Ultimate Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 4) (36 page)

“Did everything go okay?” she asked hesitantly. Ever since the group had gone upstairs, she’d had half an eye on the monitor above the refrigerator which regularly flashed all areas of the house and grounds from the security cameras scattered everywhere.

“V shit his pants over how we planned on protecting her; Gabriel shit his when she did the same in hers.”

She burst out laughing as he dropped supplies she hadn’t noticed he was carrying.

“I’m ashamed to say I can’t go here yet,” he added as he handed Lekzi over and snapped the towel off Sacha’s shoulder in the process. He laid it out and pointed to it. “Demonstrate.”

She wondered if she was crazy for loving that commanding tone, not to mention his endearing cluelessness. And because she just couldn’t ignore the urge, she stood on her toes and pressed a lingering kiss to his firm mouth before laying the baby on her back.

“Did you scare the big bad men?” she teased as she opened Lekzi’s clothes up. Changing her took some effort because Lekzi was well rested and in a happy mood. It was difficult but enjoyable trying to control two legs bouncing and stiffening while happy squeals rang out every few seconds, but she eventually finished by pulling tiny jeans up over a clean diaper.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Alekzander murmured as he took the baby so Sacha could wash up.

She’d just torn a sheet of paper towel off the role to dry her hands when her mood went in the toilet, which was fitting considering the task she’d just performed.

“Nope. I’m telling you; I heard her.”

“I don’t think so. Why don’t we find the guys first and let Alek bring them to us?”

“Did you tell them we were coming, Dad? See? She’s expecting us, Nika. And what woman wouldn’t want to show off her baby? Seriously, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were scared or something. Don’t worry, you can’t get pregnant by touching one. They’re not like germs or something.”

“Shut up, Humpty.”

“Girls,” a quiet male voice interceded—Vasily’s. “Remember, make sure you don’t overwhelm her. She hasn’t had a chance to settle in yet. We don’t want to spook her.”

Two feminine gasps sounded. “We’re not going to attack a baby,” one of them said.

“I wasn’t talking about the baby.”

Sacha sidled up next to a grinning Alekzander and followed his gaze to the back hallway. The first woman to appear was the spitting image of her father, so Sacha knew it was Ava…? No, Eva. Too, she was pregnant. The other she assumed was Vincente’s.

“Oh, God.” Sacha couldn’t swallow her groan as every insecurity she’d ever had came crashing down on her. She suddenly felt fat, short, and frumpy.

Alekzander looked down at her. “What?”

She spoke out the side of her mouth “You should have told me to expect two more supermodels; I would have put on some makeup.”

He gave her an incredulous look before the trio reached them and Vasily made introductions.

Eva took Sacha’s hand and smiled warmly, her gaze darting to the baby. “It’s so great to finally meet you. I wanted to introduce myself last night, but we had to leave early. Sorry for that.”

“Do not be sorry. Things were…” She glanced up at Alekzander. He returned her look but offered no help. She was as diplomatic as she could be before moving on. “Er, unsettled. Congratulations to you and Gabriel on your marriage and the coming baby.”

“Thank you. And yours…” Sapphire eyes so similar to her father’s brightened, and as if she’d been given permission, she shifted her attention. “Oh, my God, you guys.” She went in and kissed Alekzander’s cheek then smiled at Lekzi. “She’s so gorgeous. I can’t tell you how happy I am for all of you. Can I hold her?” There was a catch in her voice that Sacha remembered well. When she was pregnant, she’d cried for no reason at all.

After Alekzander had passed the baby over—something they both seemed to be doing all the time—he accepted an affectionate hug from Nika. She said something too quiet for Sacha to hear, which caused a sickening feeling to take up residence in her stomach. She tried not to resent the familiarity between him and the women but couldn’t help it. The last beautiful female she’d seen so close to him had faked some very convincing sex.

She slapped on a smile when Nika turned to her with dazzling but cautious green eyes and asked what she and Yana were cooking.

The next hour was tense and uncomfortable for Sacha. They ended up joining the men in the living room, and after what turned out to be an amiable reunion with Gabriel and Vincente, Sydney showed up with Micha. She appeared put out because her son and daughter had chosen to stay behind to go rabbit hunting with someone called Jak.

Casual talk flowed, though Sacha didn’t miss the looks she kept receiving, especially when she and Alekzander got within touching distance of one another. Her eyes were continually drawn to him when she remembered something he’d said or done the night before. Was the love she could feel radiating from her as blinding as it felt?

“Sacha?”

Her head snapped up to find him standing in front of her with Lekzi arching her back and reaching for her. Sacha placed the empty coffee cup she’d been staring into on the table next to her and jumped up to accept the baby. She’d been feeling naked and not very useful since everyone had wanted a turn holding Lekzi.

“I’m not sure if she’s hungry, tired, or just needed you.”

“Of course. I should have seen that she was getting fussy. I will feed her and put her down.” With an apologetic smile aimed at Nika, who’d been sitting next to her, generously allowing her to stare off into space, Sacha escaped.

♦ ♦ ♦

When Sacha left with her and Alek’s treasure—Vasily still couldn’t look at that baby and not fall in love all over again—she took the happiness in the air with her. Judging by the way the girls grew quiet, his nephew hadn’t been the only who’d noticed the silent conversations Vasily and the boys had been carrying on with barely perceptible head shakes, brief frowns, and quirking brows.

He was glad to see an irritated light in Alek’s eyes because it meant that I-don’t-need-to-know mentality he’d held onto for so long was indeed fading. Ever since Renee and Evan’s death, Alek had slowly been lowering his guard and allowing himself to accept who he was.

Alekzander had been born Bratva, and like his father and Vasily, and even Gabriel, if another example was needed, Alek had attempted to deny it. For his own reasons, he’d focused on his legitimate dealings with much more gusto than he’d ever brought to family issues. But, as expected, that was changing. Eventually, whether they were in their teens like Vasily and Evgeny had been, or in their thirties like Gabriel and Alek, they were pulled into this life because it was in the very blood that ran through their veins.

And ultimately coated their hands.

While it broke their hearts.

Bending, Vasily pressed what he hoped was a reassuring kiss to the crown of his daughter’s head. “We’ll be back.” He motioned the boys to follow him. When he entered the foyer, he waved the others lingering by the front door to come, too, and led the way to his second-floor office.

“What the fuck happened?” Alek demanded as the morose group filed into the large room lined with walnut bookcases and a matching desk that sat in front of the bullet-proof window.

Maks, Gabriel, Alek, and Vincente sat around the table in the center of the room while Micha, Anton, Dmitri, and Quan played sentry around the perimeter. Muscle rarely sat during meetings.

Vasily nodded to Maksim, who slid his phone over. It came to a stop at Alek’s elbow. Going behind him so he could watch over his nephew’s shoulder, Vasily saw a video loaded and ready. Alek hit play.

The area around what used to be the warehouse in Brighton Beach came up.

“Different days,” Maksim said to Alek. “Different streets, same time-frame each day, same vehicle parked at least two blocks from the warehouse.”

Then images of the warehouse itself appeared, with Sergei and Reynard nonchalantly wandering along, but stopping every so often to place something in the corner of a window, then at the top of a door frame, then along the base of the building.

“The footage from the regular security cameras show light activity from the same timeframe,” Maksim supplied. “At closer inspection, it’s clear the files were doctored. That footage was previously recorded. In one frame that was supposedly from this past Monday, it shows Rusef the Hook walking around. As you know, Hook was killed at the docks three months ago.”

Vasily once more smothered the rising tide of blackness that tried to crest every time he realized again what this had to mean.

Alek replayed it then turned and looked up, his head already going from side-to-side. “No,” he stated flatly. “You’re not telling me this.”

Vasily kept his mouth shut and squeezed his beloved, loyal, trustworthy nephew’s shoulder before going over to one of the file cabinets. He pulled open the bottom drawer and pushed back the hanging files so he could open the false bottom. He had to push aside stacks of different currencies and a variety of passports to get to the two folders he needed. Evidence he and Dmitri had compiled over the last year of phone calls, blown deals, near misses, and one photo of a burned out shell of a car that now took on a whole new meaning.

Rising from his squat, he went to his desk and opened the top folder to show a photo of Kathryn and Eva’s house in Seattle. “Not a word,” he warned as he hit the speaker phone and dialed a number. “Dmitri, have Leo and Nestor move in to block the exits. They are not to let Sergei or Reynard leave unless they hear back from you personally.”

Alek shoved his chair back and got to his feet, his expression vicious. “What the fuck is this? You can’t seriously think he has anything to do with what’s been going on. You think he was
planting
shit in that video? Maybe they were sweeping.”

Vincente got up and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Alek. “It’s not just the warehouse he’s going on.” There was an apologetic note in his voice that made Vasily sick because it meant Vincente was already convinced of Sergei and Reynard’s guilt.

“Not a word,” he repeated, meeting his nephew’s eyes as his sister’s son picked up the call.

That’s when Vasily slid into that place of suspension he went to when having to perform unpleasant tasks. There was nothing to get in the way of what needed to be done. He merely functioned.

“Hello.”

“Sergei. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No. I was up.”

“Good. I wanted to talk to you about Alek if you have a moment.”

There was a slight hesitation. “Sure.” Empty tone.

Vasily’s heart started to beat a little faster, and he knew then remaining detached from this one would be next to impossible. “Maksim told me you were there to offer a hand last night at Sacha’s place. Did you by any chance meet Alek’s daughter?”

“No. I was not there long enough to do much of anything. Maks sent Reynard and me to the warehouse.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. She’s quite a little beauty. It will be nice having her around to bring some light into our world.” He couldn’t hide his wince as he lowered himself into his chair. Never had he been so deliberately cruel. “Tell me your thoughts on Alek bringing his family home.”

“My honest thoughts?” Sergei asked with a noticeable difference in his tone. It was harder. Less controlled. Which had been the point of the cruelty.

“Yes, of course. Why would I be interested in bullshit?”

“He should have left them the fuck alone. That is my honest thought.”

A new tension entered the room as the boys took offense to that. “After seeing him struggle through this past year, do you not think he has the right to this happiness?” Vasily asked.

Sergei snorted. “Alek being lonely would be my choice over him bringing them into this.”

Vasily set aside the urge he felt to climb though the connection and slap the shit out of this man who had fooled them all. He made his voice even. “I’m afraid I don’t agree.”

“Of course, you don’t. You want him happy, and that’s understandable,” Sergei said unexpectedly. “But how happy will you both be when the day comes where he can put their pretty heads on his mantle? Tell me, how fucking happy will he be staring longingly at Sacha and his daughter on those cold winter nights when the nightmares make it impossible for him to sleep?”

A low sound came from Vincente, causing Vasily to look over. As his gaze quickly skipped around the faces, he saw the same thing he was feeling. Confusion. Indecision. No one knew which way to lean here. Did they keep their fingers on the trigger because Sergei was likely the one responsible for the losses they’d suffered? Or did they lower their weapons because they had no choice but to acknowledge why he may have done what he had?

But to
them
? To his
brothers
? His
family
? Was it possible to overlook such a betrayal?

When their criminal culture could be traced back to the Tsarist era, even though it wasn’t until the 20s and 30s that the Vory had established themselves as a distinct group, there was a lot of history. Which meant there were many cases of backstabbing sons, disloyal brothers, turncoat cousins and nephews. Why had Vasily never entertained the thought that he might one day have one in his own Bratva?