An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) (27 page)

“Yes. They wanted me to abort Andrew, and I refused. I left before my father somehow convinced me it was the right thing to do. He had a way about him that was difficult to get around once he sank his teeth into something. And with my mother behind him one hundred percent . . . I don’t know what would have happened. I couldn’t take the chance. Not with something so important.”

He felt his face harden at the road she’d been forced to take in order to shelter herself, and her son, from people who were supposed to love and protect her. Man, did he feel like shit for the disparaging thoughts he’d had about her all night. “Assholes,” he muttered, including himself in the insult aimed at her parents. “What happened? From the beginning?”

“What beginning?”

“How did your boy come about?”

She looked back to the topic of their conversation and bit her lip.

“I look at him and see his size—especially those feet.” He helped her along. Giving her some place to start. “He’s impressive for a twelve-year-old. He has your eyes, but his hair is a darker blond, and you would blow away in a strong wind,” he muttered, remembering how fragile she’d felt beneath him. “His father must have been a big guy?”

Her grip on her arms tightened. “Colin was a Wallaby, captain of the rugby team. He was in his third year at USYD, uh, University of Sydney, and I was, obviously, in my first. My girlfriends and I—”

“You went to college? At seventeen?” he interrupted.

She shrugged. “I skipped grade four because of my at-home tutoring. And then
tried
to go to college. Never did finish.” She was frowning now. “Anyway, my girlfriends and I—”

“What did you take?” he interrupted again.

“I was allowed to enroll in the bachelor of arts program. I attempted to major in linguistics and computer science.”

Her wording gave him a clear picture of what life had been like under the Johnson roof. “What languages do you speak?”

“Aside from English, of course, I’m fluent in German, Spanish, and French. I was also tutored in those from the time I was eight.”

He nodded and tried like hell not to like her any more than he already did. Fucking intelligence in a woman was sexy as shit. “Carry on.”

He heard the breath she took as she untangled her arms and grabbed a cloth. She wet it under the tap quickly before going over and rubbing at a spot she must have seen on the range. “My girlfriends and I went to an off-campus party—the rugby team’s frat house, I later found out. I’d gotten into another argument with my mother—who was still angry that I had insisted on staying in the dorms—and I was upset. Like an idiot, I drank more than was wise because of it and felt a desperate need to act out. Colin and his friends started chatting us up, and he eventually brought me upstairs. I went with classy and lost my virginity on a bathroom counter and, to add insult to injury, the condom broke.”

She’d stopped scrubbing and was now staring down at the tattoo on her wrist. He couldn’t stop himself from picturing her writhing and coming apart against a bathroom mirror. Better to see that in his mind’s eye than plan the total dismemberment of the fucker who’d taken advantage of her. The irony of his thoughts weren’t lost on him.

“Go on,” he ordered.

“You’re so bossy,” she muttered.

“You have no idea.”

“Uh, I think I do. Anyway, Colin never talked to me again. When I found out I was pregnant—as much as I didn’t want to—I went and told him, and”—she looked over her shoulder again—“he offered to pay half for his share of the mistake.”

“And you went home, told your parents, they gave you their solution, and you left. Traveled across the country, changed your identity, and chose to raise your son on your own,” he finished, impressed.

She nodded. “Until I met Emily. We met in the hospital. She’d just had Eleanor, and when they released us, we went to the same home for unwed mothers.” She snorted, her brow working. “That sounds so sixties. Anyway, we came together, and then I wasn’t alone anymore. Until last year.”

Hearing the pain in her voice, Maks didn’t think twice about closing the distance between them and taking her into his arms. And for the second time in his life, he offered a woman simple comfort and support. Not even Tegan, who was his best female friend, had ever received much more than awkward pats on the shoulder from him during her times of need.

And the best part? Or worst, depending on how one looked at it?

Sydney unabashedly accepted what he offered.

CHAPTER 16

Lore settled deeper into his coat as he took a stroll down the alley behind Pant. He nodded at two men leaning on what he knew was Maksim’s Hummer and walked around as if he was supposed to be there.

“Can I help you, man?” one asked, coming over. He was tall and slim and had a weak left eye.

Lore took out his badge and gave it a quick flash. “Just snooping. Don’t mind me.”

The guy’s face closed up, and he nodded, walking away without another word. He took his phone out, signifying the clock had just started ticking.

Getting down to it, Lore studied where Sydney Martin’s car had been, the markings left behind from the blast, what remained of the outline where the bodies had ended up. He then took his notebook out to compare what he was seeing with the report he’d gotten from the Manhattan precinct . . . The motion caused a whiff of berries to come up from his clothes.

The minute he caught the scent, an image of his MD lying in that squeaky contraption she’d claimed was a bed—her neighbors
had
to have known she was getting some—filled his mind. The sex. Holy heaven, but the sex had possibly been the best of his life. And not just the physical stuff, but the connection Tegan had made sure was there—the eye contact, the smiles throughout, the tenderness she’d shown, the cuddles afterward, the ease in which they’d parted. As if what they’d done all morning and again upon waking was just a natural thing that held no shame.

Man, he was so Catholic, because Lore felt as if he’d disrespected that girl in a huge way. She deserved better than some jaded cop using her for a pleasure that had rattled his brain before giving her a kiss and a see-ya-around. Not that he’d said those exact words. She hadn’t let him.

After a too-enjoyable meal in a nearby deli, he’d walked her back to the hospital for her shift. On the sidewalk out front, she’d come up on her toes, cupped his face in her chilled hands, and kissed him.
Thanks for the comfort, Detective. Be careful out there.
She’d walked away without waiting for a word, no expectation of an I’ll-call-you or a when-can-I-see-you-again. The entire encounter had been effortless. And so fucking good he was already itching for more.

The sound of a door opening cut into his thoughts, and he watched, groaning inside, as one big fucking body came out of the Australian’s building, two smaller ones following.

The two men who’d been loitering got into an Audi and left as the door to the Hummer opened and Maksim’s right hand hopped out. Lore kept the approaching trio in his periphery and nodded at Micha Zaretsky, suddenly glad he was wearing Kevlar. He’d put it back on after leaving Tegan’s, knowing he’d be on duty by the time this stop was behind him.

“Well, look who’s moving up in the world, Micha?” Maks drawled as he opened the back door of the SUV and motioned a young boy into the gas guzzler. The tiny blonde handed a bag in and followed, giving Lore a curious look before Maks closed her in. Sydney Martin and her son. “Manhattan your new beat, Lore? Or are you just here hoping to hang one of your friends?”

Out of all of them, even though he’d been the last to join their group, Maksim seemed the most bothered by Lore’s defection. Vincente and Gabriel, and especially Alek, were fairly normal when he saw them. Jak he hadn’t seen in years, and if he were to see him now it would likely be a little awkward considering what Lore had been doing last night—or, more precisely, who.

He swallowed the sound that swiftly traveled up his throat, the same one he always made when he walked into his mother’s kitchen and smelled fresh manicotti in the oven.

“Maks. How’re things?” He leaned against the bumper.

“Things are as expected, Lore. You? How’re things with you?”

The hostility layered in his voice was fucking annoying, but Lore ignored it. Fifteen years and the guy was still this bitter? Boy had issues. But then, they’d all known that. His annoyance drained when he remembered what little they’d been told about Maksim Kirov when Alek had first brought him around.

He answered the inquiry as if Maks were truly curious about his life. “Things are good. Mom and Pop are still busy with the deli. My sister helps out probably more than she should, which takes her away from the kids at the rehab center who really need her—though I hear they’re shutting it down so she’ll be in need of a shoulder to cry on soon. Michael, who you’d have seen not long ago when he married Gabriel and Eva, is doing better than any of us, I’m sure. I actually talked to him on my way here. He was confirming I was free next weekend to give him a hand delivering Thanksgiving hampers. The church did well for their parishioners this year,” he added, knowing Gabriel, V, and the rest of the boys had a hand in that. He nodded and glanced up from his scuffed toes—that looked extra-scuffed next to the Russian’s polished Italian leather—and saw a reluctant smirk pull up the corner of that goateed mouth. “So, yeah, like I said, things are good.”

“Have you been watching . . . Oh, I mean, have you seen any of the boys lately?” Maks drawled next.

No, but I’ve seen the girl.
“Not since the incident with the redhead. Things work out for her and V?” He played the clueless role for Tegan’s sake.

“Yes.”

He wanted to grin at the short answer. “I’m glad.”

“Are you?”

“Cut the shit, Kirov,” he said, pushing himself away from the front of the Hummer. “I have no beef with any of you, and you know it.”

“Until you’re slapping on the cuffs and ordering us to duck.”

He shook his head and started down the alley, but he paused when Maks didn’t let up.

“What were you sniffing around for, Lore? My woman’s place isn’t under your jurisdiction.”

“I’m here on my own free time, Maks,” he said, stretching the truth as he turned back. “Dropped a contact and was looking for it. Must have gotten picked up on a tire when your boys split.”

A darkness entered his former friend’s expression, and Lore felt the hair on his nape rise when the space between them was closed in two long, deliberate strides. “Why are you here?”

“I was doing a friend a favor, if you really want to know.”

“What favor?”

He nodded toward the SUV. “Had planned on having a chat with Ms. Martin.”

“About?”

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Was curious if she knew who you were.”

“Really, Lorenzo.” Maks’s dark brows pulled together, and Lore saw the telltale sign of an on-edge Maksim when the guy settled back and slid his hands into the front pockets of his suit pants. A motion started, and Lore knew that key Maks had carried around from the time they’d first met had been palmed. “You think I’d hide who I am from a woman I’m involved with? You think I’m ashamed or embarrassed to be honest and up front instead of deceiving and an outright liar?”

Lore’s patience fucked off like a flock of birds after the first shot. “Like me, you mean, Maks? Are you implying I’m a liar? That I’m dishonest and ashamed of who I am?”

Maks shrugged just as the back door of the SUV opened and a small form dropped to her feet on the pavement. “Hey. I’m not responsible for how you interpret my questions, man.” He chuckled as the click of heels came over.

“What’s going on out here?”

The note of anxiety in the Australian’s voice hit a nerve with Lore. Had Tegan been there, he was curious to know who would have had her concern. Him or Maks.

Remembering at the last minute to play the role of worried girlfriend—bothered because it didn’t take as much effort as it should—Sydney went right over and stepped between the two men facing off. Aggression was thick in the air, and she understood now why Micha had tapped the window and nodded for her to come out of the SUV.

Her fingers tingling, she faced Maksim and placed her hands on his solid chest. She patted to get his attention off the other man’s jutting chin. “Maksim? What’s going on?” She hoped she looked convincing.

In the blink of an eye the situation became real. The minute that dark head and those silver eyes came down to meet hers, she wasn’t pretending anymore. She jumped slightly when she felt his hand settle on her hips, but other than that, he didn’t do or say anything.

“What’s going on?” she repeated quietly. “Is everything okay?”

“Lore came to see you.”

She blinked at the cool note in his voice and had to swallow because her mouth had gone dry. “What?” She went to turn to face the other man but was hampered when Maksim held her in place.

“My buddy from the old neighborhood said he dropped in because he wanted to talk to you about me. He was concerned you didn’t know who I was. Thought maybe I was trying to fool you into thinking I was an accountant or an engineer or something equally boring. Do I have that right, Lore?”

“Yeah. Close enough,” came the dry response.

“Tell him you know who I am, lover.” Maksim looked up at the man behind her. “And if it’s true, feel free to tell him you like me anyway.”

Sydney didn’t know who the guy was behind her and had no idea what she’d walked in on, but she had every intention of playing her role to the best of her ability. Until she remembered what Maksim had told her about his childhood. And the defensive, near-cruel way he’d acted afterward. She knew something about him no one else did. As he now knew about her. She found herself going with what came naturally, rather than having to act.

Keeping that warm, comforting hug he’d given her upstairs in mind, she cupped her Russian’s jaw, and, standing on her toes, she kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth while praying Andrew still had his nose in his phone. “Despite knowing many things about you now, I like you.” She smiled. “But I do still have that one complaint.” She kissed him once more, just because she could, before grabbing his hands and turning, bringing them around her as she leaned into him. Why did he feel so tense? “He forgets I need to eat, and I’m starving all the time,” she said to the man watching them with a strange light in his eyes. “
That
I don’t like so much.”

“We finished here, Lore? Seems I have a mouth to feed.”

With a hard look at Maksim, the man nodded at her and left, walking down the alley without another word. Once he disappeared, she slipped out of Maksim’s hold and turned to face him. “Who was that?”

“NYPD.”

Her eyes widened, and the edges of her vision shook. Thank God she hadn’t known that a couple of seconds ago. “What? Why was he here? He’s your friend?”

“
Was
my friend,” he said, taking her elbow to bring her back to the Hummer.

“What happened?”

“He left. What else?”

She heard the passenger door open as Micha got into the SUV, and Maksim pulled her door open at the same time, not giving her a chance to ask what he’d meant by that.

A couple of hours later, Sydney found herself ensconced in the luxury apartment once more, only this time with her son. And she was still thinking about what Maksim had said. And more, the tone he’d used when he’d said it.
He left. What else?
As if everyone would eventually leave? Was that what he’d meant?

He’d been called away shortly after they’d arrived, and she’d been on pins and needles ever since. Where had he gone? Had they heard something about Luiz? Was that why he was acting so aloof with her? Because he was distracted?

Or maybe his absence didn’t have anything to do with her situation. So much for those updates he’d said he’d give her.

The apartment door opening had Sydney lurching up from the chair. Andrew glanced away from his game to frown at her, and she flashed him an I-didn’t-do-anything smile before ultracasually walking to the hallway where she could see down to the entrance. She froze midstep, her blood congealing in her veins when she recognized Vasily Tarasov. Knowing he was the head of a powerful crime organization lent him a truckload of intimidation. But that wasn’t what had her stomach suddenly churning.

It was how he was simply standing there, just inside the entrance, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed. He was rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He looked dog-tired. Dejected. Almost as if he’d just lost something, or someone, important to him.