The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2) (3 page)

Vincente Romani’s eyes popped open, rampant lust from the recurring dream—
memory
—rushing through his veins. His vision slowly became less blurry as his burning, tired eyes focused on the mahogany and leather furniture littered around his room. The fact that it had cost a lot fancied the space up a bit, but his shit was nothing but functional.

He winced as he rolled over, almost snapping his morning wood in half.
Fuck.
With a hard punch, he worked his pillow before slamming his head back down, shifting his hips so his dick wouldn’t attempt to impale the mattress.

Too many weeks of nothing but this. Why the hell wouldn’t she get the fuck out of his head?

He should never have kissed her. He was the only one to blame. He’d let her in.

Yeah. And goddamn if it hadn’t been the sweetest, most addicting action on record.

But so what? So what that it had been good. Big deal. She was Caleb Paynne’s
married
sister
for chrissakes. Two things that left him dumped in a heap on the corner of Outofreach Avenue and Onlyinyourdreams Boulevard.

Gabriel said a few flags have been raised about the marriage
, an anxious voice in the back of his mind reminded him. A voice he’d dubbed Nika Paynne’s Fan Boy. The relentless asshole.

Even if it was a rocky marriage, she was still the biker’s sister. And you didn’t fuck around with an associate’s sister. Or someone’s wife.

Was Caleb’s brother-in-law a biker? Vincente wasn’t sure on the details. Had deliberately chosen to remain ignorant of them. Or was he uninformed only because Maksim hadn’t voluntarily mentioned anything he’d found out about Nika and her husband yet?

Gabriel is marrying Vasily’s daughter
, Nika’s Fan Boy chirped a little louder in his head with a just-sayin’ shrug.

So?
Vincente sighed roughly. Nika should have slapped his face for daring to kiss her that day in Seattle. But no, instead she’d responded to him so fucking beautifully he couldn’t get it out of his mind.

She’d also verbally smacked his ass like no one had dared since his little sister had found him mimicking sex acts with her Barbie dolls when he was eleven.

Vinnie! My girls don’t kiss wif boys like that! You pig! What’s wrong wif you?

His chest hollowed as he remembered Sophia’s shocked and disgusted reprimand. She’d snatched the dolls from his hands with a glower and had flounced away to tell their mother.

Thirteen years, and the loss of her was still so fresh he could barely stand it.

He rolled to his other side and faced the large bay window overlooking the pool, shutting the door on his memories. All they did was thicken the ice encasing his heart. Sure didn’t bring him the comfort some had said they eventually would.
Fucking liars.

Think of something else.

He almost rolled his eyes at Fan Boy when his redhead’s flawless face once again zipped front and center. Why had she been introduced as Nika Paynne and not Nika Nollan?

If she were married to Vincente, she’d have the Romani stamp all over her. Tattooed right on her beautiful fucking ass. He grunted and allowed himself to linger on thoughts of her ass for a second.

So why didn’t the fuckwad husband insist she use his name? Didn’t know the guy from Adam, but he was still a fuckwad. Why? Because Vincente wanted to crawl inside that female’s body and stay there forever. And Nollan prevented him from doing that.

So did being chums with Caleb. But, again, as they’d found out in Gabriel’s case, there were ways around that.

None of it mattered really. Being in the line of work he was in—his construction company aside—Vincente didn’t have shit to offer a woman. Much less a woman like Nika.

Between his illegal dealings and his fucked-up childhood, he was the last person on earth who could offer happily ever after. His father had treated his mother like shit and hadn’t been much better with Vincente and Sophia. Then things had gone from bad to worse when his mother was killed by a car bomb meant for her husband. Vincente had been twelve, and all he remembered of his father after that was the bullshit he’d toss at his kids when he’d slam through the screen door of their brownstone in Queens, drunk off his ass.
Get yourself a haircut, Vin—you’re startin’ to look like fuckin’ Frankenstein
, he’d say with that permanent sneer that had curled his mustached lip.
You better stop growin’ soon, kid, or else you’re gonna be a freak. The girls are gonna run away from you.

Yeah. Happy times
, Vincente thought, throwing back the covers and standing. His reflection in the mirror above the dresser caught his eye. He’d topped out at six foot four, and his size had come in handy a time or twenty, so he wouldn’t fault it. He glanced at his black hair. It reached his pecs now. His mother used to run her fingers through it and go on about its shine as she smothered him as only an Italian mother could. He missed that. And Sophia, who’d gotten stuck being raised by him when their father had been MIA more often than not, hadn’t had nearly enough of it. Vincente had done the best he could considering he’d been a child himself.

And his best had been A-okay—until he’d failed her.

For the first time, he welcomed the image of fiery hair and green eyes that billowed like smoke through his mind. He latched on to it, replacing one he couldn’t handle remembering.

Another strike against Fan Boy’s plight to have the redhead. Vincente couldn’t risk history repeating itself. Why would he ever set himself up to fail so spectacularly as an innocent female’s protector again?

He wouldn’t.

Cursing, he stalked into his navy-and-white en suite bathroom as the questions came again.

Why had Nika let him kiss her that day? Been so enthusiastic?

And why had those incredible emerald eyes of hers brimmed with fear just before she’d walked away from him? That was the question that had plagued him the most during the past few weeks. What had frightened her? And did it still?

Find out
, Fan Boy begged.

No.
He was sick of this. Sick of thinking about that day. About her. Who cared why she didn’t wear a fucking ring? Who cared why she didn’t use her married name?

Flipping the chrome lever up, he climbed into an icy shower.

It was none of his fucking business. Her brother could take care of it. As he grabbed the soap from the small alcove in the wall and roughly washed up, he completely ignored Fan Boy’s adamantly whispered,
Fuck that
.

CHAPTER 2

“We just got in.”

Caleb Paynne listened to the forlorn murmur of his sister’s voice, so different from the playful, teasing tone she used to have. It was as if her spirit was gone. As though she’d gained a husband and lost herself.

He mentally punched Kevin in the face. He was probably standing over her, tapping on his watch, making her feel as if she were doing something wrong by talking to her own brother.

“Kevin there with you?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even. Nothing shut Nika down faster than questions about that SOB. He knew better than to ask them now or to state his derogatory opinion. He wanted to talk to his sister more than he wanted to bad-mouth that fuck she was married to.

Caleb lay on his couch, arm over his eyes as he tried to wake up from a quick nap. He’d been going to bed later and later since setting up shop at the clubhouse in Queens. Gabriel Moretti had sent him to New York earlier that year, tasking him with watching over Eva—Nika’s best friend and someone he considered his own sister. She certainly didn’t need a bodyguard any longer, now that she and Gabriel were engaged. Fucking organized crime boss. What was she thinking?

He checked the clock at the corner of the screen on the muted TV.
Six thirty. Damn.
He shook his head and paid attention before Nollan pulled the plug on the phone call.

“Kevin went down to grab a hot dog from the vendor out front.”

The dead tone to Nika’s voice—which was the antithesis of what he heard when Eva yakked about Moretti—left Caleb shaking his head.

Kevin fucking Nollan. Controlling, ignorant SOB. The guy’s days were numbered. No matter what Nika said. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t much. Only that she’d realized almost a year ago that she had feelings for the guy—a hanger-on at the ODMC clubhouse in Seattle where Caleb used to hang with his brothers.

Caleb had been a member of the Obsidian Devils Motorcycle Club since he was twenty, and, aside from Nika and Eva, the boys were the only family he’d had since his parents had died of cancer.

Even their deaths hadn’t changed his little sis the way marriage had. Gone was the tough little firecracker the boys in the club used to say would make the perfect old lady, and in her place was a somber, uneasy shadow.

Still, Nika wouldn’t leave Nollan.

His gut tightened. She was going to lose her shit when she found out Caleb had given Vex, his best friend and club president—who had some pretty strong connections—the okay to start excavating. Hopefully something would come of it and Nika would finally admit what a true lowlife Nollan was.

“What time are you heading over?”

His sister’s question tugged him from his thoughts. “Uh . . .”

She sighed. “Ca-leb? Did I wake you? Or are you having some really quiet sex?”

He laughed at the tiny glimpse of spirit. “Sorry, Nik. I just had a
nap
,” he assured her. “Where are you?”

“A hotel.”

Bye-bye grin. “Yeah. I figured that out all by myself. Which one? Where in the city? Maybe I can come over and see you before the wedding.”

“What time are you heading to the house?” she repeated, ignoring his offer of company and his questions.
The stubborn little shit.

“V said to be there by eight,” he muttered.

An odd silence greeted his response. “V?”

Caleb sat up slowly, totally awake now. “Vincente. Saw him out last night, and he said the festivities would start around eight. Eva said the same when I talked to her this aft.”

“Oh. Cool. I, uh, guess we’ll see you there.” Was that a kernel of interest he’d heard in her voice?

“We? Can you not come without him?”

“No.”

Tell me what the fuck is going on so I can take care of this for you!
he wanted to shout. But instead, he forced a note of calm into his voice that he was far from feeling. “You need directions? A ride?”
A hearse?

“Eva sent them to me already. And I have my phone, so we’re good. Thanks.”

Unable to check the impulse, he said, “Just say the word, Nik, and we’ll take care of everything. You know that.” The offer came sounding half-impatient, half-pleading.

A soft sigh filtered through the line. “We’re not talking about this, Caleb.”

“Why.” He threw the word down in a clear challenge.

“Because, like I told you before, there’s more going on than you’re aware of. And don’t ask because I will not tell—Shit. Gotta go. See you in a bit.”

She hung up before he could reply. The Keeper had obviously returned. At that spike of anxiety in her voice, Caleb barely stopped himself from putting his fist through the coffee table. He jammed his thumb on Vex’s number as he jerked to his feet and headed to the closet. This had to end. Now.

“Hey,” Vex answered.

The comforting sound of a compressor whining came through the line; tools clanked loudly in the background of the shop downstairs. “Anything new on Nika?”

“She make it in okay?”

“Yeah. She’s at a hotel. Wouldn’t tell me which one.”

“Brat,” Vex murmured around a chuckle. “And no. My guy’s having a hard time. Other than the basics, which I’ve already told you, he hasn’t gotten anything. There’s that sealed case file at a small precinct in Michigan somewhere, but he hasn’t been able to hack it yet, and he’s paranoid about outsourcing. He’ll let me know when he has something.”

Fuck.
“I’ll meet you in the Ditch in an hour, then we can head to Mob Central.” The Ditch was the game room/rec room where everyone hung out. Mob Central was Moretti and the boys’ place over in a big-money area outside Long Island.

“Sorry, brother,” Vex offered.

“S’okay. Later.”

Next he dialed Vincente. Caleb knew the Reaper was expert at reading a situation in one all-encompassing glance. Maybe he could pick up on something tonight.

“Go.”

“V. How’s it goin’?”

“Paynne. Everything cool? Your, uh, sister make it in okay?”

First Nika reacting to Vincente’s name, and now V fishing for info on Nika?

Hmm.

“Yeah. She got in a little while ago. I just hung up with her, actually. That’s why I’m calling. I was hoping you’d help me out with her tonight.”

“Help you out with her . . . how?”

So suspicious. And had that gravelly voice changed? Despite the gag factor of thinking of his buddy being into his sister, Caleb almost grinned. He’d use any lure he could to get Nika out of that marriage. Even the Reaper. “Just watch her. See how she is with that fuck she’s married—”

“What is it about ‘that fuck’ that has you hating on him? In Seattle, you mentioned Vex was working on something for you. It have anything to do with this guy?”

How much should he say? “Keep this on the DL,” he warned even though he didn’t think he had to. “But, yeah, Vex is digging into Nollan’s background.”

“Why?”

He pulled a slate-gray button-down from the few in his closet. “Because I’ve been on her about leaving this goof from day one. She never should’ve married him in the first place. He’s a deadbeat. Used to hang around the clubhouse in Seattle, not useful for much. No job. Not really right in the head. But then, maybe that’s the draw. Nika has a soft heart. But she’s not in love with the clown.”

He couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice as he yanked a decent pair of jeans from his dresser drawer. Eva had insisted on informal dress for the occasion.

“Nollan treats her like a fuckin’ dog. Keeps her locked away over there. She quit her job and I know that was because of him. I know it. She’s a fucking accountant, V. She’s no dummy. Yet she now has allotted phone time to call me, for fuck’s sake. What the hell is that?” He threw his clothes onto the bed. “She refuses to leave him. And I wanna know why. She says there’s more going on than she’s willing to tell me. And before you ask, I don’t have any clue what it is. She doesn’t let a goddamn thing slip. Maybe he has a piece on the side and she wants to catch him in the act . . . ? I don’t know.”

But he would soon. He wasn’t going to quit until he knew why his sister remained in that prison.

Vincente sat in his Kombat T-98 outside a dive someone had had the balls to slap a blinking hotel sign on and listened to Caleb go off on his sister’s life. Before leaving the house, he’d used the laptop that sat open and running on the bar in the main room and, like some sort of stalker, he’d Googled arrival times for flights coming into JFK from SeaTac. He’d dispatched one of their boys to the airport and had landed here at the curb after Alesio had texted the couple’s final destination. For reasons he refused to delve into, Vincente needed a look at the husband.

Just a look, to see what he was dealing with. Not that he’d be dealing, but whatever.

Anger simmered through him now at hearing about Nika’s restricted life. “What else are you doing about it, Paynne?”

Caleb’s voice over the line was a mix of pissed and more pissed. “I have Vex digging, like I said, but he’s coming up with bare bones. Nollan came from a messed-up family. Parents and brother dead. Haven’t found out how yet. Never married before. Rap sheet was nothing but petty crimes—theft, B&E, one charge of resisting arrest. But that doesn’t mean much. There could be shit he got away with.”

No doubt.
Vincente’s fingers itched to dial Maksim, their resident IT whiz who could hack anything. “Why don’t you just
take
her back?”
Like I would have done with my sister had I been able to find her.

“Tried that once. Went to Seattle a month after their Vegas quickie. I told her we were going for a drive and brought her straight to SeaTac. Planned on coming to New York and holing up with Vex until the storm passed. But, man, V, the look in her eyes. I thought it was a you’re-taking-me-from-my-man thing at first, but then she freaked out, started crying, begging me to take her back, said I was ruining everything. My sister isn’t a crier. Unless she sees an animal with something broken.” A familiar brotherly affection had entered his tone, layering over the heavy concern. “She’s the strongest woman I know. Or used to be. She’s different now. And that burns my ass. Lately she seems skittish. And tired. She made me swear on our parents’ memory that day out front of the airport that I’d leave things alone, and a dozen times after. I’m breaking those promises right now.”

Vincente’s anger bubbled at the thought of that beauty having anything to fear. Or any woman, for that matter. But something about this sitch was off. Way off. And he’d wasted nearly a month dicking around when he could have been doing something about it.

“What time are they going tonight?” To the wedding he was dreading as much as he was anticipating. Dreading, because he was giving away his best friend. Anticipating, because he was giving away his best friend to a woman who would take good care of him.

“She didn’t say, but probably a little before showtime, since she’s the maid of honor.”

“I’ll be watching.” He hung up and dialed again immediately.

“If I were to guess where you are right now, I’d have to say—”

“Cut the shit, Kirov,” he interrupted, not in the mood. Especially not to hear Maksim guess correctly. “I need you to work your IT magic. Find out what you can about a Kevin Nollan. Get a current addy from Eva. Dig deep.”

“Already have. Gabriel put me onto it a few weeks ago. Didn’t find anything but a rookie wannabe criminal. Had to put it on hold while I took care of some business, but I can get back to it now. What’s going on, brother?”

Vincente started the Kombat and pulled out into the slow-moving line of traffic. “Caleb Paynne called and asked . . . us . . . to give him a hand.” Maybe he’d get ridden a little less if he made it a group effort. As it was, the boys had caught on to his attraction to Eva’s friend when he hadn’t been able to hide it in Seattle. Which pissed him off. As if they were in high school or some shit. “Vex is on it but floundering. Paynne said something’s keeping her married, but it isn’t an Evabriel type of thing.” His lips quirked as he used the nickname Jak, Gabriel’s muscle who was still in Seattle, had coined for the couple.

Maks chuckled before promising, “If there’s something out there, I’ll find it.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Don’t have to thank me, V. Just tell me . . . You’re at her hotel, aren’t you?”

Ass. Hole.

Vincente disconnected the call to the sound of a deep, knowing laugh.

As he headed to St. John Cemetery for his weekly visit with Sophia, he really hoped whatever they found on Nollan wasn’t as bad as his instincts were telling him it might be.