Nikolai 2 (Her Russian Protector #6) (12 page)

Once he was on the inside, Mando would have to fold to protect his club. The district attorneys and Feds would be tripping over themselves to cut a deal and get any information they could. Mando was too loyal to the MC—a real ride or die man—to flip on his boys, but he might spill the secrets he knew about the cartel. If that happened, the cartel would find a way to shut him up on the inside. Either way, he would be off the streets and no longer one of Nikolai's problems.

It was the cleanest way to fix the situation—but Nikolai's men would see it as the ultimate betrayal. There was still some grumbling over the way a Fed informant Besian basically owned had been used to clear out the Night Wolves once and for all. If Nikolai went to Eric, it would cast a long fucking shadow. Every step he made would be questioned. Suspicion would dog him. He needed his men to believe in and trust him implicitly and without question. He couldn't have dissension in the ranks.

So what to do? For once, he honestly didn't know. He couldn't see the answer.
I'm losing my edge
.

Still plagued by questions, he barely registered the minutes and miles ticking by. Too soon, their vehicle was pulling into the agreed meeting spot. The SUV sat still for less than a minute before the passenger side door opened and Romero slid inside. Kostya exited slowly and quietly to take up a guard position outside.

Romero had come incognito—jeans, Mexican football jersey, sneakers and a baseball cap pulled low. He had started to grow out a beard. Somehow it made him look even harder and rougher. There were streaks of silver in the dark, coarse hair. His age was finally catching up to him.

Whipping off the hat, Romero scrubbed his fingers through his hair. "Fuck, what a mess."

Nikolai twisted in his seat to face his father-in-law. "You offered him money?"

Romero arched an eyebrow. "Yes. And?"

Taken aback by the familiar facial movement, Nikolai accepted that no matter how much he wished he could pretend that Vivian had nothing in common with her old man she was still his daughter. "And? Are you seriously going to fucking sit there and act as if you didn't just insult Julio? A man who lost his only son?"

"It was an accident."

"Bullshit." Nikolai slashed his hand through the air. "I read the police report. His light was red. He ran it and clipped that kid. Instead of staying behind to help the kid, Mando left him in the street to die. A little boy!"

"He was sixteen."

"And Vee was eleven when you left her behind," Nikolai angrily retorted.

"Yes, she was eleven when you shot and nearly killed her." Romero dared him to find a comeback. "How is my baby girl? I hear she's settling in quite nicely as your queen. Apparently she made quite an impression at the fight."

A vision of Vivian in black and gold at the warehouse where he hosted the bare-knuckle tournaments taunted him. God, she had been breathtakingly beautiful. He had been torn between wanting to scold her for doing something so risky and wanting to sweep her into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless with arousal and blushing in submission.

"She's strong, brilliant and nurturing. She's found her place."
Right next to me
.

Romero made a throaty noise. "You're still going to London this weekend?"

"Yes. We leave on Sunday."

Romero glanced out the window, but not before Nikolai caught an expression that resembled regret. "That's good. I'm glad she's getting this chance."

Nikolai wasn't about to invite him to tag along or tell him that Vivian wanted him there. She didn't. "What are we going to do about Julio and Mando? We can't let this keep spinning out of control. Julio just threatened Vivian to my face. I can't allow this to play out in my city."

Romero stared at the windshield. He seemed to be carefully weighing his options. "I'll talk to Julio again." He held up his hand before Nikolai could interrupt him about the money. "I'll find a way to make it right."

"He wants Mando. Unless you tell him where to find your friend, he's going to start crossing names off lists—and he'll try to start with Vivian."

Romero's dark eyes flashed with a warning. "He won't touch my daughter."

"Your daughter
and
your grandchild." Nikolai hadn't been planning to reveal her pregnancy to her father yet, but it might be the only way to make Romero do the right thing. "We're pregnant. Eleven weeks."

Romero didn't say a word. He seemed completely stunned. "Vivian," he said finally. "A baby?"

"Yes."

Romero's throat moved up and down and he swallowed audibly. He seemed to be searching for the right words. Finally, he found them. "I don't particularly like you, Nikolai. I've learned to tolerate you."

High fucking praise indeed
.

"When I heard you were going to marry Vivian, I didn’t like it, but I honestly couldn't think of a better man for her."

The statement rocked Nikolai to the core.

"I don't mean that in the traditional way." Romero kept his gaze fixed forward on the windshield. "I mean that in the sense that by simply being my daughter Vivian is in a great deal of danger every day. My list of enemies is a mile long and growing every day. There aren't very men in this world who could keep her safe
and
love her." He paused. "But you do."

"I do," Nikolai agreed. "I will."

"You have to watch her carefully," Romero instructed. "After the baby comes," he clarified. "Katya was always wild and unpredictable. Those were things I loved about her—until I didn't. Until I realized that she wasn't
right
. That she was broken up here." He tapped his temple. "It was having Vivian that flipped some switch. She was never the same again."

"Vivian isn't her mother." Nikolai growled the words.

"No, she isn't, but she's a woman and things happen to women after they have babies. You have to watch her. Keep her safe. Keep the baby safe."

Was Romero thinking about the day Katya had tried to drown Vivian as a child? The day a neighbor had broken down the door to save her? Was he thinking about all the times that Katya had abused Vivian while he was off running errands for the cartel or riding with the club?

"You don't have to worry. I'll keep them safe."

Romero finally looked at him and nodded. With a rough sigh, he reached for the door. "I'll get this thing with Julio taken care of while you're in London. It'll be safer for Vivian that way." He opened the door and climbed out of the SUV but didn't immediately close the door. "When you get back, we need to have a long discussion."

"About?"

"Our next moves," Romero said, as if strategizing together was the most natural thing in the world.

"
Our
moves?"

"It's time the two of us stop barking for our masters. It's time to cut the leashes."

Nikolai stared at the door that Romero quickly closed. Was his father-in-law proposing what he thought he was?

"How did it go?" Kostya asked as he fastened his seatbelt.

Nikolai replayed his father-in-law's parting shot. "I honestly don't know."

Kostya swiveled in seat, bracing his hand on the console. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means things are going to change. Whether we're ready for it or not," he added ominously.

Kostya let that sink in for a moment. No doubt, he was already running the various scenarios and making lists of all the dirty deeds that would need to be done to protect the family. With a disturbingly cool shrug, Kostya said, "Fuck it. We'll make it work. We always do."

That was just like Kostya to put it all in perspective. "True."

Turning back toward the windshield, the cleaner announced, "I'm starving. Let's have a steak and a beer and forget this shit morning ever happened. Then we'll head back to Houston and track down Ivan and Ten."

Happy to let someone else make a decision, even if it was something as simple as lunch, Nikolai dropped his head back against the seat, closed his eyes and nodded. "
Da
."

Chapter Six

Nikolai grinned warmly as Ten strode into the coziest private dining room at Samovar with Ivan and Kostya right on his heels. Only a few inches shorter than Sergei, Ten sported similarly broad shoulders and the physique of a fighter. He had obviously burned a lot of prison time exercising in the yard. No longer did he wear his hair long. It was clipped short, but he had a scruffy beard now. There were a couple of new tattoos on Ten's neck and arms, all of them marks Nikolai had sanctioned from the outside.

"Boss." Ten extended his hand, but Nikolai surprised him by embracing the other man tightly. Ten stiffened, but Nikolai didn't hold it against him. He had spent enough time on the inside to understand how difficult it was to allow other people to invade his personal space.

Stepping back, Nikolai let his arms drop to his sides. "You look good."

"I feel good." Ten glanced around the dining room, his eyes darting toward the corners almost as if he expected to find men lurking in the shadows.

"It takes time, Ten." Nikolai cast a look at Ivan who studied his friend with a mixture of sadness and understanding. "You'll adjust." He gestured toward the table where the best the restaurant had to offer awaited them. "Come. Eat."

Though Nikolai preferred the seat with the best view of the room, namely the entrance and exit points, he let Ten have it tonight. Ivan dropped down into the other chair and reached for his silverware. Always so easy in social settings, Ivan took control of the conversation and kept it light and fun. The stories he told were intended to draw Ten back into the life he had left behind and familiarize him with the changes that had occurred during his time inside.

Sitting back and pushing away his dessert plate, Ten shook his head. "I still can't believe you're married. I never thought I'd see the day that you let yourself be chained to one girl."

Ivan toyed with his wedding band. A faint smile played upon his mouth. "When you meet Erin, you'll understand. Most days I can't believe she agreed to marry me."

Nikolai chuckled at that. He understood what that was like. There were mornings he woke up and simply gazed upon Vee's sleeping face because he couldn't quite believe that she was his wife.

Ten stared at Nikolai's wedding band. Unlike Ivan who had chosen to wear his according to the American custom, Nikolai wore his on the right hand because it was the Orthodox way and Vivian's preference. "You wouldn’t believe the kites that were flying between cells when the news hit that you were going to marry the machete's daughter."

"I can imagine." Nikolai folded the edge of his napkin as he pictured the small folded notes attached to long strings of floss soaring through the air between cells. Deciding this was as good a time as any to bring it up, he said, "I wanted to speak with you about Vivian."

"Should I leave?" Ivan asked, already rising from his chair.

Nikolai swept his hand through the air. "Stay."

Ivan sat down and reached for his fork again. It was a move that didn't surprise Nikolai in the least. Far from it, actually. The sight of Ivan cleaning his plate, refusing to leave even one tiny scrap of food behind, took Nikolai back to their shared childhood. Cold, hungry nights hadn't bothered Nikolai that much. He had turned that hunger into anger and used it to fuel his survival and his rise through the ranks.

But Ivan? Ivan hated being hungry. Whenever he ate, he made sure to finish every morsel available to him because as a child meals had been meager and few and far between. Despite finding success and wealth with his investments and business, Ivan was still that scared, hungry kid deep down inside. Erin's love for him had gone a long way toward easing some of those deep-seated fears but some habits would never change.

Turning his attention toward Ten, Nikolai began a conversation he expected the other man was not going to like. "I realize that you had hoped to be slotted into a job at Alexei's dealership or with the gym," he motioned toward Ivan, "until your probation was finished but I need your skills somewhere else."

Looking slightly uneasy, Ten said, "The conditions of my parole—"

"Will not be impacted by what I'm about to ask of you," Nikolai assured him. "You will follow them to the letter. Your new duties will never take you anywhere near those types of activities or people."

Ten's eyes narrowed. "What sort of job is this?"

"I need you to guard my wife."

Ten's lips parted with shock. He clamped them shut and worked his jaw back and forth. His prized enforcer had the worst fucking temper so Nikolai steeled himself for a blowup.

But it never came.

Nostrils flaring slightly, Ten inhaled a steadying breath. The muscles in his neck were flexed, and his hands were curled into fists atop the table, but he maintained control. Finally, he said, "If this is what the family needs me to do, I'm happy to take the job."

"Ten." Nikolai sat forward and tapped the table. "This isn't a punishment or a demotion. Even if you were legally free and clear, I would still ask you to do this for me. I need the very best men I know watching Vivian. Sergei is gone, and if I thought Ivan would come out of retirement for me, I'd ask him."