Ultimate Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 4) (25 page)

She didn’t believe his amicability was sincere. He could see it in the careful way she was holding herself. Which showed how smart she was. Of course, he felt some anger over what she’d taken from them. How could he not? But he let it go because he understood her reasoning, and would never think to berate her in public—mainly because she was in no way solely responsible for this situation. They were all going to have to work to gain each other’s trust again. But that would come over time, he thought as he turned her and nudged her toward his nephew, damn relieved there was now a little someone who would guarantee they would be together.

“You and Maksim will take her home,” he told Alek. “Sydney will remain with her for support while you arrange to have her apartment closed up and her things brought to Old Westbury. My house, not yours. I think we’ll let her and the baby get settled before dropping them into the circus your place has become with all the new inhabitants.”

While Sacha’s skin went snow white, Alek’s face transformed from pissed to smugly satisfied. Brat, Vasily thought affectionately as he went over and grabbed his brother’s only child with a hand over each of his ears. He landed two smacking kisses to his cheeks.

“You didn’t think I was going to leave you to be the bad guy, did you, son?” He released this boy he loved so much and had to move away before this news got its teeth into him. Alekzander was a father. Jesus Christ, that made him want to weep. He cleared his throat and said over his shoulder, “Let’s move out. When I get home, I want to greet the baby girl who’s going to bring happiness to two men who probably don’t deserve it.”

♦ ♦ ♦

As Vasily left her and Alekzander alone, Sacha tried to get her bearings. Even though she’d always thought Vasily was a reasonable man, she couldn’t believe this easy acceptance of what she’d done. How could he understand and be okay with it, just like that?

She watched the rise and fall of Alekzander’s shoulders beneath his tux and knew it wasn’t going to be so effortless with him. But she’d expected that, and as clarity had slowly seeped in over the past few minutes, she now understood the new choices before her.

She could cower under the weight of Alekzander anger. Let him continue to yank her to and fro while feeding fear into her heart until she eventually fell apart and was of no use to anybody.

Or she could kill the trembling girl he was now studying and show him something more. The strong, capable woman she’d become. One who would do anything to keep her place in her child’s life.

Some of the tension in her muscles eased. Where was the choice?

She straightened, closed her eyes, and drew in a long, slow breath. Uncaring that he was watching, she blew it out, and with it, she released the dread and fear she’d been living with since staring down at her still flat abdomen in that hotel room. She’d known she was inviting this man’s wrath when she’d made her decision to keep her child from him. She’d known and had done it anyway. So now she would live with the consequences. If she had to leave her pride behind when they walked out of here, she would. If she became not much more than a nanny, useful for nothing more than rearing the baby she’d gladly give her life for, she would. If she had to whore herself to keep her place in her child’s life—sadly, that part wouldn’t be difficult—she would do it, and wouldn’t beat herself up for enjoying it.

Much.

She didn’t think.

She shook the indecisive voice from her head. No. She wouldn’t. She would share Alekzander’s bed, if that’s what he wanted, and she would be adult enough to admit it wasn’t awful.

If it allowed her to keep her daughter, who cared if Sacha eventually lost a piece of herself? What was pride anyway? Nothing.

She focused on her warden and saw triumph glinting within the emotions swirling in his eyes. That was okay, too. It didn’t bother her. She felt her lips curve just a little. He saw her as a submissive, eager-to-please pushover, but she would show him. For her daughter, Sacha would become a rock. A mountain. One even a Tarasov wouldn’t be able to move. Her only place in this world was with her child, and she would wear a brave face while doing everything it took to stay there.

And if she failed herself by falling more deeply in love with a man who now hated her, then she would have no one to blame for that but herself.

“You have changed since we were last together,” she commented as she saw Maksim appear in the doorway, an impatient look on his face.

“What’s this?” Alekzander demanded.

“What?”

He tipped his chin at her. “You. You suddenly don’t seem upset anymore.”

“I am upset,” she corrected. “But this is what it is, so…”

“So…what?”

“So I will not fight you.”

“You won’t.”

“No.”

“Really.”

“Really.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Go over and stand next to that chair.”

She sighed quietly, and her teeth ground together only a little as she walked to where he’d motioned. Men were so immature.

“Come back to me.”

She held his eyes, absolutely forcing herself not to glare. She felt like a puppy as she went back to stand before him.

He inclined his head as though letting her know he was pleased. “You seem to have gathered your composure pretty damn well in only a few minutes. Would you like to tell me how you did that?”

“Are you looking for lessons?”

As Maksim choked, she held steady when Alekzander’s eyebrows slammed down. She never said she’d take
every
thing he dished out.

“I could use the help, yes. But you must know that already.”

She blinked at his honesty, not expecting it. Especially not in front of his friend. “I am struggling, too,” she admitted so he wouldn’t regret sharing that with her. Could he be softening already?

“I’m sure you are. And you deserve to struggle.”

No. No softening, she realized when he brought his face close to hers. The heat coming from his body was astounding.

“All reasoning aside, after the time you’ve stolen from me, I think it’s only fair that you have to kick like hell to keep this beautiful head above water. At least for a little while.”

She was tempted to snap at him that she’d never have stolen it had he not set her up, but she caught herself at the last minute. What was the point? In the end, she had stolen months of his daughter’s life, and she couldn’t deny it. He would come to see they were both to blame.

She hoped.

“Mmm. I remember this side of you.” He dropped his voice so only the two of them could hear. “It used to come out when we were in bed.” He ran his knuckles in a lazy circle around her clenched stomach muscles. “You were desperate to please me back then, weren’t you? It’ll be interesting to see how long it takes me to get you to that point again.”

How smug would he be if she told him she was already halfway there?

“We shall see,” she mumbled, moving on before he could say anything more on the subject. “When I first found out who you were, I was terrified of you. Do you remember? But you convinced me you were not “that” man. You said your family was all about big business that sometimes had a darker side.” She moved around him, giving his hard body a slow once over. Thank God for breast pads and their ability to hide her stiffening nipples. “You are an established, high-ranking member of a Russian Bratva,” she said with complete certainty and a whole lot of feminine appreciation that she wished she had the skill to hide. That she wished she didn’t feel.

Shockingly, she felt no intimidation as she came to a halt before him and reached up to trace the strong line of his jaw. “You are Vasily Tarasov’s nephew, and what you want, what you feel you are entitled to, you get. No matter who or what you have to trample in the process.” She stepped closer and had to push up on her toes to get anywhere near his ear. “I am not afraid of you,” she whispered in Russian, realizing for the first time how true that was. She feared what he could take from her, but she didn’t fear him. “You own me now. You may do with me what you will. Anything you want. And I will let you because there is nothing I would refuse to do for the baby who has waited almost eight months to meet you. But through it all, I will not fear you, Alekzander.”

Inhaling his scent, she pressed her lips below his ear, and dropped down to her heels. Without looking at him, she walked out. She also paid no mind to Maksim and their bodyguards, but did smile and accept the hand Sydney held out for her.

“I wasn’t expecting that to go so well,” the beautiful blonde whispered.

“Me either,” Sacha whispered back as she and the unexpectedly supportive Australian walked down the corridor behind Anton.

Maksim’s muttering came from behind them. “Just when you think you have her where you want her, huh? Wonder where they hide those balls that always seem to pop out when you least expect it?”

Sacha strained to hear Micha’s grumbled comment added in Russian. “Scary part is; she’s one of ours. May God help us all.”

♦ ♦ ♦

Adjusting his grip on the bags he carried, Sergei unlocked the door to his home, already knowing it would be for one of the last times. He walked through and left it open for Reynard and the woman the idiot had picked up. He paid no attention to them disappearing up the stairs but went down the hall to the kitchen which was illuminated by the track lighting that only had two functioning bulbs. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound until his phone rang. He answered it as he started taking things from the bags.

“I have your shit, you crazy fuck.”

He held his cell to his ear with his shoulder and carried on with his task. He didn’t reprimand his contact over the disrespect. Why bother?

“I will try to get to Gravesend tonight. If you will not be there, leave the package on the desk in the back room.”

“It is there already. I noticed the supply of Propofol I got you for this month is also still there.”

“I will no longer be needing it.” As of tonight, sedating his guest would be unnecessary.

“No shit. You have had that ordered filled for months.”

“I know,” Sergei said. “Tell me, what were you able to do in so short a time?” There was no need for him to discuss the details of his business. Not yet, anyway.

“All of it. Birth certificates, passports, got the mother a driver’s license. Beautiful girl. I also supplied a social security number but tell her to use it only if she has to because the woman it belonged to has already been dead a couple of years. The IRS might wonder about those missing tax forms.”

“Fine.”

“Is she Russian? Looks it. Is she yours?”

Sergei’s mouth thinned, and when he remained silent, Artur laughed.

“I will not bother asking where she is headed because I am sensing you do not wish to share.”

“I’ll leave payment in exchange for the documents.” He hung up without sharing travel plans, or who it was Sacha belonged to. If Artur were to learn she and her daughter were Aleks’, there would be no way the two females would make it out of New York. Artur would go straight to his father, and Sacha and the baby would be in their possession within hours. They would end up in the same delivery boxes Renee and Evan had come home in.

Sergei shook his head. Fucking Baikovs. How he hated dealing with them. But he did because, with the divide between the families, Sergei’s movements with their enemy had no way of making it back to Vasily.

It wasn’t as difficult playing the role of double-agent as he’d thought it might be.

Filling three bowls with oranges, apples, and grapes, he set them aside and opened up eight boxes of protein bars that he dumped into a cake pan because it was the only thing large enough to fit them all. He emptied the paper bag of medical supplies into a large plastic one that held feminine products and a crossword book. He’d added a pen to his purchases this time since he wouldn’t be returning to have it used against him.

Looking at the haul, he wondered if he forgot anything. There was running water… He snapped his fingers and went to the pantry to grab a few rolls of toilet paper. A supply that wouldn’t run out for about two weeks was all that was needed. She couldn’t last more than that with what he was leaving her with.

It took him two trips to get it all downstairs and outside her door. Then he slipped his gun out of its holster and opened up. She was sitting on the cot, her knees up, forehead resting on them. He got two bowls into the room before she lifted her head. Her eyes were lifeless, defeated.

“Not in the mood to fight today?”

He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get a response. Sometimes she was like this.

“Take your clothes off.” He threw a black T-shirt, leggings, and under things at her feet. “You can put that on after your shower. Quickly. I am in a hurry tonight.”

He got the rest of the supplies in and then stood looking down at her when she still hadn’t moved. He brought his gun up and cocked it before pointing it at her head. Her jaw clenched and a flush crept up her face as she slowly stood and completely disrobed, the same as she’d done every week since he’d brought her here. He took her arm, shoved the muzzle of his Glock into that soft spot at the base of her skull, then walked her out and to the bathroom where he gave her just under two minutes to shower. He brought her back to her prison dripping wet because he never had supplied her with towels. She kept her back to him, one arm across her breasts, the other in front of her pussy. She needn’t have bothered. He didn’t see her as a woman. She was a pawn.