NIKOLAI (Her Russian Protector #4) (9 page)

"We don't have a lot of time. Dimitri and Ivan
are out there running interference with the nurses and the rookie
posted to your room." Santos slid an arm around Nikolai's shoulders
and helped him to the edge of the bed. He backed away long enough
to grab a plastic bag filled with clothes. "One of your men
gathered your things."

Nikolai cast an untrusting eye toward the
detective. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because you're the best chance I've got of
getting my cousin back. Even if you did lose her," Santos added
angrily.

"I didn't lose her. She was taken from me." The
vise-like grip around his heart tightened as the memory of her
terrified scream ricocheted in his head. It was a sound he would
never forget.

Nikolai grabbed the bag and dropped it onto the
bed. He'd been in hospitals enough times to know how to remove his
catheter and IV. Moving slowly, he embraced the discomfort that
accompanied every twitch of his battered muscles. He deserved those
gut-twisting jabs of pain for putting Vivian at risk and failing to
protect her and keep her safe.

Why had he asked Sergei to bring her to the
warehouse? Why had he picked a fight with her over the paintings?
Why hadn't he fought harder to protect her? How could he let those
monsters take her?

Distraught with his failures, he finished
dressing. Putting on his shoes nearly made him black out but he
pushed through the pain. The detective peered around the door long
enough to ascertain they were in clear before waving his hand for
Nikolai to follow. Still a bit woozy, Nikolai put a hand to the
wall for support as he slipped out of his hospital room.

Looking back, Santos shot him a brief glower of
irritation. The detective reluctantly put an arm around Nikolai's
shoulders to help him move faster. He grudgingly accepted Santos'
aid.

Out in the cold, wet December night, he found
Kostya and Sergei waiting near an SUV parked in the loading zone
around the rear of the hospital. Not a word was spoken as they
climbed into the SUV. He hissed with pain and put a stabilizing
hand against his ribs.

"Here." Kostya shoved a couple pills and a
bottle of water into his hand. "Take these. They'll help with the
pain but keep your mind clear."

He trusted the medicine dropped into
his palm. Before coming here, Kostya had been a biochemist who
worked research and development in one of Europe's mega
pharmaceutical firms. His keen knowledge of science was the key to
his excellence in the field of
cleaning
.

A few blocks from the hospital, three different
cars joined them, each one packed with his soldiers and captains.
Voice gravelly, he ordered, "Tell me everything,
Kostya."

"There isn't much to tell." Kostya didn’t
sugarcoat it. "We've gone to the usual suspects. Everyone is
talking. They're all scared shitless that they'll be blamed or
caught in the crossfire. No one has given us anything good until
now." Kostya turned in his seat. "And the old man called twice.
He's threatening to send Grisha."

The last complication Nikolai needed was
Maksim, their boss, sending one of the Moscow boys down to Houston.
Though Grisha had been the man who brought Nikolai into the family
fold as a teenager, he didn’t trust the captain to keep this
nightmare from spiraling out of control.

Grisha had always been the type to favor a
violent answer to every problem. Once, Nikolai had been that stupid
and immature but with age came wisdom. He'd learned that the best
way to handle these types of situations was calmly and
quietly.

More distressingly, Maksim had been
signaling his displeasure with the way Nikolai ran Houston. While
Nikolai had been consciously moving their syndicate into cleaner,
easier business, Maksim had been looking to grow into riskier,
higher earning areas. Nikolai's refusal to open Houston to some of
those
opportunities
hadn't gone over well with the old man.

If Maksim thought this was his chance to wrest
control from Nikolai's hands, he was dead wrong. Nikolai knew his
men. This would push them closer together. They would rally around
him now.

"You let me handle the old man." He gestured
toward Sergei with a tip of his chin. "Where are we
headed?"

"Besian called. He says he has something you'll
want to see."

The Albanian wasn't the kind of man who would
waste Nikolai's time. More importantly, Kostya and Sergei wouldn't
have let the detective break him out of the hospital if this lead
wasn't promising.

He glanced at Vivian's cousin. The younger man
looked as if he hadn't slept in days. His tense expression told the
story. "The Marshals intercepted a call between someone in the
Calaveras' club house and Romero. It was a quick call and a simple
message. 'He has her.' It's useless as far as intel goes but I
thought you'd want to know."

"Not that useless," Nikolai
murmured. "
He
?
Romero knows who has his daughter. He was probably expecting her to
be taken."

"Do you think he set it up?" Santos hesitated.
"Maybe prison has softened the old bastard. He might have had her
snatched up to keep her safe while he makes whatever move he's
planning to make by flipping."

He snorted derisively. "A man who used his
child to run drug shipments around Houston doesn't suddenly grow a
conscience in prison."

"I suppose you are the authority on the
intersection of conscience and prison terms."

Nikolai let the dig slide. Instead, he
insisted, "Romero didn't take early release from the pen just
because he wanted to flip on his old crew. He's running another
game, a game those Marshals probably don't even
suspect."

"I'm sure they've studied it from every angle.
They wouldn't have given him a deal otherwise."

"And I'm sure that police officers and lawyers
don't think like criminals." Irritation laced his voice. "You have
to stop thinking with your cop brain. What does a man like Romero
want?"

"Money? Power?"

"Yes, but he also wants something
even more precious. He wants
freedom
."

Santos blinked. "Freedom? From
prison?"

"Nothing that simple," Nikolai
replied. "You can't possibly understand it but there's a heavy
price that's paid for a life like Romero's. He's fifty years old
but he's still got someone yanking on his goddamn chain and telling
him what to do. How high to jump and how fast. It wears on a man.
It makes him
hungry
for freedom. For the chance to make his own
decisions."

Santos studied him. "And what's the price of
freedom these days?"

"Too high," Nikolai murmured. Glancing out the
window, he remembered what Ivan had survived to get out of the
life. Despite Nikolai's attempts at shielding his friend and
lessening the pain involved with clawing his way out of the family,
Ivan had suffered terribly. The beating he'd taken at the hands of
his own crew had been one that most men would not have
survived.

Shrugging off those terrible memories, Nikolai
thought of Vivian. "They took her to show me and Romero that we're
not in control. This is about fear and power."

Santos laughed harshly and in disbelief. "Is
there someone out there that scares you? That scares
Romero?"

"We all have our boogeymen." He glanced at the
detective. "Even you." He considered where they were headed. "Do
you understand what happens if you stay with us
tonight?"

Santos held his gaze for a long moment before
turning back to his window. "Tonight, I'm not a cop. I'm just a man
trying to save his family."

Nikolai understood the detective's
motivation but he wouldn't allow the man to cross
that
line. When they had
Vivian safely home, she would never forgive him if she learned he'd
allowed her cousin to compromise his career and his personal
integrity.

Sergei drove them to one of the repair garages
the Albanians used as a front for their chop shop trade. They
pulled into one of the bays. A couple of men in mechanic's overalls
tugged on the overhead chains to lower the doors and give them
privacy.

Though his body throbbed mercilessly and his
head pounded, Nikolai climbed out of the SUV without allowing a
hint of his pained state to cross his face. He made his way to the
center of the garage where Besian waited. Flanked by their men,
they greeted one another with silent looks.

"Shit." Besian winced at the sight
of him. "They really did fuck you up." His gaze shifted to Santos.
Eyes narrowed, he asked, "Why the hell is
he
here?"

"I didn’t realize I needed your permission to
conduct my business as I see fit."

Besian put up his hands. "No need to be so
touchy."

Not in the mood for chit-chat, Nikolai cut to
the chase. "Do you have information on Vivian or not?"

Before Besian could answer, a side door opened.
Sergei and Kostya, both on edge, immediately pulled their weapons.
The sight of guns drawn from jackets spurred Besian's crew to do
the same.

"Hey! Wait!" Besian stepped to the side,
putting his body in the line of fire. "I promised Lorenzo Guzman
this guy would have safe passage. If you want to kill him, do it on
your own turf. For now, he's protected."

Julio Jimenez, one of the Guzman Cartel reps,
stepped out of the office with both hands held high. Nikolai had
worked with Julio when trying to secure Joe Cruz's release from the
cartel's clutches. If Lorenzo had given an order to take out
Nikolai and kidnap Vivian, Julio would have been the man who
carried it out.

And Eric Santos knew that. The detective
stepped forward but Nikolai managed to stop him with a stern look.
Reminded of his place, Santos clenched his jaw and stepped back
into line.

To show that he was unarmed, Julio slowly spun
around while lifting his shirt. "I'm only here to talk."

Nikolai flicked his fingers. Sergei and Kostya
lowered their weapons but didn't holster them. Besian's crew
followed suit.

Showing some reluctance, Julio joined them at
the center of the garage. He swept both hands out in front of him
before declaring, "We had nothing to do with this. We don't want
trouble with you. Lorenzo wanted me to assure you that we're
interested in protecting and continuing the business relationship
we've enjoyed."

"You can tell
El Jefe
that until my Vivian is
safely delivered there will be no business.
Me entiendes
?"

"Absolutely," Julio replied with a saccharine
grin.

"If I find out the Calaveras were behind this
attack and kidnapping, I'm going to put an end to that
club."

"We understand that's the cost of doing
business—but I can assure you the club wasn't behind
this."

Nikolai studied Julio. The man was as slick as
they came but he had a clear tell. Tonight, Nikolai didn’t see it.
Julio was telling the truth—or, at least, what he knew to be the
truth. "We'll see."

A strange noise startled all of them. Their
gazes snapped to the maroon sedan nearby. This time the noise that
emanated from the trunk was louder and easily identified as a man
shouting into a gag.

He glanced at Besian. "What's in
there?"

"Your gift," the Albanian answered with a
smile. "And my reward."

He arched an eyebrow. "Reward?"

Kostya cleared his throat. "Yuri offered a big
reward for information on Vivian. It was triple for her safe
return."

Nikolai didn't even want to think about how
much money his dear friend with those deep billionaire pockets had
put up. Because his girlfriend was Vivian's best friend, Yuri would
do anything to help.

Besian approached the car and fished a key fob
from his pants. The car beeped twice as the trunk was unlocked and
popped open. Lifting the lid, he gestured to the bound and gagged
man stuffed in there. Dressed in jeans and a hoodie, the man didn't
look familiar to Nikolai—until he spotted the angry, red wound in
the man's hand.

"Yes," Nikolai said as the memories of the
attack frantically flashed through his mind. "I stabbed this
one."

"His brother-in-law ratted him out to me. He
wanted the reward but didn't want to come forward on his own.
Better to let me do the dirty business—and get the bigger
cut."

"Who is he?" Nikolai reached into the trunk and
yanked down the collar of the man's shirt in search of gang tats
but he had unmarked skin.

"He's got no affiliation. The
brother-in-law gambles in one of my underground casinos but he's
just a plumber." Besian cruelly poked the man's wounded hand and
drew a shriek of pain. "He's called Bill Rathbone. He's a dentist."
Besian shrugged. "He's nobody." He spit into the trunk, splattering
the crying man. "He
was
nobody. Now he's all yours."

"Sergei."