Ultimate Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 4) (3 page)

Disappointed that she would do such a thing in front of his people, Alek tsked quietly. “Why would you provoke me in such a way, Sacha?” he murmured, holding her eyes as he brought that target back up when he’d mentally been lowering it because deep down he knew Sheppard didn’t deserve his malice. Or, he hadn’t. Now, Alek squared that bull’s eye on the guy’s chest, and almost as if she sensed where his mind was, his naughty angel paled and looked up at her date with a look of regret.

Alek lost sight of her when Maks lowered his head and caught his eye. “Time to get this train backed up.” He forced Alek back by bumping their chests together. When they were out of earshot, he added, “He’s untouchable. We have to regroup and figure some shit out. Then we’ll take care of this in a more private location.” He bumped again. “Don’t worry, brother. I got you covered.”

The storm tearing through him calmed at hearing that but the dark clouds of possession hovered, going nowhere. “Take my gun.”

Maks’s hand immediately snaked inside Alek’s jacket and came out with his nine millimeter. It was gone from sight before anyone had a chance to lock eyes on it. At the same time, Vasily was sending Sheppard back around the car and opening the door to help Sacha into the passenger seat with a quiet farewell that Alek didn’t hear her return.

“Justin Sheppard.”

The guy paused with one foot in the car, appearing remarkably unfazed by the undercurrent surrounding them.

“Take care of her.” Alek’s voice was as even as he could make it. “She’s precious in a way you couldn’t possibly understand.”

Finally, a reaction came when the muscle in Sheppard’s jaw jumped. “I easily understand that, Tarasov. She’ll be fine. Goodnight, gentlemen.” He disappeared into the car, and the tinted windows shut out prying eyes as they drove away.

Alek let out a slow breath that burned. “This all could have been so civilized had she not done that. I could have pretended they were friends and we could have moved on from there.” He watched the car until it was no longer distinguishable from the others on the street. “Now, I want to see him hanging on your wall.”

“Innocent men don’t belong on Maksim’s wall,” Vasily pointed out as they moved deeper into the shadows and away from a passing group of teenagers.

Disregarding his uncle’s sane view on who belonged in the basement of Maks’s gentlemen’s club where the organization’s enemies sometimes ended up, Alek asked Maks, “What did you find?”

“A lot of info. Right down to the parking space the guy frequently uses at the goddamn courthouse on Centre Street. He’s a criminal defense attorney.”

Ah, fuck.

I will not allow her to get away from me again.

Oh, God. She was going to be sick.

Why would you provoke me in such a way, Sacha?

Bile filled her throat, but she swallowed it down. There was no time to panic. She had to calm down and remember her plan.

A tap on her wrist made her jump. Her elbow hit the door, and her heart nearly burst when a cab laid on the horn as it drove past them going in the opposite direction.

“Hey.” Justin’s voice was gentle with concern when he saw her reacting as if ghosts were surrounding her. “What’s going on? Come on, Sarah. Take a slow breath before you pass out on me.” He stopped at a red light a few blocks from the restaurant they should never have gone to.

She tried but it the air got stuck in her throat as she pulled her phone out of her purse.

“It helps if you distract yourself. Think about, I don’t know, Lekzi’s new fangs. That should help.”

It didn’t. Thinking of the two little white teeth now protruding from her daughter’s gums made her want to cry.

“They are not fangs,” she defended, just as she had when she’d proudly showed Justin Lekzi’s new smile.

“I know. So, before I layer a thousand questions on you, why don’t you tell me what the hell that was about.”

After trying twice to get her best friend and landlord’s number right, Sacha winced when the ringing pierced her ear as loud as a police siren. “Let me talk to Angela first then I will explain.”

“Hello?” Angela sounded drowsy, as if she’d been dozing. She was babysitting for Sacha tonight when it was normally the other way around since Angela’s son was one of Sacha’s charges in the small daycare she ran out of her apartment.

“He is coming,” Sacha squeezed through her tight throat, never having believed she would utter those words. “Please, do as we discussed and take Lekzi upstairs. Do not come down until I come to your door. Hurry!” In her head, she was ticking off the items in the bag she kept in Angela’s apartment; passports, money belts, train schedule, clothes…

Oh, God. How was she going to do this? She didn’t want to do this.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Justin was looking at her as if she’d lost her mind. “
Who’s
coming?”

“Oh, shit,” Angela breathed, not sounding so relaxed anymore. “Lekzi’s daddy? Are you freaking kidding me? How the hell? What happened, Sarah? Where are you? Where did you see him?”

“At the restaurant. We walked in and he was there. He was…there. Oh, my God, Angela. Please, hurry.”

“I’m already out the door. Baby girl fell asleep in her bassinet, so I just had to grab it and Tanner’s car seat.” Her voice shook to prove she was moving. “I can’t believe this. How’d he seem?”

“Intense.” Infuriating. Disgusting. Beautiful. “He followed us out of the restaurant. He said he wanted to talk with me. Alone. He wanted to see me home.” Arrogant. Had she mentioned infuriating?

“Alone. What, he wanted you to send Justin away?
Shit
, girl. But how will he find out where you live just by seeing you in a— Never mind. Stupid question, considering who he is. But it’ll take him a while, right?”

Angela’s reaction was a comfort, proving she knew what a Russian Bratva was capable of just as she’d let on when Sacha had finally caved to the pressure and shared her story. Justin’s earlier mistake stole that comfort.

“No. Justin gave Maksim his name.” Shocking herself with the violent move, she reached over and swatted her friend’s hard thigh. Fear squeezed her lungs as she remembered that behemoth going to work the moment he had some information. “Why did you not
listen
to me, Justin?” Her daughter’s image shimmered before her eyes. “We would have had more time if all they had was the license plate of your car! Now he will come! He will learn she exists, and he will take her from me!”

“Sasha!”

Angela’s use of her real name shut her up.

“I don’t understand what the hell you’re saying. You’re speaking Russian. And who the heck is Maksim?”

“What
the fuck
is going on here?” Justin demanded as she covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head.

His image blurred before her eyes, and she didn’t protest when he took her phone. He knew Angela just as well as Sacha, if not better, since Angela was married to his best friend. That’s how Sacha and Justin had grown so close, by being thrown together all the time during park visits and potluck dinners. Sacha had vehemently protested the coupling at first until one evening Justin had revealed he wasn’t interested in her “in that way,” saying with a smile that she wasn’t his type. Or the right gender. She’d welcomed his easy companionship after that, and they’d soon started hanging out and making plans even when Angela and Steve were unavailable. Tonight’s dinner, for example.

“Yeah, of course, I’ve heard of them but have never met any of them before,” he was saying to Angela. “My brother has gotten to know a few of them pretty well.” He put the phone between his ear and shoulder and reached over to turned the heat up. He must have noticed she was shivering—it wasn’t from the cold. “I read about the territorial one a couple of months ago. He and his partner landed that multi-residential deal everyone was bidding for on the Lower East Side. Word on the street was, rather than their lawyers, Alek Tarasov and Markus Fane kicked some serious ass during negotiations. Two high-profile families with questionable ties…”

Sacha tuned him out as he and Angela speculated about something Sacha knew for certain. The ties were not only questionable, they were unbreakable. Because they were family ties that bound those men together. The fact that most of them didn’t share the same blood made no difference. They were family. A brotherhood. Bratva.

She couldn’t have said where the Tarasovs were more influential, in the U.S. or in Russia, where she’d heard talk of them all her life. Whether it was on the news or at her family’s dinner table—not that she’d paid much attention back then—their name had usually been but whispered with equal parts fear and respect. She remembered the knowing looks her parents exchanged when photos would surface of Alekzander’s grandfather with highly respected political leaders.
They’re everywhere
, her father would murmur under his breath.

It wasn’t until she moved away from home after her parents’ death that Sacha had her first personal interaction with a real-life member. She’d come to New York because a family friend’s daughter had made the move the year before. She and Irena had been close growing up. Not to the same extent their mother’s were, but still, Sacha had always thought they’d had a connection. Irena, it turned out, wasn’t the sentimental type, because when Sacha showed up at the address she was given for a hair salon in Brighton Beach, her childhood “friend” had had no interest in renewing their acquaintance. Sacha hadn’t minded that so much after seeing the marked difference in the girl she used to know. The most obvious being the droopy eyes and purple bruises in her elbow creases.

Without fretting over the change in plans, Sacha had moved on and settled into a minuscule apartment. She’d gravely insulted the three and a half years of university she had under her belt by taking a job at a small diner. But she never let herself dwell on the fact that she was completely alone in a strange city where her grasp of the language wasn’t the best.

Those first months were actually a lonely, frightening existence that she, thankfully, hadn’t had to suffer through for very long.

On a day just as stressful as any other—her boss had been an intolerant jerk—she’d gone to one of her assigned tables to greet two men in smart suits. They’d looked up from their tattered menus, and despite Gabriel Moretti’s dark, handsome looks, she’d barely glanced at him. She hadn’t been able to tear her eyes from Alekzander Tarasov. Within minutes of meeting him, he’d turned her world upside down, and it had yet to right itself.

“Okay.” Justin dropped her phone into her purse. “You can start by telling me who Sacha is. Or should I ask who Sarah Brighton is? I knew with an accent like yours that couldn’t be your real name. Had considered it might be your married name. Are the Tarasovs the reason you use it? Come on, Sar—uh, Sacha. Talk to me. The lack of information here is making my brain hurt.”

She took a tissue out of her purse and blew her nose, trying to buy some time. How much should she say? Justin had given Alekzander his name, which meant they’d know in moments, if they didn’t already, who he was and where to find him. And that meant they would find her. She wasn’t sure how, but she knew Maksim Kirov would get the information he needed, and then that powerful group of men they’d just left would move in and do whatever they damn well pleased and no one would be able to stop them. She couldn’t leave without warning Justin about what might be coming for him. After all, she’d just given Alekzander the impression she and Justin were involved. She shouldn’t have been so immature.

“What’s your full name?” Justin pressed, his tone encouraging rather than demanding, as Alekzander’s would have been.

“Sacha Urusski.” She tapped on the dash when he got stuck behind a bus. “Can you pass him, please? You must get me home.”

He passed and went through a yellow light. “Angela knows that?”

“Yes.”

He laughed under his breath. “Why Sarah Brighton? Why use an alias?”

“You just met the reason. He…I…” She bit her lip, not about to tell him why she’d chosen Brighton as her last name. That was private. And what was it inside her that was trying to prevent her from speaking of that cheating womanizer behind his back?

“He and you, what? And, correct me if I’m wrong, but going by that caveman display I just witnessed, I’ll assume the ‘he’ you’re referring to is Alek Tarasov.”

As her heart infuriatingly wrenched in her chest and the naïve girl buried somewhere inside her sighed with longing, Sacha twisted the two rings she wore on the middle finger of her right hand. “I do not want to involve you in this, Justin. There is no point since I will be leaving New York tonight. You and Angela have been wonderful friends, and I appreciate having had you in my life even if it was only for this short time. Please, be aware that Alekzander and his family might come to you and ask about me. I would be so grateful if you did not tell them anything you know.”

“That’s a given, and you leaving isn’t on the table. At least not until you tell me why the hell you and your daughter are running from them. I’m forming a few ideas, but maybe you can pinpoint the correct one for me. Money, information, you know something they don’t want shared? I swear you can trust me with your story, Sar—Sacha. I’ll take it to the grave.” He made a face. “Unless you want me to take it to the authorities. Sorry. That killed my drama, but I am an attorney.”