The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2) (7 page)

But that took money. Money that this movie with Darren—and four lucky goddamn bastards who’d be getting a piece of Niki in that way he couldn’t—would give him.

“Keep that vial on hand for tomorrow,” he said gruffly, pretending to adjust an imaginary hard-on, knowing it was expected.

“No problem. So let’s talk details.” Darren settled forward, hand disappearing into his lap under the cover of the desk. “Thought we’d start with her tied up. That shit always rakes it in. Then I thought we might . . .”

The next few minutes went by, the guy’s arm moving as he obviously jerked off while describing the different positions and scenarios for Niki’s movie. Kevin barely noticed. All he really saw at that point were dollar signs and Caleb Paynne’s outraged face when he learned what his sister had allowed herself to be a part of. A sister he wouldn’t be able to yell at because she’d be long gone with no trail. Kevin was good at that. Disappearing. He’d do it again, same as last time. But with his very own moneymaker at his side.

He was never going to let her go.

The sound of ringing phones and clacking keyboards tap-danced through Detective Lorenzo Russo’s aching skull as he added to the cacophony with a curse—no doubt his brother would have disapproved in that silent way of his. In Michael’s defense, he was a priest, so he sort of
had
to frown when the Lord’s name was spoken in vain.

Just because it was ingrained, Lorenzo sent up a silent apology as he flipped through the file on his desk. He raised his head at a knock on the Plexiglas that allowed him to look out over the bustling precinct.

“Just heading home for the night. Mind if I pick your brain first, Russo?” a fellow detective asked as he entered the office and flopped down into the chair in front of Lore’s desk.

Sandy-blond, blue-eyed David Smythe. Fuckin’ idiot of the highest order. Looked more like a politician than a cop.

“It’s what I live for, Smythe.” Huge sarcasm. Huge.

“Was curious if you’d heard about the mass exodus out of JFK a few weeks back. A few of the big boys from your old neighborhood fled the city. Returned within twenty-four hours about a dozen guys shy. Any ideas where they went? What went down?”

Lore sat back in his chair and observed the prejudiced Ivy League asshole in front of him. “Why would I know anything about it? Those boys are your problem, not mine.”

“Just thought since you street rats like to stick together, and seeing as how your brother is marrying the new Don and his Russian princess right now, you might have some insight.”

Lorenzo dropped his hands to his lap as if he were loosening up and relaxing. He was doing the opposite. His fingers curled into fists that he wanted to bop on both sides of his little brother’s stubborn head. Fucking Michael and his need to see the good in even those who most likely didn’t possess any.

And, boy, did it burn to be left out of the loop.

“I wasn’t aware Michael was officiating at Moretti’s wedding,” he hated to admit. “If you’re having a hard time, I could always head over to Saint Luke’s tomorrow. Ask him if he saw anything unusual tonight. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind tossing you a few crumbs.”

The rosy flush that appeared on that pretty face pleased Lore more than anything had in a while. “No need. We have surveillance in the area. If anything untoward happens, we’ll know about it.”

Untoward?
Was this fuckin’ guy serious? “Change your mind, you let me know, Detective.”

As Smythe walked out, tail between his legs, Lorenzo snatched his cell off the corner of his desk and started tapping. Long form, to get his point across.

Despite your vocation, you are a fucking dumbass. Be careful. Message me once your ass is out of there. Eyes are on you.

He hit Send and popped two M&M’s—the peanut ones—into his mouth from the small metal container his sister, Ashlyn, had given him for his desk. The tin had a picture of a hissing cat that looked remarkably like Lore’s scraggy tabby; the caption beneath read,
No, I haven’t had my coffee yet. Why do you ask?

He glanced at his phone when it beeped.

My retinas are bleeding.

He couldn’t help but smirk as he shook his head and returned his attention to the file in front of him: a complaint received from the father of a young girl stating his daughter had been drugged and raped, and the crime had been filmed in some abandoned building by someone boasting of being a porn producer. A skinny guy who went by the name of Flash. Should be no trouble finding the perp with such a detailed description.

Huge sarcasm. Huge.

CHAPTER 5

The priest had arrived, and everyone was slowly gathering around. Nika had just left a jittery Eva in the foyer and had taken her place to the left of the officiant, across from an eager-looking Gabriel and his friends, whom she did not look at.

She tried harder to ignore the lead sitting in her queasy stomach.

God, that look on Vincente’s face. She couldn’t get it out of her mind.

The disgust she’d seen in his expression.
Why did he look at me like . . . like . . . like I was some cracked-out hooker begging him to buy my baby so I could purchase more drugs?

She ground her teeth together as Gabriel spoke with the priest, buying her a little extra time to calm herself.

Could Vincente know she was still attracted to him? Had she not hidden well enough the fact that she’d been standing there talking about bats while wondering if his lips were still as soft as she remembered? That in itself wouldn’t have been such a big deal. Embarrassing, sure, but she was more concerned that he considered her to be a married woman. In a
real
marriage. To him, she belonged to someone else. So on top of already having kissed him in Seattle,
if
he’d sensed her attraction, he must think her a disloyal slut who had no problem cheating on her husband.

The very thought made her face burn. How far from reality that was. But Vincente didn’t know that.

And, really, his opinion of her shouldn’t matter. But it did.

She stared at the father’s pristine collar, her heart suddenly heavy. Maybe she could talk to him before he left—ask him why God had turned his back on her. Left her to die inside little by little every day.

She closed her eyes in an effort to soothe the burn that had settled behind her lids. They weren’t tears. Because she wasn’t feeling sorry for herself. Really.

“Nik?”

Caleb was next to her once again. When had he come back inside? She stiffened. That had to mean Vincente was now in the room. Judging her.

Unable to deny herself the comfort, she snuggled into her brother’s wide chest for a second, soaking up his unconditional love when his arms circled her.

“I really think you should sit down for a minute,” he said quietly, the concern in his face clear as she drew back. He rubbed a big hand over his short hair in that way he did when he was agitated.

She shook her head. “I’m just tired and needed a hug. That’s all.”

“I would like to start by saying . . .”

Her poor, worried brother melted behind her as the priest began and Nika snapped to attention, clutching the ring that Eva had handed her a few minutes ago. She pinned her gaze on the entrance where her best friend appeared. Through her blurring vision, she watched Eva walk in and begin her life with Gabriel. Nika shoved her own problems aside so she could give this coming together of two people who loved each other the proper respect it deserved.

She watched and listened, and couldn’t help but compare it with her own experience. Her vow exchange had been a horrible, frightening night in Las Vegas. Had this not been Eva’s wedding, Nika didn’t think she’d be able to stand here and listen to what she’d come to think of as empty words. She’d repeated them. Kevin had repeated them. And they hadn’t meant anything.

Love. Respect. Trust. Loyalty.

Things a man and woman should feel and have for one another when they stood before an officiant and chained themselves together for life.

Something Nika would never again do as long as she lived. One shattered dream was enough for her, thanks very much.

If all went well, in a few short hours she would be free, and nothing—and no one—was going to take that away from her ever again.

Gabriel Moretti listened to Mikey, or, rather, Father Russo, as he spoke eloquently and too formally for his taste.

“Some say love strengthens man and woman, but I disagree. Love weakens you, makes the strong vulnerable, because another has been given the power to very simply destroy you . . .”

Fuuuck.
He tuned it out. Didn’t need the recap. He was living it. Knew all about the power Eva now held over him. The power she now allowed his enemies—which he suddenly seemed to have coming out of the woodwork—to hold over him. Less than a month in and already he couldn’t count how many times that ultimate threat had been made.

Not a simple man-to-man “I’m gonna kill you.” Always the more cowardly “I’m gonna find your Russian woman and have lots of sex with her before I take her life.”

Not in those exact words, of course, but the idea was always the same. Eva’s body threatened and then her life. The one making the threat was neutralized immediately, by either his or Vincente’s hand, but the words continued to bounce around in Gabriel’s head for hours afterward. Because they proved that too many of those men they were weeding out of the organization had the thought to use the woman next to him as a way to send a message: they were unhappy with the changes he was making.

Yet here he was anyway, selfishly binding her to his side with a
till-death-do-us-part
.

“Trust. Respect. Loyalty. Three things in a marriage that are just as, if not more, important than the love a man and woman feel for one another. For betrayal of even one destroys all . . .”

Mikey went on. Man, it was hard to think of the kid as a respected priest when all Gabriel saw was the scrawny little brother of one of his high school buddies. He pictured the kid chasing a ball Lorenzo had thrown into the alley so his brother’s innocent ears wouldn’t hear Maksim talk about how he’d screwed the Mancini twins in the school bathroom during gym class.

When was the last time he’d seen Lore? He swallowed a snort. That’s right. The guy, now a proud NYPD detective, had been one of the first on the scene when Gabriel had called in his parents’ “murder.” They’d sat across from each other in his mother’s kitchen without saying a word. Lore had known as well as Gabriel that none of them were going to find a goddamned thing, not even when the feds showed to take over the case with their puffed-up chests.

The two of them had embraced in the backyard.
You need anything, call me
, Lore had said, even though they both knew it would never happen. But the offer had been a good one to hear.
If you’re feeling really brave, go to Saint Luke’s and sit with Mikey for a while. Take care, Gabriel.

Gabriel had left for Seattle hours later and hadn’t looked back. Much.

Now here he was five years later, back in New York, back in the game, sitting on the goddamned Moretti family throne.

A bead of sweat rolled down his back. No doubt Lore, or someone in his department, had eyes on the house right now. Or as close to the house as Maksim’s security system would allow them to get. His lip curved.

“Honesty. Another important aspect of any relationship. Without it, you’re doomed. Why prove to the one you claim to love above all others that they are worthy only of your lies . . . ?”

Thank God there were no lies between him and Eva, he thought as he looked to the side to see her respectfully listening to Mikey. A part of her attention must have been on him, because she immediately glanced over. The easy smile she gave him before returning to the service was as gorgeous as always, making him marvel that in a few short minutes, she would be his wife.

His wife.

“Move it along, Mikey,” he interrupted. “We don’t have all night.”

Around Eva’s “Tsk,” the priest with the watchful, solemn gaze—even as a young kid—looked Gabriel straight in the eye and stated gravely, “No, we don’t. So let’s not waste what we do have, because one never knows when it will all be gone.”

Eva’s fingers tightened around his at the doom and gloom.

Gabriel scowled. “Keep the rest of it a little lighter than that, kid,” he warned with a kiss dropped to the top of his bride’s head. “No one needs reality intruding on a night like this. Got it?”

The grin Mikey flashed was sheepish. “Sorry, Gabe. I’ll save my apocalyptic warnings for my brother.”

He chuckled. “Do that. I’m sure he’s well prepared for whatever’s coming for us.”

The ceremony continued, rolling out effortlessly, but Gabriel still found it difficult to relax. And he wasn’t the only one. He checked out Vincente in his periphery. Guy looked as if he should be in uniform and saluting a general; he was so stiff.

A bright splash of color caught his eye, and he glanced to Eva’s left, where Nika stood flipping her hair over her shoulder in a gesture too measured for someone her age.

Ah, yes.
Now he understood V’s problem. He and Nika had had a brief thing in Seattle before shit had hit the fan with Stefano a few weeks ago. Looked like the tension was still there between the two.

He smirked—
been there, done that
—and tuned in to the service.

Once the brief interruption passed—clearly the priest was a personal friend of the groom—Nika’s heart melted as Eva softy pledged herself to her man. Caleb handed the bride a tissue as Gabriel repeated his vows in a powerful voice. Nika then turned over the ring, and after someone from Gabriel’s side did the same thing—she didn’t look to see whether it was Maksim, Alek, or Vincente—the ceremony ended.

Nika breathed a sigh of relief and was first to hug Mrs. Gabriel Moretti. She wasn’t sure how many others got the opportunity before Gabriel snagged his wife by the hand and dragged her from the room.

“What the hell are you doing, Moretti?” Vasily growled at his new son-in-law.

Gabriel slowed to allow a smiling Eva to keep up in her narrow dress and high heels but didn’t look back as he veered left, aiming for a corridor off the foyer. “Need to see
my wife
in private for a few,” he said over his shoulder. “Start without us. We’ll be back.” Whoops and hollers from the men in the room followed.

Taking a discreet glance around, wondering if anyone would notice if she snuck off to change back into her gold dress, Nika pulled her wrap tighter. A morose Alek started up a conversation with the annoyed father of the bride. Quan smiled as he clinked glasses with the priest and Lucian—two heavies who looked as if they weren’t sure what that odd expression was on the Asian’s face.
It’s a smile, boys
, she projected. Caleb and Vex were circling around a buffet table laden with food. Her brother looked over and noticed her observing him. He tapped his plate and raised a brow. She shook her head, not ready to eat yet, and his mouth twisted as he headed over.

“You should eat something,” he said in a disapproving tone.

“I will in a minute.”

Not satisfied with that, he forked up a baby potato from his own plate for her to sample. Which she did because she didn’t want a lecture, and she nearly choked on it when she saw Vincente return to the room from wherever it was he’d gone.
Good Lord.
He was just too much, she thought, shivering at the sight of those dangerous black eyes hiding behind low-drawn lids. He’d grown a goatee since she’d seen him last, which lent to his intimidation factor—and was sexy as hell. This was also the first time she’d seen him without the leather duster he favored. If possible, he looked even more dangerous without the long coat swirling around his legs, probably because she had an unimpeded view of his solid body in the pants and dress shirt he wore, both black. Like his long hair, which looked so silky she wanted to kick herself for not having touched it when she’d had the opportunity that day in Seattle. She should have run her fingers through it, at the very least. Maybe fisted it in her hands as she brought him closer and deepened the kiss—

Vincente glanced over on his way to join Maksim and another man she didn’t recognize, and she quickly looked away. She fiddled with her hair, twisting a lock around her finger as she tried to respond to Caleb’s question about the wedding.

Why did the sight of Vincente still give her that jolt? She breathed through the warmth invading her limbs and wished it would go away. It was pointless, after all. There was no future for her until she found Kevin’s evidence against Caleb. And even then, it would be a cold day in hell before she gave up her freedom for a man again.