Ultimate Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 4)

by Nancy Haviland

  “Alek.”

  Dying without you, he finished silently when his uncle’s voice came from behind him. He briefly considered ignoring it. But couldn’t. His respect for this man was too great. Plus, when that note of warning came from the Pakhan of a powerful Russian crime organization, family or not, you gave it the deference it deserved.

  Alek slowly flipped his hand into a stay-put position. He didn’t close the distance so he could latch onto her wrist—or slip his arm around her waist and bury his face in her neck. He simply warned her she wasn’t to move. Then he shifted his attention.

  Vasily Tarasov stood beneath the street light, a low-key buzz of power emanating from him. His constant shadow, Dmitri Zolin, hovered a few feet away.

  “I will not allow her to get away from me again,” Alek said because it was as simple as that. He didn’t miss the quiet sound that came from Sacha. Caused by his vow or because the other part of the human barrier that had tried to prevent him from coming out here had just sauntered out of the shadows.

  Vasily came forward. “Sacha.” His greeting was warm. “How are you? I hope you can forgive our intrusion into your evening.” When he put his hand out, she didn’t hesitate to take it. She went up on her toes and lit small fires of jealousy along Alek’s nerve endings when she kissed his uncle’s cheeks. The tattooed hand that rested briefly on her head was the same gentle touch Vasily used with his daughter. Eva and Sacha were around the same age. Sacha would be twenty-five next month. Alek had met her when she was a young, demure twenty-two.

  “It appears it was us who interrupted you,” she murmured. “We will get out of your way.”

  Awareness roved Alek’s spine at the sound of her voice. Her Russian accent was still pronounced and damned beautiful. He wanted everyone gone so he could concentrate on it, on her.

  “You’re not the one in the way here,” he said, holding the eyes of the man leisurely coming around from the driver’s side of the Mercedes.

  As he drew up next to Sacha, all those instincts that had appeared the moment Alek had met this woman roared to the surface again. The primitive urges were stronger than they’d ever been. That irrational, blinding jealousy invaded. Overwhelmed. He clenched his fists…and then felt his lip curve because he could have sworn he already felt the warmth of his new enemy’s blood dripping off his hands.

  The dead man wore an expensive coat similar to the one Alek had left behind in the restaurant. His hair was dark, he had a strong jaw, and his discerning stare was even with Alek’s, putting him around six-feet-two.

  “Alek Tarasov.” He sounded calm as he introduced himself. He wasn’t. This woman belonged to him, and this piece of shit was trespassing to a degree that could only result in death. This man’s hands had touched her only moments ago. He’d put his lips on her. There would be hell to pay for that.

  “No. That is not necessary. We should go…” Sacha had grasped her date’s arm in an effort to stop him from shaking Alek’s hand. The warning was politely ignored.

  “Justin Sheppard.”

  Good to meet you, Justin Sheppard. Remember my face, because I’m coming for you.

  A quiet ticking started up, and Alek’s tension eased slightly because the sound meant Maks was on it. Sacha also heard the inputting of her date’s name into Maks’s phone and a small knot appeared in her jaw as if she was grinding her teeth. Could she remember the way of things? And if so, was she worried Maks would have the boyfriend’s story within moments?

  “If you and Sacha would like to return to the restaurant,” Vasily said. “Our party was just finishing up.”

  Sacha shook her head before Sheppard could respond. “Thank you, but we should be going.”

  “No.” Rather than drive his fist through another man’s sternum to rip out his still beating heart, Alek rudely gave everyone but Sacha his back. He placed his hands on the car’s roof, boxing her in. She pressed back, as though she didn’t want to come into contact with him. Understandable. The last time she’d seen him, he’d had his hands full of a woman that wasn’t her.

  He excluded Sheppard completely by reverting to Russian once more. “I would appreciate a few minutes of your time. We could talk in the car. Vasily’s car,” he specified with a dismissive look at the Mercedes. “Or, if you prefer something more public, we can go into the restaurant. But whichever you choose, it’s time to send him on his way. I’ll make sure you get home.” Preferably their home.

  A new tension began crackling in the time it took for her to raise her incredulous stare. The vulnerability surrounding her disappeared and she made a small sound of amusement that wasn’t reflected in her expression.

  “Just like that, Alekzander?” She spoke quietly enough so only he would hear. “Your arrogance is astounding if it allows you to believe there would be any point to us sitting down together, no matter the location.” Even exuding such disdain, he’d never seen a woman so fucking beautiful.

  “You’re probably right,” he admitted without paying attention to the disappointment tinged with hurt that swiftly moved through him. “Though it doesn’t change the fact that I would like some time with you.”

  Apathy stared at him. Hmm. It appeared their time apart had changed more than him.

  A slight movement had his gaze falling, and he watched her throat work through a swallow. The urge to scrape his teeth over the silky skin came out of nowhere. “I don’t know how the hell you came to be here tonight, Sacha, but if you think I’m going to let this opportunity go without taking full advantage, then you’ve forgotten who I am.”

  “No. And there lies the problem; I have forgotten nothing.”

  Shut down. He dropped his arms and retreated. He remembered that tone and knew he wouldn’t get her cooperation this night. Not even if he told her how much he’d missed her. How much he’d missed her smile, the scent of her skin.

  I miss the feeling of home you instill so deep in my soul it’s as if I’ve lived with it forever when I know damn well I haven’t.

  No. Even then she wouldn’t hear him tonight. While he’d been begging the fates for this opportunity, it looked as if she’d been begging for the opposite.

  Again, he understood.

  And that meant he was going to have to demonstrate some patience after all by allowing her to leave him. Maks must have Sheppard’s info by now. If not, Alek would get the plates on the Benz and they’d hack OnStar. Bingo. He’d have Sacha’s addy and could work his ass off to be with his woman just like every other guy did. He hadn’t had to do that the first time around, and it would be no hardship for him to do so this time.

  Despite what he would consider minor roadblocks, a feeling he’d forgotten existed was settling in. Peace. He’d found her. She was safe. She was unharmed. And she was with him again. That was everything.

  He took another step back and even managed a small smile. “I understand,” he said, inclining his head as if in defeat. But before he could prove how gracious he planned on being about the whole thing by opening the car door for her, she made a fatal error.

  Alek watched as if in slow motion Sacha move that stunning hourglass figure over and press what was his into Sheppard’s side. After the slightest hesitation, her date encircled his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in.

  When Alek’s gaze clashed with gold, there was no denying the expression staring back at him. It was the clearest fuck-you he’d ever seen.

  Vasily and Maks came forward at the same time to wedge themselves between Alek and the blasphemous display they’d all just witnessed.

  Disappointed that she would do such a thing in front of his people, Alek tsked quietly. “Why would you provoke me in such a way, Sacha?” he murmured, holding her eyes as he brought that target back up when he’d mentally been lowering it because deep down he knew Sheppard didn’t deserve his malice. Or, he hadn’t. Now, Alek squared that bull’s eye on the guy’s chest, and almost as if she sensed where his mind was, his naughty angel paled and looked up at her date w
ith a look of regret.

  Alek lost sight of her when Maks lowered his head and caught his eye. “Time to get this train backed up.” He forced Alek back by bumping their chests together. When they were out of earshot, he added, “He’s untouchable. We have to regroup and figure some shit out. Then we’ll take care of this in a more private location.” He bumped again. “Don’t worry, brother. I got you covered.”

  The storm tearing through him calmed at hearing that but the dark clouds of possession hovered, going nowhere. “Take my gun.”

  Maks’s hand immediately snaked inside Alek’s jacket and came out with his nine millimeter. It was gone from sight before anyone had a chance to lock eyes on it. At the same time, Vasily was sending Sheppard back around the car and opening the door to help Sacha into the passenger seat with a quiet farewell that Alek didn’t hear her return.

  “Justin Sheppard.”

  The guy paused with one foot in the car, appearing remarkably unfazed by the undercurrent surrounding them.

  “Take care of her.” Alek’s voice was as even as he could make it. “She’s precious in a way you couldn’t possibly understand.”

  Finally, a reaction came when the muscle in Sheppard’s jaw jumped. “I easily understand that, Tarasov. She’ll be fine. Goodnight, gentlemen.” He disappeared into the car, and the tinted windows shut out prying eyes as they drove away.

  Alek let out a slow breath that burned. “This all could have been so civilized had she not done that. I could have pretended they were friends and we could have moved on from there.” He watched the car until it was no longer distinguishable from the others on the street. “Now, I want to see him hanging on your wall.”

  “Innocent men don’t belong on Maksim’s wall,” Vasily pointed out as they moved deeper into the shadows and away from a passing group of teenagers.

  Disregarding his uncle’s sane view on who belonged in the basement of Maks’s gentlemen’s club where the organization’s enemies sometimes ended up, Alek asked Maks, “What did you find?”

  “A lot of info. Right down to the parking space the guy frequently uses at the goddamn courthouse on Centre Street. He’s a criminal defense attorney.”

  Ah, fuck.

  TWO

  I will not allow her to get away from me again.

  Oh, God. She was going to be sick.

  Why would you provoke me in such a way, Sacha?

  Bile filled her throat, but she swallowed it down. There was no time to panic. She had to calm down and remember her plan.

  A tap on her wrist made her jump. Her elbow hit the door, and her heart nearly burst when a cab laid on the horn as it drove past them going in the opposite direction.

  “Hey.” Justin’s voice was gentle with concern when he saw her reacting as if ghosts were surrounding her. “What’s going on? Come on, Sarah. Take a slow breath before you pass out on me.” He stopped at a red light a few blocks from the restaurant they should never have gone to.

  She tried but it the air got stuck in her throat as she pulled her phone out of her purse.

  “It helps if you distract yourself. Think about, I don’t know, Lekzi’s new fangs. That should help.”

  It didn’t. Thinking of the two little white teeth now protruding from her daughter’s gums made her want to cry.

  “They are not fangs,” she defended, just as she had when she’d proudly showed Justin Lekzi’s new smile.

  “I know. So, before I layer a thousand questions on you, why don’t you tell me what the hell that was about.”

  After trying twice to get her best friend and landlord’s number right, Sacha winced when the ringing pierced her ear as loud as a police siren. “Let me talk to Angela first then I will explain.”

  “Hello?” Angela sounded drowsy, as if she’d been dozing. She was babysitting for Sacha tonight when it was normally the other way around since Angela’s son was one of Sacha’s charges in the small daycare she ran out of her apartment.

  “He is coming,” Sacha squeezed through her tight throat, never having believed she would utter those words. “Please, do as we discussed and take Lekzi upstairs. Do not come down until I come to your door. Hurry!” In her head, she was ticking off the items in the bag she kept in Angela’s apartment; passports, money belts, train schedule, clothes…

  Oh, God. How was she going to do this? She didn’t want to do this.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Justin was looking at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Who’s coming?”

  “Oh, shit,” Angela breathed, not sounding so relaxed anymore. “Lekzi’s daddy? Are you freaking kidding me? How the hell? What happened, Sarah? Where are you? Where did you see him?”

  “At the restaurant. We walked in and he was there. He was…there. Oh, my God, Angela. Please, hurry.”

  “I’m already out the door. Baby girl fell asleep in her bassinet, so I just had to grab it and Tanner’s car seat.” Her voice shook to prove she was moving. “I can’t believe this. How’d he seem?”

  “Intense.” Infuriating. Disgusting. Beautiful. “He followed us out of the restaurant. He said he wanted to talk with me. Alone. He wanted to see me home.” Arrogant. Had she mentioned infuriating?

  “Alone. What, he wanted you to send Justin away? Shit, girl. But how will he find out where you live just by seeing you in a— Never mind. Stupid question, considering who he is. But it’ll take him a while, right?”

  Angela’s reaction was a comfort, proving she knew what a Russian Bratva was capable of just as she’d let on when Sacha had finally caved to the pressure and shared her story. Justin’s earlier mistake stole that comfort.

  “No. Justin gave Maksim his name.” Shocking herself with the violent move, she reached over and swatted her friend’s hard thigh. Fear squeezed her lungs as she remembered that behemoth going to work the moment he had some information. “Why did you not listen to me, Justin?” Her daughter’s image shimmered before her eyes. “We would have had more time if all they had was the license plate of your car! Now he will come! He will learn she exists, and he will take her from me!”

  “Sasha!”

  Angela’s use of her real name shut her up.

  “I don’t understand what the hell you’re saying. You’re speaking Russian. And who the heck is Maksim?”

  “What the fuck is going on here?” Justin demanded as she covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head.

  His image blurred before her eyes, and she didn’t protest when he took her phone. He knew Angela just as well as Sacha, if not better, since Angela was married to his best friend. That’s how Sacha and Justin had grown so close, by being thrown together all the time during park visits and potluck dinners. Sacha had vehemently protested the coupling at first until one evening Justin had revealed he wasn’t interested in her “in that way,” saying with a smile that she wasn’t his type. Or the right gender. She’d welcomed his easy companionship after that, and they’d soon started hanging out and making plans even when Angela and Steve were unavailable. Tonight’s dinner, for example.

  “Yeah, of course, I’ve heard of them but have never met any of them before,” he was saying to Angela. “My brother has gotten to know a few of them pretty well.” He put the phone between his ear and shoulder and reached over to turned the heat up. He must have noticed she was shivering—it wasn’t from the cold. “I read about the territorial one a couple of months ago. He and his partner landed that multi-residential deal everyone was bidding for on the Lower East Side. Word on the street was, rather than their lawyers, Alek Tarasov and Markus Fane kicked some serious ass during negotiations. Two high-profile families with questionable ties…”

  Sacha tuned him out as he and Angela speculated about something Sacha knew for certain. The ties were not only questionable, they were unbreakable. Because they were family ties that bound those men together. The fact that most of them didn’t share the same blood made no difference. They were family. A brotherhood. Bratva.

  She couldn�
��t have said where the Tarasovs were more influential, in the U.S. or in Russia, where she’d heard talk of them all her life. Whether it was on the news or at her family’s dinner table—not that she’d paid much attention back then—their name had usually been but whispered with equal parts fear and respect. She remembered the knowing looks her parents exchanged when photos would surface of Alekzander’s grandfather with highly respected political leaders. They’re everywhere, her father would murmur under his breath.

  It wasn’t until she moved away from home after her parents’ death that Sacha had her first personal interaction with a real-life member. She’d come to New York because a family friend’s daughter had made the move the year before. She and Irena had been close growing up. Not to the same extent their mother’s were, but still, Sacha had always thought they’d had a connection. Irena, it turned out, wasn’t the sentimental type, because when Sacha showed up at the address she was given for a hair salon in Brighton Beach, her childhood “friend” had had no interest in renewing their acquaintance. Sacha hadn’t minded that so much after seeing the marked difference in the girl she used to know. The most obvious being the droopy eyes and purple bruises in her elbow creases.

  Without fretting over the change in plans, Sacha had moved on and settled into a minuscule apartment. She’d gravely insulted the three and a half years of university she had under her belt by taking a job at a small diner. But she never let herself dwell on the fact that she was completely alone in a strange city where her grasp of the language wasn’t the best.

  Those first months were actually a lonely, frightening existence that she, thankfully, hadn’t had to suffer through for very long.

  On a day just as stressful as any other—her boss had been an intolerant jerk—she’d gone to one of her assigned tables to greet two men in smart suits. They’d looked up from their tattered menus, and despite Gabriel Moretti’s dark, handsome looks, she’d barely glanced at him. She hadn’t been able to tear her eyes from Alekzander Tarasov. Within minutes of meeting him, he’d turned her world upside down, and it had yet to right itself.