An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) (35 page)

But, going by what Tegan had said, Eberto had threatened to return. So it looked as though they’d have to keep their guard up until then. Maks wouldn’t rest until a connection of theirs confirmed Eberto got off the plane in Mexico. If he did, their man had instructions to nab the fucker and get him back over the border in any way he could.

Obviously sensing a mood, Charlie squeezed behind Nika’s legs just before V blew into the room. The second he’d been filled in on the sitch, the Reaper had bailed, face thunderous. Not even Nika’s calls had slowed him. He’d obviously gone to Tegan’s, and must have flown there and back because he’d done the sixty-mile round-trip in less than two hours.

“Lorenzo’s with her.”

Maks surged to his feet. “What?” he burst out.

“Yeah. I saw him through the window. They were on the couch. Not a good view.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means T was sitting in the corner looking like a victim and Lore was sitting a good stretch away from her looking like a cop,” Vincente growled, leveling him with a glare that told him to cut the shit.

“So you still don’t know what happened to her.”

V shook his head. “I’m gonna call him once I can think up a plausible excuse for how I knew he was there.”

“Tell him I stopped by and saw them.” Nika came over. “I’ve seen him at the church with his brother, so it isn’t strange that I’d know who he is. Say I went to see her because I was worried . . . ? I didn’t want to interrupt?” She looked hopeful. Obviously planning on running with the suggestion, V kissed her on the mouth before walking out with his phone pressed to his ear.

“Why the fuck is Lore showing up everywhere all of a sudden?” Maks demanded. “First with Nika, then sniffing around Pant the other day, now hanging around T. Is he on an investigative team we’re not aware of?”

“Get off his dick, Maks,” Gabriel muttered. He was sitting forward on the sofa, hand passing roughly over his tightly set jaw. “He’s not as bad as you’ve painted him to be. And stop shouting—we’re right in front of you.”

Maks dropped his voice to a low growl. “He fucked over his family.”

“I don’t think he ever saw us the way you do,” Alek said as he came into the room with three steaming mugs that had little tags hanging off the sides. “I also don’t think he had fucking us over in mind when he enrolled at the police academy.” Each female was presented with a hot drink and a small smile. “It was a personal choice he made, and you should respect that.”

It was Maksim’s turn to glare, his sights set on Mr. Fucking Reasonable. “His intent doesn’t matter. The result does.”

Alek glanced at Sydney’s bowed head and then back to Maks. “Really?”

Put. In. My. Place.

He grudgingly nodded once to acknowledge what Alek had just implied. Sydney’s intent when starting this snowball had been honorable in the way that she’d gotten into it with Morales because of her friend’s tragic death. The things that had happened after, the most recent being Tegan’s brush with Eberto, “the results,” really weren’t all that mattered. There was something called “collateral damage.” Sydney couldn’t be held responsible for every decision every other person had made since this had begun, so . . .

Maks got his phone out and sent a text to a fucking NYPD detective, offering any aid he, or Teagan, might need.

The following morning, Andrew Martin didn’t want to admit it, but he was glad to be leaving the heavy atmosphere that had descended over Russia’s house. Booting through the bush yesterday on the ATVs had been fun. But seeing his mom when they walked in the door later, feeling her shaking when she hugged him, hadn’t been.

Ever since his aunt Emily had died, she’d been different. He hated that. Though . . .

He looked over at Russia, where the ginormous guy stood watching his mom come down the stairs. She was different around him. He could tell she liked him. Could see Russia liked her, too. Or he hoped that was why he looked at her like that.

“Did you say your good-byes and unnecessary thank-yous to the girls?” Russia asked her.

She smiled, and Andrew looked away before she caught him watching.

“They were in the nursery,” he heard her say, talking about the pregnant lady and the other one with the red hair. “It looks like it’s going to be lovely. Are you ready, Andrew?”

He picked up his backpack, which he never went anywhere without, and loped over. “The guys are going to be jealous that I missed first period,” he said, trying to talk about normal stuff to get that worried look out of her eyes. “Thanks for letting me go, Mom. And thanks for talking her into it, Russia.”

Russia held up a giant mitt. “Wasn’t me, kid. She decided it all on her own when I told her our threat bailed. For now,” he stressed, meeting each of their eyes. He and his mom both nodded, and then they were being brought out to a sweet Hummer. He got into the back with Micha.

The trip into Manhattan took a bit, but soon they were pulling up in front of his school. He saw his mom turn and open her mouth. “I know,” he said, before she could say anything. “No leaving the grounds to grab pizza at lunch. Stay inside for recess. You’re picking me up yourself after last bell. I got it, Mom.”

“Okay.” She smiled, and he finally saw her relax. “Okay,” she repeated, motioning him forward so she could kiss him on the forehead.

He looked at Russia and then Micha. “
Call of Duty
later?” he confirmed.

Both men nodded.

“Sweet. See you after school!” he called, jumping from the SUV. The front passenger door opened. “Mom . . .” He glanced behind him to make sure none of the kids were hanging outside. “I’m going straight in. It’s cool.”

She sat back again, even though he could tell she didn’t want to. “Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” He heard the door slam as he went up the walkway and turned to wave because he knew she’d still be watching. He got it, though. Because she was like that. Fussed over him even though he was old enough not to need it.

He thought about his sister as he did a lot—even though she was gone now, Eleanor would always be his sister, as he’d said to Russia last night—and stuck his head out the closing door of the school to wave that extra time just because he knew it would make his mom smile. At least, unlike Eleanor, he still had a mom to worry about him.

He thought about his aunt Emily as the door slammed shut, and he turned to start down the hallway toward the office.
Eleanor must really miss—

He smacked right into someone. Definitely a teacher by the size of him. He looked up, ready to apologize to either the principal or gym teacher, because they were the biggest guys, and felt his heart slam into his ribs. The man staring down at him through dirty black hair definitely didn’t work here. Andrew sucked in a breath, ready to shout for help if he needed to; then he felt something sharp poke into his side.

“You make one sound, and I’ll text my men, the ones who’ve just taken care of the Russians. One of them will take a knife just like this one”—he pressed harder, and Andrew felt a sharp sting above the waistband of his jeans—“and slice your pretty mother’s throat wide-open. You keep your mouth shut, and you’ll see her in a few minutes. You’re going in separate vehicles, but you’re gonna end up at the same place. You gonna cooperate, boy?”

Clicking heels sounded from the end of the empty hall, and Andrew glanced past the man. He saw the secretary carrying some bright-red folders, attendance folders, he knew, and wanted so badly to get her attention. But his mom. He couldn’t let this guy or his men hurt his mom.

“Okay.”

“Look outside and tell me if my boys have driven the Russian’s truck away yet.”

Andrew stepped back and pushed at the door.

“Andrew?” he heard the secretary call as he looked out and saw the Hummer was gone.

“They’re gone,” he said. He barely got the words out before he was shoved outside.

His arm was grabbed, and he was pulled roughly along in a half run.

“How do I know you’re not bullshitting me?” he asked, his heart slamming into his ribs. This had to be the Eberto dude he’d heard everyone talking about. What if he was lying? What if his mom and Russia had simply driven away already?

Eberto took out his cell and dialed, cursing worse than Russia had when he’d found a shoe chewed almost beyond recognition on their way up from the basement that morning. They reached a dark-blue Lincoln, and Eberto pulled open the driver’s door and tried to push Andrew in.
Screw that.
He put his arms on the frame and resisted.

“She cooperating?” Eberto asked whoever had answered. “Did you have to kill them?”

At the same time, the front door of the school opened, and Andrew saw his principal stick his head out.

Eberto laughed and nodded at Andrew, a freaky smile on his face. “The Russians are down. And your mother’s on her own with my guy. Not a safe one for her to be with, boy. He said the driver went down easy, and Kirov, too, because he was distracted.”

As he watched his principal start toward them, frowning and calling his name, all Andrew could see in his head was the way Russia had looked at his mom when she’d been coming down the stairs. As if there was nothing else going on anywhere. As if she was all there was. If he was distracted,
could
he have been overpowered?

“Mom,” he whispered.

“Get in the fucking car, boy, or I tell him to open her up.”

Andrew gave up and allowed himself to be shoved hard into the vehicle. He scrambled over the driver’s seat and fell awkwardly into the passenger side, hearing his name. As they sped away from the curb, he saw his principal yanking out his cell phone.

They drove in silence for a while, and he remembered a movie he’d watched with Daniel where a guy had been kidnapped. Once the guy had escaped, he’d kicked himself in the ass for not having paid attention to where he’d been taken and had been recaptured because he’d done nothing but go around in circles.

Eberto took his phone out again. “Hey. You almost there? Okay. I got the kid. See you in twenty.”

Knowing this part of the city pretty well, Andrew was stoked when he recognized where they were going. But it didn’t last. Not once they crossed the East River and ended up in Brooklyn. He saw a sign and a few stores with Bushwick something-or-other on them, so he assumed they were in Bushwick. He’d been continuously toeing his backpack closer, but his chance to contact anyone fled when Eberto leaned over and snatched it, throwing it—and his cell—into the backseat.

Trying not to freak out, he watched as they passed a Costco and a big park and then drove alongside a huge cemetery before pulling into a driveway directly across from all the mausoleums. They passed through an open gate made out of the same wood as the fence around the yard, and Eberto stopped the car between an old house and a cube van that had its hood up.

“My mom’s here?”

“What do you think’s inside the back of the van? Can’t leave the Hummer in plain view, huh, stupid?”

What would this guy do to them? Had they really killed Russia? Andrew swallowed as his stomach turned over. The feeling made him think of when his mom had woken him up that morning last year and told him about Aunt Emily.

“Get out. She’s probably having a fit inside.”

He climbed out of the passenger side and considered running for it. But what if he couldn’t find help? And his mom was here and she’d just watched Russia get killed—there was no way he could leave her.

Eberto unlocked a side door and shoved him into the house, nodding for him to go right down into the basement rather than left up the two steps that led to a clean-looking kitchen. The place smelled like grilled cheese and air freshener.

“Dad?”

The muffled voice came from the second story of the house, but Andrew couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl who’d called out. Whoever it was, he felt sorry for him or her, having this guy for a father. One thing he did know—the voice hadn’t been a man’s. So it couldn’t be the guy bringing his mom here.

“Stay there. I’ll be right up,” Eberto yelled as he grabbed a hunk of Andrew’s hair and yanked him into motion down the remaining steps. There was something now stuck into his back, something hard, and the sudden violence of Eberto’s actions had Andrew’s breath coming faster.

They crossed a small living room and went through a door that looked too heavy to be a bedroom or anything, and before Andrew knew what was happening, he was being thrown into what looked to be a jail cell. He went in so hard he hit the wall on the opposite side, his eyes instantly stinging because he hit nose-first. Scrambling to spin around, he lurched for the door, but Eberto slammed it shut before he reached it.

“Hey! Where’s my mom?” he shouted, blinking away the water that came from a shot to the beak. He felt a warm trickle come down onto his top lip and hated that he was bleeding.

“Probably getting laid, sucker.” Eberto stood there, chuckling quietly to himself as he tucked a gun into the waistband at the back of his jeans.

Oh no.
Fear nearly made Andrew choke. He’d fucked up. He shouldn’t have believed this guy’s story. He stumbled back from the unnerving look he was receiving and swiped at his nose with the back of his hand. It had all been lies! The phone calls, the Hummer being in the van, Russia being dead. He felt relief regarding that last one, but that didn’t stop him from being scared.