It wasn’t until last spring that he’d returned to visit Alek’s ex. And he’d only done so because he’d heard Alek had a P.I. searching for her. He’d stationed himself across the street from her building to make sure she was still in residence and had been stunned to see she was about to have a baby. He’d questioned an old, chatty resident and learned what a nice young girl “Sarah” was. Again, satisfied she and the child she would soon have were safely hidden, he’d let them be. Not once had he suspected she might become involved with another man. While she was pregnant? How could she?
He pushed the thought away. Who cared? His mistake had been in not scaring her away. He should have made her leave the New York area altogether. He would do that now. There must be something he could come up with that would hurt enough to make her once more walk away from the man she loved. The man she really loved. How could she be with someone else? How could she be so disloyal? That was infuriating.
He shook his head to dislodge the thought again and got back to what mattered. If she wouldn’t go voluntarily, he would resort to desperate measures. He’d done it before and was willing to do it again.
“Her reappearance is going to fuck with my timeline,” he muttered aloud as he recapped the empty syringe before tossing it into the trash. He ran his hand over his guest’s unwashed hair. She’d need to bathe soon. He hated that day of the week but could do nothing to change it. He couldn’t leave her in her own filth. Well, anymore more than he already was.
After leaving the small room, he stood outside the door that couldn’t be opened from the inside and cocked his head. Silence. They’d never used the basement much, but it wasn’t the absence of noise he heard, it was the absence of life.
As would be found in other homes, there was no music playing, no TV blaring, no dishes being done or snack being prepared. No one was arguing, or playing, or laughing.
Because this wasn’t a home anymore. It was a house. A silent house.
But that was preferable to his guest’s nonsense, he thought as he got moving. It wasn’t the banging and shouting that bothered him. It was the crying. He hated hearing it because it reminded him of tears he’d ignored by slamming out of the house, impatient to get away from them when at one time he would have done anything to stem them. That was what made him sedate his guest.
It was always worse when she screamed for her child, as she’d be doing a few minutes ago. That sometimes caused him to lose his temper. He’d never done her permanent damage, but he’d hurt her. But not even that stopped her from shouting that name over and over, and continuously attempting to gain her freedom. But as he told her time and again, her tenacity was admirable but futile. She was going nowhere. She would remain in that room no larger than a bathroom until the day she died. Whether that be of natural causes or he killed her, he still hadn’t decided.
Rubbing at his forehead, he could almost hear her begging.
“Please, just let me go. I won’t tell a soul what you look like or that you kept me here. I just want to go home. Please! Let me out of here!”
Sometimes she changed it up and asked why he’d done this, claiming she wasn’t a part of their world. And she wasn’t. Not directly. But indirectly, the tie was there. Love was love, and family was family. Pain was pain.
Dead was dead.
In his case, anyway.
As he walked through the beautifully decorated living room toward the stairs, he felt nothing. Not guilty. Not even bad. He was a yawning pit of emptiness. And he would remain in that state when someone’s mother once more cried, begged, and made her promises. And, in the coming days, when someone’s brother did the same; if he allowed himself the satisfaction of getting close enough to hear those pleas, they would be ignored. He would not relent. Until they all felt his pain, he would continue on this path. That was his vow, and it was one he intended to keep.
He thought again about the baby girl about to be discovered. An innocent infant was going to bring joy to two men who didn’t deserve it.
Unless Sergei could stop it. His thoughts grew darker the higher up the stairs he went. If Sacha didn’t heed the warning he would try to get to her—if he could get to her at all because knowing Alek, the girl was likely cloaked with security by now—Sergei might be forced to kill her and the baby. He would make their deaths quick and painless because they didn’t deserve anything worse. Well, the baby didn’t. Sacha, on the other hand, had been unfaithful. If she was with another man, her death would hurt.
When he opened the door to the main floor and took that last step up, his image appeared in the long mirror on the wall opposite him. He stared into his pale-green eyes and considered something. Alek’s pain. How brutal would it be to find your love, learn you have a daughter together, then lose them both only days later?
“You ready?”
He looked at the man standing by the front door at the end of the hallway and nodded. Yes, he was ready. Ready to end this. But for now, he would content himself with getting to Rapture before Maksim showed and asked why they were late.
SEVEN
It was almost noon by the time Maks showed at the apartment. He came sauntering into Alek’s office just off the foyer, looking all casual, as if it were any other day.
Alek got up and came around his desk. He’d gone to TarMor at five a.m. and brought home some work to occupy his mind. It had been working. Sporadically. He caught a bag that was lobbed over as he smoothed down his silver and navy striped tie. He placed the bag—smelled like Hvorost—on the corner of his desk. Did up his jacket. Ran his tongue across the front of his teeth.
“You seriously going to wait for me to ask, you asshat?”
Maks grinned and tipped his head, making the diamond studs in his ears twinkle. “Those Edward Greens? Split toes are my favorite. Good choice for today because I have a feeling you’ll be doing a lot of pacing. Got any coffee? The Hvorost at my bakery is kickass; the coffee is swill.”
It was only because Maks’s playful mood indicated good news was coming that Alek was able to pass by on his way out and not deliver a hard punch. He owed him one, after all. When they made it to the kitchen, he nodded a good morning to Micha, who now had half of Anton’s Moscow Times in his face where they sat at the dining table.
“So when were you going to tell us you lost your touch?” he said conversationally. He opened the cupboard, and ignoring the pods for the Keurig, grabbed the unopened bag of beans and the grinder.
“I haven’t. Syd needing a soak in the hot tub after I was through with her this morning will attest to that.”
Alek poured the beans and the whir of them grinding filled the apartment. He glared at his friend. What a dick.
“You shouldn’t talk that way about your future wife,” he said when he shut the machine down and transferred the grounds to a filter.
“Why? You should hear the shit I’ve caught our three ladies talking about during random security checks. You’d never catch me giving you pointers and demonstrating on garden vegetables. Mind you; I did find an empty bottle of wine in the kitchen when I got home that night. But Gabriel’s smutty little woman is pregnant, which means she was sober, so she has no excuse for the tips she was offering her friends.”
Alek had to laugh as he poured a decanter of water into the belly of the coffee maker and turned it on. “My question referred to your hacking abilities. Are we going to have to go elsewhere when we need info? Or just wait days for you to get your decrepit ass in gear.”
Maks shook his head and shrugged out of his three-quarter-length wool coat to reveal black slacks and a wine-colored button-down. “Oh, Alek, Alek. Now I get to gloat, and you get to feel stupid as you thank me.”
As long as an address came with that stupid, he was fine with it. “Thank you for what?”
“Having Lucian treat Vex like a puppet by getting him to send his little stepbro to my party with a present for you.”
Alek’s brows came together. He shook his head and made a carry-on motio
n as he opened a drawer to take out some spoons.
Vex was the president of the Manhattan chapter of the Obsidian Devils MC. Both the Tarasov organization and the Moretti family had a good relationship with the motorcycle club, since the VP, Caleb Paynne, was a part of Vincente’s family. Nika’s brother was handy to have in their back pocket.
“I found her five days ago.”
He did a cartoon double-take and winced when he slammed the drawer on his thumb. “You what?”
“Syd gave me a few clues as to what Sacha might have done after you two broke apart. One idea was that she returned to school to finish that degree she used to get so excited talking about. I hacked a shit ton of colleges in the New York area, and ran her name through enrollment and financial aid but came up with nothing. Apparently, country-wide online colleges are a different animal, and when I searched those archives, I hit. Yale offers open courses, and your little princessa is taking advantage. I snagged the IP address associated with her account, traced it to her addy, and found out the computer she uses belongs to the landlord, but Sacha’s the one feeding her brain.”
Maks crossed his arms and got into his groove as Alek listened so intently he must have looked like a goddamn slow loris.
“Micha and I hung around her building and learned the hottie who pushes the big stroller and lives in unit 1A is the local ‘babysitter’; Sarah Brighton. Still don’t understand the alias yet but I will,” he said as an aside. “She doesn’t advertise as a daycare because, from what I can only assume, she’d have to jump through some hoops to get certified by the state. She’s either too smart to bother or uninformed. You can ask her about that when we head over in a few.”
He put up a hand and winked when Alek tried to jump on that.
“Saw Sheppard pull up outside her place at one point and bee-line it to her apartment. Checked him out and got the info I gave you last night—I wasn’t searching for it while you were trying not to strangle him outside of Yin’s; it was already saved in here.” He waved his phone. “When I was researching the family, I learned Sheppard has a couple of siblings; one of each. The half-brother lives in New York, and the half-sister lives abroad. Her name is Kristen. She’s a couple of years younger than Sacha and interns at a fashion house in Paris. Single, but will make someone some sweet arm-candy one day. The brother, on the other hand, is a meathead biker named Vex fucking Mason—Mason?” He wasted time sneering at the name. “What the fuck, right? No wonder he dropped it. Anyway, Vex being Sheppard’s stepbrother might account for a portion of his attitude. When I learned that, I paid Lucian a visit and begged a favor. Told him I’d owe him if he could quietly get the grease monkey to quietly steer little bro in our direction last night. Didn’t say why, but did have to promise we weren’t going to hit the attorney with a spray of bullets—main reason Vasily called us off the guy.”
Maks paused, and where, typically, after doing a play-by-play he’d have a been wearing a smug grin, currently he looked wary. As if he thought Alek might react badly to all of this. He just might.
“Syd thought it would go down a little easier for both you and your woman—your ‘cheated-on’ woman—if you ran into each other organically rather than you showing at her door demanding she come to heel. Her words, not mine. I tried to tell her you weren’t me, but she wasn’t listening. Oh, and making you take some time to get your head on straight was Vasily’s idea. I felt for you having to wonder about her all night.” He looked at Anton. “Did Vasily make you zip it?”
Anton got up and came over. “You will be reassured to know she arrived home safe, and her friend left within the hour.”
Alek finally blinked. He wasn’t sure if he should be furious at being left out of the loop or grateful that they’d all had his back. He took some cups down and poured the coffee. He was silent as he handed them off.
Okay. He couldn’t address the coddling. If he did, it would make him appear ungrateful and petty. But that didn’t mean anger wasn’t forming over it. It was. And it wasn’t a new thing.
He’d be the first to admit he was slightly spoiled. Because of how he was raised, and who’d raised him, he’d never struggled or been through the type of life-altering trials his friends had. After his mom had passed away when he was eleven, Vasily had banded with his brother. The two had taken over and continued to provide Alek with a home made up of security, love, and strong leading hands. When Alek’s dad followed his wife seven years later, twenty-eight-year-old Vasily had barely blinked at being left with another dependant—he’d already had Maksim under his wing by then. The three of them had gotten through the loss of Evgeny Tarasov together.
Strange how Alek’s family ties did the opposite of what one would think. Rather than bring him instant respect, it brought the lack of it from some. Alek had been told outright by an associate that the coddling he’d received had prevented him from gaining the skills necessary to thrive in their world. To them, Alek hadn’t earned the right to call himself a Tarasov; he’d simply been born with the name. It had taken him a long time before he was able to ignore the question he’d sometimes see in an associate’s eyes; What’s the little prince doing here?
It wasn’t until he was in his mid-twenties that he’d gotten a handle on the insecurity. And that was only after he’d brought the subject up with his uncle. Let them underestimate you, Alek. It is a good thing they do not yet know what you’re capable of. You probably don’t even know yet. So you travel through our world in silence. Do what you must, but remember, never make a move you are not willing to best. An enemy kicks the tire of your car? You put him in his place by taking a sledgehammer to his foot. Another hears of this and repeats the insult to see how far you can be pushed. What do you do then? You bring in a small tractor with a front end loader, and you drop the bucket on his legs. Another tries his luck with you? You find yourself a wood chipper, you secure him to a plank, and you send him in up to his thighs. The trick when you’re making an example out of someone; never let them die, because with them will go your message.
Something those patronizing few weren’t aware of was that Alek’s lack of a reputation was a direct testament to the way Vasily had taught him to conducted business. One did things quietly. One didn’t boast or share, because most times if individuals weren’t directly involved in a situation, there was no need for them to learn about it after the fact.
Alek had taken that to heart, which was why he was able to keep his legitimate life separate from this one.
True threats move in silence, son. Do you know of any predators that announce their presence before they attack? Do they drag their kill around to prove to everyone how strong they are? No. You shouldn’t either.
He sipped his scalding coffee and finally asked, “Where is she?”
Maks put his cup down. “Sunnyside.”
“Queens?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what she was thinking, but she’s in a ground floor apartment, wide open to any molester-slash-murderer who’d want to target a smokin’ babe.”
Alek’s skin tightened as he posed his next question to Anton since he’d been there last night. “She’s alone? No roommate?” It didn’t sit right that he had to ask. That he didn’t know every fucking detail of her life.
“No roommate. At your uncle’s suggestion, I had a quick look inside before she arrived. There was no evidence to suggest more than one occupant. The baby supplies were a surprise. Until now.”
Maks nodded as he put his coffee down. “Her caring for children all day—I thought that suited her. Imagine the fathers of those kids when they get a load of the hot babysitter.” He raised his voice a few octaves. “‘Honey, can you pick junior up from daycare on your way home? I won’t have time.” He lowered his voice again, pretending to be the husband. “‘Uh, fuck yeah. Try and stop me, wife.’ Twenty bucks says dad leaves work early on those days so he can linger.” He nodded knowingly, proving once more what a large dick he was. “You’re imagining that now, aren’t you?”
“No. She said ‘yes, please’.”
Daycare. Why would Sacha have gone that route? Yes, she’d been mushy around babies just like every woman, but she’d never mentioned an interest in making a career out of it. Why hadn’t she returned to school to finish her degree? She’d wanted that so badly.
Yeah, and he’d been the asshole who’d held her back. Why? Because he hadn’t wanted his much younger, spectacularly beautiful girlfriend associating with frat boys and football players out to fuck as much pussy as they could. Alek had been gearing up to discuss her returning to classes after Christmas, but only if she would agree to have a Tarasov man on her. They never got there.
“Who else knows you found her?”
He motioned to Micha, who waved but didn’t look up from his paper. “Didn’t want anyone’s bad acting skills to kill my prep so I kept the circle small. Now that you’re up-to-date, you wanna go for a drive?”
“Who’s there now?”
“Grigori and Lucas,” Anton supplied.
“If you want to take the day,” Maks said. “I know where she’s going to be tonight. That Women in Power conference Eva’s been all over this weekend is having their black-tie dinner. Seems Sheppard’s firm has a table booked and Justin has confirmed attendance with a date. A few other notable names on the guest list would be Fane, Moretti, Tarasov, and now Kirov, but the last was a late addition.”
Alek cleaned up some spilled sugar granules and emptied the used grounds into the garbage. Did Maks seriously think he’d take the day? Was he fucked? And it was a damn relief to hear if he struck out this morning, he’d have another opportunity tonight.
He took his phone out and called home to ask Samnang, their housekeeper, to make sure Alek’s tux was ready for him to swing by and pick up later.
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