Ultimate Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 4) (49 page)

Instead of experiencing those small joys, Vasily sat there picturing all that Olin had just described. Kathryn had left work early, hunched over as she rushed to her car, openly crying. She’d driven erratically and had been hard to tail. When they’d reached a stretch of road Olin had never seen her travel before, another car had come out of nowhere. The hair-raising tale had ended with both of their vehicles being run off the road. When Olin had regained consciousness, he’d seen that his car had survived; Kathryn’s hadn’t. All that had been left was a charred, smoking shell.

With a calm brought on by denial, Vasily gave his instructions and got moving again. He went straight to the coroner’s office, and acting as the hair-brained detective who’d forgotten to check for identifying jewelry, he received confirmation that the only occupant of the vehicle, a female driver, had perished.

He walked outside and stood next to his car for a moment, concentrating on his heart as it beat in his chest. How was it still doing that?

Within minutes, he was at the compound, standing next to what remained of Kathryn’s vehicle, and not long later, he was back at the morgue. He sat in the parking lot, ignoring his constantly ringing phone. He wanted to go in and hold her lifeless body. But there wasn’t even that.

His kitten was gone. An image of her burning alive played continuously through his mind, vividly, taunting him, drilling home the fact that it all could have been avoided had he kept her by his side where she belonged. He could have protected her from her fiery death. He should have protected her.

It wasn’t until the sun was coming up that he started his car and drove to the hotel. He went in without exchanging words with anyone but to ask Dmitri if they’d managed to intercept any of the men responsible for this tragedy. When he was told two had been killed during the altercation but they managed to bring the third back and he’d already been questioned, Vasily asked for him to be brought in.

Moments later, the sound of the door registered as he stared out over the gray, churning waters of the Sound. She was gone. He couldn’t accept that. How would he ever accept that? Evangeline would be getting the news anytime now. His daughter was alone in New York, and she would be receiving news that her only family had been killed. She would have no idea that her father was the reason behind it.

She might be crying right now, calling out for her mother.

His child. In pain. Her mother, gone.

His Kathryn. Burned. His kitten. Dead. Forever.

Turning, he took his hands from his pockets, locked eyes with the dark stare of a Baikov soldier, and started forward. He didn’t stop until he had the man pinned to the wall next to the door. Vasily could smell the fear emanating from him.

He could also smell pennies.

As his mind roared in agony, English became a thing of the past, and he reverted to the type of Russian his grandfather used to speak. A guttural, rough dialect that worked well at that moment.

“What have you done?”

He put more pressure on his arm and inhaled deeply, savoring the scent rushing up his nose as the man moaned.

“Do those who sent down this order have any idea what they’ve started? If they wanted to provoke a reaction from me, they succeeded.” He twisted his hand and felt a rush of warmth soak his knuckles. “They succeeded by taking from me something I cannot live without. And they will pay for that for years to come.”

He pulled back and jabbed with more force than last time. The sharp blade in his grip hit something hard, but he drilled through it, causing the man to howl. Vasily savored that as a puddle began to form at their feet.

“The members of the Baikov Bratva will pay, right down to their sixthes. I will know when it is only those errand boys that are left, because, with every spare moment I have from here on out, I will hunt you down and take your lives the same way you took mine.”

He pulled back and stabbed into the hole a dozen times in quick succession. Blood splashed, and a wet sound filled the room. But all Vasily could hear were Kathryn’s screams as the flames consumed her. How long had it taken her hair to singe, her silky skin to welt, her flesh to incinerate and her small frame to become visible to the naked eye?

“It is done. Stop now.”

Dmitri’s voice came from far away. It made Vasily pause and rest his arm. He was gasping for breath as he stepped back and let the mess he’d made fall to the floor. He stared at what used to be a man’s torso. It was now unidentifiable, and his fury grew exponentially because destroying this man hadn’t helped. It hadn’t lessened his pain. It hadn’t taken away his anguish. It was just one more thing he’d done for nothing.

Such as leaving his helpless woman on her own, to live without him when they should never have parted. They should have lived their lives together. They should have laughed and cried and loved every single day from the moment they’d met. They should have raised their precious child together. They should have expanded their family and surrounded that sacred unit with their love and acceptance.

Vasily fell to the floor and let his grief and regret flow from his throat in an agonized howl that made the top of his head feel as if it were being sheared off. He took a breath and did it again. And again. And again.

And still his pain didn’t lessen. That’s when he knew it never would. Because she was never coming back.

His last effort, his final imploring wail to reach her, came in the form of her name.

♦ ♦ ♦

The boys were all stone-faced, and every female had her ears covered, trying to block the sounds coming from the operating room. Alek fisted his hands and ground his teeth to nubs as his uncle’s hoarse shouts continued.

“What the fuck?” Maks growled. “Did the goddamn anesthetic wear off?”

Eva pushed out of G’s arms and rushed to the doors to try to see in the window for the hundredth time. Vasily’s voice was losing its power, but it was still plenty loud enough for all of them to hear his final rough, mournful call.

Eva’s mother’s name.

At hearing it, their daughter broke down completely. As her fear found the outlet it had been seeking, her husband’s strong arms were there to shelter her. They were replaced often, each of them taking turns holding her, talking with her, or just sitting with her, offering whatever she needed. Nika, Sacha, and Sydney continued to keep Lekzi entertained as they fetched food and drinks that no one touched—Gabriel force-fed his wife just enough to keep her sugar on the level. Calls came in that no one answered, and those doors closing them out were continuously under observation.

At last, four and a half hours after he’d gone in, Yuri shoved through the swinging panels looking as if he’d swam the length of a swimming pool to get there. He was red-eyed and soaked with perspiration, but otherwise appeared unfazed.

“We finally found those damned bleeders. He’s stable. Give me twenty to get rid of the gore, and you can come in two at a time.”

He disappeared again. No one celebrated. They just silently thanked whoever it was they’d been praying to. Sacha left Eva and came over with Lekzi. The baby leaned away from her mother and into him. Remembering Kathryn’s name coming from behind those doors, Alek took his baby and wrapped her up tight. He couldn’t look at Sacha as he dreaded the coming days.

He had to offer her a choice. Voluntarily give her an out.

But how could he?

Then again, how could he not?

A couple of long, quiet days later, as Grigori drove the Maybach into the underground parking garage of her and Alekzander’s apartment building, Sacha tapped her fingers on the front of her purse.

They parked next to Alekzander’s new Range Rover. It was identical to the one Markus had last driven; only it was black. As were the clothes Alekzander continued to wear, and would for the traditional forty-day mourning period as was the custom in the Orthodox religion.

And mourning he was. Many times over the past few days, Sacha had looked up from feeding Lekzi in Samnang’s welcoming kitchen to see Alekzander sitting out back on a lounger next to the covered pool, the snow falling around him as he looked out over the sprawling lawn. She’d left the baby with one of the girls the first couple of times and gone out to make sure he was okay. He’d nodded, kissed her hand, and told her he was visiting with Markus. It had reminded her of a time shortly after they’d met and she’d caught him drifting during a movie they were watching. She’d asked him if he found the film boring. He’d smiled and told her he’d just gone off to visit with his mother for a moment. She’d loved him for that. Just as she loved him for so many things.

Loved him so much she’d finally taken a hard look at this life and put things into perspective.

In the time she’d known the Tarasovs, there had been three instances of violence against the women and children in the family, and two of those hadn’t involved Sacha in any way. She hadn’t even known about them until well after the fact; Eva’s mother’s death, and Renee and Evan’s death. And all three instances, when she included what had happened since her return, had been the result of one man’s actions. One hopefully-dead man’s actions.

She knew things went on within the Bratva all the time, but rarely were Alekzander or his uncle directly involved. Not that being in their position made what she suspected went on acceptable, but she wasn’t the morality police, and she couldn’t pretend to be. She’d known who Alekzander’s family was the moment he’d told her his uncle’s name, and wrong or not, it hadn’t swayed her. She’d fallen in love and built a life with her Russian anyway.

Which left her with a choice to make.

She could give Alekzander a grace period to mourn the losses he’d taken, wait until Vasily was back on his feet, then pack Lekzi up and leave with Sheppard, Lupin, and Sheppard’s family lawyer at her side. Lekzi would be without her father in her life and without a loving family at her back. She would be raised by a mother who was only half a person because she was being forced to live without the man who completed her. But the baby would be safe from possible harm.

Or, Sacha could fully commit to the life she’d chosen when she’d walked into Alekzander’s arms after he told her their organization was basically big business that had a darker side he would always do his best to keep her away from. She could fully commit to the path she’d chosen when she’d walked
back
into Alekzander’s arms after he told her of his reasons for breaking her heart sixteen months ago. And she could fully commit to the path she’d chosen when she’d given herself to Alekzander, body and soul, each time they’d made love since coming back together. In all those instances, she’d chosen him. She’d chosen to be with the man who’d touched her so deeply that he was now a part of her. Lekzi had known her father from day one because Sacha had never stopped sharing him with her. The stories had been shadowed with grief and anger, but she’d shared them nonetheless, and her love had poured out of her with every word she’d spoken to the child they’d created together. In the darkness, when they’d lain in bed in that small, lonely apartment, Sacha had told her baby of every date Alekzander had ever taken her on, of every small gift he’d ever given her, of every happy moment she’d shared with a man who’d stripped her of her life as surely as he’d stripped her of her title as his.

Something he’d done because his love for Sacha equaled what she felt for him.

How could she let Sergei, a sociopathic corpse, make all of that irrelevant by allowing his actions to tear apart the fragile family tapestry that was only now coming together?

The answer had been simple. She couldn’t.

Lucas opened the car door, and she rode up in the elevator, comfortably sandwiched between him and Grigori. As they walked down the quiet hallway, she smoothed her hair and blinked when Grigori handed her a key.

Grateful, she accepted it. “I had not thought of that,” she admitted with a sheepish smile.

“Anton gave it to me. But Alek would have answered if I did not have it.”

She nodded and used it, holding the door for them. They shook their heads.

“Excuse me.”

She jumped before moving aside so Anton could also go out into the corridor. Alekzander’s bodyguard took the handle, and with an amicable look, closed the door in her face. Lovely. Now they could stand out there with nothing to do but imagine her and Alekzander having sex. She shrugged.

Coming into the home they’d once shared wasn’t as harrowing as she’d thought it was going to be. She felt a twang of regret when she saw their initials in the middle of the floor, but was then filled with warmth when she tripped over a pair of Italian leather dress shoes.

She left her own on because she knew he liked having her in shoes. Would he want to have her? she wondered. For the last few days and nights, he’d touched her constantly, but they hadn’t had sex.

Crossing the foyer, she smoothed her dress over her hips, feeling that prickling in her fingers and the soles of her feet that she always felt just before seeing him. Her feelings for this man were overwhelming. They had been right from the start and had never settled into something she felt able to handle. Her knees were weak, she realized as she took a slow breath to steady herself.

The sound of her heels clicking signified her approach so he was turning from the window as she entered the main room.
Now
her chest felt heavy. She looked around as she crossed to him, noting the table in the dining room was set for dinner, but she didn’t linger on any one thing because she was too busy moving into Alekzander’s hard body. His dark suit and tie were immaculate, as always. But something was different.