NIKOLAI (Her Russian Protector #4) (30 page)

At first, he thought the men were playing a
trick on him. He spotted the shapes of customers sitting at tables.
It took him a full ten seconds to finally grasp what he was
seeing.

Bodies. Dead bodies. Frozen stiff. Sitting at
his tables.

"Jesus Christ." Nikolai had seen some crazy
things in his many years living in the underworld but this topped
them all. He approached the nearest body and held out his hand. The
wispy curls of vapor as the icy cold body defrosted wafted against
his palm. "How long have they been here?"

"An hour?" Kostya guessed.

Nikolai glared at his right-hand man. "Who the
fuck was supposed to be watching the restaurant
tonight?"

A young kid, maybe nineteen, was shoved forward
to face his wrath. He didn’t know the boy personally but he'd been
vouched for by one of the captains. No doubt the kid was going to
get a good smack later.

He visibly gulped before stammering, "B-boss,
I-I'm sorry. I didn't think that—"

Nikolai raised his hand to put a stop to the
sniveling apology. "What happened?"

"Well…um…I was outside doing a walk-around like
Arty told me and…um…this van pulled up. This guy got out and he
asked me for directions, said he was taking his girls to a
party."

"A guy?"

"Yeah. He had some tats on his neck. Not like
ours though. They were, like, skulls and lightning
bolts."

Skinheads. "What happened next?"

"I took a look at his map and got him situated,
you know, and…uh…he sort of offered me a reward."

Nikolai crossed his arms. He knew exactly where
this story was going. "A reward?"

"Right," the kid said nervously. "And, you
know, the girl was really hot and then he threw in another girl and
so it sort of lasted longer than I'd expected."

Snickers erupted as the men found humor in the
kid's story and unintentional double entendre. Nikolai's hands
clenched. The urge to smack the irresponsible little shit nearly
got the better of him but he held it in check.

"How old were those girls?"

The kid blinked. "Well—I don’t know. They
looked legal."

"They looked legal," he repeated dryly. "Do you
want to know what the inside of a prison cell looks like? Because
that's what happens to stupid little punks who shove their dicks
into underage prostitutes."

"I didn't think—"

"I'm not surprised. It sounds as if the only
head you ever use is the one tucked between your legs." Aggravated,
Nikolai growled his next question. "What happened when you were
finished with those girls?"

"So-so when I was done and the van pulled away
I came inside and I found them." He gestured to the frozen bodies.
"I called Arty and I guess he called Kostya and…well…you now the
rest."

"Do you know what today was, Genya?" He'd
finally remembered the skinny kid's name.

"Your wedding day, sir."

"And do you think I wanted to spend my wedding
night here, in this fucking makeshift morgue?"

Genya shook his head. "No, sir. I've
seen your wife. I'd want to spend the night in her.
With
her," he hastily
corrected. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Arty." Nikolai cut off the kid before he dug
his hole any deeper.

Artyom stepped forward. "Yeah,
Boss?"

"Get him out of my sight. Find out what he
remembers about the van and the driver and those girls."

Arty gripped his nephew by the back of the neck
and walked him out of sight and into the kitchen. Nikolai crouched
down in front of one of the bodies to study it. The man wore all
black and it spurred the memories of that terrible night Vivian had
been taken. A single gunshot wound to the middle of the head had
ended this man's life but he had marks of torture on his belly and
chest.

Judging by the positioning and stiffness of his
body, he'd been shot while tied to a chair and left there to
freeze. There were walk-in meat freezers big enough to hold this
many bodies on ice. It wouldn’t have been too difficult to keep the
bodies hidden.

"Now we know why we couldn't find any of the
men," Nikolai addressed Kostya as he stood. "It looks like someone
tied up all the loose ends before I was even out of the
hospital."

"
Da
." Kostya poked the stiff's cheek.
"The girls who kept Genya busy were probably some of the ones who
were held with Vivian."

Nikolai's stomach soured at the memory of
finding Vivian tied up in that dog cage. "That means they're
keeping them in town. We can still find them."

"And do what with them?"

"Hand them over to Santos and his police
friends." Nikolai generally liked to keep the police as far out of
his business as possible but they were the only ones who could get
those girls the type of help they needed.

"Before we save the rest of the world, what the
hell are we going to do with these guys?" Kostya nudged another
body with the toe of his boot. "I had a couple of the boys drive
down to Fresh Start to pick up one of the produce trucks. It's cold
enough to haul them out of here without them defrosting and getting
messy. I can get rid of a few of them but this high-level disposal
here."

"We aren't going to dispose of them." Nikolai
extended his hand. "Give me your phone."

Kostya didn't question the order. He slapped
his phone into Nikolai's hand and continued to move around the
restaurant to examine the bodies. Nikolai found the number he
wanted and waited for an answer.

"Kostya!" Besian answered with a laugh. "You're
missing a hell of a party."

The last time he'd seen the Albanian mob boss
he'd been dancing on a table at Faze. "Besian."

"Nikolai?"

"Get your crew together and meet me at
Samovar."

"Now?"

"Now."

Besian didn't hesitate. "Half an
hour."

When he handed Kostya his phone, his cleaner
arched his brow. "Well?"

"Besian wanted to make those skinheads pay for
killing Afrim. Here's his chance."

"Frame them?" Kostya's smile told Nikolai he
liked the idea.

"They were involved in these deaths in some way
or another. We'll let Besian get his vengeance and settle that mess
once and for all."

"And us?" Kostya scanned the morbid scene.
"This is one hell of a message, Boss."

It was coming through loud and clear. The
longer Nikolai stared at the ghoulish set before him, the more
familiar it seemed. He was transported back to a night so many
years ago. He'd been a teenager then and living hand to mouth with
Ivan on the streets of Moscow. They'd been involved with the family
for a little less than a year but were slowly climbing the soldier
ranks by proving themselves willing to do any job.

That was the night he'd first met Maksim, the
boss of Moscow. The gray-haired and immaculately dressed boss had
pulled up in one of those gleaming black cars he favored and
stepped onto the sidewalk.

The boss had come to check out the club that
Grisha ran. At the time, Nikolai and Ivan had been employed there
as bouncers. Back then, Grisha's clubs had been some of the highest
earning businesses under the organization's umbrella. In his
mid-twenties, Grisha had clawed his way into the winner's circle by
flooding the streets of Moscow with designer drugs and making them
readily available in his clubs.

Nikolai still remembered how nervous he'd been
to meet Maksim. He'd recognized that first impressions and
reputation were everything in the life he'd chosen. He'd wanted to
prove himself as a useful member of the crew. It was the only way
to climb higher up that earning ladder.

He remembered the way Maksim had stopped to
speak with them after Grisha made the introductions. It was a brief
conversation and mostly a thanks for pulling off a pharmaceutical
heist without a single injury or death. Even back then, Nikolai had
recognized that the best way to do business was to keep things
quiet and safe. The less police presence, the better.

Maksim had dropped a lighter into Nikolai's
palm. It was the same lucky lighter he carried everywhere today.
Though it was a small, insignificant gift, Nikolai had treasured
it. To him, it had been better than an award trophy.

But it was the thing Maksim had given Ivan that
Nikolai remembered so clearly now. The boss had presented Ivan with
a handful of American comic books. Grisha was always teasing Ivan
about his reading habits so it was well known that Ivan would do
anything to get his hands on a new comic.

Though the childish habit had annoyed the shit
out Nikolai, he'd hidden his irritation that night and allowed Ivan
to show him all the colorful panels in that first issue he'd
excitedly thumbed through. One panel in particular had caught
Nikolai's eye. It was the scene of a villain eating his dinner
surrounded by the corpses of his enemies.

Nikolai remembered thinking it so gruesome and
cold. And now, all these years later, he was looking at it—in the
flesh, so to speak.

This was no coincidence. This was a
message—from Maksim.

After the botched hit by Romero, Nikolai had
assumed it was one of the local crews trying to take him out before
he could build up the Russian presence in Houston. Now he had to
wonder if Maksim hadn't sent him here to get him out of the
way.

Back in Russian, Nikolai had climbed as high as
he could in the family. There had been whispers of him striking out
on his own to form his own organization. They were rumors that he'd
stridently denied because they weren't true. He'd never wanted his
own family of thieves and criminals.

But then Maksim had given him orders to move to
Houston and grow the syndicate here. Nikolai had wanted a fresh
start as badly as Ivan had so they'd jumped in with both feet,
bringing Kostya and a few others with them. At the time, he'd
considered the opportunity to start a new branch of the family in
Houston a reward.

But now? Now he wondered if Maksim hadn't been
trying to quietly remove a problem. If Romero had succeeded in
killing him, no one would have ever suspected Maksim of being
behind the hit. Everyone would have assumed it was a territorial
issue and let it go.

Was that why this mess had all blown up since
Romero's unexpected release from prison? Was Maksim trying to flush
out Vivian's father so he could snuff him out before the truth
reached Nikolai? Had Maksim been the one to kidnap Vivian and
threaten to sell her in a sex slave auction? Was he the one
bringing trafficked girls into Houston and making a play for
Nikolai's territory?

He was powerful enough to do all that and more.
Suddenly, Nikolai mistrusted everyone around him, even Kostya. With
all the power Maksim wielded, he could turn any man against
him.

Dread slithered along Nikolai's neck
and down his spine, leaving a chilly trail that made his stomach
flip-flop. Nothing about this situation was simple anymore. He had
to make a move but it had to be the
right
move at the
exact
right moment.

"Boss?" Kostya quietly prompted him. "What's
the plan?"

"Get these bodies loaded up into truck before
Besian gets here. As to the rest—you let me handle
that."

* * *

A text alert woke me the next morning. Pulled
from a fitful sleep, I sat up and rubbed my face between my hands.
My head ached and the grogginess clouding my thoughts refused to
fade.

I stared at the empty side of the bed where
Nikolai should have been. The memories of my absolute failure as a
wife knifed at my heart. I didn't know how the hell I was going to
look him in the eye this morning. I still didn't understand what
I'd done wrong or why he'd run out of here like his backside was on
fire.

My cell phone chirped again. I glanced at the
bedside table with some surprise. I didn't remember bringing my
phone in here. A quick survey of the room told me that Nikolai had
returned at some point. The cup and saucer on to the low square
ottoman and the smashed cushion on his chair were evidence of
that.

Had he simply sat there all night watching me?
Before I'd cried myself to sleep, I'd heard the front door open and
close a few times. I'd assumed it was Kostya or Sergei but now I
wondered if Nikolai had left. Where had he gone? What in the world
was more important than our first night as husband and
wife?

A terrifying thought struck. What if someone
had been hurt? One of my friends or Eric?

I clambered across the mattress to pick up my
phone. The text message from Lena seemed so ominous until I opened
it.

So?! How did it go?

Relief swamped me. If something terrible had
happened, Lena would have been the first to tell me. I started to
set aside my phone but I needed to talk to her. I needed someone to
tell me I wasn't totally undesirable.