved Anton. She did, more than anything. What she didn’t want to do was overlook things because she loved him. Beyond the mob boss suit he wore, he was her husband first. He was damn well going to act the part whether he liked it or not.

  “Vine, you can go upstairs now.”

  Viviana jumped in surprise at the new voice. She’d expected Anton to come down and find her, not Ivan. That didn’t bode well for her husband’s mood. Sighing heavily, she pushed herself off the stool and frowned at her lawyer.

  “Is he terribly mad at me?” she asked.

  Ivan shot her a look. “Does that man ever really get mad at you? I don’t mean frustrated, or annoyed, no I mean mad. We’ve all seen Anton get pissed off at one point or another, but is it ever at you, particularly?”

  Point taken, she thought.

  “Thank you for letting me know the meeting was done.”

  Ivan disappeared with a wave and nothing else.

  With a quiet goodbye to Jen, Viviana made her way back through the club. Biding her time, she made her way up to Anton’s office with a slowness she hoped gave him the same kind of time she needed to think through what she wanted to say to him. Sure, Ivan had been right. Anton never got angry with her directly, but sometimes his fury with others bled off onto the people surrounding him when he didn’t mean for it to.

  She didn’t want this to be one of those times.

  Knocking on the office door with two of her knuckles, Viviana asked, “Can I come in?”

  “Yep.”

  There was no missing the bite in his tone as she slipped inside the office and closed the door behind her. “First things first,” Viviana rushed to say, “I’m sorry for earlier.”

  Anton said nothing, his head still bent down over the pa
pers he was reading. Viviana scowled at her husband’s blatant attempt to ignore her.

  “Anton?” Again, nothing. Irritation bubbled through her blood. “Funny, Ivan said you weren’t angry with me.”

  “I’m not. I’m terribly pissed off that I just let Kalvin walk out of here alive, though.”

  “He said something nastier about me than just the leash comment, I assume?” she asked softly. It was the slightest tick of his strong jaw that gave her the answer. “I am sorry for barging in on your business. I know better than to be doing crap like that during your work hours, and I didn’t mean to cause problems.”

  Sighing, Anton raised his hand in the air, waving at his wife. “Come here.”

  Viviana didn’t waste any time. Crossing the distance of the office floor, she sunk into his opened embrace before either of them had blinked. Anton had her body curled up on his lap without saying a word before he buried his face into her neck and inhaled deeply. Then, his warm hand rolled along the base of her stomach, gliding carefully under the waistband of her black skirt until it came to rest on her public bone.

  “He’s an asshole,” he mumbled against her flesh. “He told me that maybe—maybe—if I could learn to spend less time at home, and more time having fun elsewhere, that my wife would become accustomed to not needing me around so much. Perhaps then, he said, she would find more respect for her husband if he wasn’t at her every beck and call. I’d just … fucking kill him.”

  “Did you tell him to go screw himself?” Viviana asked.

  “Maybe,” he replied in a breath.

  “It’s a good thing you’re the boss, Anton.”

  “Don’t I already fucking know it, baby.”

  Lifting his head, Anton rested his cheek to Viviana’s and blew out a harsh sound. She knew her husband was about done with the day and wanting to go home. Slowly, Viviana turned her head, letting her lips ghost along the dusting of his five o’clock shadow, the sandpaper feel tickling tantalizingly to her mouth.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His arms tightened around her frame. “Hmm, don’t be.”

  “I like having access to you whenever I need you, Anton.”

  “I know.”