An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) Read online

  A knock on his office door had Maks barking out an order to enter.

  One of his dancers stuck her head in, a beautiful redhead with green eyes who never failed to remind him of Nika. “Hey, boss. Micha sent me back to see if you need anything.”

  Her open smile let him know she was up for whatever that might be. Fucking Micha. Maks was tempted to give her a morbidly violent message for his boy that she’d be terrified to relay. “No, thanks, doll. I’m all set.”

  “Okay. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

  He nodded, knowing it would never happen. Not with her. Aside from her resemblance to Nika, lately he—alarmingly—couldn’t dredge up the interest. Though, one of his blondes had caught his eye a few weeks back, and he’d let her know it. All over the girls’ large dressing room, he’d proven his interest. She’d left the following morning, smiling brighter than ever.

  “When is Melanie back?” he asked before the door could close all the way.

  “I heard talk that the play was picked up for another run, so I guess she’ll be gone four months rather than her originally scheduled two.”

  “Thanks,” he said absently. He didn’t hear the door close.

  Two months? He hadn’t fucked a woman in two months?

  How the fuck had that happened? Sure he’d been chasing Sydney’s tail, and he’d been hanging out at home more often than normal. Watching from the shadows as things in his family once again settled into another version of “normal.” First with Gabriel returning from Seattle, Eva in tow. Now Nika joining Vincente.

  His family was growing. And he liked it. The female additions brought a new warmth to their home, and everyone was benefiting.

  The day he’d met Vasily, Maksim had been given something more than his freedom. He’d been given the chance to know trust again. To learn what loyalty was. To feel a part of a unit. For some reason, rather than set him free as he’d done with the others in the cells next to his, Vasily had taken Maks under his wing. Still coming into his own within the organization, the new leader had nevertheless gone through the trouble of bringing Maks back to the States, had put him in school, given him a home and friends. Vasily had given him a life. And Maks still didn’t know why. But he was grateful. Humbled and so grateful, and he valued the family he had now above all else. Would forever protect and be loyal to the ones who had accepted and embraced him simply because they were good people—despite what the majority thought.

  Problem was, he sometimes felt insecure about his place with them. He was intelligent enough to know the reason for that was his past—he’d struggled as a child to find acceptance from his own father to no avail. But even knowing the whys, it still fucked with his head. He couldn’t stop wondering lately: Had Nika died from her injuries, would everyone still be calling it an accident? Would they be as forgiving? Would Vincente hate him, and would Gabriel and Alek, and then Vasily, have followed suit?

  “Fuuuck,” he groaned, throwing his arms above his head to stretch out the sudden tension tightening up his back and neck. “I need to get laid.”

  He got up and had just rounded his desk when his office door opened and Vasily walked in, his usual byki—bodyguards—flanking each shoulder. Dmitri and another remained in the hallway, offering Maks a respectful nod of greeting before closing the door. Vasily had his cell pressed to his ear and was coughing up a storm. But it was one of those fake I’m-stalling coughs that had Maks on high alert. With raindrops glistening in his black hair, his Pakhan gave him a dark you’re-not-going-to-like-this look and pointed to one of the toys on his long table of tech.

  Without delay, Maks went over and switched the requested item on so that when Vasily plugged his phone into it, they were both able to hear the caller over a small speaker that sat next to one of four keyboards.

  “Excuse me, Luiz,” Vasily said after one final loud throat clearing. He grabbed a pen and wrote down Morales on the legal pad in front of him. “My drink took the wrong path. Please continue.”

  Maks frowned. Luiz Morales? The Mexican drug dealer? What business could he have with us? Running in the circles they did, they were bound to deal with the same faces enough to consider certain individuals acquaintances. Rarely friends. Because most wouldn’t hesitate to step over another’s bleeding body in order to save themselves. Luiz Morales, until he proved otherwise, was one of those. Maks listened closely.

  “Not at all, Vasily,” Luiz said smoothly, his accent faint but still there. “As I was saying, since she’s in your neighborhood, I thought I’d follow the proper channels so there would be no confusion. I’d like to meet with you to discuss her if you have some time tonight. It shouldn’t take long.”

  Her? Curiosity had Maks mouthing, “Who?”

  Had he been a dog, his hackles would have risen with a fucking vengeance when he saw where Vasily pointed the tip of his pen. Since he wasn’t, his body contented itself with the very human reaction of splashing a load of adrenaline into his system when the ballpoint landed on the computer monitor that had the website for Club Pant splashed across the screen.

  Sydney? Luiz Morales, a known drug lord, had called Vasily and wanted to meet so they could talk about Sydney?

  The fear that had flashed in her amethyst eyes earlier went through his mind, and Maks had to straighten and take a step back in case he couldn’t control the odious threats now pounding through his head, struggling for airtime. Rather than warn this fuck to back off, he shut his mouth and listened as Vasily spoke.

  “What’s your issue with Ms. Martin?”

  “That isn’t something I’m willing to get into over the phone,” Luiz replied. “You understand.”

  “Yes, of course,” Vasily allowed, sounding gracious. Which was why he was Pakhan. Guy was accommodating and amicable even in the hairiest of situations. Kept his cool and got exactly what he wanted in the end. Every time. “Would you mind coming to Rapture?”

  “Certainly. I’ll just finish up here and then head over. I should be there within the hour.”

  Vasily ended the call and seemed to brace himself before turning around. Their eyes met, and Maks waited, not sure how much of what he was feeling he wanted to give away.

  “We all know about your visits to her club, so I’m assuming you’re feeling a little territorial here.”

  “What the fuck does he want with her?” The words exploded from him.

  Vasily’s lip quirked as he brought his hands up to rub at his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He’d just gotten into town from a hush-hush job and looked tired. “We’ll know soon enough.”

  Yes. They would. Maks pulled over a keyboard and typed in the Mexican’s name, pointing to a monitor so Vasily would know which he was using. They spent some time reading a shit-ton of information that touted Morales as being one of the most successful drug and arms dealers in the world today. Stupid government officials. Didn’t they know yet that the most successful were the ones they had no clue existed?

  Settling back, Maks withdrew his phone and debated. Should he call Sydney now? Or wait until he had some facts he could use to lure her into talking to him? He slid the cell back into his pocket. He’d wait. And rather than call, he’d head over to her place.

  She couldn’t hang up on him if he was standing in front of her.

  Having had enough of climbing the walls of her office, Sydney was now trolling the club. She stopped to chat with a few of her staff members. Played the role of gracious hostess with a couple of celebrities in town for a big comedy show at Madison Square Garden. Declined the offer of a drink and excused herself when one of them got that look in his eye. Then she stood off to the side in an area that overlooked the dance floor and the raised, spotlit DJ booth beyond.

  The guest DJ she’d brought in was in his element. Sydney watched and listened as he spun and mixed, bringing his audience up . . . up . . . up; then he dropped the bea
t, and the crowd as a whole began to bounce, arms raised as each person jumped in unison to the pounding bass. So cool how one man held the strings to hundreds of puppets with a simple sound system, she thought, smiling.

  She turned to go in search of her next distraction and felt her stomach land with a splat on her Manolos.

  Luiz Morales came right up to her, invading her personal space as though he had every right to it. He nodded a greeting as she stepped back against the railing behind her. He wasn’t a tall man, but neither was he short. Wasn’t handsome but not ugly. He was average. Dark hair, dark eyes, bronzed skin. He must shop at the same place Maksim did, she thought, eyeing his suit. She looked beyond him and saw his spooky brother whom she’d just left a couple of hours ago. Three other men, clearly armed and dangerous, were spaced evenly behind Eberto in a protective half circle.

  Fuck.

  “Ms. Martin.” Luiz smiled. She put her hand in his offered palm and held her smile by sheer force of will while he brought it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “Forgive me for not making an appointment, but I had some time and thought we might talk.”

  Her throat feeling swollen, Sydney played her role and did her best to appear as unaffected by his appearance as she could. “Of course, Luiz. How are you? I wasn’t expecting to meet with you for a couple of weeks yet.”

  His smile grew until a chipped fang—er, tooth—flashed, making him look sharkish. “As I said, I had some time.”

  She nodded and withdrew her hand so she could beckon him to follow. She led the way to an empty corner that was roped off. The sprawling booth would be used by other high-profile guests if any showed, but for now she’d take advantage of the privacy it afforded without having her completely cut off from help if she needed it.

  “Please, sit,” she offered, taking one of the singles so she wouldn’t have to sit hip-to-hip with any of them. The three goons stayed a respectable distance behind her while Luiz and his brother relaxed on the gray leather. “Can I get either of you a drink?”

  Luiz shook his head. “Thank you, but we can’t stay long. I have an important meeting to get to.” He sat forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. He leaned to the side and caught her eye, holding it as he said, “I wanted to feel you out. Ask you how our arrangement has been working for you.”

  “It’s been fine,” she said, sticking with short decisive answers. “I’ve had no problems.”

  “And will we continue as-is for another year?”

  Oh, fuck. She forced herself not to jump to her feet and run. Right now? Here? They were going to do this here? She took an inconspicuous breath to combat the dizziness swirling through her head and leaned forward to copy his stance, hoping to appear as at ease as he did.

  “As much as I appreciate the professionalism your organization has shown, Luiz, I’ve decided not to renew our deal.” She pretended not to see how his expression cooled and went on with what she’d practiced. “Not for any other reason than I’ve simply found having to satisfying my customers’ extended needs much too time-consuming.” And she zipped it.

  His stare didn’t waver, and she made sure hers didn’t either. “That’s very disappointing, Ms. Martin,” he said after what had to have been a full minute that caused a bead of sweat to trickle between her breasts. “A foolish decision on your part. One I’d hoped you wouldn’t make.” He stood.

  She did the same, mainly so her face wouldn’t be at crotch level when he stepped into her, which he did. His hand clamped onto her ribs in a surprisingly strong hold that made her gasp, and he drew her against him. Loath to make a scene unless it was completely necessary, she allowed it and prayed he couldn’t feel the deep tremble spreading through her body. He has too much to lose by killing me in front of all these people, she assured herself.

  “There was no need for you to stand for me, Sydney,” he said into her ear, using her first name for the first time. “In fact, on your knees—or your back—is where you’ll be spending most of your time while in my presence over the next while, so you should get used to it.”

  Anger surged inside her, joining the terror. She tried to jerk away from him, but he held fast, bringing his other arm around to pull her tight against the length of his body. She looked up and wanted to shrink back from the malevolence staring down at her. She didn’t. Instead she injected every ounce of loathing she felt for bullies like him into her expression and opened it up for him to see.

  “Let me go, Luiz,” she demanded. “You have no right to touch me without—”

  “I have every right, chica,” he interrupted. His next words made the hair on her nape stand straight up. “And you know why. After I iron out a few details, you’ll be mine for the foreseeable future. I want smiles and lenience the next time we’re together. If I don’t get that, you’ll be very regretful come morning.”

  Fuck him. She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

  “Boss? You need a hand?”

  She looked behind her to see her most trusted bouncers ready to intercede, their tightly muscled bodies straining, hard faces wearing identical expressions of give-us-the-word.

  “Do I, Luiz?” she said, turning back, hoping to shame a man she wasn’t sure had much of a conscience. “Do I really need my staff involved in this?” Please say no. She didn’t want either of her boys hurt. She couldn’t see Eberto and the three bodyguards playing fair, not with those bulges in their jackets. Again, were they brave enough to draw a weapon in an arena so public, where hundreds of witnesses were milling with their hundreds of cell phones?

  “No. Not this time.” She was released. But not before having to suffer a firm caress down her ribs and over her hip. “I’ll be in touch, chica,” Luiz promised before tipping his head at Eberto, who gave her a slick wink before following his brother out.

  Her bouncers came to her side as she watched the group leave, the dread she’d been living with for weeks now realized. The only saving grace was that Luiz hadn’t mentioned Andrew as Eberto had earlier. But maybe he was saving that for when she really put up a fight.

  “You okay, Sydney? Why didn’t you call us?”

  She sank down on the stool and blinked when a dark gaze nestled within a smooth cocoa complexion came down with her. Jerome, the chattier of the pair and one of her only key-holders, squatted in front of her. She forced herself to nod. Would she ever be okay again?

  “Is there anyone I can call for you?”

  She ran her hands down her arms to ward off the chill stealing over her. The tattoo on the inside of her wrist caught her eye. It was a baby elephant with eyes the color of hers and Andrew’s. He was sitting on his hind legs as a puppy would, his trunk raised with an offering: his heart. She’d had it done as soon as she’d stopped breast-feeding, when Andrew was almost a year old. She had others, but they weren’t visible unless she was in a bathing suit.

  Reminded of what she had to protect, she brought to mind an image of her would-be savior and she nodded at the question. “Yes, Jerome.” She patted his shoulder and rose on shaky legs. “I do have someone to call.” She went to walk away but paused to look between the two of them. “Thank you, guys, for—”

  “Doing our job,” Jerome finished for her as he straightened to his full intimidating height. “No thanks necessary. We’ll keep an eye and let you know if they come back tonight. Should we expect them?”

  “I hope not. Actually, after I make my call I’m going upstairs. But I’ll leave my cell on. You guys are okay to close up?”

  They both nodded around insulted looks, and that made her smile a little. Grateful she had them at her back, she gave each a hug before aiming for the exposed grated staircase that led up to her office. Once closed into the secure room, she found she was able to breathe a little easier. She pulled her cell out and went over to sit on the edge of the sofa as she scrolled through her contacts. Maksim had left his card behind on his ev
ery visit in the past weeks, and she’d finally caved and entered the number he’d scrawled on the back into her phone. Now she was glad she had.

  Too jittery to sit, she got up again and began pacing as she pressed “Send.” The ringing in her ear was similar to what she thought a death knell might sound like, because she truly didn’t know if she was stepping out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  CHAPTER 3

  Having prepared for their visitor as best they could, Maks stood next to the booth they’d altered and surveyed the club. He wasn’t sure whether to be glad the place was packed with witnesses or not.

  He looked at his Breitling as his cell went off and wondered what was keeping Morales. His tardiness was bordering on disrespectful, he thought as he checked the screen to see a private number displayed.

  “Yeah.”

  The feminine clearing of a throat had him pressing his phone harder against his ear.

  “Russia?”

  A ripple of awareness passed over his scalp and traveled down his entire body, leaving the hair on his arms and legs tingling. Seriously? He shook his head to clear it of the disbelief the reaction caused. “Australia?”

  “I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time . . . ?”

  His radar didn’t beep at the uncharacteristic tension in her voice. The fucker screamed long and loud, as though a tsunami had just been spotted on the horizon and was closing in fast. He moved around Vasily, who gave him a curious look, and traveled through the club and into the back hallway so he could hear better. “You’re not. Though I will admit I’m surprised to hear from you.” Somehow, coming back with a snide comment about missing him already didn’t seem fitting.

  “I’m sure.” She cleared her throat again.

  Almost every time they spoke, even though she placed herself on the defensive, she always deflected his come-ons with ease, and most times with a witty humor he couldn’t help but appreciate. Right then she sounded serious. Hesitant and uneasy, even. Vulnerable. And didn’t that draw out his monsters. The fuckers roared to the surface, ready to do battle on her behalf without so much as an explanation.