Russian Mobster’s Revenge (6 page)

“Here. In your apartment?”

“My bed.” It was impossible to disguise the triumph in his voice. “And I would have a hell of a time explaining your presence if she happens to walk in here.”

Samantha set her cup down on the countertop and looked thoughtful. “If she’s a means to an end, why do you care about an explanation?”

He had no answer for that. Swallowing and drinking more coffee to cover his unease, Ivan realized that she was right. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. What brings you here so early in the morning?”

She fiddled with her cup, letting her fingers trace the half-moon shape of the handle on the side. “My boss wasn’t so happy about plucking all that low-hanging fruit yesterday.”

“So?” Ivan shrugged one bare shoulder. “He just pulled a bunch of dealers and pushers off the street, enough to fill his jail cells. What more could he want?”

“Sergei’s boss,” she said quietly.

Ivan considered this. It wasn’t unexpected. “Taking Yuri would be difficult. He has a legion of men to sacrifice. Any one of them would swear on a stack of Bibles that he had done whatever crime that you tried to charge Yuri with.”

“You could help us,” Samantha said slyly. “If Yuri goes, then Sergei and the other made men will fall too. There would be a power vacuum.”

“And you think I would find enough men to support me if I just happened to be in position to step into that spot? Don’t you think the other bosses would argue that?” Even considering the idea made him feel insane.

“We would leave you alone.” She gazed at him, her dark eyes hooded. “With you running things, we could have a lucrative partnership.”

“You mean that you would leave my legitimate businesses alone and just harass me on the illegal side,” he retorted. “Eventually your bosses are going to want me. They’re happy right now because I’m feeding them info on the organization and helping them navigate things. That won’t last. They’re going to call for my blood. What will you do then?”

She gave a delicate shrug. He recalled then that Samantha was a stellar poker player. She was drawing him in with the promise of power and influence. Where would it go from there?

Ivan turned his back on Samantha for a moment and moved to the other side of the kitchen. He pulled eggs, cheese, diced onions, and a few other ingredients out of the fridge. Sometimes working with his hands helped him think.

“You’re making an omelet,” she said incredulously. “Now?”

“Can you think of a better time?” He raised an eyebrow and pulled a pan out of the cabinet. He placed it on his gourmet gas stove and turned on the burner. “It’s morning and I’m hungry. Aren’t you?”

She rolled her eyes. “I suppose so, but we were talking about the future of our partnership.”

“No.” He began cracking eggs into the pan. Swirling them together, he started throwing in additional ingredients and mixing it all together. “You were talking about some bizarre notion to make me responsible for taking down a third of the organization so I can raise myself up in their place.”

“It’s a good idea,” she said with emphasis. She was leaning over the counter in her excitement. “You’re a good guy, Ivan. I’ve always thought so.”

“Even when we were kids and you were growing up alongside all these mafia kids and trying to figure out why we were all criminals who seemed to get away with everything?” He listened to the sizzle of the pan on the stove and poked at his breakfast. “I’m not believing that for a minute. I remember what happened to your father. I know why you went into the FBI. You can hide your motives from anyone else, Samantha, but not from me.”

“You’re different.” She sounded almost sulky.

He snorted. “I have a woman in my bed who is only there because I want her brother to pay for the insult he gave me eight years ago. Am I really that different?”

“Yes, because we both know that’s not really why she’s in your bed.” Samantha shot him a pointed look.

The insinuation bothered him intensely. If felt as if she were criticizing his objectivity. Worse, if felt like she had a right to do that. He had been weak last night. He had given away too much. It was time to get his perspective in order.

***

Emily awoke to an empty bed and the wonderful scent of eggs cooking. She sat up and gathered the sheet around her naked body. The Ivan she had known so long ago had enjoyed cooking. It was sort of an unusual trait for a man like him, but she had always suspected it came from not having much when he was growing up. Food was important. Even the restaurant last night had shown that to be true.

She got up and carefully lifted the edges of the sheet so that she wouldn’t take out every piece of furniture between the bedroom and the kitchen. Padding barefoot out into the hallway, she went to find the source of the aromatic smells coming from the stove.

It was quiet in the apartment, but she soon heard the sound of low voices coming from the kitchen. Emily began to walk slower as she wondered what might have gotten Ivan out of bed so early in the morning. Perhaps it was a business reason. She knew from experience that mafia business never slept and often required a number of people meeting at odd times of the day and night to discuss problems that cropped out in the most unexpected places.

Emily peered around the corner of the hallway and into the kitchen. She had perhaps expected to see men gathered around the counter drinking coffee and discussing the business of the realm. It gave her pause to see a single woman with a cup of coffee. She was familiar, although Emily couldn’t place her.

Seconds later, Emily was spotted by the woman. A smirk twisted one corner of the beautiful mouth. She really was quite a looker with her long, curly dark hair and bright gray eyes. Her skin was flawless, which made Emily hate her on principle. And there was also the fact that she now turned to Ivan and pointed her finger.

“It looks like we’ve woken up your guest,” the woman said casually.

Ivan was standing at the stove. He had just removed a pan from the burner and was loosening the edges of an omelet with the spatula in his hand. He slid it expertly from the pan to a waiting plate. Then he finally looked up at her. There was no smile on his face. In fact, there was nothing to indicate that the two of them had just spent the night together. Emily frowned, feeling horribly off-balance.

“Good morning, Emily.” His tone was curt. “You’ll find we rise fairly early around here.”

“All right,” she said slowly. “Have I missed something?”

“No, not at all.” He gestured to his companion. “Samantha and I were just talking business.”

Emily had the odd thought that none of her brother’s associates were quite this attractive. “Are you…are you coming back to bed?”

“No.”

That was all he said. It was utterly final. Worse, it
felt
final. Emily swallowed, wondering what had happened. He had been so kind and almost affectionate the night before. Now he was being cold. Had she completely mistaken his intentions?

“I think the best way to begin,” Ivan was saying, “is for you to go home and put yourself together. Get some clothes and things, and report back here to work for the morning.”

Ivan was splitting off a sliver of the omelet and placing it on a second plate. Then he set the plate in front of Samantha and grabbed a fork out of the drawer. Samantha cast a sly look over her shoulder at Emily before digging in to her breakfast.

Emily swallowed the lump that had appeared in her throat. “All right. So you want me to report back here for work?”

“Yes. I will have a list of tasks for you to complete.”

“Tasks,” Emily said slowly. “Like errands? Or you have business that you need me to take care of?”

“I suppose you’ll just have to discover that when you get back.” His arrogance was on full display. He actually exchanged a private smile with Samantha that made Emily want to grab the vase off the little end table in the hallway and throw it at his head.

“Fine.” She grit her teeth together and tried not to show that she was affected. “I’ll just get out of your way then.”

“Thank you,” Ivan said mildly. “I would appreciate you being back here by ten, at the latest. I have some pressing matters that won’t wait, and I need to be leaving by then.”

“Of course.” Emily ducked her head and then turned and walked back toward the bedroom. She felt worse than vulnerable with nothing but the sheet from his bed wrapped around her body. What must that Samantha woman be thinking about her?

Then Emily heard a female voice speak. “That wasn’t very nice, Ivan. You could have at least offered the girl breakfast.”

“Why? She’s served her purpose. Now I need to get on with the rest of my plan,” Ivan said carelessly. “Don’t be a bleeding heart. It’s not becoming of you.”

“I’m just saying that you may come to regret your decision, that’s all,” Samantha told him in a careless tone. “It makes no difference to me either way.”

“You’re assuming I care one way or the other,” Ivan told her. “And I don’t.”

Emily swiped at her cheeks. She didn’t know why she was wasting all this emotion on what had obviously been casual sex. She was a big girl. She just needed time to regroup and figure out a plan to keep her brother out of trouble and her heart in one piece.

Chapter Eight

“Okay, that was harsh,” Samantha said once the elevator doors had closed and Emily was on her way downstairs. “I have to admit that I did
not
think you had that in you.”

“What?” he snorted. “You thought we were in there making love all night long like two star-crossed lovers finally reunited?”

“Something like that.” She was looking at him with a more than critical eye. “You’ve had a thing for her since you met her, Ivan. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

He shoveled a bite of omelet into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “That’s not true. My attraction to Emily is what got me into trouble with Sergei. If I’d have kept my dick in my pants, he wouldn’t have fired me.”

“I thought the point was that he treated you like a lower-class human being and thought his sister was too good for you.” Samantha pointed at him with her fork. “You’re completely losing sight of your purpose here, Ivan. Which means there’s really no point and you should just help me take down Yuri so you can step into the boss position.”

“You know,” Ivan drawled, “you’re putting an awful lot of faith in my ability to circumvent the process that usually goes with that whole appointment-to-the-rank-of-boss thing. We have rules and protocol.” He pointed right back at her. “Unless you think your magic FBI friends have some way to just step in and give me a recommendation, which would work so
well
for me. Really.”

“We have our ways,” she said mysteriously.

Ivan grimaced. “I’m not an FBI puppet, Samantha. I’ve helped you because it suited my purposes and because you’ve been a friend much longer than you’ve been an agent. If that changes, then my cooperation will change too.”

“Meaning if I’m no longer useful, you’ll just turn around and dump me on the nearest corner,” Samantha said irritably. “Yeah, I get it.”

“That’s not exactly what I mean.” He rolled his eyes. “Women! You ladies are all gut reaction and emotion. Will you calm down? I’m simply stating that our purposes run parallel for the moment. It doesn’t mean they always will.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” Samantha finished her breakfast. “Although I think you’re being a complete ass about this whole thing with Yuri. It’s very simple.”

“Sure it is,” he growled. “Your bosses are getting tired of only plucking low-hanging fruit. That was fine in the beginning, but now they’re greedy because there is no difference between FBI agents and the criminals they chase. All they want is more, more, more.”

“No difference?” Samantha looked incensed. “We’re trying to keep drugs off the street, Ivan. And you’re busy flooding the streets with prescription drugs so you can make a buck. I don’t see how that’s the same at all.”

“That’s because you’re an idealist and not a realist,” he said irritably. “I’d say you would understand when you get a bit older, but you’re already well past that time.”

“Nice,” Samantha groused. “Real classy.”

***

Emily carefully folded her clothing and placed it in her suitcase. She didn’t know where Sergei was, and she didn’t care. For the moment, she was just glad he wasn’t home so she didn’t have to listen to him whine and complain about her choices. She would not have been able to deal with that this morning. Not after being so easily brushed off by Ivan less than an hour ago.

She could have shoved her things into her overnight bag and stormed around like a woman spurned, but that really wasn’t her style. It was time to reflect. Ivan was obviously trying to use her as a way to get revenge on her brother. Okay, fine. But she
knew
there was more to him than that. Perhaps the best way to thwart his revenge and protect herself was to worm her way past his defenses and make him fall in love with her.

Creasing a pair of slacks and then carefully folding them into thirds and laying them in her suitcase, Emily considered her plan with relish. The real question was whether or not she even wanted Ivan anymore. Twenty-four hours ago she would have said yes. Her life was so boring. It was filled with duty to her brother and business decisions. She hadn’t allowed herself to really have fun in so long. Maybe this was her chance? Maybe she could have fun with Ivan, and force him to abandon this plan to ruin her brother all at the same time.

She closed the suitcase and zipped it up with a sound resembling finality. “Or I’m going to alienate my brother and completely lose my self-respect by throwing myself at a man who only wants to use me for some petty revenge scheme.”

Emily sat down on her bed and put her face in her hands. She thought about the previous night and the way she had felt in Ivan’s arms. The expression on his face had been real. She was sure of it. In that moment, he had been the same guy she had known eight years ago. She had been too young and naïve to fight for him then. Maybe this was her second chance to make everything right.

Standing up, she turned and took a long look at her room. Nothing about it had changed, probably not even since high school. It was time to grow up. Either that or it was time to accept that she’d given up on ever having her own life.