Russian Killer's Baby

by Bella Rose

  The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Annika deliberately ignored him and walked in the opposite direction. Turning a corner, she smashed her back against a shelf and looked up to make sure there wasn’t a mirror right above her. There wasn’t, and she took the opportunity to duck back around the corner and look for Creepy Guy.

  He was stalking away from the bathrooms toward the exit. A few more seconds and he would have put himself between her and escape. Not good.

  Annika bolted for the front door. She didn’t care who saw her mad dash for outside. She just needed to get away. Grabbing the door, she hauled it open and made her bid for freedom.

  FELIKS KNEW THAT women tended to take more time in the bathroom than men did. He took the opportunity to send a quick text to Pyotr explaining that something had come up and he’d had to put off the contract on Annika Polzin. Pyotr had just responded when Feliks saw Annika come back out the door into the parking lot.

  Everything about her looked rattled. In fact, she looked so upset that Feliks actually reached under the seat for his gun. Then he saw her glance wildly to her left. When she strode quickly toward the police cruiser sitting a hundred yards away, Feliks wanted his gun at hand for an altogether different purpose.

  His brain was screaming at him. Instinct told him that Annika had turned on him and was even now ratting him out to the police. Still, something in the vicinity of his chest refused to believe that.

  So he watched and waited, knowing he might have to make a quick escape at any second. Annika gestured to the policeman, pointing back at the store and using her hands to speak in grand gestures. Either she was truly rattled, or she was a consummate actress. Feliks suspected a little of both.

  His stomach cramped as he observed two cops get out of their cruiser. Had they seemed interested in his vehicle, he would have acted with extreme prejudice, but they didn’t.

  One man spoke into the radio pinned to the shoulder of his uniform. The other had his hand on his gun. Both were utterly focused on the store. They looked to Annika one more time. Feliks took the opportunity to lower the window just a fraction of an inch to hear what she was saying.

  “He’s in there,” Annika said in an almost frantic tone. “Tall, super thin and really creepy. He scared me so badly I ran out of there like my hair was on fire. Thank God I saw you guys sitting here. What if he’s a rapist or something?”

  “We’ve got this, ma’am. You just stay put, and we’ll get a statement from you if we need one.”

  “Okay, officer. Thank you so much!” Annika was already edging toward Feliks’s car.

  She watched the police very closely. As soon as they were focused on the building and entering the store, she made a dash for the passenger side of his car.

  It took her only a second to open the door and fling herself inside. She slammed it shut behind her and made a shooing gesture with her hand. “I don’t know what you’re waiting for, but you should go. Our tail is going to be busy with those cops for a bit, so let’s get out of here.”

  “Our tail?” Feliks was already putting the car in gear.

  “I think so.” The delicate skin between her eyebrows wrinkled as she thought hard about what had happened. “He was tall, about your height, I think. Blond hair, maybe bluish eyes, and so thin he looks like a scarecrow with a pointy beard.”

  Feliks cursed in Russian, English, and then Ukrainian for good measure. “That is Yuri Orlov.”

  “I’m assuming he’s your competition?”

  He snorted. “Hardly.”

  “I just mean he’s trying to kill your mark, not that he’s your equal.” She actually laughed. The sound was merry and bright against the darkness of the circumstances.

  Feliks pulled the car back into traffic and lit out for a place where they could hole up for a few days and be safe. Though at this point he was beginning to think there was no such thing. “Yuri wants a position on the council.”

  “The syndicate has a council?” Annika raised both her eyebrows in surprise.

  “Of course. How else would we accomplish anything?”

  “I don’t mean to be insulting. It’s just a little insane to think that a huge criminal organization has some kind of hierarchy complete with a governing body that dictates the business practices of the group.” She shrugged. “You guys are thugs. That’s not behavior I think of when I think of thugs.”

  “Do I strike you as a thug?”

  “Yes.”

  Feliks was about to be outraged until he realized that she was the one doing the teasing now. He smothered a smile and scowled instead. She really didn’t need to know how thoroughly she pleased him when it came to her sassy personality.

  “You’re not as mean as you pretend to be,” she announced.

  “So I didn’t intend to kill you?”

  She waved a hand dismissively. “That has nothing to do with being mean or not. That was business. I’m certain you can do your job when you need to. I’m just saying that unlike men such as—oh, I don’t know—my father, for example, you actually have a personality underneath all that attitude.”

  God help him, she might actually be right.

  Chapter Six

  Annika watched Feliks shift gears as he drove them toward some unknown location. His hands were large and tanned. She noticed how sure his blunt tipped fingers seemed as he drove the sports car. There was a quiet strength about him that appealed to her on a primal level.

  A low, pulling sensation below her belly made her shift uncomfortably in her seat. She could remember other things about Feliks’s hands too. Like how it felt when he touched her. The way his palms smoothed their way along the insides of her thighs and coaxed her to open for him.

  The thought of their first encounter was enough to alter her breathing pattern and send a rush of warm cream to her pussy. She squirmed again. Why was she thinking about this now? The man had been sent to kill her. She shouldn’t be waxing poetic about his hands and what it felt like to have him suck on her breasts.

  She crossed her arms over the offending body parts, which were now tingling with the need to be fondled. Feliks was good with his hands and mouth. There was no arguing that point. He might be a killer, but he was better in bed than anyone she’d ever been with.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked suddenly, casting a glance at her from his side of the car.

  “Just stuff.”

  “Like?”

  Would it really hurt to ask? “Do you think a developing fetus recognizes the presence of a genetic donor?”

  “What?” He frowned. “Are you asking if the tiny bundle of human cells you’re lugging around can sense us?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I have no clue. Why would you even wonder?” He looked confused.

  “Because I should be so pissed at you right now that I want to rip your throat out. “Instead, I’m feeling pretty friendly toward you. The only possible reason I can come up with for this is that the baby recognizes you as the father and therefore refuses to let me hate you.”

  “That’s demented.”

  “I know, but at least there’s a certain logic to it,” she grumbled. “There is no logic in my emotions right now. I can tell you that much.”

  His lips curved into a generous smile. “We’re not far now. Hopefully once you get some rest and some food you’ll be a little less insane.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You’re the one who is proposing that a fetus is keeping you from your right to hate me on sight.”

  “That’s true,” she conceded. “When you put it like that, it does sound a little on the loony side.”

  She had just taken a breath to ask where they were actually going when she caught sight of a car travelling at a terribly fast rate and heading right toward them.

  “Feliks!”

  His quick reflexes saved them from disaster, but only barely. The car clipped their bumper. The sports car went into a spin. Annika hung on tightly as they whirled three h
undred sixty degrees once, and then half again.

  “Hold tight!” Feliks ordered.

  The engine roared as he gunned it, shoved the car in gear, and turned it until they were headed back in their original direction. The buildings sped by at an ever increasing rate. They were flying down the narrow street.

  Finally Feliks spun the wheel and braked. Annika was flung into her door as they took a corner practically on two wheels. The alley opened up and seemed to go on forever. Annika craned her neck around, trying to see if someone was still following.

  “They didn’t make it out of the intersection,” he said, his voice clipped. “But at this point I can’t imagine that was our only friend.”

  “It’s not!” she shouted as a vehicle sped toward them from the other end of the alley.

  The little car lurched as Feliks sped up. They were now hurtling toward their second attacker at a ferocious rate of speed.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded. “Stop!”

  “Trust me.”

  At the last second, he wrenched the wheel left and they spun onto a wider street. Annika could actually see the hard-eyed visage of the other driver for a brief second before they turned. The other car whipped past, still in the alley. The squeal of their brakes filled the air as they tried to stop.

  Feliks was already flooring the pedal as he turned into yet another alley. They were cutting a twisting, turning pattern through the city as though there were no rules or traffic regulations. Horns blared as other cars shrieked to a stop, their drivers screaming and waving their fists at Feliks. He didn’t seem bothered.

  “Where did you learn to drive?” Annika demanded. “Clown school?”

  “Russia, actually.”

  “Oh, God, we’re dead,” she wailed.

  He laughed like a maniac. Then a roundabout opened up in front of them and he spun around it like a racecar, heading in the direction they’d already come.

  “What are you doing?” She wondered if his mind had snapped.

  “Going where it will take them the most time to turn around and come after us. Where else?”

  “Okay, that does sound smart. But you’re driving so fast you’re making me dizzy.”

  “Shut your eyes.”

  “No thanks, I prefer to see death coming.”

  In the midst of all this craziness, Feliks actually looked over at her and gave her a soft smile. “Yes, you really do.”

  “Would you watch the road?” she snarled. “I prefer not to die by slamming into a building.”

  He laughed while navigating the twists, turns, and one-way streets of South Boston on his way to a location only he could guess. Then he spun the wheel sideways one last time, and they were in a tiny space between two huge privacy fences. The smaller area opened into a larger one with covered parking. He parked the car in a spot deep in the darkest corner and shut off the engine.

  “I assume we’re here,” she asked hesitantly.

  “Sort of.”

  ***

  “Are you out of your mind to bring her here?” Pyotr asked in a voice almost loud enough to tell the rest of the house what it was they were arguing about.

  Feliks lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Calm down, Pyotr. It’s not for long. Just until I figure out why it seems like everyone is gunning for me.”

  “Don’t be daft,” Pyotr said in Russian. “You know why. It’s because you’re lugging your target around like a giant piece of baggage instead of disposing of her as we planned.”

  “I can’t dispose of her, as you put it,” Feliks said quietly.

  “Why not?”

  “She’s pregnant.”

  There was a lot of low cussing from Pyotr, none of it complimentary. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen the test.”

  “So, you’ll be wiping another unwanted bastard off the planet. So what?”

  For some reason, the cold disregard for life behind that statement bothered Feliks. He pushed that away for the moment and focused on the other fact keeping Annika alive. “The child is mine.”

  This time there was no cursing. There was only silence, and that was far worse.

  Pyotr sat quietly in his leather executive chair behind his huge mahogany desk and steepled his fingers together. “How can you know that?”

  Feliks gazed around the study. The dark wood shelving was very old world. A collection of first edition classics graced the glass front bookcase, and there was fine art by good Russian artists on the wall. How many times had he stood here in this very spot receiving orders from Pyotr or Vasily? The two men had been closer than close. Feliks had been their little protégé. He had always believed he knew those men as well as he did himself. Now he wasn’t so certain.

  “The first night I attempted to complete the contract on Annika,” Feliks said in a voice devoid of emotion. “I went to a club and convinced Annika to take me home with her for a few hours. We slept together. At the time, I intended to inject her afterwards and be done with it. Unfortunately, Vadir showed up, and I had to make my escape before I managed to complete the contract.”

  “A woman like that could have been with a dozen men that week and half a dozen the week before. You have no way to know whose child it is. Why would you assume she has any claim on you?”

  Feliks felt the shuddering burn of instant fury at Pyotr’s accusation against Annika. “She isn’t like that. You don’t think I know the difference?”

  “I’m not saying that at all. I am simply stating the impossibility of knowing for certain that a child is yours until a paternity test can be performed.”

  “I see,” Feliks said softly. The slow simmering anger sat in his chest like a living thing. “And the best answer is to snuff out both lives before I have a chance to know that for certain?”

  “I didn’t say that either. You’re putting words in my mouth.”

  “You’re inferring them!”

  Pyotr’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. “What is it you want from this woman?”

  “I’m not certain yet.”

  “You’re not the type of man to settle down with a woman and raise a family as though you were some tame bear. You are a cold-blooded killer through and through. That is what you have been all your adult life. Why would you stop now in order to play house with some woman you hardly know?”

  “That’s harsh.”

  “It’s the truth!”

  “You have a family.”

  Pyotr snorted. “I am not a trained assassin. I am a businessman.”

  “Perhaps you need to grow a set of balls then.”

  The older man laughed, raising his hands and waving them as though surrendering. “Calm down, Feliks. Please. Sit down and tell me one more time about Yuri’s involvement in this situation.”

  Feliks perched on the edge of Pyotr’s couch. He sat with his legs spread and his elbows resting on his knees. He was too wound up to relax. “He was following us practically the entire way from Annika’s apartment to the convenience store. After we left the store, two vehicles in the city attacked us. Neither was the car Yuri had been driving earlier.”

  “Damn that bastard Orlov! He must be trying to give Yuri a place on the council.”

  “That would be a disaster. The man can hardly spell, let alone run a business.”

  “Yes, but we are all blind and stupid when it comes to the talents or intelligence of our children.” Pyotr sighed.

  “Yuri is certainly an idiot. But he is a bloodthirsty one.”

  “Yes. Which is why I cannot allow you and your unauthorized passenger to stay here in my home.” There was a hint of censure in Pyotr’s expression.

  “I didn’t expect you to harbor us. I simply wanted to know if there was anything you could tell me about Yuri’s involvement.”

  “And you needed to let things cool down as well. I wasn’t born yesterday, young man.”

  “Nobody would guess that,” Feliks joked.

  Pyotr wagged his finger at him. “Yo
u’d best watch yourself. One of these days you’re going to get in over your head.”

  “Do you think the others question my right to sit on the council?” Feliks wondered if the old man would give him an honest answer. Still, he had to try.

  “I cannot say.” Pyotr scratched his beard. “No one has said anything within my hearing, but it is possible that they would not, given my close relationship to you and to Vasily.”

  “I wish Vasily were still here,” Feliks muttered.

  Pyotr grimaced. “As do I.”

  Chapter Seven

  Annika paced the floor of the small sitting room where Feliks had told her to stay put. She hated staying put. She was used to doing her own thing. Being told to wait for someone else to make decisions on her behalf was irritating.

  A tiny little face peeked around the edge of the doorway. Annika smiled and got a gap-toothed grin in return. Then Annika waved to her little visitor. There was a giggle, but no return wave.

  “You can come in,” Annika told the little girl.

  No response, although the child leaned a little farther around the door to get a better look at the interloper.

  Annika tried again, this time in Russian. “Don’t be afraid. You can come in and talk to me if you want.”

  The little girl took a few hesitant steps into the room. She wore a pretty pink dress with matching bows on the ends of her blonde braids. Annika guessed her to be no more than five or six.

  The little one cocked her head to the right like a tiny bird. “My mother says you’re supposed to be dead.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Annika paused in her pacing and opted to take a seat on an ugly green settee. “I’m pretty glad I’m not dead though.”

  “Papa Pyotr says your papa makes lots of people mad and that’s why you’re supposed to be dead.” The quizzical look grew more pronounced.

  Did nobody censor what was said in front of this kid? Annika wondered what she should say in return. She couldn’t very well call the kid’s papa a bastard, could she?

  Annika had just taken a breath to answer when a woman appeared in the doorway. “Oksana, get to your room immediately,” she snapped in clipped Russian, and the precocious little girl bolted from the room.