An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) Page 6
“What’s happened, Sydney? Are you okay?”
“No, actually, I’m not,” she said, astounding him with her honesty. “I’d like to see you, if you can make the time. Not now,” she said quickly, “because I’m taking the rest of the night off, but maybe tomorrow? Would you meet with me?”
She hadn’t taken a night off in all the weeks he’d known her. And she sure as fuck had never requested a meet. “Time and place.” What was that clicking in the background? Was she pacing? If so, she’d changed into her requisite heels . . .
“Er, how about . . . the beach? Do you mind meeting me at Coney Island?”
“Coney Island?”
“Yes. I usually go there when I need some space,” she said, sounding defensive. “If you’d rather not make the drive—or have something against the sand and sea—I’d be happy to come to you.”
Seems you already have. “I have nothing against the beach,” he assured her, taking the slight snark in her tone as a good thing. She was still in enough of a good place to give him attitude. “Can you tell me what this is about?”
She sighed quietly. “I’d rather explain when I see you.”
“Okay. Are you in danger? Do you need me to send a couple of my boys over? Because it wouldn’t be a problem.”
The silence in his ear stretched. Even the sound of her pacing ceased.
“Sydney?”
“Yes?”
He frowned. “Do you need them?”
“No. Thank you, though. Sorry.” She laughed tightly. “That offer was . . . surprising, and very generous. But I think we’ll be okay tonight.”
“Fine,” he said, opening the door to the club and waving in a couple of the boys. “Are you finishing up now?”
“Yes. So you’ll meet me?”
“Hang on.” He pressed the phone to his thigh and instructed the boys to go hang out at Pant. “Keep your eyes and ears open for anything unusual.” He brought the phone back up as they left. “Sorry. I’ll meet you. At your odd choice of place for November. Are you a water baby?” he teased lightly, hoping to hear the strain leave her voice.
“Hmm.” The sound told him nothing, but then she added, “I suppose that’s only natural having grown up on the coast. You’ll be up later than I will tonight, so what time would work for you tomorrow?”
He stored another tidbit—she’d been raised in a coastal town—and impatiently wished the sun was rising as they spoke. But it was barely midnight. “I could get used to this accommodating side of you. I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”
“And you won’t often, so I hope you enjoy it.”
He laughed and leaned his back into the wall. “Ah, there you are. I knew you had to be in there somewhere.” He nodded at two of his girls as they teetered by on their stillies. “I’m not much of a sleeper, so how about we say midafternoon? On the boardwalk at the end of the concessions?”
“You know the place well,” she said, sounding surprised.
“My best friend is an MD in the emergency department of the hospital over there. I stop in to feel the sand between my toes when I can.”
“Really. Somehow I can’t picture it.”
“It’s true. And better yet, why don’t I swing by your place to pick you up, and we can drive out together?”
“That won’t work. I think it would be best if I meet you there.”
“You knew I’d try.”
Her wry laugh had him smiling. “Yes, I did.”
After a slight hesitation, her voice filtered so softly into his ear he barely heard her. Yet the words—no, the hope in her words—touched him deeper than anything had in a long time.
“Thank you, Maksim. I know I haven’t been very nice to you, so I appreciate even more that you’re willing to see me.”
Normally he’d have found himself shoving past the warm and fuzzies and bringing things back to where he was most comfortable. He might have mentioned a favorite sex position she could allow for their first time to show her gratitude. But, again, for some reason, he couldn’t go there. She’d stepped off that high horse of hers and reached out to him. That alone was cause for concern. The fact that she sounded so off and he now knew it had something to do with Morales, well, let’s just say he was chomping at the bit to get the story.
“Go upstairs and get some sleep, lover.” He pictured the enormous loft Sydney lived in above her club—one he knew by blueprint alone because, of course, he’d yet to be invited up. “You’ll see come morning that nothing is ever as bad as it seems when the dark of night is closing around you.”
“Right,” she all but whispered. “See you tomorrow, Russia.”
Maks ended the call and let his arm fall to his side. What the fuck? He was pretty sure he’d never been more curious about anything in his life. Was she requesting this meeting . . . ?
His head jerked up. Speaking of meetings. Shit.
He went back into the club and hid a cringe when he saw Luiz Morales already settled at the large corner booth—the table of which had been removed so no weapons could be drawn without being seen. Tucking his and Sydney’s conversation away to dissect later, Maks came on the scene with a nod to the Mexican and settled next to Vasily. Micha stood behind them, an arm’s length away, and Alekzander Tarasov had shown while he’d been gone and was now at his uncle’s right. Vincente materialized, then, like the Reaper he was named after, and settled into a ready prop against the mirrored wall a few feet over. Shit. Maks had forgotten V had said he was stopping by because he had a meeting in the area with his NYPD contact. Good timing, though. Having the Reaper around was always beneficial when one wanted to make an impression. Vincente glanced at the Tag wrapped around his thick tattooed wrist, his long black hair skimming the cuff of his leather duster. He looked relaxed, almost bored, but that was bullshit and they all knew it.
Focusing, Maks observed Luiz lazily checking out the waitress handing him his drink.
“Thank you, chica,” he drawled, tucking a bill up the leg of her fitted black boy-shorts rather than handing it to her. Such disrespect.
Asshole. Maks relaxed his curling fists. He might make a healthy living running a club many considered offensive—though why they would he had no idea. He didn’t run whores. Not one bared pussy had ever been flashed. No one had sex on the premises—other than him. And his girls were treated well. Everyone had their reasons for doing what they did in life, and the women who worked for him were no different. Hell, most of them had a child or two they were attempting to raise in situations not ideal, and he respected the fuck out of them for that. Sure, he’d sampled one or twenty over the years, but only when that green light flashed to let him know the interest was there. He’d never treated them as nothing more than pieces of ass, even the ones who saw themselves as such.
Needless to say, he wasn’t fond of watching men like Morales degrade his female employees.
“So, Luiz,” Vasily began, getting right to the point of the visit. “What can I do for you?”
“As I mentioned on the phone, I’d like to discuss the owner of Pant.”
“Sydney Martin,” Vasily clarified.
Luiz nodded. “I’m looking for permission to engage Ms. Martin regarding a business deal we’re involved in. She has . . . been lax in her agreed-upon duties, and I’d like to address that without your organization getting involved on her behalf.”
Vasily swirled his glass. “As you know, the practice of having surrounding businesses under our thumb isn’t what it used to be. But Sydney and her club are most definitely under our protection. For me to grant you this permission, your reasons would have to be considered valid.”
“I understand,” Luiz said, his expression not as amiable as it had been only seconds ago. “Ms. Martin and I have been in business for a year. It was a satisfactory relationship, until not long ago when one of my associates went in
to her club and requested product.” He paused to flip his phone up when it lit up around the edges. It was resting facedown on the top of his thigh.
Maks wanted to reach across the open space between them and smash his fist into the guy’s face for making them wait even seconds for more details. “Your buddy hit a snag?” he couldn’t help but prod, too impatient to be cordial.
Luiz replaced the phone and looked up. “More like a roadblock. He was told there was no product to be bought and he’d have to go elsewhere.”
“She’d sold out?” Vasily questioned.
The Mexican pursed his lips and shook his head. “A new delivery had been made two days prior. There was no possible way she’d unloaded all I sent her within forty-eight hours. Even my people would struggle to pull that off.”
A sinking feeling played in Maks’s gut and he was relieved when Vasily gave him a subtle nod to join in. He did. “Why do you think she refused to sell to him? Maybe he was already tanked, and she was attempting to avoid trouble in her club.”
“Oh, she didn’t just refuse to sell to him.” Luiz’s tone was still mildly pleasant, but an edge had crept in to show he was more bothered by the situation than he was letting on. And Maks understood why. If Sydney had played him and Luiz had fallen for it . . . Shit. What the hell was she thinking? “She’s refused to sell to every other buyer I’ve sent in over the past weeks. And I’ve sent in the gamut—men, women, black, white, Asian. She’s no racist, since none have come out happy. She just isn’t selling at all.” Another pause. “This is why I don’t normally go into deals such as this. But my brother had a personal interest in Ms. Martin’s request, so I acquiesced as a favor to him.” He indicated the goon staring around the club through stringy black hair. Was the guy aware that by standing so close to Luiz he was impeding any quick exit the drug lord might need to make? Three other men stood a few yards away; one of them was paying more attention to the way one of Maksim’s dancers bent at the waist at that perfect angle than to the meeting that could go horribly wrong at any moment.
“And you’re assuming what in this situation, Luiz?” Vasily asked, coming back into the conversation. “You think she’s been buying large amounts of product from you and . . . destroying it? Why not selling it elsewhere?”
“Nothing has shown up on the streets in or around her neighborhood. And even if that’s what she’s doing, that wasn’t the deal we made.”
Doing his best to hide the fact that the size of Sydney’s balls impressed him, Maks tried again. “Maybe she’s exporting.”
Vasily nodded at the suggestion. It was a possibility. Morales seemed to think so, too. “I hadn’t thought of that,” the dealer said, clearly thinking it now. After a few tense seconds, he shrugged. “But, again, that wasn’t our deal. In which case you must see a punishment for her gall is warranted. Do I have clearance to proceed?”
Maks had been rubbing hard at the worn metal key he’d carried around with him since he was fourteen, but the motion stopped with that question. Punish Sydney? His tiny Aussie? That had better be met with a resounding not-on-your-fucking-life.
“I’m sure you understand why I can’t give you an answer immediately. I’ll need a day or two to look into this.” Vasily got to his feet, signifying the end of the meeting. “I’ll get back to you before the weekend with a solution I’m sure we can all live with.”
Luiz stood, as well. “I don’t see the point in you doing a separate investigation, Vasily. I’ve been quite thorough—believe me. When it comes to business, I don’t do things halfway. Regardless what she is doing with my product, this woman reneged on our very magnanimous deal, and I feel I have every right to show her the error of her ways.”
Feeling brutally impotent, Maksim looked to his Pakhan and waited for another negative to be handed off. No fucking way would Vasily allow this degenerate drug peddler anywhere near Sydney. Jesus Christ, all he could think was what if Morales hadn’t approached them before going after her? What if they’d simply snatched her? Maksim never would have seen her again. Even in his mind he couldn’t go anywhere near what might have been done to her before they eventually killed her.
“Who initiated between the two of you?” he asked, needing as many facts as he could get directly from the source.
Luiz looked to him, his expression clearing somewhat, as though sensing an ally. Idiot.
“She did. She traveled the proper channels—went through a trapper, was put onto one of my managers. He talked to Eberto, who in turn came to me personally. When I heard how much product would move through her club, I eventually met with her myself. Have you had the pleasure?”
Had he had the pleasure? “I have, yes,” Maks said blandly, giving nothing away.
“She’s quite something, isn’t she? I doubt I’d make her hurt much for her sins. Maybe just a few tears. I’ll certainly enjoy giving her the opportunity to mollify me. As you’ve seen, she’s more than equipped.”
Around the black look he and Vincente exchanged, Maks talked himself down as fast as he fucking could. It’s business. I have to think of Vasily. He doesn’t need to deal with any fallout created by personal reactions. What if he finally decides I do cause too much unnecessary strife and cuts me loose? This isn’t worth that. It’s business. Sydney Martin is just another woman I plan on fucking before moving on. He paused as something about that had his conscience wagging a finger at him. None of this matters in the big picture. I’m enjoying the chase because having her give in, having her submit to me, will mean I won. Nothing more. She’s not worth losing my head or my family over.
Only seconds had passed, and as he imagined taking Morales to the ground and bludgeoning the Mexican with his eager fists, blood running, skin splitting, teeth coming loose as cartilage and bone was rearranged, Maks calmly pocketed his key. Once he was sure he wasn’t going to erupt, he said, “Would you outline the deal you two made so that we’re clear on your understanding of it?”
“Of course. It was very simple. I would be the sole supplier to her patrons, while she and her staff would handle distribution. All I had to do was deliver the product and keep other suppliers away.”
“Indefinite time period?”
“We’d agreed to reconvene after one year to discuss any changes to our agreement.”
“When is that meeting to take place?”
“It already has. I dropped in to see her before arriving here tonight.”
Which was why Sydney had called him, Maks thought, grateful for another puzzle piece. “And how did that go down?”
“As expected.”
Vague and annoying. “Did she renew?”
“She will.”
Maks nodded and moved over to join Vincente. He’d heard enough.
“You’re blushing, brother,” the Reaper muttered under his breath with no change to his apathetic expression.
“Suck it, asshole,” he returned just as quietly.
“I’ll get back to you with an answer soon, Luiz,” Vasily said. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention before acting on it.”
As Micha and Alek saw the unhappy group out, Maks brought Vincente and Vasily back to his office. The minute the door closed, Vasily was falling to his ass on the leather couch, cursing in Russian. V got every word because he and the fourth that made up their tight group, Gabriel Moretti, who was no doubt at home curled around his new bride, spoke the language almost as well as the Russians did.
“Did that fucking jack-off seriously just request permission to ruin a young woman?” Vasily growled from behind a hard face-scrub.
Maks didn’t say shit. He went around and sat in the chair behind his desk, movements subdued as he tried not to draw attention to himself. What if Vasily handed this over to one of their other guys?
“You heading over there?”
He glared up at Vincente, the fucking big mouth. “No.”
> V’s dark brows popped up. “No?”
“Why?” Vasily asked, leaning to the side so he could see Maks around Vincente’s bulk. He looked as suspicious as the Reaper did.
“She took the night off. I’m meeting her at Coney Island tomorrow. That was the call I received before Morales showed.”
Vasily got up and came to stand in front of his desk, his eyes hooded. “That would have been minutes after Morales left her. She must have been spooked. Was she requesting help from you? Or from us?”
Maks shrugged and shoved a couple of pens off to the side of a newly drawn-up liquor order Micha must have left behind. “I won’t know until I talk to her tomorrow.”
“You know this puts a crimp in your other plans for her, don’t you, son?”
Slowly he raised his eyes to the man standing before him. He took his time because he didn’t want the resentment he was feeling to show through in his stare. “I don’t see that one has anything to do with the other.” He was about to get shut down. He knew it.
“There’s business, and there’s pleasure, and never the two shall meet,” Vasily reiterated when he didn’t have to. “But you know that.” He settled back on his heels and crossed his arms over his wide chest, his casual outfit of black slacks and indigo dress shirt looking smart even without a jacket. “It might be best if we assign this to someone else.”
The axe fell, and everything inside Maksim protested it. He shoved to his feet. “Absolutely not.” He leaned his closed fists on the desk and came in, but not too close. He wanted to be taken seriously but didn’t want to appear aggressive. “I will handle this for her. No one else. I will do so by the book and with the same amount of professionalism you’d show. I won’t make it personal. I swear. I won’t fuck her even if she begs me. Don’t take me off this one, Vasily.”
The WTF on Vincente’s and his Pakhan’s faces should have been amusing. It wasn’t, because Maks was in the same place. What the fuck was he doing?