An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) (14 page)

“Why didn’t you just hang out with him for a while and work off your debt?”

The undertone of the surprising question was reluctant curiosity. How was she supposed to answer that? Could having morals be explained?

“Because I don’t feel anything for him but fear and loathing. How
. . .
? I mean, I wouldn’t have been able to
. . .
” She shook her head, at a loss. “I just couldn’t.”

Maksim’s expression was almost tender as he cupped her cheek. He dropped a kiss to the crown of her head, reminding her of how she did the same to show Andrew she was proud of him. Then he settled back, big body relaxed, hands behind his head, eyes closed. He said something in Russian. Pretty sure he’d been talking to himself, Sydney didn’t ask him to translate.

Sitting alone at his dining room table, Luiz leaned back so his housekeeper could remove his empty breakfast plate. He picked up his cell phone. Never having been an overly patient man, he dialed Vasily Tarasov’s number for the second time in a week. He wanted this settled and done with so he could move on. He toyed with the lighter he’d received on his last birthday as he waited for the call to be picked up.

Ever since he’d seen Sydney Martin in the arms of that giant Russian, oblivious to anything going on around her while
in the arms of that giant Russian
, Luiz had felt as if he’d been robbed. Again. Robbed and humiliated. It was one thing for Kirov to have called and warned him off, another to have a relationship Luiz had hoped to have with the Australian shoved down his throat. He’d had the rug pulled out from under him with that revelation, and he didn’t like the feeling.

“Yes?”

“Vasily. Luiz Morales. Do you have time to talk?”

“Luiz. I had planned to speak with you last night, but the time got away from me.”

“Yes. So Kirov told me.”

“You spoke to Maksim?” There was a sincere note of surprise in the Russian’s voice, but he couldn’t trust it.

“Twice in the past couple of days. Once on the phone, and once in person when he came to my restaurant last evening with Ms. Martin on his arm. Or should I say
in
his arms. The two really should learn how to conduct themselves in public,” he said disparagingly, even though if he’d been the one with Sydney on his dance floor, he would have done something much more shameful than kiss her. No matter who was witness to the event.

“Yes, they do have a habit of forgetting others are in the vicinity when they’re together,” Vasily said indulgently, a smile in his voice. “Forgive us for not sharing the nature of their relationship the other night when we spoke. They prefer not to advertise it so Sydney’s business isn’t negatively affected by anyone with a grudge against us. You know how some in our circles can be.”

Luiz tightened his fist around the lighter. “My impression when telling you of my dealings with Ms. Martin was that you were unaware of them. If she and Kirov are together, that must mean you knew about our problem before I came to you.”

“No, actually it
doesn’t
mean that,” Vasily corrected him. “I had no clue you were associates or that you knew each other at all. Sydney doesn’t share the details of her business with me, any more than I would share mine with her. I know her only in social situations where Maksim deems it suitable to bring her out. He’s unusually protective of this one, and I will tell you, he wasn’t very pleased to hear what she’s been up to in her spare time. She certainly won’t be doing anything of the sort again. From what I understand, she learned her lesson quite well.”

So Kirov had had the pleasure of punishing the beautiful blonde. What had he done, Luiz thought caustically, spanked her before fucking her?
Foreplay.

“I don’t mind telling you how disappointed I am in learning of this development, Vasily,” he said. But recognizing when he was beat, he chose to give in as gracefully as he was able. “But it is what it is, and because I’m not a foolish man, I will wish your brigadier well with his lady and hope our paths don’t cross until my pride has had some time to recover.” That might take a while.

The silence stretched in his ear, and then Vasily chuckled. “It’s rare for a man such as yourself to admit defeat without more of a fuss, Luiz. As nice a change as this is, I find I’m leery of trusting it.”

“You should be,” he said bluntly. “I would be, too. But that doesn’t change the fact that I have many more important things on my mind than Ms. Martin’s lack of business etiquette. Good-bye, Vasily. Enjoy your day.”

Luiz hung up and stood. He walked over to the buffet table set up with anything he could possibly want to eat for breakfast. The sight reminded him of a hotel.

With one swipe, he sent it all to the floor, smashing the plates, causing a mighty crash from the metal serving dishes slamming together against their lids.

The sound of footsteps slapping against the tile made him turn. His wife, fresh from the shower in just a robe, dark hair wet and hanging down her back, skidded to a stop. Her unmade-up eyes were wide and clear of the haze of drugs. She looked young and so beautiful. Just as she had when they’d met.

She looked away from the mess he’d made when he moved toward her and glanced questioningly at him when he scooped her into his arms.

“Luiz? What are—?”

He slammed his mouth down on hers and poured his aggression into a kiss that had her stilling, and then yanking his clothes off before he could even hope to reach their bedroom. He veered into his office since it was closer and brought her over to the sofa. As he made love to his wife for the first time in months, leaving love bites and small marks that would be gone within hours, his mind was blocks away, his cock buried not within her body but within the curvy body of the blonde club owner who’d just fucked him harder than the woman in his arms ever could.

Dropping a kiss to Andrew’s head, Sydney leaned over and grabbed her cell off the coffee table, pressing the side button to stop the text alert from going off again.

“Want me to pause it?”

She shook her head, having no intention of allowing anything to interrupt their quiet time.

Daniel had had hockey practice, and for once Andrew hadn’t felt like sitting around the arena for two hours, so he’d come home earlier than expected. When she heard the alarm being reset, Sydney had woken and couldn’t go back to sleep, so here they were, enjoying a late-morning cartoon session thanks to Netflix. Bugs Bunny and Tweety were doing a pretty good job of keeping her mind occupied.

She glanced at the display screen on her phone, fully meaning to toss it to the cushions next to her. Until she saw the text.

“Ugh,” she groaned. There went her Saturday.

“What?”

“The costumes are ready for the Thanksgiving float. The mother of one of the committee members did them, and she lives in Stamford. I have to drive out there to pick them up.”

From the time Andrew and Eleanor were little, Sydney and Emily had, as so many parents did, taken them to the annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. They’d been so enamored that she and Emily had looked into volunteering their time in any way they could just so they could say they were a part of it.

“Connecticut?” Andrew asked with a twisted mouth.

She nodded and put her newly polished drama skills to work. “Come with me, please. I know you want to spend the day playing, but will you change your plans and keep me company for the drive? Pleeease?” she wailed, slouching low so that her chin hit her chest as she clasped her hands in front of her.

“’Kay. Can we stop at Starbucks for a Cookie Dough Frappuccino?”

She straightened immediately and gave him a playful swat to the thigh. “I can’t believe it’s come to me having to beg and bribe you to spend time with me.”

“You don’t, Mom. I would’ve come. You didn’t have to beg.”

She tried not to smile. “And the bribe?”

“I do love my Fraps.”

Laughing, she dragged herself to her feet and went to throw on some jeans and a blouse, not looking forward to what should be only a three-hour drive there and back but would most likely turn into five because of traffic. Andrew met her at the door, backpack forever on his shoulder, and she locked up before following him down the stairs.

“Now that you mention Starbucks, remind me to grab some gift cards for your teachers. I’ll put them in their Thanksgiving basket.” Another thing she did every year because the teachers at Andrew’s school were saints in her eyes, and they deserved much more than the coffee, chocolate, and biscuits she tucked away under the pretty bow and cellophane.

“Better make sure you give it to my teacher first. At least she’ll be fair in handing them out. Not like Mr.—”

“Andrew,” she interrupted as she paused behind him on the bottom step. He looked back at her with his hands on the push bar across the steel door.

“What? Mom, seriously, he hates just the guys. Ask anyone.”

Shaking her head, she thought she had no need to ask about the teacher they were speaking of because she’d seen and heard about him from enough people to know what Andrew said was true. She defended the miserable man anyway as she motioned her son forward, at the same time hitting the “Unlock” button on her key fob. “You never know what someone’s home life is—”

All Sydney would remember later was the noise. The deafening, destructive racket that filled her head and made her ears ring as she was violently thrown back. She came down hard on the steps. Air whooshed from her lungs when a heavy weight landed on top of her and another on it. The sound of metal and other debris raining down sounded close by. Dizziness assaulted her, and, coughing, she tried to call out to her son but couldn’t, couldn’t even breathe. She reached out in a feverish scramble, her heart lodging in her throat . . .

Until she realized the thing doing its best to suffocate her was her precious boy, and he was already cursing and attempting to shove the heavy steel door off them.

CHAPTER 8

With the area cordoned off, lights flashing everywhere, Sydney kissed Andrew once more before reluctantly waving him off.

She’d called Daniel’s mother and explained the situation—or what little of it she could—and the entire family had shown up on their way home from practice, all eyes. Especially Daniel’s father who just so happened to be NYFD. He’d spoken to his fellow firefighters for a moment before he and his wife had come over to Sydney.

“As I said on the phone,” she’d said to the couple. “If you’re not comfortable taking him—”

“Please, Sydney,” Daniel’s father had interrupted with a rub to his beard as he continued to look around. “Don’t. Given what I do for a living, I’m not as shaken by this as I should be. You need to be free to work with the police on the investigation without worrying about Andrew. As long as you’re okay with him coming to New Jersey, we’re more than happy to have him for the night. We’re going to my parents’ for my dad’s birthday. All Daniel’s cousins will be there, most of whom Andrew has met before, so the boys will have fun.”

She hadn’t wanted to let Andrew out of her sight, but it was becoming clear that he was safer away from her right now than with her.

She returned to the ambulance they’d been sitting inside—as per the hovering detective’s instructions—and finally sent Maksim a brief text. She accepted an ice pack from the EMT that had cleared her and Andrew. The woman had said they’d most likely develop some bruises but would otherwise be okay.

This time.

Shoving the hair-raising thought away, Sydney checked her phone. Why wasn’t he replying? Usually, when she texted, he sent a goading response back within seconds.

“No idea who might have done this, Mrs. Martin?”

Her back and ribs beginning to ache from where she’d landed on them on the stairs, her cheek throbbing from where the back of Andrew’s head had connected with it, Sydney adjusted the ice pack on the back of her head and swallowed hard as she looked away from the two forms she just couldn’t keep her eyes from returning to: Maksim’s men. Their bodies had been covered with sheets, but she and Andrew had already seen their charred skin; one man was missing an arm because he’d presumably been closest to her car. She closed her eyes. This should not have happened. Her son should not have seen that. He should not have been here and been affected by the mistake she’d made in baiting a man like Luiz Morales.

Had the bomb been planted while she and Maksim had been in Luiz’s restaurant last night? Or had Luiz had one of his men come here? How they’d have gotten past Maksim’s men, she wasn’t sure. Could the two have been killed even before her car went? The explosion covering for a double murder that had taken place hours before?

Andrew shouldn’t have been here
, she thought again. If only there was someone she knew who could take him for a few days or a week. Just until this was behind them. But she knew nobody. Daniel’s family would likely say yes if asked, but could she so deeply involve people she knew only through drop-offs and pick-ups?

Through her own penchant for keeping people at arm’s length, she really had no one she could turn to. She felt awful about that, but more for her son’s sake than her own.

“Mrs. Martin?”

“It’s Ms.,” she corrected again as she opened her burning eyes and looked at the young detective. His wheat-colored hair and round glasses reminded her of John Denver. She still felt stunned. Why did he keep asking her the same three questions?

Who could have done this?

Could she think of anything she’d done to deserve it?

And did she think the person would strike again?

How on earth was she supposed to answer such nonsense? With the truth?
Yes, Detective, I know exactly who did this. His name is Luiz Morales. Yeah, the drug lord. That’s the one. I bought a bunch of his shit and destroyed it instead of selling it through my club as we’d agreed upon when I approached him and made a deal with the devil. Now he wants to kill me. Can you help without sending me to jail and my son into the foster care system?

Her deep sigh stuck in her throat when her back protested it. “I don’t know,” she said again, and she would continue to say it until she was hoarse.

The yellow tape billowed in her periphery, distracting her. Two men had died because of what she’d done. Because she’d been angry about losing Emily. Had the men been married? Did they have children? She wondered, her heart aching anew.

“I don’t give a fuck about your goddamn crime scene.”

Sydney’s breath caught at the low, familiar growl. She got up, dropping the ice pack, and walked away from the ambulance and the detective. She saw Maksim before he saw her. He was beside a patrol car, scanning the scene, impeccable navy suit in place. Alek Tarasov and another man she’d never seen before were with him.

Maksim’s gaze clashed with hers when less than ten feet separated them, and without a thought Sydney walked straight into his open arms. He gathered her close and held her so tightly she moaned, her aching back protesting. He effortlessly lifted her off her feet and walked them a few steps away while she drew comfort from him. A comfort that was as dangerous as it was wonderful.

“You better not have said a goddamn thing to anybody,” he whispered into her hair. “You didn’t, did you?”

She shook her head because she couldn’t speak, but she wouldn’t cry. The effort it took to hold back her tears made her tremble, but she held on. She would not go all girlie and lose it like a big baby now that “her man”—who wasn’t even her man—had arrived. She was disappointed in herself that she wanted to do just that.

“Good girl,” he sighed. “Are you okay?”

She nodded again and forced out, “I’m so sorry, Maksim. Your men . . .”

“Knew the risks. That’s not on you. We all know the risks. Jesus Christ, Sydney.” His hand cupped the back of her head. “You ever send me a text like that again, I’ll spank your ass cherry red.”

And
that’s
what snapped her out of her stupor and brought her senses back online. She drew away, the shaking inside her slowly fading, and met those silver eyes. The pewter ring around them was more pronounced in the daylight. “I hope that’s your idea of humor.”

“It’s not,” he said with a steady look that told her he was telling the truth.
Dominant and a spanker.
Interesting.
His fingers brushed over the tightness she could already feel on her cheek.

A deep throat clearing preceded a polite request. “Maks? You want to let me talk to her?”

Realizing their moment was being observed, she squirmed until she was placed on her feet and turned to face the handsome black man standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Alek. Both men nodded a greeting, and she forced her lips to work but couldn’t make the smile reach her eyes.

“Mrs. Martin? We weren’t finished yet.”

Her shoulders slumped at the sound of the detective’s voice. He must have followed her because he was now standing next to the patrol car with a wary look on his face. He was holding her purse, which she’d left in the ambulance, and she quickly took it, nodding her thanks as he glanced back and caught his partner’s eye. That detective also came over to offer support. Could they know who Maksim and Alek were? Or did they simply sense the power surrounding them?

“It’s
Ms.
Martin,” Maksim corrected deliberately. He stared down both men, easily asserting himself as the alpha by waiting until they dropped their eyes. “She’d like a moment with her attorney, if you don’t mind?”

“Is that you?” the detective asked.

“No. That would be me. Jeremy Dashel.” The black man shook hands with them. “If you wouldn’t mind giving me and my client a few minutes, I’d appreciate it.”

The detectives nodded and left, appeased by the professionalism.

Once they were far enough away, Maksim made introductions. “Don’t shake hands,” he snapped, snagging hers and bringing it to his mouth as though to kiss it. He bit her thumb hard.

“Ouch!” She jerked her hand away. “I’m sorry, okay?” she squeezed out between her teeth. “I’m not practiced at all of this sneaky bullshit.”

“I hope you never have children,” Alek said dryly to Maksim. “You have zero tolerance.” He addressed her next. “Ignore him and talk to Jeremy.”

“I will. Thank you.” Giving Maksim her back, she took a breath and tried to climb out of the playground and be an adult again. “I use a law firm—”

“You’ll use Jeremy,” Maksim interrupted from behind her.

Sydney held Jeremy’s dark eyes and continued as though there had been no interruption. “That I’m sure could recommend a criminal attorney, which is what I’m assuming you are.”

Before Jeremy—whose lips were tightening more by the second—could say anything, Maksim was talking again.

“You assume correct, and you’ll be getting no recommendations, lover.” He’d come in so close that his warm breath ruffled her hair. His fingers gripped her hips, and he squeezed. “This is one of those times that fall under the do-as-you’re-fucking-told stipulation we discussed at the beach. Remember that day?”

“And he says I have control issues,” she said casually with a nod over her shoulder.

Both men in front of her stifled a smile, and despite being the cause, she found the humor so misplaced it made her feel sick.

She sighed long and low and locked her knees so she wouldn’t settle into the body at her back. “Thank you for being here, Jeremy,” she said tiredly. “What do you need to know?”

As the Tarasovs’ attorney spoke to Sydney, warning her to continue with her I-don’t-know angle, Maksim forced himself to release the narrow hips he was still gripping and take a step back. She wasn’t seriously injured, but he’d seen her wince whenever she moved too quickly and could easily tell she was going to have a black eye. Where did she hurt? He wanted to strip her and catalogue every fucking blemish, every bruise, every tiny ache. And he would retaliate in kind, but much more sadistically than anything fucking Luiz Morales and his crew had ever experienced before. Micha was working on making that happen right at that moment.

Maks made himself look at the charred shell of the BMW again and felt his rage climb, the malevolence of it swirling and writhing to break free of the hold he had on it. Goddammit, did his monsters want to come out to play.

All in good time
, he promised.
All in good time.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and felt for his key as he looked to the covered bodies of two of his boys. He said a prayer, asking for forgiveness of their sins, one he’d learned from listening as Vasily whispered it over anyone they lost. Thankfully neither had wives or children, just girlfriends he’d have to visit. Fuck, he hated being the messenger. Fucking hated it, but respected his team enough to do it anyway.

Listening to Jeremy’s easy tones, he snaked his gaze around and took in all that he could from where he was standing.
Morales is a fucking dead man
, he reiterated as he thought back to what it had felt like reading the text Sydney had sent.

Leaving the house at a ridiculous hour that morning—to him anyway—Alek had glommed on to him for some reason and accompanied him to the breakfast meeting he’d scheduled with Jeremy. As he and their trusted attorney of more than a decade discussed Sydney’s situation—Maks wanted to know if she had any legitimate avenues open to her—Alek had sat there, staring into space. When Maks’s phone had gone off, he hadn’t hesitated in checking it because he’d been feeling on edge whenever he left Sydney’s safety to anyone but himself lately—with good reason, he could now say.

My car just exploded in the alley behind my club. Can you call me?

He’d be seeing those goddamn words in his nightmares. He
knew
better than to ignore his instincts. That edginess, the gnawing at his nape, he should have fucking heeded the warning and stuck to her like honey to a nipple. Regret sucked ass. And he wouldn’t be welcoming any more of it. From here on out—regardless of the battle he would insist he wasn’t waging because he’d given his goddamn word to Vasily and he was struggling to keep it—he was on his target.

His attention came back, and he saw Alek once again zoning out as he’d done over his cooling eggs. Only instead of staring into space, his blank gaze was on Sydney. But it was clear he wasn’t seeing her. Guy was backsliding, beginning to look as bad as he had when he and Sacha had first called it quits—just as Gabriel had complained last week when they’d lucked out and gotten the chance to work out together in the gym at home. It had seemed as if he was getting over it, but maybe not. Could be the others’ happiness was driving home the fact that he’d pushed his away.

Alek looked over, meeting his eye, and tipped his head back as though asking what was up. That’s what Maks wanted to know. When the dust settled, they’d have a talk, he promised himself as he shook his head.

Jeremy and Sydney went to where the detectives were waiting patiently and struck up what seemed to be a one-sided conversation; Jeremy did most of the talking. Maks sent off a couple of texts and wondered if they’d allow him to poke around to see if her building had sustained any damage. Actually, he’d better wait for her, and they could check it out together. The workers should be there by the time she finished with the cops.