The Life (The Russian Guns)

by Bethany-Kris

  “Faster—fuck, please go faster.”

  She hummed her agreement low and throaty, the noise reverberating straight to his groin.

  “A good thing I love you,” she said again.

  Her fingernails in his hair dragged down over his neck and beneath his shirt. The pain registered, but barely. Viviana could leave a dozen marks on his skin and he wouldn’t care. Anton loved them. Especially when she marked them over his tattoos.

  “Love my man foul-mouthed with his quick temper. Love him when he’s jealous and possessive. Love him when he’s downright bad.”

  There was no denying the orgasm tightening through his stomach and balls. Muffling the groan against her skin, Anton panted as his cock spilled warm come into Viviana’s hand. The jolt of electricity that bit through his flooding veins had him struggling to stay upright.

  Anton needed to find some solid ground, he wished the color would come back to his blurred vision for a moment, and he wanted his lungs to work again. Viviana let him have his moment to recover, trailing her hand up and down his tense back slowly and calmingly. Eventually, Viviana pulled her hand from the confines of his sweatpants and leaned over the kitchen sink to turn on the tap. Clearing his throat to rid the thickness that had built up, Anton stayed silent while she washed her hands before drying them on his shirt.

  “I’m a towel, huh?” Anton asked, amused.

  “The dishtowel is over on the island. I’m super comfortable right now. I didn’t realize how much my feet were hurting until I sat down and they stopped.”

  Yeah, that’s why Anton wanted her to cool it for a while. Unfortunately, his pretty wife was too damned stubborn to hear a thing he said, so Viviana needed to notice those things on her own. Ignoring the stickiness coating his softening cock, Anton released his hold and reached down to massage her calves and ankles with both hands for a few, quiet minutes. Those happy, soft moans of pleasure she gave in response was all he needed to continue.

  “Go chill out on the couch—get a movie going. I’ll be in after I clean up.”

  “Get new pants, too.”

  Anton chuckled. “That means I’ll have to go see the painter in our bedroom, baby.”

  “Don’t kill him, Anton. I want that mural finished today.”

  *

  With her legs elevated, back melting into plush pillows, and the television humming with an old mafia movie sure to make Anton guffaw, Viviana was comfortable and content. She was wondering where in the hell her husband disappeared to. It had been a good half hour since Anton went upstairs to change and clean up, so she was starting to worry for the painter’s health.

  The poor man, he really had no idea of just how possessive Anton was over the space he was currently painting. Of course, she could hear the quiet conversation coming down from the stairwell, so it was more than likely Anton found a momentary friendship in the painter.

  When Demyan kicked a particularly tender spot under her rib, Viviana cursed low and pushed back on the little foot with two of her fingers. That didn’t seem to work, so she repositioned herself on the couch until the baby calmed down. While she enjoyed her pregnancy, she would sure be pleased to see it come to an end.

  Viviana was ready to have her body back to herself and a baby boy in her arms.

  The cell phone on the coffee table ringed with a vibrating jingle. It was Anton’s phone, and he had everyone’s numbers programmed with certain songs or tunes, so it wasn’t one she recognized. Snatching up the device, Viviana realized she didn’t recognize the number on the screen, either.

  Unsure if she should answer the call, Viviana dropped it back down to the coffee table. “Anton, you’ve got—”

  “Pick that up for me, Vine. It might be important. I’ll be down in a moment.”

  Rolling her eyes, she was quick to pick up the phone again. “Hello?”

  “Viviana. What a pleasant surprise to hear your voice.”

  Instantly, Viviana sat up on the couch. She didn’t recognize the man, but by accent alone, she knew he was Russian and his voice somehow felt familiar to her memory. He also seemed to know her. Covering the phone’s speaker with her thumb, she called to Anton once more, a little more forceful the second time. Her husband’s footsteps upstairs followed her request quickly and Viviana went back to the call.

  “Good evening,” she replied politely. “I can’t say we’re on level ground, though. Forgive me, I don’t have a clue who you are, and I wouldn’t want to be rude.”

  The man’s laughter was scratchy and gruff, but he seemed to enjoy her confusion. That didn’t settle well with Viviana at all. “Unfortunately we never had the pleasure of meeting at your husband’s birthday party last October. I would have been so honored to meet the daughter of Nicoli Avdonin, well, before Anton broke my nose, that is.”

  Oh shit. The caller was Sergei. The Jersey Pakhan Anton had been attempting to make contact with for weeks.

  Viviana’s eyes widened just as Anton slid into the living room sporting a worried expression. It was too late, though. She had already picked up the call and it would be the worst thing she could do to just hand it over without speaking to the man. To some, it may seem like she had shunned Sergei even if that wasn’t the case. That could lead to a dangerous situation, as Viviana’s word was taken just as seriously as Anton’s, which was why she often chose to keep her mouth shut.

  Bad blood, they already had more than enough of it between their families.

  I’m sorry, Viviana mouthed to Anton.

  He wouldn’t even know what for, or why, but Viviana felt like she had to say it anyway.

  “Put it on speaker,” Anton said.

  Viviana did what he asked, but two fingers to her lips to signal for him to be quiet.

  “Sergei,” she finally responded into the phone, managing to keep the shake out of her words. “This is a surprise.”

  “I’ll say.” Anton practically spat the words through his clenched teeth, though they were barely breathed at all. “Perfect timing.”

  “Is it?” Sergei asked. “I had heard your husband was very interested in speaking with me, but I’ve been terribly busy. Surely you understand, Viviana. He must have been expecting my call, wasn’t he?”

  The tension drawing Anton’s jaw tight was worrisome. As he sat down on the couch, Viviana reached out and cupped his cheek with her hand, hoping to calm his anger a little. His own hand found the crest of her swelled stomach and rubbed back and forth gently.

  “I’m sure he was,” Viviana said. “We’ve also been busy, so it isn’t too hard to believe our communication lines might have been mixed up, no?”

  Viviana’s words were an offer to give Sergei an excuse for ignoring Anton, but it was also a way for her to say his disregard was forgiven. By anyone else’s standards, they would think the conversation was confusing. Viviana knew between her, Anton, and the man on the phone, everyone understood her veiled implication perfectly.

  Sergei chuckled into the receiver. “So I heard. You must be awfully close to having that baby of yours.”

  “Ours,” Viviana corrected instantly, not bothering to keep the bite out of the word. She didn’t like how he referred to Demyan as only her baby, as if maybe he didn’t belong to Anton at all. That was not only offensive, but a prick move she thought may have only been intended to bother her. “And yes, just three more weeks, if he doesn’t come early on his own.”

  “He?” Sergei asked, surprising coloring his tone. “Well, this is news to me. I hadn’t heard the child was a boy. Another little prince for the Avdonin family, how wonderful. Anton must be overjoyed.”

  “Sure he was. Just the same as before we knew the baby was a boy.”

  Viviana didn’t hear Sergei’s response to her as she was too busy rolling her eyes in Anton’s direction and making a chatter motion with her hand.

  “Shh,” Anton said with a smile and a shake of his head.

  She barely caught the end of Sergei’s next sentence as her mind was distracte
d by Anton. “… if you agree, that is.”

  “Pardon me?” Viviana asked.

  “Didn’t you hear my request?”

  Viviana frowned. This was why she didn’t like to pick up Anton’s phone unless she knew who was calling and why. “No, I’m sorry. Anton just came back in from the backyard so I was telling him you’re on the phone. Would you like to—”

  Sergei’s chuckling stopped her from saying more. “No, my dear. What I would like is for you to answer my question and then I will speak with your husband. I’m sure he has much to say to me, but I want a guarantee first.”

  Something painful lodged in Viviana’s throat. While the rest of their conversation had been laced with innuendos regarding Bratva business, that one was a hell of a lot more frank.

  “What kind of guarantee, Sergei?”

  “A dinner, how does that sound?”

  Viviana chanced a glance at Anton, noticing his unease. “I don’t set those up, I have never before, and I’m sure you’re very aware of that.”

  “Of course,” Sergei replied. “That is not what I’m asking for here.”

  “A dinner, then? I think it still stands with Anton that Belov Bratva aren’t welcomed in Brighton Beach after the unfortunate incident at his birthday.”

  “That would be precisely the point of this dinner, Viviana. Anton owes me words, as I owe him. It’s not a proper thing to be leaving blood to spoil for long, and I believe we’ve waited more than long enough. Having you there would—”

  “Me?” Viviana interrupted, flinching at the same time. “I hadn’t realized you expected me to show up, too. I don’t think—”

  “Are you refusing, Viviana?”

  “No,” Viviana rushed to say. Now, she was in particularly dangerous waters. The last thing Anton would ever want was her in the middle of a sit down, especially when she was pregnant. “But as I said before, I’m terribly close to my due date and one doctor doesn’t believe I’ll make it that long. Travelling to Jersey isn’t the best option for me when I’m supposed to be resting my days away.”

  It wasn’t a total lie. The gestational diabetes put a great strain on Viviana and the baby, never mind the worries for the doctors. It put her at risk for other prenatal issues and they did order her to rest, not stress. Other than her exercise, Viviana was expected to keep her days calm and get a full night’s sleep.

  “Funny. I heard you just arrived back from the Avdonin family lodge. Shaftsbury, Vermont is a much farther drive than New Jersey, Viviana.”

  “That trip was meant to be relaxing, Sergei, and it was. In fact, I slept the entire drive there and back. I can’t say I would do the same if I knew I was heading to Jersey. Forgive me, but your family hasn’t exactly given me the warmest welcome into this world, regardless of who my father is. I do think Nicoli would have been sorely disappointed if he were alive for this phone call. How obliging would he have been to bring a woman in on business?”

  “That was one of his oldest tricks, my dear.”

  Viviana stilled. “Pardon me?”

  “Women keep things calm, they keep it safe. I picked up a thing or two from Nicoli myself over the years. And you’re very right, he wouldn’t have been happy to have his tricks played back on him. If Jersey is too far for you, I’m more than happy giving Anton the call of shots on where, when, and how.”

  “No heat,” Viviana said suddenly. In other words, no guns. It was a highly unusual request, but one she would demand on anyway if he was so persistent in having her at a sit down. “I’m the one asking for that, Sergei.”

  “Unfortunate that you don’t trust me, but the request is certainly doable. Anything else, Viviana?”

  A slow smile crept over her lips as she darted another look in her husband’s direction. If the rage in his eyes wasn’t clear, the clenched fists in his lap certainly were. Why should Viviana be the only woman? Why should Anton be the only man who worried because his wife wasn’t safe in a Russian sit down? The answer was pretty obvious to Viviana. He shouldn’t.

  “Yes, there is something else,” she finally said, reaching out to squeeze Anton’s thigh encouragingly. “Tatiana—bring her. I insist on it.”

  This time it was Sergei who stuttered. “I don’t think—”

  “Are you refusing?” Viviana asked, throwing his words back at him.

  Please do, she thought. It would give Viviana every reason to hang up the phone until a more suitable arrangement could be found. She knew Anton would be the one to answer the call next, though. In no way would he agree to her being at their meeting.

  “No, of course not,” Sergei said quickly. “It’s just … well, I don’t think you or my daughter would be pleased is all.”

  “Maybe not. But it isn’t only you and my husband who have things to smooth over, now is it?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “He knew we were in Vermont,” Anton said.

  The boss didn’t miss the two gazes lifting to meet his at that statement. For the most part, Ivan and Erik had been agreeable to coming over to Anton’s house for an emergency meeting, and they had stayed quiet as he explained the unexpected phone call from Sergei. Anton had finally laid most everything bare for them. They needed to hear what he thought, the things that had been happening, and where he thought they should go from there. Yes, they had been very quiet. Now, though, both men seemed ready to burst.

  “There were only a select few who knew where we were,” he added.

  “Boss …” Erik started, his face drawn with worry.

  Anton’s index finger tapped to his desk. “Unfortunately, there are a lot of guys who know of the lodge in Vermont. It wouldn’t be a huge stretch to think they put two and two together.”

  “But it wouldn’t be like them,” Ivan said.

  “Truth.” Anton sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms behind his head as he lifted his boots up to rest on the desk. “This is … It’s fucking downright horrible. Asking Viviana to come in on a sit down, really. That was dirty pool and I let him know it.”

  “Understandably smart, though.” Erik shook his head with disgust. “Your wife is probably the only human being on this earth you wouldn’t draw a gun for. She hates them, so you keep them out of her sight. You’d never hurt her, so you’re not going to risk bringing one into a situation where it might do just that. Clearly he knows this shit.”

  “But how?” Anton dropped his boots down as he leaned forward in the chair, cocking a brow. “How, Erik? How many people understand and know me or Vine like that? How many people know it would piss me off and worry me like crazy?”

  “Not many,” Erik said. “I mean, we do, but …”

  As Erik trailed off, Anton relaxed back into his chair again. By the widening of Erik’s eyes, the boss knew at least his one spy had understood what his words truly meant. While Anton didn’t believe Erik or Ivan had any hand in some of the things happening to Viviana, he wanted them to realize how it looked on both of them.

  Anton was starting to wonder if that was the perpetrator’s goal. Did someone want him tearing his own Bratva apart so they could move in when he was least expecting it?

  “Boss, you gotta know—”

  “Do I?” Anton asked.

  Ivan canted his head, a knowing expression dawning on his features. “I had been wondering if you were going to bring it up. I thought you’d come to me first and test the waters. You wouldn’t even let me get close enough to the sit down with the Italian for me to hear a thing. You weren’t being shy about it, Anton.”

  “Actually, I went to Daniil first, but I was starting to seriously consider it after Conrad.”

  Ivan nodded. “And what did Daniil say?”

  “He told me what I already knew. He might as well have called me a goddamned idiot for even considering it.”

  “Good old Daniil,” Ivan said with a grin.

  Erik just seemed confused. “Wait, so we’re good?”

  Anton shrugged. “Yeah, but don’t you see wh
at it looks like? Somebody wanted me to go for the throat first and ask questions later. Suddenly Sergei is calling me up making it seem like he’s all for a sit down, and his witchy daughter dropped off the radar. He thinks he’s talking in riddles, but he’s being a little too clear in my opinion.”

  “Smart on Vine to ask for Tati’s presence,” Erik said.

  “I don’t want my wife within a hundred miles of that bitch,” Anton muttered.

  Ivan coughed, appearing mighty uncomfortable. “Vine asked for her. She has to show, Anton.”

  “But Vine doesn’t have to stay.” Erik shot a pointed look Anton’s way. “Rory and Joe can leave with her not long after we all arrive. She’s been having a lot of that false labor, right?”

  “On and off, yeah.”

  “Use that as an excuse. Where’d you agree to have it all go down?”

  “Brooklyn, but outside of my territory in Brighton Beach. In two weeks. I have the choice in restaurant, so we’ll make sure it’s cleared out except for us. I want to arrive second, but I’ll have the bulls there checking every one of his people for weapons. I think … Shit, what if Little Odessa is what it’s all about, huh? Does that fucker have such a hard-on for my territory he’s willing to start a war over it?”

  “Brighton Beach is where we’ve always been,” Erik said.

  Ivan jerked his thumb at his counterpart in agreement. “And it’s never been an issue before.”

  “But Sergei has no business being in Jersey,” Anton said for them both. “What he does have is a major Cosa Nostra family edging in on his heels at times. More than once he’s had issues with the Italians in Jersey because he’s greedy as hell and won’t leave their shit alone. Getting rid of the Avdonin Bratva here would be a cherry on his pie. He’d get the safe territory, the business, the already set guys—my fucking guys,” he added angrily.

  “They’d cut their throats before working for him,” Ivan replied. “They’re your brothers, not his.”

  “So which one of my brothers is working with the bastard, then?” Anton asked scathingly. “Which one of them wants to kill me?”