Ultimate Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 4) (6 page)

“I did not use his money after things ended,” she murmured.

“Why? Any other woman, especially a pregnant one, would have withdrawn a large chunk of cash—especially because as a Tarasov he could certainly afford it—and lived off it until she was back on her feet. Why didn’t you?”

“Because I did not want his money. I did not want
any
thing from him.” She shifted, grinding her teeth at the warble in her voice. It signified weakness, and that embarrassed her. “Anyway,” she said, sneaking in another common word Americans used regularly. “How could I go home when I did not have enough money to buy an airline ticket, to rent an apartment once I got there, and to live until I found a job? I could not. So I stayed here where it had already become familiar. And Lekzi and I have done fine without him. Our life is simple, but that is all we need.” She might not have two homes and a private jet, but despite having to save most of her earnings, she was providing for her daughter, and she was proud of that.

When they eventually turned onto her street, she tried not to think about what it would cost her, financially and emotionally, to start over again. Another new city, no friends, no job, no place to live. And it would be so much worse this time because she was dragging her innocent daughter along, making her baby suffer for the sins of her parents…

The world stilled for a split second before Sacha felt the impact of her reality hit with the force of a punch.

A group of well-dressed men milled about in front of her apartment building. Two were on the sidewalk speaking with a uniformed NYPD officer while another two stood in front of the main entrance of the three-story walk-up.

Oh, God. “I told you.” Her whisper was eerily accepting. “He has come for me.”

Justin reached across the console and clasped her hand as he pulled in behind a Smart car. “Don’t even go there. He couldn’t possibly have learned where you live yet. No one works that fast.”

They do.

“This is nothing. Probably some city inspectors cracking down on infractions. Look at the cop. He wouldn’t be standing there shooting the breeze with members of an organized crime family, would he?”

Yes, he would. If he is one of theirs.
Adrenaline pounded through her veins. Justin had to know a family as powerful as Alekzander’s would have allies in all the right places.

“You should go home,” she murmured, swiftly reorganizing her thoughts as he snorted. There would be no leaving tonight; that much was clear. So, too, was the fact that she was going to have to suffer through one more interaction with Alekzander. Fine. He would show up, see that her apartment reflected the small daycare she ran, and she would let him believe Lekzi was one of her charges. After Sacha told him off and sent him on his way, she would take the baby and run. Simple. One more meeting with him. She could get through that.

Resigned, she reached for the door handle. “Go. I will call you tomorrow.”

Justin grabbed her arm. “Get your head on straight, Ms. Urusski. Your attorney has no intention of leaving you here to deal with this on your own.”

Her heart softened. What Justin didn’t realize was that she
was
on her own. Seeing these men—who she was convinced were Tarasov associates—with the police officer was proof. No one could help her.

She gave his hand a squeeze. “It is okay. He will not harm me. I will be all right.”

“I know you will be because I’ll be standing next to you.”

She looked at the men and then back at Justin, wanting to strangle him and hug him at the same time. “Listen, I will
not
have you in my apartment when he arrives. Why would I do that to you? It would cause much more trouble than it is worth. For both of us. He is…possessive of what he considers his.” God, how she remembered that. And if she hadn’t, the aggression that had all but choked her in front of the restaurant had been all the refresher she’d needed. That confused her.

I don’t know how the hell you came to be here tonight, Sacha, but if you think I’m going to let this opportunity go without taking full advantage, then you’ve forgotten who I am.

He’d made it sound as if running into her had been something special.

“It seems Alekzander still thinks of me as one of his toys.” Arrogant, spoiled brat. “I will correct that misconception when he comes, and then this will be over. I do not need or want an audience for that.”

“Fine,” Justin muttered after glowering at her for an extended minute. “At least let me come up with you to Steve and Angela’s to get Lekzi. I’ll bring you back down to your place and leave. I swear. But, and this is a go whether you want it or not, I’m calling one of our family lawyers and finding out what your options are.” He pointed at the men. “
If
this display is your Russian throwing his weight around, you’re going to need that information.”

“Okay.” She agreed more so he would drop it than for any other reason.

They got out of the car and approached the four men standing at the end of the walk they needed to travel to get to her front door.

“Evening,” Justin greeted as they went to pass.

All she could see were their shoes because she kept her head down. Her vision quivered when an expensive black leather pair stepped into her path. She looked up at a tall man with light eyes and a long, clean-shaven face. Under the bright streetlight, she could see a portion of his left earlobe was missing but long since healed.

“Excuse me, Ms. Urusski?”

“
Da?
” She automatically reverted to Russian when she heard his accent was as thick as hers.

That warmed his expression slightly, and he did the same. “I am Anton. Mr. Tarasov has asked that you allow us to remain on the perimeter of your home until his nephew has had an opportunity to meet with you.”

Goosebumps flashed across her clammy skin. As she’d feared. Only it wasn’t Alekzander who’d sent them; it was
Vasily
. Worse. So much worse. Yes, she and the Pakhan had shared an amiable rapport when she’d dated his nephew, but he was still who he was.

Her eyes darted to the two windows at street level to the left of the entrance. Her apartment. Blood roared in her ears. Had these men already been here when Angela had taken Lekzi upstairs?

All moisture dried in her mouth and she had to swallow a few times before she could speak.
Having a witness would be wise
, she reminded herself. “I am sorry.” She switched to English and dug her fingers into Justin’s arm where she was holding him. “Could you repeat that? In English, please.”

As Alekzander had in front of the restaurant, Justin put his hand out and introduced himself.

Anton politely shook and did the same, giving only his first name again. “Crisp evening,” he commented casually. “Though I hear the temperature is about to drop to uncomfortable levels.” Returning to Sacha with a knowing smile curving his mouth, he went back to their language, rudely excluding Justin. “There is no need to involve outsiders here. We have been instructed to allow you to carry on with your routine as you normally would. Maksim assumed there would be little disruption since you do not work outside the home. Though you may not appreciate it,” he finished, “we are to accompany you if you take the children off the premises.”

“Sacha?” Justin patted her back where his hand rested.

Torn between wanting his aid and not wanting to reveal she’d spoken about the organization to “an outsider”, especially because she knew Anton would be reporting this interaction to his superiors in the next few minutes, Sacha erred on the side of caution and protected her friend rather than lean on him.

“Anton was saying the weather back home has been similar but with more snow.” She looked away from the goon’s approval to see the police officer was watching their exchange. He came forward. But rather than ask her if everything was okay, he put his hand out to Anton, who shook it and offered him a thank you in English. Any badge number she might have taken note of was hidden under his coat.

“No worries, man,” the officer said. “I’ll let the other boys know about the security detail. We’re good here. ’Night.” He nodded at Sacha and Justin before walking away.

Instinctively, she went to raise her hand, but Anton clicked his tongue to get her attention.

“As I said, outsiders are not welcome in our business. There is no need to cause a scene that will end in disappointment for you. You must know he is ours. As are many others.” He didn’t speak in a threatening tone, just matter-of-factly enough to have her stop Justin when he went to follow after the officer.

“We are good, Justin,” she said, forcing a smile.

“Say goodbye to your friend now and go inside,” Anton continued. “From what I gathered, Alek should be along in the morning.”

A combination of affront and fear roared through her, making her stomach twist into painful knots. Who was this minion to tell her what to do?

And what
did
she do? Nothing. She stood on the sidewalk outside her home and experienced helplessness in its most basic form. Her beautiful secret was still only hers, but the rest of her life was already an open book. How long before that changed? Twelve measly hours? Twelve
imprisoned
hours?

As she flashed a shaky smile at Justin and pulled him along toward the front door, she couldn’t help but think if she’d needed a blatant and timely reminder of who she was dealing with, she’d just gotten one.

♦ ♦ ♦

As Dmitri pulled the Maybach to the curb in front of a small tavern in the Flatiron District, Vasily Tarasov looked out at the damp sidewalk covered in dirty snow and slush. New York was so messy in the winter. Back home, winter was white. Here it was wet.

“Since we’re only a few blocks away, I’m going to stay at the apartment tonight,” Alek said as they got out, referring to the place he and Sacha had shared.

As cold air flew up Vasily’s pants legs, he nodded. “I had a feeling you might say that.” Which was why the unit that had been sitting empty for over a year was currently crawling with sweepers. The men would check for planted explosives or anything that could cause injury or death. It was second nature to regularly go through the routine with their cars, homes, and businesses. Around the clock, the sweepers’ only job was to search and deem safe.

Vasily hoped their clean track record would remain, but wasn’t optimistic. Especially now.

They went through the door of the pub that Dmitri held open, and in the next few minutes, were sitting with a young Russian couple. It didn’t take long for Vasily to relax and lose himself in one of the perks this life offered, one he truly enjoyed; helping those not able to help themselves. He would never consider himself a do-gooder, not in any form. These cases were more about him and his connections bypassing a broken system. Sure, it was illegal. Funnily enough that didn’t bother him.

After a few minutes speaking with the young man, who was in his early thirties, about how he and his wife were settling in after the big move from
Yekaterinburg, Vasily turned to the woman. She was younger, probably Eva’s age, and appeared shit-scared.

“Would you rather we spoke Russian?” he asked.

Her eyes darted around the group before she answered in Russian, which gave him a big clue. “Whatever you are most comfortable doing.”

He smiled in appreciation for the show of respect. “Since we are discussing yours and your husband’s new life, I would say you should be involved. That would make the choice yours. If you are as comfortable and fluent in English as your husband, we’ll continue. If you are not, you should admit that, and we will accommodate you.”

Her face went red. “My English is not as good as my husband’s.” The confession obviously embarrassed her. That reminded him of Sacha’s never-ending resolve to get the difficult language right.

“My woman was in your shoes not long ago,” Alek cut in, his tone kind. “She’s come a long way. It will be easier for you now that you’re submerged in it. Sacha used to watch cartoons.”

“I have heard this is a good way to gain the basics.”

“Then you’re halfway there.”

As pride sparked in Vasily’s chest at the man his nephew had become, they sat back so a waitress could deliver their drinks.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“We’re good, thanks.” Dmitri nodded at the pretty girl with inked arms holding the now-empty tray.

“Just wave if you change your mind. I’ll be close by.” She waited until he looked up before smiling, causing the piercing in her dimple to wink. Dmitri watched her ass go as she walked off but otherwise showed no sign of interest.
She
wasn’t intimidated by the harsh gray stare and ink climbing his thick neck to disappear into his dark cropped hair. Proof: When Dmitri lifted his glass, a piece of paper with a name and phone number scrawled on it fell into his lap.

Vasily was never sure how to view women like that. Good for them for taking charge and going after what they wanted? Or condemn them for not being the soft, feminine, you-do-the-chasing-because-you’re-the-man type he’d fallen so hard for all those years ago?