A Love of Vengeance

by Nancy Haviland

  In his mind’s eye, the final grains of sand fell through the hourglass.

  Vasily Tarasov’s pitiless navy eyes stared directly into his.

  CHAPTER 21

  Without hesitating, Gabriel opened the door to his friend, relief that he’d made it back from Russia safe and unharmed, by the looks of it, combining with an annoying trepidation about what was coming. He was by himself but no doubt Dmitri and Aron were somewhere in the hotel.

  “Gabriel.”

  “Vasily.”

  He was pulled in to receive his usual greeting: slaps on the back and kisses to the cheeks. But the gesture was lacking, different. Gabriel’s interpretation could be because of his guilt—that his own selfishness had ruined his relationship with Vasily. But most likely the greeting was off because Vasily had found out what was going on.

  They broke apart, shame sitting heavily in his chest. Especially when he realized he and Eva had just finished having sex—actually, no. That hadn’t been sex. What they just shared had been something else entirely. Something he’d think on later. A lot.

  Right now he had to concentrate on how the fuck he was going to come clean without shuffling around like an embarrassed teenager?

  He wasn’t given the chance.

  “Where is she?” Vasily questioned bluntly.

  Recovering quickly, Gabriel motioned him into the suite and nodded toward the bedroom. “Inside.”

  “You’ve been a busy man,” Vasily said mildly as he went by, but with a hardness to his tone that had dread scraping over Gabriel’s skin, leaving it stinging. “Must be why I haven’t heard from you.”

  He took a breath, hopefully not his last, as he closed the door on the guards lining the hallway. When he turned, the Russian was standing with his heavy arms crossed over his chest, observing him with that sharp stare.

  Okay, now he felt as if he were seven. And, yeah, fuck this. Never having been comfortable in the role of coward, he bit the bullet. “I have to beg your forgiveness, Vasily. Because—”

  A tattooed hand came up to cut him off, and he was sort of glad. After all, what could he say that wasn’t going to earn him a slow, oh-it-hurts death? He didn’t want Eva walking out and having to watch him bleed out in front of her.

  “I asked you to watch over her. I believe I mentioned that was only until I could get back to do it myself.”

  Yeah. He knew. Gabriel opened his mouth to offer . . . an apology? No. To defend himself? Not really. How could he possibly? He’d wanted Eva, and he’d taken her. He couldn’t have left her alone if he’d tried, but he wasn’t quite sure how to make her father understand. It was much more than just raw desire. He cared for her—that was for damn sure—liked being with her, spending time with her, making her laugh, and holding her when she cried. But happily ever after wasn’t in the cards for them, not with his brother’s never-ending quest for revenge. Never mind the very life Gabriel led. That bitch would eat Eva alive.

  Or would it?

  But Vasily would expect no less than a ring on his daughter’s finger. Fuck. Eva deserved no less than the whole deal.

  But was he the man to give it to her? So far he’d compromised her safety, taken away her ability to live her life freely and without fear, and exposed her to a world no one as soft and good-hearted as she was should even be aware existed, let alone have to live in.

  And yet she was flourishing. Seeming to come into her own. She was coping beautifully, as he’d told her, and it all seemed rather effortless for her. Didn’t it? Maybe he was only hoping.

  Vasily made an impatient sound. “Since you’re scrambling, why don’t I leave you to it. But go and get my daughter before you hurt yourself. We’ll discuss this mess later.” He strode away, into the main room.

  Gabriel’s brows came down, a tic working in his jaw. He wasn’t used to being dismissed in such a way, no matter that it was Vasily and the guy had every right to be furious with him. But he ate it, because he deserved so much worse.

  And knowing that worse wasn’t far off and he’d soon be suffering because of Stefano’s shit, he went to get Eva.

  After drying her face, Eva leaned against the bathroom counter and stared at her reflection, noting her too-bright eyes and flushed cheeks. Heart heavy, she slowly hung the soft, white towel up as perfectly as she could and straightened the clothes that she was once again wearing.

  That had been incredible. Gabriel was incredible. The way he made her feel . . . incredible.

  But she found herself wishing it hadn’t happened. Because it had felt like a good-bye.

  She’d shown her desperation, hadn’t she? But she couldn’t help it. That meeting had left her fearing for her life. For her friends’ lives. For Gabriel’s life. She’d needed to be close to him. Needed to feel him. Hold him. She had been desperate. And hungry. To be with him.

  What if it had been good-bye and she never got the chance again? What if—

  Stop it.

  She swallowed her rising panic. Right. There was no point in going there. Redundant thinking was becoming her specialty.

  Turning to leave, she started when Gabriel appeared in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame. Her eyes narrowed when the odd tension mixed with something soft and gentle in the lines of his beautiful face registered.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Get over here.” He yanked her to him with an arm around her waist and held her tightly for a moment, his face buried in her hair. Her own arms came up to encircle his neck and she reveled for too short a moment in the feel of him so strong and sure against her. With a light squeeze, he drew back and took her hand to lead her out of the bathroom.

  “What’s going on? You’re making me nervous.”

  He didn’t look at her, but kept walking. “Don’t be nervous.”

  All right, if she wasn’t supposed to be nervous, maybe Nika was here. Good. She could use the distraction. She wanted to know what had happened between her and Vincente. Because something clearly had. That would help keep her mind off everything else.

  Only their company wasn’t Nika, but a tall, well-built man who watched her from where he stood in front of the windows, arms behind his back, legs braced. He was dressed smartly but casually, all in black, right down to his leather shoes. His hair was as dark as hers, his skin the same tawny shade. Eyes a deep blue.

  Like hers.

  He came forward.

  “Your father didn’t want to wait any longer to meet you, sweetheart.”

  Her breath hitched, and even though she’d pretty much realized who he was just by looking at him, it was still a shock to hear it confirmed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gabriel move back into the bedroom to give them some privacy. Her height and looks—both nothing like her mother’s—suddenly made sense. This very large, oh so handsome man was . . . Vasily Tarasov.

  Her father.

  She couldn’t help it; her eyes immediately stung as a myriad of emotions bombarded her. Anger and hurt were first because he’d abandoned her, and his decisions had resulted in her missing out on a relationship with him. More anger for what his absence had meant for her mother’s life.

  Forgiveness wasn’t far behind; a budding love rushing in after it. And appreciation, because he’d given up his own family so they could live in safety. After the last few days, Eva had seen firsthand what her life would have been like if he’d never left—her mother’s life, too—and she had a deeper appreciation for her father’s decision. And, surprising her, more appreciation filled her, this time nearly overwhelming.

  Because he’d given her Gabriel. A memory she would treasure for the rest of her life.

  Did he know about their involvement? Did he think less of her because of it? Oh, God. Could her father know she’d had sex with his friend?

  Please don’t let him know, she prayed.

  She tried to concentrate, her heart hammering in her chest when he took one of her hands between his warm,
rough palms.

  “Hello, precious.”

  Two simple words, so filled with tenderness and hope that they wiped her mind clean. Wiped everything else away. There was nothing left but her and her father.

  “Hello, Daddy,” she whispered, her voice breaking. He looked as shocked to hear the title as she was to use it.

  He cleared his throat roughly. “I’m so sorry for what’s happened, Evangeline. I did everything I could to keep you and your mother safe. Her death”—she heard the emotion that clogged his throat and realized then he really had loved her mother, just like Gabriel had said—“was a tragic and devastating mistake that I would do anything to change.”

  He paused when she squeezed his hand. “Don’t,” she said, her voice shaky. “You did what you thought was right. I’m . . . beginning to understand and appreciate that, even if it did take you away from us.”

  He blinked and cursed, making her smile because it was something Gabriel would have done. He lifted his hand and brushed his fingers down her cheek. Eva couldn’t stop herself from leaning into the touch a little.

  “God, you look like your mother when you smile.”

  His ragged tone was filled with a familiar agony, heavy guilt, and responsibility, the sound of which had her tears flowing too quickly for her to control. All of a sudden, her father pulled her into his wide chest and she cried her heart out. Cried over the loss they shared, over the loss her mother had lived with. Over the loss of too many years of being denied this comfort.

  The comfort only a father could give his daughter.

  “I’m so sorry she was taken from you, Evangeline. I know, because of my decision, she was all you had. And because of me, you lost her and you’re alone. But it doesn’t have to be that way.” He drew back. “Please, allow me into your life. I would love nothing more than to . . . know you. To help you in any way that I can. I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you away from the . . . kind of life I lead. To let you live as free from danger as possible.”

  With a shaking hand, she wiped the moisture from her father’s lightly stubbled cheeks. “Please.” Her throat felt raw. “I’d love that.”

  His chest expanded on a deep breath and he seemed to think for a moment. “I have to admit, this was much easier than I expected it to be.”

  She extracted herself completely but continued to stare, memorizing his features. “I’ve had a little time to get my mind around it. Gabriel was a big help in that. He practically worships you, you know.” A strange expression crossed her father’s features, and she realized mentioning Gabriel may not have been the best thing. She didn’t know how he felt about the Stefano situation. Or even if he knew about it. He didn’t comment, so she continued her staring.

  God, he was so not the short baldy she’d been expecting. No wonder her mother had never looked at another man after him. What a waste, she thought, anger once more swirling through her. She tried to tamp it down. “What should I call you?” Maybe he didn’t want a grown woman labeling him as a child would.

  “That’s up to you. Whatever you chose, I’ll always answer.”

  Her eyes burned anew, but she blinked the tears away, the budding love blooming, overshadowing the anger. “Okay,” she whispered, feeling a little awkward, yet also feeling as though she knew him better than she did. “And as for this being easy, it’s not. I’m sure over the next little while I’ll give you whiplash as I waffle between bitterness and acceptance.” She cleared her throat and smiled wryly up at him. “Just be warned.”

  She saw the corners of his mouth tilt up. “Got it,” he said, a touch of humor in his tone.

  Her smile widened, and she watched in awe as her father’s own smile transformed his face into something even more striking than it had been a moment ago.

  What a beautiful man, she thought around trying to absorb her first real “moment” with her father.

  He looked beyond her when footfalls sounded to announce Gabriel had rejoined them. “She’s very much like me,” Vasily said.

  A soft snort sounded. “You have no idea.”

  Her father’s cell rang, and he gave an impatient sigh as he withdrew it from his pocket. His look was apologetic. “We can’t ignore any calls right now,” he explained. “Excuse me.” He pressed the phone to his ear and moved toward the desk, saying to Gabriel in a hard voice, “I want to know about that mark on her face when I’m through here.”

  Her mouth twisted. Sure, she was getting used to conversations being cut off at inopportune times from her time spent with Gabriel. But she still didn’t enjoy it.

  Gabriel stepped behind her and gently rubbed her shoulders. “See? Nothing to be nervous about.”

  She nodded, wanting badly to step back and relax against him, but she didn’t. She denied herself the comfort, figuring she’d better get used to not having it, and instead concentrated on her father, a man she’d never thought to know.

  She listened and watched as he spoke to someone in a language she decided right then that she’d better learn.

  She’d had more than enough of being kept in the dark.

  CHAPTER 22

  “I wonder what’s happening.”

  Eva perched on the edge of the dark-chocolate leather sofa clicking her fingernails. Now that she’d exhausted the topic of meeting her father, she was back to worrying. Her ears strained to pick up any sounds of heavy footsteps coming down the corridor, eyes straying once more to the entrance of the smaller suite she was ensconced in. The one Vincente apparently used whenever he was in Seattle.

  “Do you smell leather?” Nika, who sat across from her, asked distractedly, nose in the air, sniffing delicately. “I smell leather.”

  “It’s probably Caleb,” Eva offered, glad her friend had at least stopped asking when she could go home.

  They’d been sitting together more than an hour, ever since Gabriel had brought her over so that he and the others could discuss a plan of action. Caleb had been put out when he’d been left to babysit, but he had come around when Eva had asked him to spill on what he knew about Gabriel and his friends. He had, with relish, and he had known a good deal. The more Eva had heard, the less intimidated she’d felt by the Russian and Italian group across the hall. Not that she would ever disregard who they were and what they were capable of, but she’d found her fear taking a backseat to respect.

  From the picture she was getting, these factions of organized crime—the Obsidian Devils MC included—were simply businessmen just like any other. A little rougher, but businessmen just the same. The only difference between a Russian, an Italian, a biker, or any other family and, say, government officials or CEOs of massive worldwide companies was that the supposed criminal organizations ran their ventures openly and without apology. The “respectable” groups didn’t. Yet they did the same sorts of things.

  Not that she supported the darker, more violent aspects of their business, and there was plenty of dark side to come to terms with. But at least they owned it, and that was something she respected.

  “Vincente kissed me.”

  Eva’s head whipped to the side, her rounded eyes landing on her best friend. She felt like she’d just been dropped into another dimension. “What did you say?”

  Nika glanced at her brother, who was on the other side of the room lifting the stoppers and sniffing the contents of the bottles clustered on the bar as he tried to decide what to drink. He kept muttering about a “simple fucking beer.”

  He hadn’t heard Nika’s announcement.

  Her friend uncurled and leaned forward on the chair. “Vincente kissed me outside the meeting room downstairs earlier,” she repeated in a whisper. She looked as if she wasn’t sure if she was excited by that or upset.

  “How . . . What were . . . Did you . . . But . . . What happened?” Eva finally settled on. The dark menace they called Reaper—after the Grim Freaking Reaper!—had kissed Nika? “Like, on the mouth?” she clarified just to be sure she was f
ollowing this right.

  “On the mouth, with tongue, his hard body all over me.”

  Her jaw fell, and she was pretty sure she looked like a fish, her mouth opening and closing silently.

  “I saw him outside and nearly died. He’s gorgeous, don’t you think?” Nika continued to whisper, rushing through her words, her eyes darting to her brother to make sure he wasn’t paying attention. “Anyway, he misconstrued my look when I first saw him for something it wasn’t and got insulted. Like a big baby he implied I was a prostitute to get back at me. Who does that?” She shook her head and pulled a face. “But then he apologized and put me against the wall. Eva . . . I was so scared Kevin was somehow going to show up like he does.”

  That sucked the smile off Eva’s face like a Dyson, but she’d get back to that. “He implied you were a prostitute?” she began with.

  Nika shrugged. “Asked if he could bring me up here and make me scream,” she practically squeaked.

  “Holy shit,” Eva breathed. Vincente? she thought again. “Was he any good?” Vincente?

  Nika’s emerald eyes sparkled with a mix of anxiety and heat. “Oh. My. God,” she mouthed silently as she glanced at Caleb again. He’d finally made a decision and was pouring something dark over ice.

  “You girls want something? Don’t know what half the shit is, but it’s probably pretty smooth.”

  They both called a hurried “No, thanks” and held each other’s stares. What did this mean? Nika was married. To an asshole, yes, but she was still married, and not the type of person to disregard that, unless . . .

  Eva steeled herself to break her promise not to comment on Nika’s marriage. “Can I ask you something?” she said quickly as Caleb replaced the stopper on the bottle.

  Nika nodded.

  “Do you love Kevin?”

  A look of utter loathing twisted her best friend’s lips. “I hate him more than the disease that stole my parents.”