Ultimate Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 4) (27 page)

Sacha’s eyes flared. “You still have it?” she said in surprise.

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Because it was our home,” he ground out through a tight jaw. He wanted in that fucking bedroom.

“Oh, girl…” Angela whispered, her voice rising an octave at the end as she beamed at him. He wanted to yell at her that he didn’t need the approval shining in her eyes and she seemed to get that because she got her ass in gear. “Okay,” she said as she gathered her things, which included her little guy asleep in a portable bassinet. “Get settled then call me. Don’t leave me hanging for more than a day or two, though, okay? God, I love this. Sorry, but I had to say it. You better play nice, Russian,” she said over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her.

Sacha was trying not to smile. “She’s…a funny bird.”

“Where’s my little bird?”

“Um.” She moved between him and the bedroom, and he could have sworn she now had stars glittering in her eyes at his reference to their daughter. Could she sense his impatience? “Would you like me to bring her out? Or do you want to go inside? I will bring you to her if you would like. Or you can go on your own…?”

He reached out and put a stop to her ring twisting before she skinned her finger. “You can bring me to her.”

“Okay. Alekzander, I want you to know—”

“Don’t. Not now. Let me at least see her, for Christ’s sake.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Come.”

He looked into the room when Sacha opened the door. His heart pounded.

A nursery. Pinks and purples, clouds and angels, a rocking chair, crib, a small table. There were fuzzy blankets, a squat lamp, and stacks of neatly folded laundry on the corner of the dresser. A single bed along the wall, unmade and cozy looking. A coffee cup was on the table with an open book beside it.

The room was full of life. A quiet, private, beautiful life.

His gaze landed on the wall above the crib. And stayed there. The name, made from pink stickers in the shape of a rainbow and surrounded by smiling suns and moons, knifed him directly in the heart.

Alekzandra.

“Was she with you today? Outside?”

Sacha turned. Her fist was pressed against her mouth. She was trying not to cry as she nodded, her eyes full of apology.

How could he not have known he was inches from his child? How could he not have felt a connection to the baby that had been wrapped in the pink blanket Sacha had adjusted one time too many? Why had the nervous actions not registered?

Because I was too distracted by the one who stood there, doing whatever she could to hide my daughter from me.

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He held onto the knob, his extremities stinging as adrenaline leaked into his system. His knees went weak. He looked to the crib. Couldn’t see anything yet, but a barrage of feelings smoked him where he stood. So much shock and wonder. A joy the likes of which he’d never known. Excitement. Pride.

Fear.

And fury. White hot and debilitating. He grew dizzy as betrayal devoured him again, bringing with it a reminder of all he’d missed thus far. Of all he could never,
ever
get back.

The softness of Sacha’s hand registered when it slipped into his. She tugged him forward, and they crossed the softly lit room together.

Alek couldn’t help but wonder if his daughter, Alekzandra, might instinctively know him. Would
she
feel some sort of connection to
him
?

He sidled up to the crib and felt vines of the softest, strongest connect wrap around his heart and squeeze until the organ barely functioned. A tiny blonde baby. Sleeping so peacefully.

Jesus
…

His lungs sucked in a hard breath all on their own as he tried to swallow and couldn’t. Through blurry eyes, he watched Sacha reached down and lift his daughter.

“Lekzi, your papa is here to meet you,” she whispered with a catch in her voice.

Alek accepted her light weight, wrapping her in his arms as he drew her against his chest. Without knowing why, he brought her right under his chin so he could inhale…a scent so pure and unique he knew it belonged to his child alone. Too bad he didn’t get much of it before his ability to breathe deserted him.

If she woke, would she cry in fear at the sight of her father’s face? Would his child’s instincts go off in warning, telling her he was there to harm her? When in reality, all he would ever do for the rest of his life was love and shelter her? Their relationship was only seconds old, but Alek knew he would be her champion until the day he died.

And because nothing could change the fact that she’d given this to him when she could have made an entirely different decision regarding her pregnancy, he reached out and drew Sacha in with a light touch on the back of her head. He buried his face in her hair, closing his eyes when her arms slipped around his waist. It took a moment before he could speak.

“Thank you. For her…for her name…” He breathed for a second. “Thank you for this extraordinary gift.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything as she hugged him and their daughter. After a long minute of her stroking his back, patting every so often as if she was trying to comfort him, she drew away.

“I will give you some time with her.”

Once the distraction of her mother was gone, Alek focused completely on the feel of the treasure in his arms and tears finally fell onto his cheeks. He wouldn’t have cared if their entire organization was witness to his emotions. He was meeting his baby girl for the first time, and he was completely overwhelmed.

He had to put her down.

Alek continued to rock the chair he was sitting in by lightly pushing with his foot. He released the tiny hand with its teensy fingers so he could stare at his daughter’s perfect little face again. Soft, round cheeks, tiny chin, button nose, bow lips—that pursed and made a sucking motion every little while that without fail made him smile and choke up. Her hair was a few shades lighter than his. What color were her eyes?

He had to put her down.

Shit. He would gladly have walked to Old Westbury so that he could keep her in his arms. He lingered, needing to feel her just a little longer, and it wasn’t until another ten minutes had passed that he finally got up and placed her back in the crib.

Time to go out and close this chapter of Sacha’s life, he thought as he reluctantly left the nursery.

The moment he walked out and saw her rise from the sofa, looking drawn and anxious, her eyes red-rimmed, the peace he’d found being in his daughter’s presence shriveled. Sacha had changed out of her evening wear and now had on a pair of black yoga pants and a loose-fitting long-sleeve pink tee. She looked young and innocent. But wasn’t.

How often had Sheppard sat on that sofa, cradling
his
daughter? Had he fed her? Lounged with Sacha’s feet in his lap while she held the baby and they talked about their day? Babysat on his own while Sacha went shopping?

What had she looked like with a round belly? Had her pregnancy been hard? Easy? Did she breastfeed? Bottle? Cloth diapers? Store bought? Had there been complications? He thought of Eva and her gestational diabetes. Had the delivery been hard? Any complications there?

His temples pounded. There was no way he could process this. The scope of it was just too large. The part he’d played in Sacha’s deception wasn’t making the impression it should.

What he’d done by setting her up he’d done out of love and had been wrecked over it.

She had consciously and deliberately kept his daughter from him to exact revenge.

“Do you have suitcases—don’t,” he snapped when she took a breath as though she were about to speak. His voice was quiet but deadly. “You shut your mouth, get in that goddamn bedroom, and pack what you’ll need for the night. Everything else will arrive at the house tomorrow. You have thirty minutes.”

A crimson flush climbed her neck as she stood rooted to the spot. Did she think to refuse him? Why? Because in the past he’d have allowed it? He wanted to laugh. Those days were over.

Taking full advantage of his size, he moved into her. He didn’t touch. Just towered. Her lashes fanned up when she raised her eyes to him, and he almost groaned as his focus changed in an instant. He tried to pull it back.

“Do I really have to remind you how I was raised, Sacha? Tell me you haven’t forgotten what a spoiled bastard I am.” He brought his hand to her waist because he had to fucking touch her. “If I wanted to, I could have you taken away right this minute. I could arrange for you to be in Russia by lunchtime tomorrow, tucked away in the middle of nowhere. With one phone call, I could make it so
you
never saw our daughter again.”

Her gold eyes began to shimmer as she stared up at him. “You do not have to go so far. You already know I am willing to do this your way. Please do not make us suffer by separating us.”

“But wasn’t that your intent? To keep
me
separated from her?” He released her with a light shove toward the bedroom. What if this meeting hadn’t taken place until Lekzi was ten years old? Twenty? “Get out of my sight before I forget that I live by a code that prevents me from doing to you what many of my associates would have already done.”

He turned away and wanted to punch himself in the face. Right in the mouth. Because he couldn’t get past the urge he had to take hers and suck those trembling breaths right out of her. He was hungry. For her. Even with everything else going on, he wanted to kiss her. Strip her. Fuck her where they stood. Why
the hell
was he getting tangled up with lust? He was hot and hard and uncomfortable.

And if felt fucking
amazing
. He hadn’t felt this alive in sixteen abysmal months.

But it was also twisted, considering the circumstances. A sick, gnarled desire jumbled together with all the other mangled emotions he was supposed to be keeping at bay. Unexpectedly, adding to it, was an unreasonable but crippling fear. It rose up out of nowhere to clobber him.

“If I am willing to be civil about this, the least you can do is attempt the same.”

He wheeled around and grabbed her by the arm to jerk her forward. “You’d be wise not to make demands of me right now,” he rasped. “You have no idea how close to the edge I am. Jesus Christ, after everything—” He cursed and tried to block the thoughts winging around, torturing him. “I never expected this from you.
Never!
How the fuck could you do this? I just spent thirty minutes with my seven-month-old daughter. Thirty fucking minutes! I knew nothing of her existence, nothing of her birth. You robbed me of the opportunity to wonder, to dream and prepare. I didn’t even have the chance to worry that something might go wrong!” He shook her as terror overtook him. “What if something had gone wrong? What if we lost her and I never knew? What if I lost
you
and I wasn’t even aware?”

As her tears welled and overflowed, he yanked her against him and banded his arms around her. He pressed her entire body against his, trying to absorb her so she would be in him, safe, and forever in a place no harm could come to her.

An image of her bleeding out on a fucking operating table slammed into his head. He saw a doctor call the time and draw a sheet over her pale face. Distressed, he squeezed her so tight she moaned. “Goddamn you, I could have fucking lost you both, and I wouldn’t have known. I would have just kept searching. I would have searched forever. For nothing.” He picked up her heart beating against his, and he centered on it.

“I am so sorry.” She gently stroked her hands over him, his head, down his neck, his shoulders. Petting him. Soothing him. “It is okay, Alekzander. We are okay. I am so sorry I have done this to you.”

He came back enough so he could see her face. He devoured her every feature as he’d yearned to do every day since they’d last been together. He could tell she didn’t know why he was going here. Hell,
he
didn’t know why he was going here.

Once again his focus changed when he felt her body soften as she leisurely reached up to slide her fingers into his hair and push it back from his forehead. She shifted slightly, rubbing against him, her fingertips traveling down over his cheek. But it was the feel of her brushing them across his lower lip that lured him off the ledge and made him see what she was doing.

He remembered her using this method of distraction before. After an associate he’d been close to had been killed in a situation that could have been avoided. Sacha had seen he was suffering, and she’d used the attraction that blazed between them to bring his attention away from his grief.

Right now, she was using it to get his mind off his greatest fear; losing her.

She was the only woman who could tangle him in fucking knots and make him enjoy the cramping pain. His body began to stir and he welcomed it, savored it. If she thought she was going to take him from helpless to helplessly aroused just so she could wander off to pack, she was mistaken.

“Since you’ve brought us here, you’re going to follow through.” She would feed the beast she’d disturbed.