Russian Mobster’s Blackmailed Bride (17 page)

“Okay, let me do the talking. Please?” She turned to stare up at him, speaking in English because she was tense and that somehow seemed easier. “I know it pisses you off when people boss you around, but I’m the best one to handle my parents. They’re sort of pigheaded about this sort of thing.”

“I’m not even going to ask for a translation,” he told her drily. “And
yes
. I can keep my mouth shut for a short time to let you deal with your mother and father.”

“I wasn’t denying the fact that you
have
that ability. I was just encouraging you to exercise it.” Trisha grabbed his hand and pushed open the front door of her childhood home. “Mama? Dad? I’ve brought someone I want you to meet!”

“Oh please,
do
come in and let’s make the party complete. Shall we?”

Trisha blinked in shock as she registered the fact that Bianka Sokolov was in her living room pointing a gun at her parents. It was absolutely surreal to see the perfectly coiffed Bianka standing on her mother’s pristine, cream-colored living room rug.

“You’re supposed to take your shoes off,” Trisha blurted reflexively.

Bianka’s brow knit in confusion. “What?”

“You’re standing on my mother’s living room rug with those slut shoes you’re wearing. She doesn’t allow anyone to wear shoes in the living room. It’s rude. And you’re liable to stab holes in the carpet with those ugly stiletto disasters you’re wearing.”

From the corner of her eye, Trisha saw her mother’s eyes close in obvious distress as she processed what her daughter was saying. Yes. This really wasn’t the time to argue about shoes on the carpet, but Trisha was done letting Bianka run things.

“I think I have never heard anything so ridiculous in my life!” Bianka said with amusement. “You do realize that a bloodstain will be much worse for your mother’s precious carpet than my shoes ever would be.”

“You’re right,” Trisha agreed. “I cannot imagine what horrible things your blood has in it since you’re a total witch. For all I know, you bleed tar.”

Behind her, she heard Anatoly groan softly. Yes. She was kind of provoking the crazy bitch, but really. Someone needed to put this woman in her place.

“You are either very brave or very stupid.” Bianka’s sour expression told Trisha that her insults were hitting the mark rather nicely.

“Bianka,” Anatoly said in a low, firm tone of voice. “This will not get you what you want.”

“How do you know what I want?” Bianka shouted. “You convinced my father to cut me off! I am destitute! The pittance of an allowance he gives me will hardly last a week, much less a month!”

ANATOLY REALIZED THAT he had severely underestimated the ferocity of Bianka’s materialistic greed. He began shifting, carefully edging his way in front of Trisha. He caught a glimpse of her father from the corner of his eye. The man was sitting in his recliner, his back ramrod straight, but his eyes taking in every single thing that happened. He was waiting for an opportunity. That much was clear. Her mother was the polar opposite. She was completely frozen in her little wingback chair. He wondered how Bianka had found them and gained access to their home. Unfortunately, Anatoly had a sneaking suspicion he knew how it had happened.

He spoke to Bianka, keeping her attention focused on him. “And what is it that you want?”

“I want money! I want power. I want it all, and you’re going to give it to me, or this bitch and her parents are going to die. Do you understand?” Bianka’s eyes had a crazed look that told him she had come completely unhinged.

“Fine.” Anatoly gave up on being subtle and put himself directly between Bianka and Trisha. “How is it that I’m supposed to make that happen? Direct deposit? Do you want me to write you a check?”

“Ugh!” Bianka shrieked in anger. “Stop acting like you don’t think I’m serious!” She turned the gun toward Trisha’s mother. “I will shoot this woman dead, and then you will finally know I mean business!”

“If you shoot that woman, it will give me plenty of time to wring your little neck,” Anatoly snarled. “Do not give me that opportunity, Bianka. Keep the gun on me, or I will murder you with my bare hands and not bat an eye at the blood spilled on the carpet. I’ll just buy a new rug.”

Anatoly had thought the intensity in the room had reached epic proportions, but Bianka wasn’t through. She began stomping her foot and waving the gun wildly in the air as she threw a massive temper tantrum. She was cursing and swearing in Russian. Her angry finger pointing was mostly at him. Then she aimed the gun and began pointing toward him with that.

About the time he realized things were about to get worse, the gun went off. The bullet hit the ceiling, causing a small avalanche of drywall to rain down on Bianka. The sudden noise was deafening inside the close quarters of the living room. Bianka obviously wasn’t expecting it, because she threw the weapon away and covered her ears.

Time screeched to a halt, everything going in slow motion as Anatoly watched the weapon hit the ground. He dove for Trisha, grabbing her and hitting the ground. He rolled them behind the couch just as the gun went off again. The muzzle flashed as a bullet was discharged. It pinged off a metal plaque hanging on the wall before rebounding and hitting Bianka in the leg.

Her scream was so loud Anatoly could have sworn the windows rattled. The sound was worse than the gunfire. Rolling away from Trisha, he reached for the gun at the same time as Trisha’s father.

“Don’t you dare, you
criminal
!” Jonathan Copeland palmed the weapon with the practiced ease of someone who had spent a lifetime doing so.

“Daddy, no!” Trisha leaped to her feet and tried to get between them.

Anatoly put an arm around Trisha’s waist and swung her behind him. “No,
Malenkaya
! I cannot have you hurt.”

“He’s going to kill you and say she did it,” Trisha sobbed. “I know it!”

“Speak English, dammit!” Copeland shouted. “If I can’t understand you, I’m just going to call it self-defense and be done!”

Until then, Anatoly hadn’t realized they were speaking Russian. He took a deep breath and held Trisha behind him. “I was asking your daughter to please not put herself in the line of fire.”

“Trisha, go call 911,” Copeland ordered. “I’m going to kill this bastard and get him out of our lives for good.”

Tears streamed down Trisha’s face. “No! If you kill him, I’ll never forgive you.
Never
. Do you understand me? I will leave this house today, and I will never come back.”

There was a squeak of horror from her mother. On the floor, Anatoly could see Bianka rousing herself as though she was going to make a run for it. Before Anatoly could call a warning, Bianka grabbed Copeland’s leg.

The man jerked in shock, the gun going off in his hand. The bullet pierced Anatoly’s shoulder, going in and out and leaving a trail of fiery pain in its wake. He turned, not to get away, but to make sure that Trisha was unharmed.

In the meantime, Copeland angrily struck out at Bianka with his boot. The blow to her face rendered her unconscious. It did nothing, however, to end the stand off between Copeland and Anatoly.

“Oh my God, you’re shot!” Trisha wailed. She gently touched his shoulder.

He wanted to tell her to stop, but he knew he had no time to worry about a paltry wound when her father was ready to blow his head off.

“Mr. Copeland,” Anatoly said in a calm voice. He held out his hands, showing he was unarmed and hoping the man would see sense. “I understand you’re angry and confused. But shooting me isn’t the answer.”

“Daddy, you have to put the gun down. Now!” Trisha begged.

Her father looked confused and angry. He glanced down at the woman who was passed out on the floor, and then back up at his daughter. “What have I done?” he whispered. Then he lowered the gun.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Trisha glared at her father as the EMT gently probed the wound in Anatoly’s shoulder. “Sir, you probably want to go to the hospital and have this looked at.”

“Can you dress the wound now?” Anatoly sounded completely casual, as if they were discussing the treatment of a hangnail.

“Yes.” The EMT nodded and began assembling supplies to do just that. “But it would be better to have some X-rays to make sure there is no internal damage.”

“I will do that when I get home. Thank you.”

Trisha held Anatoly’s hand between her own. She lifted it to her lips, feeling so relieved that this apparently wasn’t life threatening. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.” He gestured to her father.

Her dad was sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands. Her mother stood behind him with her arm around his shoulders. There was some whispering going on, but for the most part they had been silent. In the next room Trisha could see the policemen and the detectives that her father had requested be dispatched to their home. They were dealing with Bianka. She was wailing like a banshee about the wound on her leg.

One of the detectives walked into the kitchen to report to her father. “They have to take her to the hospital, Captain Copeland.”

“That’s fine,” he said dully. “Have her watched. And pull her passport. I’m requesting that the judge deem her a flight risk.”

“No problem. From what we can tell, she came here on a private jet. We’ve got it impounded.”

Anatoly seemed to perk up at this. Actually, he looked pissed. “Her father doesn’t own a private jet. Can you please check on the owner? I suspect she bullied one of my flight crews into bringing her here. If so, I would request their release and have them sent home. My other crew is waiting for me at the airport with my primary jet.”

“You have two jets?” Her father looked dumbfounded.

“Of course.” Anatoly shrugged it off. “Occasionally I need to send a member of my staff someplace when I must be elsewhere. It’s easier to keep a second jet than to worry about using public airlines.”

“Oh of course,” her father said mockingly. “Apparently crime pays very well.”

“You do not like me,” Anatoly said flatly. “Although I do not understand why. I kept your daughter safe. I even kept Bianka’s attention away from your wife.”

“You brought this danger to our doorstep!” Copeland shouted.

Trisha started to protest, but then she noticed how Anatoly stared at her father. In fact, her dad was acting kind of weird. He kept shifting in his seat and looking very uncomfortable. He couldn’t meet her gaze, and he flat refused to look at her mother, which made Trisha stare at Mama and wonder what secret they were keeping.

“Mama, what happened?” Trisha asked quietly. “Obviously you’re keeping something from me.”

ANATOLY WATCHED THE older woman fidget nervously. She was obviously trying to protect her husband. Anatoly already knew what had happened. He wondered if he should just save her from what was obviously an agonizing amount of dread.

“What your mother is trying not to say,” Anatoly told Trisha. “Is that Bianka contacted them sometime within the last twenty-four hours and offered them some kind of deal. It probably involved removing me from your life. So they agreed to meet with her today while you were conveniently out of the house. Then Bianka arrived, and things did not quite go as planned.” Anatoly raised an eyebrow at Trisha’s mother. “Am I right?”

The woman’s relief was palpable. “How did you know?”

“I know Bianka,” he said irritably. “The woman is a scheming whore with a motive to hurt me and Trisha. Unfortunately, I underestimated how far she would go to accomplish this goal.”

“She seemed so sweet and helpful,” Trisha’s mother said in a rush. “And she has such a lovely smile. I didn’t dream she was so
murderous
!”

Trisha snorted. “Yeah, she does have the Jekyll and Hyde thing going on, Mama. But why would you guys go behind my back like that? It hurts me to think that you would disregard me like that.” Trisha turned to her father. “Dad, you’ve done this again and again despite all the times I’ve spoken to you about letting me make my own way.”

Her father didn’t speak. He looked pale and drawn. Oddly enough, Anatoly could actually empathize with the man. He had thought he’d known what was best for his family, but he had been very wrong. Almost fatally so. It shook a man from the inside when that happened.

“Anatoly asked me to marry him, Dad,” Trisha announced. “I’ve said yes. I love you. But I also love Anatoly. And if you can’t see what a good man he is after everything that happened today, then you’re an idiot and I’m sorry for you. I don’t want to lose you guys. But if you don’t accept my choice, then I suppose that’s your decision.”

The EMT had finished with Anatoly’s arm.

Anatoly stood up and gently put his arm around Trisha. He was ready to go. “I am taking Trisha home with me. Now. Today. The two of you are always welcome in our home. I will send a jet for you if you ever say the word. But I will no longer allow Trisha to be manipulated or bullied in the name of protection.” Anatoly struggled with the right words. “You do not give her enough credit, I think. She is strong in who she is and what she wants. She has a good heart. She makes me a better person. In fact, I have never met anyone like her, and I know I have the two of you to thank for that.”

“Not that it’ll stop you from stealing our daughter,” Copeland muttered.

“Daddy, please,” Trisha pleaded. “Don’t be angry. This is what happens. Kids grow up and get their own lives. That’s all I want. My life is in Moscow. I love it there. I love Anatoly.”

Anatoly caught her hand, tugging her toward the door. He pressed a kiss to her palm. “Let’s go, my love.”

“My stuff?”

He pursed his lips. “What is it you want?”

Then her face grew determined. “Nothing. It’s only stuff.”

TRISHA GAZED OUT one of the jet’s windows as they reached a cruising altitude of thirty thousand feet. The world was nothing but blue sky and white clouds. It looked so very peaceful. Up here there was no worry about her parents, or wondering what would happen when they got to Moscow. It was all smooth sailing.

“Are you all right, my love?” Anatoly sat down beside her.