Ultimate Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 4) (7 page)

As they got down to business and the couple at the table was replaced by a new one four times over, the small place filled up. Which was good. It made the exchange of envelopes disappear in the hum and jostle of the crowd. Dmitri accepted a final payment from each of the men while Vasily and Alek insisted the young doctors go through their newly printed degrees and transcripts of records from a respected Ivy League college. It was equivalent to the same degrees they’d received from MSU—Moscow University—that weren’t recognized by a U. S. credential evaluation service.

After going through each of the medical researchers’ employment histories and experience, and their impressive academic accomplishments, the Tarasov’s private MD, Yuri Davidenko, had come to Vasily raging at the injustice of it. Vasily had put Maks and Alek on it. Now four gifted researchers were able to do the same work here as they’d been doing back home. Who knew, one of them might just be the man to rid the world of cancer or diabetes or muscular dystrophy. Wouldn’t it be a shame for them not to have the opportunity to try because of where they’d received their education?

By the time the fourth couple had offered their thanks for the fifth time, the muscles in Vasily’s neck had begun to tighten, and he and the boys said their goodbyes. It wasn’t a surprise to see the pretty waitress’s number left behind under an empty glass as they headed for the exit.

As they got in the car and aimed for Alek’s apartment, Vasily’s phone rang over the Bluetooth. Seeing Yuri’s number, he nodded for Dmitri to connect the call by pressing a button on the dash.

“Yuri.”

“I just saw the MD,” the gifted surgeon and Vasily’s long-time friend said in place of a greeting.

The “MD” would be Dr. Tegan Mancuso. A bright and bubbly girl who’d been a permanent fixture in Alek and his friends’ lives since their school days. Tegan had recently been drawn into their world and used to send a message to Maksim. She’d been assaulted, to an extent they still didn’t know and had refused to see anyone since. Vasily knew her loss was deeply felt. Maksim—who’d had the pleasure of taking out the degenerate who’d gone after her—was having a hell of a time with it. He would crack soon and go to her, Vasily knew. He just hoped the hothead didn’t push too hard too soon and drive the girl away for good.

“Do you mean Tegan?” Alek asked.

“Yes,” Yuri confirmed.

“Where did you see her? At the hospital?” Vasily guessed since Yuri had surgical privileges at Coney Island where Tegan worked in the Emergency Department.

“Yes. I came out of the operating room and went to the closest lounge. She was just leaving. I thought I would feel her out by making it so she could not ignore me. I stepped in front of her and asked for a moment.”

Vasily winced. “Really, Yuri? I’m sure that went over well.”

He chuckled. “After she leaped away to avoid touching me, she threatened my reproductive organs and ordered me to join my brethren around a brimstone hearth.”

They all found some humor in that, knowing Yuri had rephrased, but it didn’t last.

“Shit. That sounds so like her,” Alek murmured. “How is she?”

Yuri paused, and when he spoke, his voice was subdued. “I cannot say for sure, of course, but if you are asking for my professional opinion, I would say the girl was sexually assaulted. Her signals were not the same ones you see when dealing with Vincente’s woman. Tegan kept five feet between us, was hidden beneath a god awful disaster of a sweater, wore no makeup, had that beautiful hair of hers concealed beneath a wool hat that was much too warm to be wearing indoors. Her eyes were overly-watchful, she was jumpy, curled in around herself as though trying to hide her body. If she could have stripped herself of her gender, I am sure she would have. She simply did not want to be seen.”

Curses blended as they all reacted to that.

“Of all men to dispose of so quickly,” Alek growled. “There would have been a long line for that piece of shit had he ended up on Maks’s wall.”

“If you see her again, keep your distance,” Vasily instructed, hurting for the girl. “No good will come from pressuring her. But if there’s anything you can do for her, do it. Without her knowledge, of course. And I don’t want any of you mentioning this to Maksim. He wouldn’t take it well. He feels responsible enough as it is.”

Alek’s mouth tightened as Yuri said goodbye.

“It isn’t good to keep shit from him. He’ll be insulted if he finds out he wasn’t told because you didn’t think he could handle it.”

As if Vasily wasn’t aware of that. “It isn’t that he can’t handle it, it’s more that he doesn’t need to feel this any deeper than he already is. Maksim doesn’t process and then move on the way ordinary people do. He absorbs the tragedy and holds it in, like a sponge. It sounds cruel, but I’m glad Tegan isn’t around him during this. He would take in everything she’s going through and internalize it until…fuck. Who knows where it would come out?”

Even though he was still reluctant, Alek nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” When he saw Vasily watching him, his pale eyes that were so like his father’s skipped away.

Vasily frowned and reached out to slap an expensively clad thigh with his gloves. “What did you do?”

“Nothin’.”

Vasily had heard that same word spoken in the same evasive tone since Alek was five years old. “Alekzander…”

“Seriously. It was just a drive by. Didn’t see her, so she has no idea her wishes aren’t being honored. Her place looked closed up. As if she hadn’t been there in a while.”

“And you saw this from the car as you drove by?” he said dryly. He got nothing but a shrug and more of the back of his nephew’s head. Vasily whacked him with the gloves again.

“Okay. Okay. Gabriel and I went by last week.” His hands came up in a helpless gesture when Vasily scowled at him. “We can’t just walk away from her, Vasya. She’s one of us.”

Ah, love and loyalty. It was at times like this that Vasily saw why he loved these boys as deeply as he did.

“
That’s
your plan?”

“I thought it best to keep it simple,” Sacha said, trying not to sound defensive as she turned from staring out the second-floor window at the Tarasov soldiers down below. Justin and Steve were gawking at her, and Lekzi was asleep in her bassinet next to the desk Angela used when she brought work home; she was a crisis counselor at a women’s center.

“Simple is smart.” Angela came from the kitchen, giving Sacha an apologetic smile as she handed over a cup of tea.

“Or it’s just simple,” Steve countered. He and Justin worked together.

Angela turned on her husband with her head tipped to convey annoyance in that way only a regal-looking black woman could. Her tight afro glistened in the light—it appeared every single one in the apartment was turned on.

“You’re gonna hold tight to that crime-novel opinion until we hear a little more of what our girl has to say. Right, Steve? Just like we discussed behind her back before she got here. Right, Steve?”

Steve, looking properly admonished, sliced a hand through his sandy hair and looked at Sacha. “Sorry. She’s right. We did discuss keeping an open mind and not freaking you out with our suspicions—”

“Your,” his wife cut in.

“Fine.
My
suspicions and fears over the fact that there is now a dangerous crew of Russian mobsters surrounding our building where our son lays his innocent head every night.”

“
Steve
,” Angela ground out with a swap to his bicep. “Something you don’t seem to understand is that we’re probably safer with Sacha mobsters surrounding us than we’ve ever been.”

“She’s right.” Justin looked at the TV where the security cameras Angela’s father had installed a few months ago perfectly highlighted Anton and two other men he’d introduced as Grigori and Lucas. Grigori had immediately slipped into a pocket in Sacha’s heart because he shared her beloved father’s name. “If Sacha’s as important to Tarasov as he made it seem, these guys are here to protect her from any and all things. They won’t back down for shit.”

“See? Justin gets it,” Angela said at her husband who exchanged an extended look with his friend before dropping his eyes with a guilty flush to his cheeks. His wife frowned at that and Sacha would bet all that she owned he would be questioned about it once he and his wife were alone.

“They’re mafia,” Steve ground out, making Angela roll her eyes.

“So? And the boys who hang out on the corner are thugs. No difference except their skin color and bank balance. They’re a family.”

“I can’t picture those boys chopping off someone’s hand for stealing from them, Ang.”

It wasn’t just Angela who gaped at him over that naïve remark.

“No,” Justin drawled. “They’d just shoot the stupid bastard. Or circle him and lay the boots to him until he stopped moving. All of them have their ways of dealing, Steve. These guys spook you because they put themselves above you socially. They’re not street thugs and that’s intimidating.”

He chuckled, and Sacha saw again this different side of Justin that sometimes came out. It wasn’t often, but when he let his guard down, he was nothing like the composed lawyer she’d initially gotten to know so well.

“You should have seen the arrogance in that group,” he went on. “The leader, even as pleasant as he was, knows he has the world by the balls. You don’t get an attitude like that without earning it.” Justin dropped his solid body down on the couch with a crooked smirk on his face. “Power is a cozy partner. Now I get why my brother, of all people, has such respect for them. They’re…impressive.”

“Careful. They’re gonna draw you in, and you won’t find your way back out.”

Sacha buried a smile in her mug and took a sip of her tea. Steve was so dramatic. Justin, on the other hand, sounded unconcerned.

“Ugh,” Angela groaned. “You have to set some time aside and purge yourself of all the Hollywood crap, baby.” She grabbed her husband’s solemn face and smacked a kiss to his mouth. “Jot it down. Maybe we can work it into a screenplay and my brother can shop it around L.A.” She dropped a comforting pat to his chest, then went to get Justin the beer she’d promised.

Already feeling so much better than she had when she’d come up here, Sacha was never more grateful for her friends. She and Angela had hit it off the first time they’d met. Sacha had come to look at the apartment, and by the gentle way Angela had treated her, Sacha had known the other girl recognized heartbreak when she saw it. When it was time to fill out the paperwork, and Sacha had given the name Sarah Brighton, Angela had lifted her head and given her a look filled with sympathy.

That bad, huh? Fake names always jump out at me. You’re not a Sarah any more than I’m a John. But that’s okay, girl, I’ll cover for you. Just tell me he’s not going to show up here waving a gun around because I have a bun in the oven, and momma bear is roaring good and loud already. Plus, my daddy has a bad temper and a lot of friends.

He will not come for me. I…I am also…carrying a bun.

Angela had gone crazy at hearing Sacha’s bumbling reveal, squealing about fate and sisterhood. From that moment on, Sacha had held dear the closest friendship she’d ever had with another woman.

Steve was more reserved. He was from a small town in Idaho, and Angela claimed his move to New York to deal with big-city criminals wasn’t the smartest thing a man with his imagination could have done.

And Justin, well, hers and Justin’s friendship had grown beyond the two of them interacting because they were friends of friends. He was the type of man-friend every woman should have. He’d grown up in a wealthy family, but there was something rough about him under the surface. Something he’d kept well hidden until recently. The better she got to know him, the more she saw his darker side. She’d overheard him on the phone once, talking to his brother in an aggressive, raw manner that had made him sound as if he was someone else entirely.

Angela appeared before her and pointed to a chair. Sacha sat, and her friend dropped down. Not on the floor but right on top of Sacha’s feet.

The touchy-feely used to freak Sacha out. But sensing a free-spirit, she’d soon gotten over it. The first time she and Angela had taken a walk around the neighborhood, they hadn’t made it to the end of the block before Angela was looping their arms together. Embarrassingly, Sacha had looked at her as if the girl had groped her breast. Angela had just laughed and tugged her along.
No worries, girlfriend. I don’t want any part of that gorgeous booty. I just like the contact.

“I heard Justin whisper some shit about you leaving.”

Steve and Justin both gawked at her.

She waved them off. “Seriously. You guys think you’re being all covert. We hear and see everything.” She gave them a look. “
Eeev
erythiiing.” She winked at Sacha when she faced her again, growing serious. “You’re not going to allow a man to drive you away from your life. I know that, and after a goodnight’s sleep, you will, too. You didn’t show up at my front door with nothing but misery in your bags, and climb your way out of the ashes just to give up now. Uh-uh. You’re also not separating Tanner and Lekzi because then we wouldn’t be able to eventually plan that wedding we’re going to make sure they have. And I
know
you’re not separating me from you.” She slapped the outsides of Sacha’s thighs that were twice the size of her own. “So that means, the boys are going to cover your smokin’ ass legally, and we’re going to fortify you emotionally. You’re not alone this time, and if you can bring yourself to do it, you’re going to lean on us because that’s how we do it around here.”