The Score (The Russian Guns Book 3)

by Bethany-Kris

  “But—”

  Viviana shook her head, black hair tumbling down. “Ah, ah, ah. Go on, report me. They’ll investigate, and rip you apart in the process. I bet they’ll be forced to release my husband because no one can be sure who is working for who. Give me ten minutes with Anton Avdonin released from Rikers, and I will have him on the next flight out of America where the judicial system of this country can never touch him again.

  “Either way,” she continued calmly, “… it’s a win for me. My son will have his father, and I will have my husband. I don’t care where it is that we have him, so long as it’s not behind bars. What will you have, Judge?”

  ***

  Waiting in the defence chamber of the New York County Supreme Court building, Anton didn’t think he had ever been more edgy in his life. Restless and anxious, he paced along the length of the long, oak table as Ivan read over his opening statement. Because a jury had been dismissed for only the judge, the daily progress of the trial should be quicker. It didn’t matter, though; Anton still felt sick.

  The morning passed him by quietly, in a strange sort of way. Even the guards at the prison who escorted him to the courthouse hadn’t given him much of hard time. Oddly, Anton knew, like everyone else around him, that his whole life was on the line, now.

  “You okay?” Ivan asked.

  Anton shrugged under the weight of his Armani suit. “Not really. Did you get that motion about the press passed?”

  “Yeah. No cameras in the courtroom, but like always, there’ll be a reporter or a few taking notes.”

  “Good.”

  That was a relief. The last thing Anton wanted was for his trial to be streamed daily, every word, every accusation, and assumption, on the television of anyone who tuned in. Really, he didn’t give a shit about just anyone, but he did care for his wife and his mother Sasha. They were already facing enough grief because of his actions, they didn’t need to have more piled on. Viviana would likely be at the proceedings every single day, anyway, and Sasha when she could, but the media didn’t need any more fuel added to their fire.

  “Where is she?” Anton asked.

  Ivan closed his files, leaning back in his chair. “Calm down, man. Vine is coming. Despite wanting to be early because of the press, the bastards were out bright and early. You happened to miss the lot of them because they brought you in through the back. She won’t be so lucky.”

  Damn it.

  “Is she …?” Anton trailed off, making a rounded motion over his abdomen.

  “Hell no. Not yet, anyway. She’s only like … three months, or something. I don’t think she’s even told anybody because of what happened last time. It’s probably hard on her to think about it all right now. I’ve got to say, you sure pick the shittiest times to knock her up, man. First time was a bomb, second time you got arrested, and this time—”

  “Didn’t fucking plan it the first time, asshole.”

  Ivan sat up straight in his chair, cocking a brow. “But you did plan this one?”

  Anton wished his tongue hadn’t suddenly grown two times its normal size. What in the hell was his friend getting at? “It wasn’t like that. We were trying before I even got arrested the first time when she miscarried.”

  “But she got pregnant after the miscarriage, after you knew you might be going to prison, Anton.” Ivan drummed his fingers to the table, glancing away. “That might not have been the smartest play on your part.”

  “Wasn’t like that, either,” Anton muttered. “We were still trying to move on from the Natalie bullshit, then losing the pregnancy, and weren’t careful. I didn’t intentionally get my wife pregnant because I was facing serious time. That’s just … Jesus, do you think I’m that horrible?”

  “I think you’re so in love with her that you’d do anything to keep her.”

  “Not that, Ivan. I wanted another child, but I didn’t intend for her to be pregnant at a time like this.”

  Smiling a little too roguishly for Anton’s liking, Ivan shrugged. “Well, whatever you intended, it looks good on you.”

  Anton’s brow furrowed. “How so?”

  “The family man. A sweet, charming son. A pregnant, devoted wife. Your family is especially beautiful—one the public may feel they can relate to, in some way. If they can’t, they’ll certainly want to. You’re successful in both personal and public matters. You live in a beautiful home, drive nice cars, and own your own businesses.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Ivan rolled his eyes. “Of course I am. Whether you like it or not, public opinion matters. When you’re back out in the world, the last thing you need, or want, is an angry group of people outside your home with their proverbial pitchforks.”

  “You keep saying when I’m out like it’s actually going to happen.”

  “Because it will,” Ivan stated confidently. “Stop worrying. Instead of appearing reckless or uncaring, like the prosecution has been portraying you every chance they get, you actually come across as normal. How could that intelligent, good-looking, pregnant woman have possibly married a mobster, Anton? How could the man they say you are possibly have a child as sweet and innocent as Demyan?”

  “You just said she hasn’t told anyone about the pregnancy,” Anton pointed out.

  “Vine can’t hide it forever. Sympathy plays a factor, also.”

  “The judge will be impartial beyond even what a jury would be, Ivan.”

  “Perhaps,” his friend mused. “But I do believe you might find this particular judge will be partial to us, Anton.”

  The implication there was not hidden, by any means. Anton wasn’t entirely sure what he should say, or ask. Before he could gather his thoughts, Ivan continued.

  “After all, a jury would get to hear you be slandered over and over. So does the judge, but he’s looking at the facts. And what is it they have, exactly? A DNA match that’s only thirty-five percent, from the father’s side; not nearly close enough to be a sure thing, given your biological grandfather could have had a dozen more male children we don’t know about before Nicoli wacked him. No weapon or ballistics for Sonny’s murder. A shell casing was found in the burnt out restaurant where the Belovs were found, but no gunshot wound was ever located on the bodies. Yet, they’re still calling it a murder. You may have been seen near the area that night, but so were a lot of other people. Those things mean nothing. They add up to absolutely nothing. If anything, they create plausible, reasonable doubt.”

  “Witness testimony,” Anton pointed out. “Natalie will say I told her what I did, which outweighs the rest.”

  “If the witness shows,” Ivan replied, unfazed. “They cannot use her testimony without her presence. You have a right to confront your accuser.”

  “Are you saying you’ve found her?”

  That would be incredibly good for Anton, but especially bad for Natalie.

  “I’m saying we’re watching and we have some time before they’ll call her to the stand. There might be a lead on that, anyway.”

  “Yeah?”

  Ivan shrugged, but didn’t look up from his papers. “Something came from Jersey. Thank your new friend Adrik. He’s got a lot to lose with you in prison, so …”

  Anton licked his lips, shoving his hands into his pockets with a heavy sigh. This was the most information he had safely been able to pull from Ivan, but he wondered how much more he could get. There had to be more, considering everything. They weren’t ones to leave holes where something might slip through. Not anymore, not after all of this had happened.

  “What about the judge?”

  Ivan’s confident mask finally cracked in the form of a fleeting frown.

  “Will I not like this?” Anton asked when his friend stayed silent.

  “I think, if you really need to know, you should ask Vine,” Ivan finally said.

  Well, that didn’t bode well, either.

  “Are you telling me my wife is involved in whatever schemes—”

  Ivan held up a sing
le hand. “I’m telling you not to ask her unless you’re willing to understand what she did for you.”

  ***

  “Papa!”

  Viviana felt tears spring to her eyes as Anton turned on his heel at the sound of his son’s voice with a choked gasp. The decision to bring Demyan to the courthouse was one she wrestled with, to the point where she had little to no sleep the night before. No one expected or knew she was bringing him, as it ended up being a last minute thing that morning. One that made her especially late, and put her front and center for the media outside.

  The sounds of their cameras shutters clicking down repeatedly as Viviana and Sasha attempted to shield Demyan from the photographs was still haunting her memory. The tiny fists of her son had grabbed so tightly to the strands of her hair hanging loose around her neck. He stayed clinging to her shoulder, his favorite blanket tossed over his head, so confused and scared of the people, their questions, and the flashes of light.

  Viviana had continued to wave the reporters off, saying nothing.

  They weren’t important. Let them have their pictures. They didn’t matter.

  Demyan dropped from his mother’s arms to the floor and his sneaker-clad feet barely made it two steps before Anton was meeting him. Shaking and laughing at the same time, Demyan was wrapped in his father’s embrace. Anton buried his face into the boy’s neck and held tight, lifting him off the floor at the same time Demyan’s legs wrapped around his father’s middle.

  “Oh, Demyan … My little boy …” Anton’s whispers were hushed, turning relieved and pained at the same time. With one hand, he smoothed down the dark hair at the back of Demyan’s head. Standing in the middle of the room, as if no one else was there watching, Anton rocked his son, gentle murmurs of Russian mixing in with his English. “I miss you so much. So, so much, Demyan. Papa is so sorry.”

  Viviana forced the tears blurring up her vision to stop. It wouldn’t be long before Demyan needed to leave. They didn’t have a great deal of time and she drew the line at having him inside the courtroom. Sasha already agreed to skip the first day of proceedings to take the child back home.

  Sasha came to stand at Viviana’s side, expelling a shaky breath. “I’ve not seen him in so long …”

  Viviana nodded her understanding to her mother-in-law’s unspoken words. Neither had she, really. Rikers didn’t only scare her for her son’s sake, but for her own, as well. Not once had she worked up the nerve to make the trip with Ivan, never mind going it alone. Anton hadn’t asked her to come, so she felt he must have understood what she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, say.

  “Go on,” Viviana urged Sasha, willing the quake in her tone to leave. “Say hello, and spend some time with him before you leave.”

  After all, Viviana would have all day with Anton. Hours to watch him, though they wouldn’t be able to speak during the proceedings. There would be short breaks for an occasional recess, and a longer one for lunch. She would have her time, but Demyan and Sasha wouldn’t.

  Sasha didn’t need any more encouragement to greet her only child. Their embrace, much like Anton’s had been with Demyan, was just as heart-wrenching to witness. Only quiet murmurs passed between mother and son, the same apology falling from Anton repeatedly. The guilt he must have felt over the war his family faced was beginning to show. Viviana hadn’t expected that and it hurt.

  “God, Ma,” Anton started to say, his jaw tightening. “You didn’t have to come.”

  “I know, but I wanted to.”

  The guard standing just outside the doorway caught Viviana’s gaze. With a nod, the man reached in and grasped the doorknob, closing the door soundlessly and offering the family a bit more privacy. Because there were no windows in the room, and only the one entrance, he didn’t need to be inside, but he couldn’t leave his post.

  Either way, she was grateful for his actions.

  Anton let Demyan down to the floor. Instead of exploring the room like he usually would, the child stayed at his father’s side, his hands clasped into Anton’s pant legs. It almost seemed he thought if he let Anton go, he might disappear.

  Viviana ached a little more.

  Had she made the right choice bringing him?

  Would it scar Demyan further when he left his father behind?

  “This was unexpected,” Ivan said quietly beside Viviana.

  “He’s going to have a hard day,” Viviana explained.

  “Demyan?”

  “No, Anton.” Viviana offered an apologetic smile. “I didn’t want him going back there frustrated, or worse, angry because of today. It might be good for Demyan to see him, but Anton needed it, too. Maybe he’ll take that back instead of the trial.”

  “Papa,” Demyan said, tugging on his father’s pants.

  Anton was down on one knee instantly, answering Demyan with full attention. Their son attempted to explain he had to leave Rocco at home, though he wanted him to come. The soft smile playing on the edges of Anton’s lips mixed in with the happiness shining behind wet eyes told Viviana all she needed to know.

  She made the right choice. The rest didn’t matter.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Bye, bye, Papa!”

  Anton hid his sadness with a wave, hoping those wouldn’t turn into famous last words for him and his son.

  “Not bye, Demyan, just I’ll see you soon,” Anton said.

  Demyan, holding tight to his grandmother’s hand, gave a fierce nod.

  The door wasn’t closed but two seconds before Anton crossed the distance between him and his wife. That ten feet of space had been teasing him ever since Viviana walked into the room. She’d mostly kept her distance, giving Sasha and Demyan their space and time.

  Now, he just fucking wanted her.

  The moment Anton’s palm came touched Viviana’s reaching hand, heat siphoned up his arm, snaking over his skin and straight into his veins. Air sucked through his teeth, like the hissing sting of heartache beating through the organ in his chest. Their fingers laced as Anton drew his wife into his arms, taking in the sweetened scent of her floral perfume that always soaked into his lungs like the best drug.

  Closer was better. The beats of her heart thumped against his chest. The lingering pain of letting his son go slowly started to subside. There, with Viviana’s face hidden against his neck, Anton felt the first of his tears begin to fall.

  “Vine,” he said, her name alone in his mouth sounding a hell of a lot like a prayer. “Thank you, baby.”

  “No, no. He needed that, so I brought him along. He’ll probably be so confused tonight, but I just—”

  Anton shushed low, tugging Viviana’s warmth in closer. Wordlessly, she tilted her head up enough to press silken lips to the underside of his jaw, her fingers dancing along the front of his suit jacket. The action caused a shiver to crawl from the base of his spine up to his shoulders, while a familiar pressure built in his groin. Tingles sneaked over his skin. Want and need warred a battle through his insides.

  “Jesus,” Anton half wheezed. Surprised would be an understatement. They hadn’t touched in so long, and it only took the most innocent of grazes for his entire body to react like it had. “Baby, baby …”

  Again, Viviana kissed his jaw softly, fisting his jacket. Ghosting her mouth along his cheek, she stood on the toes of her heels to meet his burning gaze long enough for Anton to see the love and devotion staring back in her eyes.

  As badly as he needed to see that, it was just as much overwhelming.

  The wetness on his cheeks betrayed the tears he’d tried to cover up. Always so strong, Anton didn’t want his wife to see him weak. Pride played no part here, though. With Viviana, there was no hiding.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Viviana said, quiet and firm. “It is, Anton.”

  Dumbly, Anton could only nod. “Okay.”

  Ivan’s previous words earlier that morning were still on the forefront of his mind. Anton wasn’t ready to ask Viviana how she knew this fucked up situation would, or could,
work out for them. Or worse yet, he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to accept whatever role she may have played.

  Viviana didn’t give Anton time to consider his thoughts further, because in the next moment, her lips were pressing to his with an almost bruising force. Sweet like honey, and bitter from the anxiety still edging at the corners of his mind, the feel of her mouth on his overtook everything else. Nothing mattered but the nip of her teeth to his lip. A heady groan tumbled from his chest into the room as his fingers weaved into her hair. Soft, sleek waves that smelled like home, and love, and her. Heat flooded his veins while blood flooded his cock.

  Before Anton realized what happened, his back was hitting a wall with a thump.

  A throat cleared behind them, embarrassed and surprised.

  Anton swallowed back the building lust, cringing as he remembered the last presence who hadn’t actually left the room when the others had. Viviana, on the other hand, hid her mortified pinked cheeks against his hands cradling her face.

  “Ivan,” Anton said under his breath.

  “Yeah, I’m going to pretend like my eyes don’t need a serious bleach cleaning,” the lawyer replied dully.

  It wasn’t the first time Ivan had seen or heard something between the two, but he hadn’t ever been so close. The one thing Viviana and Anton never lacked was passion. Obviously it still burned as bright as it ever did. Being apart only fueled that need.

  Over his wife’s shoulder, Anton met Ivan’s knowing gaze. With a tick of his chin to the side, he asked, “Could you …?”

  Ivan frowned. “Maybe, man, but no guarantee.”

  Jesus, Anton didn’t care. It wasn’t like he needed a great deal of time to do … What in the hell was he planning on doing? Didn’t matter, he realized. Anything with Viviana was perfect, even just holding her, but he needed to do it alone.

  “Try,” Anton growled.

  “Anton!”

  Viviana’s admonishment only earned her a smirk from the lawyer across the room.