NIKOLAI (Her Russian Protector, Book Four)
By Roxie Rivera
Copyright © 2013 by Roxie Rivera
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed

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Table of Contents

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Author's Note
Roxie's Backlist

Chapter One

With a sharp inhale, I bolted awake. Blinking rapidly, I tried to clear my fuzzy,

panicked thoughts. I wiped a shaking hand down my face and shoved up into a sitting
position. Still confused from the nightmare, I frantically searched the bedroom until my
gaze landed on the nightlight near the door.

It was the same dream that had plagued me since the night I'd been shot. Nearly

eleven years had passed since that awful April night but the memories were still so real,
still so raw. I rubbed the spots on my chest and belly that ached with the phantom pains
of bullets ripping through my flesh.

My gaze jumped to the doorway and I half expected Lena to come running into my

room to check on me. Even though she'd been officially out of the apartment for a week, I
still hadn't adjusted to her absence. After living together for so long, it was going to take
some time for me to get used to being alone again.

Certain I wouldn't be able to sleep, I glanced at the clock. It was a bit early to start my

morning run but I couldn't sit here in this quiet, empty apartment with my troubled
thoughts. I switched off my alarm, slipped out of bed and went through my morning
routine.

A quick peek out the window helped me choose my running gear. Though the streets

were dry now, the Houston weather could change without waning. I made sure to wear
layers because of the late December chill and chose a thin rain jacket with reflective tape
on the sleeves and back.

With my hair pulled into a high ponytail and ear warmers snugly in place, I pocketed

my MP3 player and headed for the kitchen. My gaze lingered on the box sitting on the
kitchen table. I'd found bits and pieces of Lena's stuff since she'd packed up and left.
When she returned from her winter vacation with Yuri, I'd make sure she got it.

I snatched up my keys and cell phone and tucked them into my pocket. Thumbing

through the playlists on my iPod, I picked a mix of alternative and electronica and
slipped my ear buds into place. My MP3 player fit neatly into the pouch on my ear
warmers.

Out in the cold morning, I stretched my arms overheard and yawned a few times. I

adjusted the volume of my music before jogging down the sidewalk and across the
parking lot. I wasn't at all surprised when two headlights popped on and a silver SUV
eased out of a guest spot. I rolled my eyes in annoyance but waved at the poor guy
Nikolai had forced to babysit me today.

Such were the "perks" of having a Russian mobster as a guardian. Though I loathed

being followed every minute of the day, I understood why I had that SUV shadowing me
along my run. I'd hoped things would go back to normal for me after Lena and Yuri
survived their harrowing brush with death and the Guzman Cartel had let her father go
but it wasn't to be.

In the last week, word had reached Nikolai that my incarcerated father's impending

release had been bumped up. Not knowing the exact date of his release left me on edge.
Even more troubling for me? No one knew how he'd managed to get early release from
the pen. A man like my father wasn't going to earn release for good behavior. Just
thinking about what he might have done to get popped from lockup made my stomach
sour. Deep down inside, I knew he'd find a way to drag me back down into the shit with
him.

As my feet pounded the familiar three-mile path, I let my mind wander. Lately, my

thoughts seemed to always circle back to Nikolai. Our odd relationship was one that few
people could understand. From the moment he'd appeared in my life that terrible April
night nearly eleven years earlier, we'd been forever entangled.

My chest tightened as I remembered the stupid thing I'd done. So desperate to be

loved by my loser father, I'd let him talk me into helping him break into a house. He'd
sworn the owners were out of town and that we were simply going to take some jewelry
and money from a safe. Then he'd take me away from Houston, away from the
grandparents who were suffocating me and keeping me away from him, and off to a new
life where we'd be happy.

Looking back, I couldn't believe I'd been that gullible. Even at the tender age of eleven,

I should have known better. Hell, maybe I had known better but I'd been so emotionally
damaged by the suicide of my mother that I didn't care. I just desperately needed to
believe that one of my parents loved me enough to want me.

But the house we'd broken into wasn't empty at all. Someone had been sleeping there.

Someone with a gun. Someone with very good aim. Someone who shot me while I tried
to flee out a second-story window with a hoodie stuffed with jewelry and cash while my
father ran out the back door.

My gut lurched as the memory of the free fall from that window hit me hard. I jogged

in place at an intersection and tried to get a grip on my wild emotions. Breathe. Just
breathe

.

Glancing both ways, I crossed the intersection and hopped onto the curb. The

tightness in my chest eased as I remembered the way Nikolai had saved my life. While
my rotten, cowardly father had fled the scene, Nikolai and some of the neighbors had
been awakened by the gunshots. He'd knelt at my side, cradling my head with one hand
and pressing a wadded up towel to my bleeding belly and chest with the other until the
paramedics and police had arrived.

Later, when I'd woken up in the hospital, I'd learned that Nikolai and my

grandparents actually knew each other from back in Russia. From that point forward,
he'd been a shadowy character in the background of my life. It wasn't until my
grandmother suddenly passed during my senior year of high school and my grandfather
succumbed to an aggressive case of early-onset Alzheimer's that Nikolai stepped out of
those shadows and offered his help and friendship.

Generally, people made one of two assumptions when it came to our curious

relationship. They assumed Nikolai had taken on the role of my father figure after my
own had been thrown in the federal pen.

He hadn't.

Or, they assumed our relationship had some kind of sordid, twisted sexual

component.

It absolutely didn't.
The truth was rather simple. Nikolai was my guardian. Not in the legal sense, of

course, but in a broader sense. He watched out for me. He kept the heat of my father's
connections with the Guzman Cartel and that wretched motorcycle gang he ran with off
my back.

When I'd needed a job, he'd offered me a spot as a waitress at Samovar, the extremely

successful restaurant he owned. The few times I'd run into problems with my college
tuition or health insurance premiums, he'd taken care of it without me even having to
ask. How he always knew when I needed help remained a mystery to me.

Looking back, I recognized he'd silently interceded on my behalf on numerous

occasions. It was clear to me now that Nikolai had been the source of the funding for my
private high school tuition. He'd been the one who paid for my grandfather's medical
care and nursing home expenses. He'd even arranged both of my grandparents' funerals.

Other men would have held those acts of kindness and charity over my head or used

them to exploit or take advantage of me—but not Nikolai. He'd always kept me at an
arm's length, always ensuring that my honor remained intact and that our friendship was
beyond reproach.

And it drove me crazy.
I wanted to be wrapped up in his strong arms, not constantly held at bay. Though I

wasn't brave enough to come right out and tell him how I felt, I was absolutely certain he
understood that my childish crush had grown into something deeper, something more
real. Sometimes he looked me and I swore I could see the same longing reflected in his
green eyes.

But, just as quickly as the flash of need appeared, it would vanish, and I'd be left

doubting myself. Maybe it was merely a case of wishful thinking on my part. Not
wanting to make a complete jackass of myself, I'd continued to cling only to the closeness
of our friendship without ever daring to take a step across the line. The last thing I
wanted was to drive him away—because I needed him.

Of all the people in the world, Nikolai was among the very few who could truly

understand my history and how far I'd come in life. My best friend, Lena, came very
close, but even she had been spared the very worst horrors in her childhood. While she'd
witnessed gang violence and drug dealing and had been abandoned by her mother, she'd
always had one parent—her father—who loved her.

But me? I'd had no one.
My mother's untreated mental illness left her incapable of loving or caring for me.

When she wasn't abusing me, she ignored me completely, often going days without even
feeding me. My father had been a little better when he was around but that wasn't often.
He'd been in and out of prison or running around with the miscreants in the Calaveras
motorcycle gang for most of my childhood.

I hadn't known kindness or love until my mother's parents had taken custody of me.

Though they were strict disciplinarians, they'd showered me with real love. As

emotionally broken as I'd been when I'd come into their home, I'd rebelled and fought
them every step of the way. It wasn't until I'd escaped my brush with death that I'd
woken the hell up and realized how incredibly lucky I was to have two people willing to
fight so hard for me.

Nikolai understood what it was like to be abandoned by his parents. He understood

what it was like to be hurt and neglected by the people who were supposed to love and
care for him. He knew only too well what it felt like to have that gaping, raw hole of pain
swirling in the pit of his stomach.

When waiting tables at Samovar, I'd watch the happy families enjoying a Saturday

night dinner with such envy. Though I'd finally known happiness and security and
contentment as a teenager, I'd spent the most impressionable and vulnerable years of my
life aching for love and comfort. To see smiling fathers feeding their toddlers and
mothers coloring with their preschoolers while they waited for their meals left me
feeling so empty.

Sometimes I'd catch Nikolai watching me. We'd share a silent look. Nothing had to be

said. It was as if we both instinctively understood what the other felt—yet he insisted on
shutting me out and keeping just outside that icy wall he'd erected around himself.

For years, Lena and Erin encouraged me to let my infatuation with Nikolai go. They

assumed my attraction toward Nikolai stemmed from those old feelings of hero worship
but they were dead wrong. It wasn't simply the allure of a dangerous, mercurial,
mysterious older man that drew me toward him. No, it was so much more than that.

After meeting Ivan and falling head over heels in such an intense, short period of

time, Erin seemed to have finally grasped what I was always trying to explain. She'd
stopped harping on my unrequited love toward him. Lena's new relationship with Yuri,
another of Nikolai's friends, had softened her opinion of my untenable position.

They'd finally stopped trying to set me up on dates with nicer guys. Don’t get me

wrong. More often than not, I had a fantastic time on the dates. I'd been blessed with
good luck in the dating game. Though I'd had a couple of dates during my freshman year
of college that probably qualified for Worst Date Ever awards, I'd mostly enjoyed myself.

But I'd never felt that spark. The goodnight kisses were less than exciting and I rarely

got asked for a second or third date. Nikolai had ruined me for anyone else. Though it
sounded incredibly melodramatic, I realized that it was Nikolai or nothing for me.

Making the final turn toward my apartment complex, I shoved aside my dreary

thoughts and glanced at my watch. I'd made good time this morning. Despite running
competitively in high school, I hadn't possessed the drive or the inclination to try it in
college. I'd accepted the art and language scholarships instead but found a park-based
running club to keep me in shape.

As I jogged through the gate of the complex, I glanced over my shoulder to see that

silver SUV still following me. It was still too dark for me to identify the driver clearly.
From the size of the man sitting behind the wheel, I guessed it was Sergei, one of
Nikolai's enforcers. The bear-sized Russian spent at least one Saturday night a month in
no-holds barred bare-knuckle fighting matches. After Ivan had retired and bought his
way out of the mob, Sergei had taken Ivan's place as Nikolai's champion. If I had to have

a shadow, I supposed it was best to have the meanest son of a bitch in Houston trailing
me.

After a slow cool-down lap around the complex and a couple of stretches to ease the

tightness in my calves and back, I started down the sidewalk to my apartment. I slipped
my hand into my jacket to retrieve my keys. With M83 blaring in my ears, I didn't hear
the footsteps behind me until it was too late.

The moment a hand touched my shoulder, I freaked out, spun around and

instinctively punched my would-be assailant right in the mouth. "Get away from me!"

A second too late, I realized I'd just clocked Eric, my cousin and a Houston PD

detective. Eyes wide with surprise, he clamped a hand to his bloodied mouth and
staggered backward. I jerked on the cord attached to my ear buds, freeing them in time to
hear him shouting at me. "Damn it, Vivian! Do you have keys in your hand?"

I glanced down at the bloody silver keys clamped in my fingers. My hand ached badly

from the impact, but I ignored it, thinking only of the damage I'd done to Eric.

"I'm sorry!" I rushed forward and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Are you

okay? Is it bad?"

He lowered his hand and tipped his head back. Thin streams of blood curved along his

jaw and dripped onto his shirt. "I've had worse."

I hurried to my front door and unlocked it. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."
As he followed me into the apartment, he started laughing. "The guys at the station

are never going to let me live this one down. I just got my ass whipped by a girl."

"I really am sorry." I shut the door and led him into the kitchen. "I didn't hear you. I

panicked."

"It's my fault." He hopped up onto the counter. "I should have called to let you know I

was coming."

I thrust a damp dishcloth into his hands. "Take this. I'll get some ice."
He dabbed at his bloody face while I dropped ice in a plastic bag and wrapped it in

another towel. "How's it look?"

I inspected his split lip and bloody nose. "Not so good." I gestured to the deep

scratches above his lip and along his cheek. "My keys made some ugly marks."

Shaking his head, he took the ice pack from me and pressed it to his injured face. "You

been spending time at Ivan's gym?"

I smiled at his teasing remark. "No. I actually learned that at one of those self-defense

courses the university hosts every semester."

"You should carry pepper spray when you run." He reached out and flicked the cord

of my iPod. "And turn down the volume on these. You should have been able to hear me
come up behind you."

I felt sheepish. "Nikolai's always on my case about running with music. He warned me

I wouldn't hear someone sneak up on me. I guess he was right."

Eric just grunted at the idea of Nikolai being right about anything. I didn't know the

full history between those two. It wasn't simply my close relationship with the Russian
mob boss that irritated Eric. I had the feeling it was something do with a girl but I wasn't
brave or nosy enough to ask.

He lowered the ice pack and held my gaze. His worried expression made my gut

twist. "Your dad is out."

My arms went slack. "When?"
"Last night."
"But—how?'
Eric hesitated. "He flipped."
My stomach dropped like a runaway elevator. "On the Calaveras? You're sure?" With

each question, my voice grew faster and more panicked. "How do you know? Maybe
you're wrong."

"I'm not wrong. Prisoners who get popped from federal prison and go into the custody

of the U.S. Marshals aren't getting out for good behavior."

My stomach churned nastily. "Why would he do that? All these years, he's put his

motorcycle gang first. Why jump now?"

"I've heard there's an internal power struggle in the club. One side wants to get in

deeper with the Guzman Cartel. The other side wants to make new alliances."

"What does my dad want?"
Eric shrugged. "Hell if I know. He's only ever looked out for himself. Whatever he's

playing at here, the endgame is all about him."

Another horrifying thought suddenly struck me. "But, if he flipped on his club, they're

going to want to find a way to hurt him."

His somber expression confirmed my worst fears. "He didn't ask for your protection. I

tried to talk to someone in the Marshal's office about having you taken into protective
custody, but they won't confirm or deny your father is even out of the pen. Houston PD
doesn't have the budget to put a car on you either. Not until—"

"Someone tries to kill me," I finished for him.
He flinched. With a sigh, he confirmed, "Basically. They have to be able to justify the

man hours." As if trying to calm my frazzled nerves, he added quickly, "Look, we could
be wrong. Maybe the club doesn't care about you. It's clear you dad doesn't care about
you, right? So why hurt you to send him a message if he doesn't give a shit?"

Though Eric's words were harsh, he didn't speak them with malice. They were said

matter-of-factly. "Because they're crazy? Because they have a stupid honor code? Because
they're going to be pissed off? Because they'll want to send a message to every member of
their outfit that no one is safe if they betray the club?"

The cold fist of panic squeezed my heart. "Eric, what the hell am I supposed to do?"
Before he could answer me, a loud knock echoed in my apartment. Our gazes jumped

to the front door. Without a word, Eric pushed off the counter and yanked his pistol from
the holster concealed under his jacket. He gave me a gentle shove toward the fridge so I
would be obscured from the open door.

Flattened against the stainless steel, I held my breath and waited. Finally, I heard a

loud exhale, the sound a mix of irritation and relief.

"You can come out. It's him."
Him? Nikolai.
I stepped away from the refrigerator just in time to see Eric open the door. Still

holding his weapon at the ready, he greeted Nikolai with the muzzle of his pistol. Not a
word was spoken between the men as they glared at each other.

Cool and calm, Nikolai entered my apartment. His gaze flicked around the space until

he found me. His green eyes raked down my form. I watched his jaw tighten before he
turned to shut and lock the door. "We have to talk."

I had a sinking feeling this was a conversation I wasn't going to like.

Chapter Two

Though it took all the restraint he could muster, Nikolai managed to muscle down the

urge to grip Detective Santos by the wrist and take him to his knees. Only Vivian's
presence kept him from showing her cousin how very much he disliked having a gun
pointed in his face. He could appreciate Santos' desire to keep Vivian safe but keeping the
gun on him? That was the detective's way of reminding Nikolai who stood on the right
side of the law in this equation.

"Eric? Really? Lower the gun already." Vivian came around the bar and into the living

room. She unzipped her jacket as she walked and shrugged out of it. When she reached
up to tug the fleece band from her head, the front of her shirt lifted up just high enough
to give him a tantalizing glimpse of skin.

His gaze lingered longer than it should have but he couldn't help himself. He tried not

to be aware of her enticing shape in those slim-fitting tights or the way the criminally
small shorts she wore barely covered the rounded curve of her ass—but it was impossible.
She'd long ago ensnared him, rendering him completely helpless when it came to
ignoring her nubile body.

Despite his best intentions to see Vivian as a little sister and nothing more, he'd failed

spectacularly. Somewhere along the way, he'd fallen hopelessly in love with her.

Unlike Dimitri who swore that he'd fallen in love with his wife, Benny, the very first

time she'd laughed, Nikolai couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he'd fallen for Vivian. It
had come upon him so slowly he hadn't even recognized he was in danger of becoming
impossibly entangled until it was too late.

But he couldn't love her. He shouldn't love her. Vivian personified sweet, innocent

beauty but him? Oh, Nikolai personified the darkness and violence of the world. The
stains of his sins would never wash off—and he refused to taint her with his
transgressions.

"Do you guys want some coffee or tea?" She toed off her shoes. "Breakfast?"
Eric holstered his weapon. "I'm not staying that long."
I am

. "Tea, please."

Vivian returned to the kitchen but stayed within earshot. Nikolai glanced at Santos'

busted up mouth. "What the hell happened to you?"

He shot an annoyed look toward the kitchen and self-consciously rubbed his jaw. "I

think my cousin has been sneaking into those bare-knuckle fights down at the old meat-
packing plant."

Nikolai stiffened with surprise. "Vee hit you?"
"On accident," she called out, her back turned to them as she filled a tea kettle.
Nikolai considered the detective's busted mouth, swollen nose and scratched up

cheek. "That doesn’t look very accidental."

"I had my keys in my hand," she explained as she returned to the living room. "He

caught me by surprise and I just sort of reacted."

"With a punch to the face?" He closed the distance between them and grasped her left

hand. The slightest touch of her warm skin against his caused an electric shiver to zip
along his arm and into his chest. Gently, he inspected her swollen knuckles. Already her
skin darkened with a bruise. "Why didn't you ice this?"

She bit her plump lower lip. "Well—Eric was bleeding."
"And after he stopped bleeding?"
"You knocked on the door."
Clutching her wrist, he tugged her into the kitchen. He spotted the ice pack on the

counter and deduced it had been used by Santos. After trading out the blood-stained
dishtowel for a clean one, he pressed the cold pack against her swollen knuckles. Though
he generally tried not to touch her for very long, this morning he allowed himself to
enjoy the simple pleasure of holding her hand and treating her injury.

They were close enough that he could smell the faint lavender of the shampoo she

favored. Her body heat remained high from her run and amplified the feminine scent.
Only the sight of Santos stepping into the kitchen stopped him from dipping his head
and inhaling the floral hints. He started to reach out to push some of the sweat-
dampened strands of her hair behind her ear but he flexed his fingers at his side instead.

"You shouldn't be punching your attackers. You should make a hell of a lot of noise

and run." He'd tried to give her a concealed handgun course and a gun for her last
birthday but she didn't want a weapon. Instead, he'd finally convinced her to carry
pepper spray. "Were you carrying the pepper spray I gave you?"

She refused to meet his questioning gaze. "It's too heavy and too big for my pocket."
"Vee," he chastened softly. "If you insist on running in the dark, you have to carry

some kind of protection."

"Okay." Frustration edged into her voice. Finally lifting her gaze, she asked, "You're

here about my dad, aren't you?"

He confirmed her suspicion with a tight nod and then glanced at Santos. "You've

heard that he flipped on the Calaveras?"

"Yeah."
"It may be worse than that. I've heard rumblings that he may have gone so far as to

finger the cartel for some killings inside the prison."

Vivian's sharp intake of breath pained him. As if she hadn't survived enough in her

young life, now her father had put her in an impossible position. Nikolai didn’t believe
for one second that her rotten shit of a father cared one way or the other about Vivian's
life. He'd already used her as a drug mule and a partner in his burglary schemes when
she was a child. To put her life in jeopardy now would be nothing to that man.

Santos swore and ran his fingers through his hair. "I tried to get a security detail on

her or even have her taken into protective custody, but they shot me down. There's no
credible

threat."

"No credible threat? What the hell do the police want? A head in an ice chest?"
Vivian visibly jerked. Guilt speared his belly. He rubbed his thumb along the

underside of her wrist. "I'm sorry."

Her shoulders bounced. "You're not saying anything that isn't true."

"Look," Santos said, "I'll agree that our system isn't perfect but it's the best we've got.

I'm going to pack her a bag and get her out of here until this thing dies down."

Nikolai's gut clenched at the very idea of Vivian being out of his sight and beyond his

reach. His grip tightened on her wrist as possessiveness overwhelmed him. "She's not
going anywhere unless it's with me."

The detective's eyes narrowed as anger flashed across his face. "You don't get to make

decisions for my family. I'm a cop. I'll protect her."

"And what makes you think that the cartel or the club gives a shit about the badge you

carry? Have you seen what goes on south of the border? The weight of the Houston PD
means nothing to these men."

"But the Russian mob does?" The detective's jaw clenched. "How the hell am I

supposed to trust a man who makes his living running guns and drugs and whatever the
hell else you push out of the back room of that restaurant of yours to protect my baby
cousin?"

Despite the fact that Samovar was completely and totally legit, Nikolai didn't correct

Santos about the restaurant. "Whether you trust me or not isn't the question." His gaze
dropped to Vivian's worried face. "She can make her own choice."

Santos scoffed loudly. "Give me a break! You've got her wrapped around your dirty

little finger so tightly she doesn't know what she needs or what's right anymore."

"Excuse me?" Vivian turned angry eyes on her cousin. "Who the hell do you think you

are? You're my cousin—you're basically all the blood family I have left—but I'm not
going to stand here and let you talk about me as if I'm some stupid child."

"I didn’t call you stupid or a child," Santos retorted, "but sometimes you do very stupid

things." She gasped with outrage but her cousin talked right over her. "That car outside?
You think I didn't know about that? What the hell, Vivian? Why are you letting this guy
buy you a car with his dirty money?"

As if on cue, the tea kettle began to whistle. Nikolai dropped Vivian's hand and

switched off the burner. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the keys to the
Christmas gift he'd tried to give her yesterday morning, the gift she'd gently refused on
principle. He tossed them onto the countertop where they landed with a clatter. "She
didn't accept the car—and it wasn't bought with dirty money."

The detective ignored the facts presented to him. "And your job at his restaurant? The

tuition he pays? Your health insurance? The professional art studio he gave you?" He
waved his hands. "Do you understand what that looks like to the outside world? Do you
realize what everyone thinks about you? About what you are?"

The unspoken words hung in the air between them, the ugliness of it all suspended on

the thick tension. Nikolai had a very good idea what Santos thought. He'd done
everything he could to keep Vivian's reputation spotless but he'd clearly fucked up
somewhere. What were they saying about her? Were they calling her his mistress or his
kept woman—or worse?

Vivian didn't take the bait. "I know what I am, Eric. That's enough for me. Everyone

else? They're not my problem."

Bewildered by her calm reply, Santos stared at her. "Jesus, I never thought you were

that

naïve."

"Enough." Nikolai didn't like to get involved in Vivian's family issues but he had to

draw the line at allowing her cousin to attack her with baseless accusations.

As if proving his point that Vivian was a kept woman under Nikolai's thumb, Santos

shot her a disapproving look. "So now he speaks for you?"

"You know he doesn't. Stop being such a jerk. This isn't like you, Eric."
Her words seemed to hit home. With a ragged exhale, the detective shook his head. "It

fucking kills me to say this, but you need to stick with him until this thing blows over. I'd
do anything to protect you, Vivian, but I don’t have the power he does. I can't save you
from this."

"Maybe no one can," she replied sadly, her soft voice barely above a whisper.
An invisible band squeezed Nikolai's chest at the thought of her being hurt.
"Maybe," Santos reluctantly agreed, "but he's your best chance."
Vivian turned those worried blue eyes of hers on him, and it was all he could do not to

slide his arms around her petite frame and drag her into his embrace. He wanted to
whisper that it would be all right, that he would keep her safe and out of harm's way.

But he didn't. He'd lied to her once—and only once—and the gut-gnawing pain of it

had never left him. He'd sworn after that first lie there would never be another between
them.

"I'll do everything I can to protect you."
Her expression softened. "I know you will."
Whether he deserved her trust or not, she'd willingly placed her life in his hands—and

he'd give his own before he betrayed that trust.

Santos' phone started to ring. He plucked it from the pocket of his jacket and frowned

before answering. "Santos here." His eyes widened briefly. "When? Yeah. Okay. I'll be
there in ten."

"What's wrong?" Vivian asked as her cousin ended the call.
"Looks like the Hermanos and the Albanians are at one another's throats again." He

pulled a knit cap emblazoned with the police department's logo from a different pocket
and slipped it onto his head. "They just found Afrim Barisha's body stuffed in the trunk of
a car in one of the park-and-ride lots. He had the Hermanos gang sign carved into his
chest."

Vivian recoiled. "That's awful."
She didn't know the half of it. Nikolai had brokered a peace between the two outfits

earlier in the summer, right after that mess with Erin's sister had been settled. He kept his
finger on the pulse of Houston's underworld so he was fully aware of the beef between
the Hermanos gang leader Diego Montoya and Afrim over the loan shark's refusal to
lower the interest on a debt incurred by one of Diego's captains. Though Diego could be a
hothead, the man wasn't an idiot. It made no sense for the Hermanos to take out the
Albanian's highest earner and invite that hellish wrath upon their heads.

As a detective in the special gang unit, Santos would know that. They shared a look

but neither spoke aloud what they were thinking. This wasn't a simple cut-and-dried case
of gang-on-gang violence—and it wasn't going to end with one man's death.

Santos stepped closer and pecked Vivian's cheek. "I'll check in with you later." He

headed for the front door and Vivian followed him. When he reached it, he turned back
to face her. "I'm sorry."

She smiled and gave him a quick hug. "Apology accepted."
Nikolai marveled at her ability to forgive and forget so quickly. After the way she'd

been treated by her mother and father, he would have expected her to be so mistrusting
and an expert at holding grudges, but she seemed determined to never let the ugliness of
her childhood define her. He envied her kindness. God only knew there was very little of
that about him.

She shut and locked the door before slowly spinning to face him. Leaning back against

the door, she stared at him. "Do you really think the people my dad has pissed off will try
to hurt me?"

"Yes." He didn't hesitate to answer. "Whether it would actually affect your father or

not isn't the issue. Their motivation is fear. They'll want to make sure that no one else in
the organization gets any funny ideas about stepping out of line."

She inhaled a slow, steadying breath. "What happens now?"
Nikolai shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over a nearby chair. "You shower and

get dressed while I make breakfast. Pack a bag or two. You'll need them."

She blinked. "I have to leave the apartment?"
"It's impossible for Sergei or Kostya to keep an eye on every entrance here. There are

too many blind spots." He slashed his hand through the air. "You'll come stay with me so
I know that you're watched around-the-clock."

Shock filtered across her face. "At your house?"
"Of course."
Panic brightened her eyes. What scared her so much about being alone with him? "But

—"

Because she could negotiate him better than anyone else on the damn planet, he put

his foot down. "This isn't up for debate, Vee. Take your shower and pack your bags."

Her shoulders tipped back. Her fiery gaze warned him to watch his step. "Saying

please would be nice."

He eyed her carefully before inclining his head toward her. "Please don't fight me on

this."

Her full lips slanted in a smile that seemed to be a mix of amusement and annoyance.

"As if I've ever been able to fight you on anything."

"You fought me on the car and won." He tried not to let his disappointment in her

rejection of his Christmas gift infiltrate his voice.

"One time in all the years we've been friends," she reminded him. "And I didn't say I

didn't like the car or appreciate the offer. I just said that it was too much."

"Nothing is too much for you."
Their gazes clashed as the words he'd meant to keep silent escaped his mouth. To her

credit, she didn't push the subject. Instead, she shoved off the door and strode by him
toward her bedroom. At her door, she paused and glanced back at him. "There are some
of Benny's pastries in the refrigerator."

While she showered and dressed, he prepared a simple breakfast and steeped tea in

two different mugs. While scrambling eggs, he attempted to ignore the yearning within
him. This quiet domestic scene reminded him of all the things he'd denied himself with
Vivian. They continually danced around their mutual attraction, both of them pretending
the easy smiles and playful teasing they shared amounted to little more than a platonic
friendship.

He told himself she was too young, too innocent and too good for him, but the fact

remained that from the first moment he'd really opened his eyes and viewed her not as
the child he'd assumed guardianship toward but as a woman, there had been no one else
for him. He couldn't look at another woman without comparing her to Vivian. With that
dark hair and those pale blue eyes, she'd enthralled him—irrevocably and completely.

When he heard the bathroom door open, it took every ounce of his self-control not to

glance down the hallway in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of her in a towel or a
robe. His mind wandered along a rather lascivious path.

What if he walked down that hall right now and knocked on her bedroom door?

Would she tell him to go away or would she invite him inside? The very idea of her
wrapped in a fluffy towel and nothing else sent heat rolling through his belly.

He'd slide his fingers through her wet hair and cup the back of her head—and then

he'd kiss her. And she would let him. She would welcome the sensual touch of his mouth
against hers. She would welcome the erotic tangle of their tongues until—

"Do you need any help?"
Guilt seized him. He had no business fantasizing about her, not now when her whole

damn world seemed to be crashing in on her. Right now she was vulnerable and needed
to be protected—not seduced or corrupted.

He glanced at her, taking in the sight of her damp hair and low slung jeans. The tiny

peek of skin between her cotton tee and the top of her jeans did little to cool his raging
lust. "No. Your tea is ready."

She slid next to him and picked up the two mugs. After placing them on the table, she

grabbed milk from the refrigerator. She'd served his tea enough times at the restaurant to
know exactly how he liked it. By the time he'd plated the eggs, she'd already grabbed
silverware and the pastries.

When they took their seats, he waited patiently while she said her quick, silent prayer

of thanks. Though she'd only been introduced to her Russian Orthodox faith when she
moved into her grandparents' home, Vivian took her beliefs very seriously and seemed
intent upon living her life accordingly. Unlike some hardcore believers, Vivian never
pushed him on the subject. For that he was eternally grateful.

Finished with her prayer, she smiled at him. "Thank you for breakfast."
"It's only eggs."
She shrugged and picked up her fork. "It's nice to share a meal with someone again. I'd

gotten so used to having Lena here every morning. It's still very strange to eat without
the news blaring in the background or her cell phone ringing off the hook."

He eyed the box on the other end of the table. She'd labeled it with Lena's name.

"Have you spoken to her since she and Yuri jetted off to Moscow after Dimitri's

wedding?"

"Last night," Vivian said. "Apparently Yuri went totally overboard with Christmas

gifts. She still hadn't opened all the boxes when we'd talked."

"I'm not surprised. He's absolutely infatuated with her."
"And that's a bad thing?" Confusion colored her voice.
"It's a weakness."
She sat back and stared at him. "How can you say something like that, Kolya?"
The sound of his nickname falling from her lips did crazy things to him. The

familiarity of it made him ache for all the things he couldn't have. "I know it's not a
popular sentiment but it's true. Love is a weakness that's easily exploited."

She dropped her fork and it noisily bounced on her plate. "That is such bullshit—and

you know it."

His brow arched at her surprisingly angry display. "That infatuation—that love—that

Yuri felt for Lena nearly got her killed when his past came knocking at his front door." He
didn't mention that it was only his contacts back in Russia and light traffic that enabled
him to save the two lovers before they'd been killed. "It was the same thing for Benny and
Dimitri and Ivan and Erin."

"And us?" She dared him to deny that he cared for her. "We care about each other as

friends do. There's friendly love between us. Does that me weak? Does it make you
weak?"

Friendly love? No, what he felt for her was so much more profound.
He ignored her furious gaze and tucked back into his breakfast. "You should be careful

asking questions like that. I doubt very much that you'll like the answer."

When he refused to meet her intense stare, Vivian shoved back her chair and started

to leave the table. He pinned her in place with one look. Gesturing to her plate, he
ordered, "Sit and eat."

She glared at him. "Don't tell me what to do."
"Then don't hurt yourself by trying to punish me. I'm not the one who will spend the

rest of the morning hungry if you storm off."

She gritted her teeth but flopped back down in her seat. Snatching up one of the fruit-

filled pastries, she took an obnoxiously large bite. "Happy now, Warden?"

Rather than reprimanding her for chewing with her mouth open, he shrugged. "I'm

not unhappy."

She growled and reached for her tea. After swallowing, she said, "You're impossible,

you know that? Like straight-up impossible!"

He bit his tongue. It wouldn't do either of them any good if he told her how

maddening she was and how badly he wanted to leap across the table and claim that
wicked little mouth of hers to kiss her into submission.

Certain they needed to change the subject, he asked, "Are you painting today?"
"Yes."
"Is everything ready for the upcoming show?"
"The gallery is sending over a truck tomorrow for the last few pieces. I'll do a final

walk-through in a few days but I doubt anything will need to be changed. The layout

Gustavo showed me was amazing."

He loved hearing the excitement in her voice whenever she talked about her art. Of all

the things he'd ever done for her, renovating that warehouse into studio space had been
the one that meant the most to both of them.

"Would you mind if Kostya stays at the studio?"
"Do I have a choice?"
His lips settled into a grim line. "This doesn't have to be difficult, Vee. You have to

adjust to a new normal."

"For how long?"
"As long as it takes," he said, unwilling to give her a timeline that might have to be

continually changed. "After your shift at the restaurant, I'll take you home."

She shook her head and sipped her tea. "I'm not working tonight."
He frowned. "You're on the schedule."
"I traded last night with Sveta. I'm going out tonight."
His gut clenched as her words registered. "To a club?"
"After we have dinner," she confirmed. "Faze has a new DJ that I've heard awesome

things about, and I'm slated to work New Year's Eve so this is the closest I'll get to
dancing in the new year."

"You're going out in a group?" He phrased his question carefully and desperately

hoped she'd say yes. He'd seen that bodyguard that worked for Dimitri sniffing around
the last few weeks. The former Marine looked like he wanted to do more than just guard
Vivian's body.

"Just some single friends," she said. "You know—me, Bianca, Nadya, Kelly, one of his

brothers and some guys they know."

"And Sergei," he decided. "He actually likes the club scene so you'll take him with you

tonight."

"Fine." She shot him a mischievous smile. "Do I have a curfew?"
He grunted and reached for his tea. "You're a grown woman. I trust you to know

when to pack it in for the night—but just remember that Sergei has to work tomorrow."

"Doing what exactly?"
He caught and held her gaze. Right after she'd started working at Samovar, Vivian

had dared to ask him if he really was the Russian mob boss of Houston. He'd told her the
absolute truth, a truth that he'd never confirmed to any other outsider. Though everyone
knew what he was, it wasn't something he publicly owned.

"I think this falls under the heading of questions you might not like the answers to,

Vee."

She rolled her eyes and rose from her chair. "Like I don't already know?"
Maybe she did. Maybe she didn't. He wasn't about to tell her more than she needed to

know. "I'll get the dishes. You finish packing."

"Yes, sir," she returned rather saucily.
He watched her leave the kitchen, his gaze glued to the sultry swing of her hips. She

didn't even realize the effect she had on men. If she had, Nikolai had no doubt she would
have found a way to use it to her advantage. Instead she flitted through life without ever

truly understanding what one of her sweet smiles did to a man.

As he gathered up their dishes, Nikolai wondered what was more dangerous to him.

Was it the very real possibility of trouble with the Calaveras motorcycle gang and the
Guzman Cartel or Vivian living in his home and sleeping across the hall from him?

He'd put his money on Vivian.

Chapter Three

"One more drink and then we'll go," Bianca promised as she dragged me toward the

VIP bar in the exclusive upstairs enclave at Faze. With my connection to Yuri and Lena,
I'd been granted access to the area the second I hit the front door, something my small
group of single friends loved.

Since my closest friends had paired off, I'd started enjoying more of the social scene

with unattached friends. It was fun to get together with Erin, Lena and Benny and their
guys once a week for dinner, but I always felt like the odd one out. With Bianca, a friend
from high school, it was easier to enjoy the Houston nightlife.

Somewhere along the way, Kelly Connolly, a part-time bouncer at Faze and a private

security agent with Dimitri's firm, had joined our small group. He'd known Bianca's older
brother back in high school so she'd brought him into the fold. Tonight, he'd convinced a
couple of Marine buddies and Finn, one of his older brothers, to come out with us.

Glancing back at our group of friends, I found them heading down to the crushing

throng of dancers on the main floor. Nadya, a waitress from Samovar, led the way, her
hips wiggling as the trap beat smoothly transitioned to a popular hip-hop mix. Two of
her friends from college had joined our group at the front door of the club. They danced
down after her.

Finn Connolly moved at a slightly slower pace. I was still surprised at how well he

walked and danced with his prosthetic leg. I'd assumed his barely noticeable limp was
from a war injury, but I hadn't even realized he'd lost the bottom half of his right leg in
combat until his jeans had ridden up a little during dinner, and I'd spotted the metal rods
hidden by the denim.

Like Kelly, Finn had served multiple tours of duty as a Marine. I was pretty sure the

oldest brother, Jack, had done the same. Apparently it was a family tradition much like
working at the gym the three brothers had recently inherited from their sick father. I'd
heard through the grapevine that the old man was in deep debt because of his gambling
addiction but I wasn't nosy or brave enough to ask Kelly if it was true.

"This DJ is hot!" Bianca sipped her drink. "But she looks like she's about twelve!"
I could just make out the young woman manning the DJ booth from our perch in the

VIP section. She didn't look quite twelve but she looked younger than me. "I think it's
because she's so petite."

"Well, I wouldn't know anything about that," Bianca said with a laugh and gestured to

her full-figured body.

A fierce fashionista, she owned her plus-sized curves and had been blogging about

fashion for bigger girls since high school. She'd gone off to New York for three years of
design school before being called home after her mother suffered a debilitating stroke.
She now managed the family wedding boutique and had recently started selling her own
wedding gown designs.

I envied her confidence. She made sexy look so damn easy. Tonight, she'd gone for a

bandage-style dress that hugged her ample curves so perfectly. The shimmery gold color
of the fabric highlighted her gorgeous dark skin beautifully. The dark berry stain on her
lips and the dusting of gold shadow on her eyelids accentuated her good looks. She'd
drawn the appreciative gaze of dozens of men tonight, and she'd done it so effortlessly.

One man in particular seemed unable to tear his gaze away from her. I caught Sergei

watching her from the opposite end of the bar. He'd melded well with our group tonight
but he'd made it clear that he wasn’t there to socialize. At the restaurant, he'd sat
between Kelly and Finn and joined in the conversation, but once we hit Faze, he'd moved
into the background as if to keep a better eye on me.

"What's with tall, dark and Russian?" Bianca took a dainty sip of her drink. "What is

he? Like seven feet tall?"

I giggled and stabbed at the ice cubes in my mojito with a straw. "He is really tall.

Taller than Ivan and that's saying something."

"So what's he do? I mean, you know, other than working for the boss." She waggled her

eyebrows.

"He owns part of a construction business." She shot me a look of disbelief. "Really," I

said with a laugh. "Some of those guys have interests in legit businesses."

"Like?"
"Car washes, car dealerships, salons, spas, strip clubs…"
She made a face. "Nasty."
I rolled my eyes. "Do I have to bring up your birthday party? Those half-naked dancers

were glorified strippers."

"That's different. I enjoyed those hunks of sexy man meat for one night. I don't pay my

mortgage off the back of some poor girl who has to shake her ass in front of strange men
to scrape by for a living."

I didn't really see the difference but it wasn't worth arguing about tonight.
"How long do you think you'll have the big Russian shadow?"
"I really don't know. It could be a long time."
Her face a mask of concern, she touched my leg. "I know you told me that your cousin

and Nikolai think they can keep you safe, but, baby girl, I've got friends in Manhattan. If
you need to get out of town, you say the word, and I'll find you a place to go."

"It's a tempting offer." I pushed the crushed mint against the side of my glass with the

straw. "But these people could get to me there just as easily as they can get to me here.
Maybe even easier," I added with a shiver. "The thing is I don't really belong with the
Russians—and the motorcycle gang and the cartel know it."

Bianca frowned. "What does that mean? You're half Russian. Nikolai has basically

taken you under his wing."

"It's not the same thing as being part of the family. My grandparents weren't part of

that group. They kept their noses clean, you know? My mother burned every damn
bridge she came across within the family by marrying my father and then pulling her
identity fraud and credit card and check stealing schemes."

I tried to figure out the best way to explain it to her. "If I was, like, a daughter of one

of the guys in the family, the guys my dad has betrayed wouldn't dare to come after me.

They'd know that the Russians would come down on them like hellfire—but I'm not
blood and that's not the case."

While she considered my explanation, a series of loud cries erupted from the dance

floor. We both popped out of our seats and hurried to the railing so we could see what
the fuss was. The DJ cut the music with a loud squeal. Shouting into her microphone, she
urged the crowd to calm down and back away from the bar, but everyone was rushing
forward for a better look.

A fight had broken out near the bar. Four or five men were beating the crap out of one

another. Bouncers were trying to claw their way through the crush of bodies on the
packed dance floor but it was proving difficult to move the crowd. Finally, a bartender in
tight leather pants and a halter top jumped onto the bar and lifted a mop bucket filled
with dirty water and bar towels. She hurled the contents onto the fighting men, stopping
them cold.

By now, three bouncers had reached the brawlers. Big V, the massive bull of a head

bouncer, grabbed two men by the scruff and dragged them toward the front doors. His
colleagues quickly followed suit.

I spotted Kelly standing next to the bar and holding his hand up to a young woman in

a tiny hot pink mini-dress who seemed to have been dancing up there. From the looks
they exchanged, it was clear they knew one another. He looked infuriated and she looked
embarrassed. Had she been the cause of the fight?

A janitor rushed out with a mop and the bartender hopped over the bar to help him

gather up the wet towels and clear away the mess. Almost immediately, the DJ started a
new track and the revelers returned to their dancing. It was actually a bit wild to watch
how quickly everything turned to normal.

"Okay, ladies, it's time to go." Sergei's low, rumbling voice carried over the music.
I turned around to see him holding our purses and coats in his big hands. He wore an

expression that told me arguing wasn't going to work. With a dramatic sigh, I grabbed
my purse from his huge paw. "Fine."

Clamping Bianca's purse and coat under one arm, he shook out my coat and helped

me into it. While I buttoned up, he helped Bianca slide her arms into her jacket. I noticed
the way she gazed up at him and took a few quick steps away from Sergei. I couldn't
decide if she did it out of genuine discomfort or to nip any growing attraction in the bud.
I knew her type and Sergei definitely didn't fit that mold.

"Come on," he said with a flick of his fingers. "I'll drive you home."
"I'll get a cab," Bianca replied.
"It's cold and late. You'll come with us," Sergei all but ordered.
She glanced at me with a slightly bemused expression. "Are they always bossy like

this?"

I smiled up at Sergei. "He's pretty tame compared to some others."
She shook her head and tugged her purse out of Sergei's grasp. "Well—let's go Hulk.

Take me home."

He looked down at her as if he wanted to say something. The way his lips twitched

with the tiniest hint of a smile confirmed that it was probably something outrageously

inappropriate. He was smart enough to know that Bianca wasn't the kind of girl who
would let him get away with it.

Ushering us forward, he used his wide shoulders and intimidating size to create safe

passage through the packed dance floor. We caught up with our friends and exchanged
quick hugs and air kisses before ducking out of Faze.

Out in the cold night, I shivered as a blast of chilly air swirled around my bare legs.

The temperature seemed to have dropped twenty degrees while we were in the club.
They'd been forecasting a winter storm to hit in a few days but it seemed to have arrived
a bit early.

Safe inside Sergei's SUV, we rolled out of the Faze parking lot and onto the busy

streets. I leaned over and punched Bianca's address into his GPS unit. It started to drizzle
as we left the downtown area for the historic neighborhood where Bianca lived. The
house she'd purchased a few months earlier was in the same area as Nikolai's so the trip
didn't take us very far out of our way.

As Sergei navigated the narrower streets, his phone started to ring. He fished it out of

his pocket but I swiped it from his hand with a frown. "You can't talk and drive!"

He frowned at me and tried to grab the phone but I smacked at his hand. Bianca

laughed in the backseat. "Children, do we need to pull over?"

Grinning, I answered the call. "Hello?"
"Vee?" Nikolai sounded surprised. "Why are you answering Sergei's phone? Where the

hell is he?"

"Calm down. He's driving. We're taking my friend home."
"When you're done dropping off your friend, tell him to bring you to the warehouse."
His unnaturally harsh tone worried me. "What's wrong?"
"Someone vandalized your studio." His reluctance to tell me came through clearly.

"I'm sorry. I should have had someone here."

"It's not your fault." My heart ached and my stomach soured as I imagined what the

miscreants had ruined in my art studio. My gaze jumped to the windshield. Bianca's
house had come into view. "I'll see you in fifteen minutes or so."

After we ended the call, I glanced at Sergei. "Someone vandalized my studio. Nikolai

wants you to bring me there."

His hands tightened around the steering wheel. "Yeah. Okay."
"Um, what's going on?" Bianca leaned forward and gestured to herself. "Doesn't speak

Russian, remember?"

I hadn't realized I'd slipped into the other language. "Sorry." I shot her an apologetic

smile. "There was some vandalism at my studio."

"Oh no! What about your paintings? Oh, I hope they're all okay. Do you want me to

come with you?"

"No, this is probably going to keep me up all night. You have brides coming for their

last-minute fittings tomorrow." I squeezed her hand. "But I really appreciate the offer."

The SUV rolled to a stop outside her darkened house. Sergei pointed at me. "You sit

here. I'll be right back."

Before Bianca could protest that she didn't need to be walked inside, Sergei already

had the door open and an umbrella waiting. She seemed flustered by his attentions but
allowed him to walk her to the front door and see her safely inside.

After stowing the umbrella in the backseat, he slid behind the wheel. I wanted to

tease him about Bianca but decided to let it go tonight. I didn't want to get his hopes up
when it came to her. There was one thing she swore she'd never do and that was date any
guy in the underworld. After what had happened to her brother, I understood that rule.

By the time we reached the warehouse Nikolai had converted into studio space for

me, there were already two guys out front trying to paint over the filthy words that had
been spray painted on the façade. My lips parted with a shocked gasp as I realized what
had been written there.

The vandals had tagged the wall with the word snitch in English and Spanish. There

were numerous gang tats badly outlined too. Someone unfamiliar with Russian had
scrawled mob whore in badly shaped Cyrillic letters. They'd translated awkwardly but the
meaning was clear enough.

Sergei swore under his breath. I was still taking in the ugliness of it when my door

was wrenched open. One look at Nikolai's furious face and I knew I was in deep shit. He
reached in, unbuckled my seatbelt, and lifted me right out of my seat and onto the
pavement. Firmly grasping my arm, he escorted me into the warehouse and up the stairs
to my wide-open studio space. The door slammed behind us, the sound ricocheting like
gunfire in the big room.

"What is your problem?" I asked when we were safely beyond the sight and hearing of

his minions.

He didn't let go of me but his grip loosened. I saw the immediate guilt flashing in his

eyes. Though he hadn't even come close to harming me, I sensed that he was angry with
himself for going all caveman on me.

"When were you going to tell me?"
I tried to read his expression but couldn't. He was definitely pissed off but there was

more I couldn't quite pinpoint. Was he disappointed in me? Was he feeling betrayed?
"Tell you what?"

"About the paintings," he growled and flung his arm toward the canvases on the

opposite end of the room.

"Oh." Panic gripped me. "Well—I wanted to surprise you."
"Surprise me?" His eyebrows shot skyward.
"They're my best work. They're provocative and dark and—"
"Provocative?" He cut me off mid-sentence. Swearing a blue streak, he shook his head.

"I thought I made myself explicitly clear when you came to me asking about my tattoos.
What did I tell you, Vee?"

I remembered that awkward conversation from three years ago when my fascination

with gang tattoos had first taken hold. Quietly, I answered, "You told me to leave it alone
and not to go digging in other men's histories because I wasn't going to like the things I
uncovered."

"And what did you do?" He stormed to the far wall and started flicking aside the

canvases mounted on their swinging display hooks so each one was momentarily visible.

"You created an art show out of tattoos that are evidence of violent crimes!"

I heard his sharp intake of breath when he reached Kostya's canvas. "Is this…?" he

trailed off in disbelief. "I'll wring his damn neck."

"Will you calm down? I mean, seriously! They're just paintings, Nikolai. They're my

interpretations of the stories of these men and women and their tattoos."

"Calm down?" He gestured to the wall. "Did you not see the filth painted outside? You

don't think these interpretations of yours are going to piss off a lot of people? You think
Besian is going to be thrilled when he sees the back of one of his captains hanging in a
downtown art gallery?"

I gulped nervously as I considered what the Albanian mob boss might think about the

story his captain had told me about that particular tattoo. "It's just art."

"It's not just anything, Vee. Nothing in this world of mine is simple or black-and-

white. The stupidest, silliest thing can get a man killed. Look at this mess with the loan
shark and the Hermanos!" He drew his fingers across his neck in a quick cutting motion.
"That was probably kicked off by something as stupid as an interest disagreement on an
outstanding loan."

Disappointed and exasperated with me, Nikolai muttered angrily and started flicking

through the canvases scheduled to be picked up by the gallery in the morning. When he
reached the one at the very back, the one I'd kept covered with a cloth, I raced forward to
stop him. After the way he'd reacted to the others, I figured this one was going to push
him over the edge. "No! Not that one!"

But it was too late.
He jerked free the cloth and froze rigid. Staggering backward, he put a hand to his

chest. For a moment, I thought he was actually going to have a heart attack. "Kolya?"

Chapter Four

Throat tight and gut clenching, Nikolai fought the panic threatening his control. That

picture—that fucking picture!

She'd painted the night she'd been shot. It was the broken window, the panes smeared

with her blood, and the chest of the man who had pulled the trigger. She'd left all of the
man except for his tattooed chest blurry. He supposed that her traumatized, eleven-year-
old brain had only taken in that much of the shooter.

He glanced at Vivian, taking in the worry contorting her beautiful face. Did she know?

Had she somehow finally managed to remember more? Or was this image the extent of
her memories?

Voice gruff, he finally said, "You can't show this one."
His words seemed to shake her out of her stupor. "But I built the entire show around

this central piece."

"I don't care. This one isn't leaving the studio." He glanced around for something,

anything, to destroy it. "It can't exist."

She raced forward and placed her body between his and the painting. "Like fucking

hell!"

The shock of hearing her curse rendered him momentarily speechless. "Do you have

any idea what you're risking with this one?" He searched for the right words. "What if
someone recognizes those tattoos?"

"Good!" She shouted stridently. "I hope someone does recognize them. I hope

someone comes forward and fingers the bastard who blasted me with a 9mm and sent me
flying out of second-story window."

Though he maintained his outward composure, inwardly he flinched at the anger and

passion in her voice. What would she say if he broke down right now and told her the
truth? The whole awful, sordid fucking truth?

She would hate him. She would despise him. She would run from him and leave his

life forever.

And it would kill him. She was all that kept him tethered, all that kept him from

going completely into the darkness of the underworld he inhabited. For her, he'd tried to
walk a very fine line and had kept his crew out of the seedier, nastier forms of earning.
Though running guns and shifting narcotics cargo weren't things that would make her
proud, they were a hell of a lot cleaner than the sex trafficking that some of the other
syndicates in town ran.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he tried to make her understand. "Vee, so much

has happened since that night. You can't drag up history. You have to leave it alone."

She clicked her teeth and stomped her foot like a child. "I'm so sick of hearing that

from you. That's your answer for everything—and I'm done with it."

"Vee—"
"No! You're not going to persuade me to do what you want. Not this time." She swept

her hands out in front of her. "I worked so hard to get this show together."

His gut twisted as he realized what this was doing to her and how he was hurting her.

"I know you did."

"I'm not just talking about the actual painting either. From creating the concept to

finding the subjects and then snagging a show in the best damn gallery in Houston—
that's hundreds of hours of work on top of school and my job." She furiously jabbed the
air between them. "You're not going to ruin this for me. I'm doing this show—with all the
paintings."

He'd never in his life imagined there would be anything he would deny her but he'd

been wrong. "No, you're not."

She gritted her teeth. "I'd like to see you try and stop me."
"Don't push me, Vee." He let the harshness he used to keep his men in line infiltrate

his voice. It was the first time he'd ever dared to use that tone with her—and he regretted
it instantly. He'd never seen such fury etched into her beautiful face.

Without a second of warning, she jumped forward and slammed both hands against

his chest. Thrown off-balance by her surprise attack, he stumbled backward and barely
managed to avoid hitting the floor after running into a stool.

Breathing hard, she asked, "Now what?"
Nikolai straightened slowly. "You can hit me and kick and scream and throw a fit but

you're not putting that painting in the show. Just be glad I'm not putting a stop to the
entire thing."

She fumed now, her face red and her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I hate you."
He winced as her furiously spoken words slapped him right in the face. "I know."
Her jaw dropped. "That's it? I know. That's all you have to say to me?"
He didn't know what else to say. A painful silence stretched between them. Finally,

she exhaled raggedly and wiped at her eyes. Without another word, she spun on her heel
and stalked toward the door. Her high heels clacked against the hardwood planks, the
harsh notes hitting him like nails driven through his heart.

With every step, she increased the distance between them. He wanted to chase after

her, to grasp her by the shoulders and spin her around so he could claim her lips with the
kiss he'd so long denied them both. He wanted to crush their mouths together and drink
in her sweetness until they couldn't breathe. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, that
he hated how complicated her life had become, that he wanted to give her anything and
everything in the world, that he'd do anything to make her happy.

But the lie standing between them prevented him from moving.
Instead he stared at the painting that threatened to ruin everything. Why, after all

these years, did she have to paint her recollection of that night?

The sound of Sergei's bellowing voice pulled him from his troubled thoughts. In the

next instant, he heard Vivian shouting at the enforcer. Growling with frustration, Nikolai
wiped a hand down his face and rushed out of the studio. As he hurried down the stairs,
Kostya's irritated voice joined the fray. From the sounds of it, Vivian was refusing to get
in Sergei's SUV.

By the time he got outside, Vivian was halfway down the block. The cold drizzle fell

even harder now, making it hard to see her in the cold mist. He shot Kostya a look of
consternation. "What now?"

"She refuses to go home with you. She told us to set fire to the warehouse and burn

everything in there because she'll never paint again."

He groaned at her melodrama. Playing the role of tortured artist seemed to come

naturally to her. "Give me the fucking keys."

Kostya slapped the set of keys to the black sedan against his palm. "Be careful, Boss.

She already hit Sergei."

The bear-sized man rubbed his arm and scowled. "I think she's got a brick in that

damn purse."

Cursing, Nikolai slid into the black car and revved the engine. He could only imagine

how ridiculous he looked racing down the block to catch up with her and beg her to get
into the car. She stopped to take off her high heels and ran barefoot down the cold, wet
sidewalk. Where the hell she thought she was going he had no idea.

"Vee!" He shouted her name through the rolled down window. "Stop being silly and

get in the car."

"Leave me alone!" She threw her high heel at the hood of the car and left a nasty gash

in the paint that was going to piss Kostya off big-time.

"That's not going to happen—and you know it." His gaze jumped between her and the

road. He was thankful this area was nearly totally owned by him and mostly empty.
There wasn't any traffic to get in the way. "What's your plan, Vee? Are you going to walk
all the way back to your apartment?"

"Maybe," she spat back angrily. She fished around in her purse as she walked. "Or

maybe I'll just call Erin. She'll send Ivan to come get me."

"And then what? Huh? You're going to drag Erin into this mess with your father?" He

threw the car in park and jumped out of the driver's seat. Desperate to get her in out of
the cold, he begged, "Please, Vivian, get in the damn car. Let's go home and talk about
this."

"There's nothing to talk about, Nikolai. You think you can just bark orders at me, but

this isn't the restaurant and I'm not part of your family. You don't get to order me
around."

He exhaled roughly. "You're right. I'm sorry."
She titled her head to study him. "Are you really? Or are you just saying that because

you want me to stop causing trouble and get into your car."

"Both," he admitted. His gaze fell to her bare feet. The street lights illuminated the

bright turquoise polish on her toenails. "You're going to get hypothermia and lose your
toes."

She rolled her eyes. "This isn't Siberia."
Pressing his hands together in front of him, he pleaded, "Please. Get in the car?"
She still held that other shoe in her hand. He wondered if she planned to hit him with

it or if she'd had enough denting the hood of the car. "Fine. Whatever. Just take me
home."

He didn't remind her that she was coming home with him. Later, when she was safely

buckled in her seat and her ability to flee was impeded, he'd make sure she remembered
that she'd agreed to stay with him. "Thank you."

Without asking her permission, he scooped her up in his arms and hurried her to the

passenger seat. She'd managed to stay mostly dry with her coat on but her legs and feet
were soaked and chilled. He opened the glove box and found a pile of napkins from the
fast food joints Kostya loved.

"I can do that." She tried to stop him as he clasped her slender calf in his hand.
"I've got it." Crouched down next to the open door, Nikolai made quick work of

drying her cold feet and bare legs. It took every ounce of his self-control not to let his
hands glide along her silky flesh any more than necessary.

When it was done, he balled up the soiled napkins and shoved them into the pocket of

his jacket. He closed her door and walked back the dozen or so yards to retrieve her shoe
from the middle of the road.

Glancing back at the warehouse, he spotted Kostya and Sergei watching him with

some amusement. By morning, the story of what had happened tonight would be
embellished so much it would bear no resemblance to the truth. In his experience, men
were the very worst about spreading those kinds of tales.

When he dropped into the driver's seat, he felt the warm blast of the heater. It felt nice

against his chilled skin. "Thank you."

"Whatever." She kept her gaze fixed on the passenger window.
With a tired sigh, he eased away from the curb and down the road. The silence

suffocated him but he didn't know what to say to make it all better.

"I always thought you were different."
He frowned. "Different how?"
"From everyone else," she said quietly. "They all assume I'm some naïve, emotionally

damaged baby who needs to be coddled, but I thought you saw me differently."

"I know that what happened to you when you were little doesn't define you. You've

survived more than most people can even imagine, and I respect you all the more for it."

"But you don't trust me to make my own decisions." She finally turned in her seat for a

better look at him. "I knew exactly what I was doing when I started that series of
paintings. I was careful. I made sure to destroy all of my notes. I only took pictures from
the neck down. Everything that was told to me was told in confidence."

"I don’t doubt that you were careful, Vee. Sometimes being careful isn't enough."
"I'm so sick of this life." She rubbed her face. "I'm so sick of my whole existence being

dictated by the stupid mistakes my parents made and these insane rules." She made an
irritated sound. "Maybe Bianca was right. Maybe I should leave Houston."

Fear gripped him but he pushed down the selfish emotion. He'd only ever wanted the

best for her. Though it made him feel like his guts were being ripped out, he said, "Maybe
you should consider it."

Her gaze snapped to his face. "Do you mean that? Do you really want me to leave?"
They were approaching an intersection now. "What I want isn't important. It never

has been."

"That's not true. I—"

"Shit!" At the last possible second, he noticed the bright headlights rushing toward

them as they crossed the intersection. Thinking only of Vivian, he thrust out his arm to
hold her back against the seat. The crushing impact of the SUV that slammed into the
front edge of the car spun them around violently. Amid the splintering metal and
bursting glass, he heard Vivian's terrified scream. The sound chilled him to the very bone.

When the car finally lurched to a stop, he blinked and tried to clear his dazed mind.

He put a hand to his aching temple and felt the blood trickling along his skin. Vivian's
low moan of pain drew his attention. He'd locked his elbow trying to hold her in place.
Now it throbbed terribly. Bending his arm proved nearly impossible.

Vaguely, he was aware of other cars rushing onto the scene, their tires squealing as

they stopped, but he was focused solely on Vivian. She grimaced with discomfort but
looked wholly uninjured. His bleary gaze raked her body for any hint of blood but he
found none.

"Angel moy." He reached for her hand. "Are you all right?"
"I think so," she answered in a whisper. She blinked a few times and turned her gaze

toward his faze. Her eyes widened with sudden panic. Her hand flew out and snatched
the front of his shirt. As she jerked him toward her, she screamed, "Nikolai!"

A second later, something very hard hit the window behind his head. A hammer? A

crow bar? He wasn’t sure.

Someone tried to open her car door but the impact of the SUV had crunched and

crimped the metal. Heavy footfalls sounded on the roof and hood of the car. A sledge
hammer wielded by a man in black slammed against the windshield. Glass shards
exploded all around them as the sledgehammer broke through the safety glass.

He reached for Vivian and dragged her into his protective embrace. He wrapped his

battered arms around her in a desperate attempt to keep the flying glass from cutting her
face and neck. She flicked off her seatbelt and burrowed into the safety of his embrace,
burying her face against chest and whimpering with fear.

As a crowd of men descended on the car, Nikolai heard gunshots in the distance.

Kostya and Sergei? He hoped they would reach the car in time to help them fend off this
blitz attack.

As the men outside the car started to rip the windshield free, he reached under his

jacket and retrieved his loaded gun. "Cover your ears."

Vivian hurried to comply with his order, placing her small hands against her ears. The

moment the windshield was ripped free he fired at the first man who came into view.
Staggering backward and clutching at his chest, the man fell onto the hood and tumbled
onto the pavement. Another man took his place, and Nikolai fired again, carefully
conserving his rounds until help arrived.

But it wasn't enough.
The window behind him was ripped free. A series of blows to the back of his head

stunned him. Four hands grasped his shoulders and arms. In the melee, the gun was
knocked from his grasp. Vivian's scream echoed in the night as he was torn through the
window. Jagged edges of glass ripped through his clothing and into his skin.

He watched in horror as three men tried to grab Vivian. Somehow she'd managed to

grab the pepper spray from her purse. Judging by the screams of pain and the sounds of
coughing that erupted, he figured she'd gotten at least two of them.

Refusing to be taken down so easily, Nikolai twisted and kicked until he managed to

free himself from the clutches of the men who had dragged him through the door. With
one swift movement, he yanked out the knife he kept holstered in his boot and wielded it
menacingly.

He'd been in enough prison brawls, armed only with hastily crafted shivs, to know

how this fight against five men would end. He'd be lucky to survive it but he'd do
whatever it took to buy enough time for Kostya and Sergei to reach Vivian and get her to
safety.

Two of the men rushed him. Relying on instinct and adrenaline, Nikolai stabbed and

ducked to evade them. He caught one in the hand, driving his blade through the man's
palm, and wrenching a guttural cry from the attacker's throat. Ripping the blade free, he
turned his attention to the other man. The injured one fell away but another quickly took
his place, this one carrying a length of pipe.

Bracing for the painful impact, Nikolai refused to back down. In the background, he

heard Vivian shouting and fighting off the men trying to pull her from the car. The pipe
connected with his arm and shoulder just as he witnessed Vivian being hauled out
through the gaping hole where the windshield had been. Her panicked shriek broke his
concentration, giving his assailants the opening they needed.

The man brandishing the pipe cracked Nikolai along the side of his head. The blinding

pain sent him to his knees. A boot caught him in the jaw and flipped him onto his
stomach. Clawing at the pavement, he tried to force his battered body to move but the
jarring impact of the pipe and boot rendered him worthless.

As blood dripped into his eyes and clouded his vision, he watched helplessly as two

men dragged Vivian toward an idling SUV. She kicked and bit and shrieked but she
couldn't get free. Their gazes met across the impossible distance now between them.
Rolling onto his side, he lifted his hand in a final desperate but futile attempt to reach
her.

"NIKOLAI!"
Her terrified scream was suddenly muffled as her kidnappers managed to get her into

the SUV. The vehicle raced away from the scene, taking the woman he loved more than
anything in the world.

An angry kick to his gut tore a pained groan from his throat. Another blow to his

shoulder knocked him onto his back again. One of the assailants bent down and slammed
the full-length of Nikolai's own knife into his shoulder. He gasped, but the pain of the
blade slicing through muscle was nothing compared to the soul-crushing agony he
experienced at the knowledge he'd failed Vivian.

"Jesus, we weren't supposed to kill him." One of the masked men dragged away the

man who had stabbed Nikolai. "Let's go."

The attackers and his people started to trade gunfire. The assailants piled into the

remaining SUV, leaving behind the crashed vehicle but taking their injured comrades
with them. Kostya and Sergei finally made it to his side.

Dropping to his knees, Kostya grabbed Nikolai around the waist and dragged him out

of the roadway. Men were shouting all around him but he couldn't understand anything
they said. His battered brain couldn't compute a single word after the nasty blows he'd
taken.

Gripping Kostya's hand, he growled, "They took her. They took my Vivian."
"We'll get her back."
As Kostya shouted at Sergei to get a fucking ambulance, Nikolai fought to remain

conscious. Blood seeped out of his body and soaked into his jacket and pooled around
Kostya's legs. Nikolai relished the excruciating pain accompanying each and every
breath. It reminded him that he was still alive—and if he was alive, he could get her back.
He had to get her back.

And the men who had taken his beautiful, precious Vivian would know true agony.

Chapter Five

Ivan hated hospitals almost as much as he hated police stations. The lemony scent of

the harsh cleansers used to keep them clean spurred those old and terrible memories of
the many violent injuries he'd suffered in his life. He absent-mindedly rubbed his left
side as he relived the searing heat of a razor-tipped shiv gashing at his gut.

This hospital in downtown Houston was much nicer than the awful prison infirmary

hellholes he'd visited far too often but it still left him gritting his teeth. In the last few
months, he'd spent far too much time in these places. First, it had been Erin's sister and
then Dimitri and then Yuri. Thankfully, they'd all been discharged—or escaped in Ruby's
case—within a day or two but Nikolai? He was in bad fucking shape.

But the lucky bastard had the hardest head in the whole damned world—and thank

Christ for that! Nikolai had to be the only man in creation who could survive a beating
with a pipe and not come out brain-damaged. He had a nasty concussion, battered ribs,
bruised kidneys and a number of gashes that had required extensive suturing and
stapling. He'd live—but he was going to have dozens of new scars to add to myriad
others already dotting his heavily tattooed body.

But Nikolai would find little comfort in surviving the horrific attack.
Ivan's gut twisted as he tried to imagine what Nikolai would feel when he woke up

and remembered that Vivian was gone. Just the thought of hooded men stealing away his
Erin made Ivan want to puke. He ran a hand across his chest as his heart ached from the
tormenting images of Erin being snatched from him and taken away to some unknown
place.

His gaze moved to Nikolai's sleeping form. This late at night the hospital was very

quiet except for the continual beeps of the machines monitoring Nikolai's heartbeat and
blood pressure. Even in sleep, his friend's face was drawn and tight. Was he dreaming of
the attack? Was he dreaming of her?

When Nikolai finally woke, there would be hell to pay. Kostya had managed to keep

the men under control so far but Ivan doubted he could hold the bloodthirsty, infuriated
captains and soldiers back longer. They wanted justice for the attack on Nikolai and
Vivian's kidnapping. Kostya was smart enough to know that lashing out indiscriminately
was only going to cause more bloodshed and problems. The men were pacified for the
moment but one wrong move would set them all off.

Though she wasn't technically part of the family, the men who served under Nikolai

all loved Vivian and considered her one of them. While the delicious food cooked by the
chefs at Samovar reminded them of home, it was Vivian's bright smile and sweet
kindness that brought Nikolai's men to the restaurant again and again.

Like Ivan, most of those men had assumed that eventually Nikolai would stop fucking

around with the guardian bullshit and finally claim Vivian as his own. It was clear to
anyone with even one working eye that Nikolai needed her. Ivan hadn't really
understood what drew Nikolai toward Vivian until he'd met Erin—and then everything

made sense.

Sometimes the darkest of souls needed the balance of good, pure woman. Erin had

brought such sweetness and light to his life. Ivan could only imagine how desperately
Nikolai craved what he now enjoyed every day and every night with Erin.

For the men in Nikolai's large crew, the idea that someone had dared to take the

woman their boss protected, the woman they expected to someday slide into the role of
family matriarch, enraged them. It drove home the point that none of their wives or
children or girlfriends was safe anymore. The rules had been broken in the most violent
way—and now someone had to pay. If Nikolai didn't wake soon and get things back
under his control, the entire city could erupt in violence and mayhem.

"Hey," Dimitri called softly from the doorway of Nikolai's hospital room. "They're

about to kick us out until the morning." Dimitri's worried gaze fell on Nikolai. "Has he
moved yet?

Ivan shook his head. "Did you talk to Yuri?"
Dimitri nodded. "The winter storm will keep them in Moscow for a few more days.

He's trying to keep Lena calm but she's threatening to walk across Russia. He's put up an
obscene amount of money for information on the attack or Vivian's return. Kostya has his
men putting the word on the street."

If anything could motivate the seedy underbelly of this town to speak, it was money.

"Let's hope it works."

"It's been almost twenty-four hours and there's no ransom. If this doesn’t work, if

someone doesn’t squeal, I don't know how we'll find her." Dimitri hesitated. "If she's even
still alive."

Ivan despaired at the thought of Vivian being dead. Erin loved her so much and

considered her a sister. He didn't know if she would ever recover from the horror of
losing Vivian. "She's alive. She has to be."

Dimitri stared at Nikolai's motionless body. "God help us all if she's not."

* * *

Blindfolded and naked, I hugged my knees tighter to my chest and tried to calm my

chattering teeth. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this cold. My ears perked to
the sound of heavy shoes tapping against concrete. The echo was similar to the one in my
warehouse studio so I assumed I'd been brought to some abandoned warehouse or
factory—and there were plenty of those around Houston.

I couldn’t absolutely say for sure how long it had been since I'd been so violently torn

away from Nikolai and thrown in that SUV. I thought it was a day, maybe two. Once
those monsters had gotten me into the vehicle, they'd jabbed me with a syringe filled
with some kind of sedative. Sometime later, I'd woken up blindfolded and naked in this
strange cage.

It wasn't a very big space. Even with my tiny frame, I couldn't stretch out my legs

totally. I tried to shift my position whenever my muscles started to cramp. When the
guards let me out of my cage to use the bathroom, I took full advantage of the chance to

stretch my legs. The humiliation of doing my business while they watched me was
almost too much to bear but at least they let me use a real toilet and sink and not a bucket
or worse. The blindfold helped ease my embarrassment. At least I didn't have to stare
back at them.

I'd been fed twice—once a cold hamburger and a little while ago a chewy egg

sandwich on an English muffin. Both times a bottle of water had been shoved through
the wire squares of the cage wall. Even though I was so thirsty, I carefully rationed the
water. I wasn't sure how often these food deliveries would occur.

As I listened to the approaching footsteps, I tried to slow my panicked breathing. My

nakedness and forced blindness only increased my terror. I'd tried once and only once to
remove my blindfold but a man who smelled strongly of cigarettes had tapped my arm
with some kind of device that shocked me hard enough to make me yelp and cry.
Shuddering, I touched the bumpy burn marks the device had left on my skin. Since then,
I'd been terrified to do anything wrong lest they zap me again.

The footsteps drew closer and closer until they finally stopped. I'd come to recognize

the sounds of the different men who were holding me captive. This man, the one with
the heavier, lumbering steps, never spoke. I heard the rustle of fabric as he crouched
down outside my cage. Though I couldn't see him, I could feel him watching me, staring
at me.

What did he want?
The possibilities filled me with dread. Alone in this cage, I'd had plenty of time to

think about what might happen to me. If I was very, very lucky, the men who had taken
me would ransom me back to Nikolai. He'd move heaven and earth to get the money to
buy me back. If I was unlucky? Well—there was no end to the horrific scenarios my
frightened mind had conjured up since being kidnapped.

I tried to convince myself that the best scenario—being ransomed back to Nikolai—

would happen. Looking back, I could see now that vandalizing the warehouse had been a
setup. They'd drawn us to that empty street knowing that we'd be cut off and exposed.

Was it the motorcycle club my father had crossed that had attacked us and taken me?

Was it the cartel? I didn't know—and it scared me. If I had some sense of my captors'
identities, I might have been able to come up with a plan or a way to try to negotiate
with them, to make them see me as an innocent human being.

Snapping fingers startled me. Two more sets of footsteps echoed in the big room now.

They headed right for my cage. A key scraped in a lock. The hinges of the cage squealed
as the door was opened. A big, mean hand reached into the cage and grabbed my upper
arm. I gasped as the tightly squeezing fingers bit into my skin.

Like a stray dog, I was dragged out of the cage and thrown onto the floor. My knees

hit the concrete floor so hard my jaw rattled. I let a whimper of pain escape my lips
before clamping them shut. I didn't dare show them any more weakness.

A hand curled in my hair and jerked me to my feet. I hissed but managed to squelch

the painful cry that tried to erupt from my throat. Another hand, this was one softer and
gentler, cupped my chin. Beneath the heavy stink of cigarette smoke clinging to the mean
guard, I caught the faintest hint of cloves. The man in front of me, the one cupping my

chin, smelled of the spice. He said nothing but I could feel his penetrating gaze raking
over my naked body.

Without warning, the hand curled in my hair moved to my nape. The bigger hand

tightened on my neck and I was shoved forward. Those awful fingers of the guard dug
into my skin as I was half-pushed and half-dragged across the open space. Fearful of
falling or tripping, I put my hands out in front of me for balance but they were quickly
smacked back down.

A door squeaked up ahead. The echoes of our footsteps became more muted and I

realized I was in a hallway. My bare feet scurried across the concrete in a desperate
attempt to keep up my captors.

As we walked down the hall, I became aware of voices—female voices. Amid the

hushed whispers, I heard the softest sounds of crying and sniffling. Were there more
women being held in cages? What the hell was this place?

And then it hit me.
I hadn't been kidnapped. I was being trafficked!
Because Lena watched the news every morning, I'd heard all about the sex trafficking

busts that had been happening since the summer. The Feds and the local police had taken
down small trafficking rings and raided mobile bordellos. They'd freed dozens of young
women, many of them underage, who had been trafficked to Houston from Southeast
Asia and Eastern Europe.

My stomach lurched at the realization that I was going to be sold and raped and

brutalized. Just as quickly, my survival instincts took hold. I had to get out of here. I
wasn't very strong but I was fast and I could run far without getting tired. The first
chance I had to get away from these beasts, I was booking it.

Another door opened. The echo in here sounded different. Was it a tiled room? A

bathroom? Squeaking knobs and the splash of water confirmed my deduction.

The hand gripping my neck propelled me forward. I slipped on the wet tile and only

narrowly managed not to fall on my face.

"Hands on the tile, cunt." The low Southern drawl shocked me as much as the nasty

word he'd called me. I'd assumed the trafficking was run by one of the foreign crime
syndicates operating out of Houston. How wrong I'd been.

Not wanting to get hit or zapped with that awful device, I planted my palms against

the tile. Cold water rushed over my naked body. I started to shake violently as my body
temperature plummeted.

When something rough and scratching slapped my back, I squeaked with horror.

Harsh bristles scraped up and down my skin and smeared unpleasantly scented soap all
over my body.

"Turn around, whore."
Humiliated and trying so hard not to cry, I turned around and bared my front to this

terrible man. The brush abused my breasts and belly. With a powerful thrust to my chest,
the brush slammed me back under the cold shower.

The moment the suds were rinsed clean, the water was shut off and the brush

clattered to the floor. The guard grasped a handful of my wet hair and jerked me toward

him. I tried to gasp in a breath through my mouth as the wet blindfold slipped down far
enough to cover my nose. Breathing through the soaking wet fabric sent me into a panic.

As if enjoying my fear, the guard clamped his hand over my mouth. He laughed as I

struggled and tried to free myself. "Look at this little slut dance!"

Cackling, he moved his hand just enough to cover my nose too. Weakened and starved

for oxygen, I pounded my fists to his chest, but he only laughed harder. "Maybe we
should try waterboarding some of these girls. Look at the way she's fighting and
wiggling."

"John, man, let her go." The other guard's voice wavered with nervousness. "You know

what he said about this one."

He? The man who smelled like cloves? Was he the one with all the power?
John, the mean guard clamping his hand over my mouth and nose, finally let go. I

sucked in a lungful of air and sputtered. Still dazed, I couldn’t fight back as John pushed
me against the wall. Sandwiched between his paunchy body and the tile wall, I could
barely move.

"What's so special about you, girl? Huh?" His dirty hands moved over my naked body.

Glad for the blindfold, I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I wasn't there, that this
disgusting asshole wasn't putting his hands on my breasts. "Is it true this little pussy of
yours hasn't been poked?"

I cringed at the filth coming from his mouth. When he tried to slide his hand between

my thighs, I clawed at his arm and slapped his face. He hissed with pain and gripped my
neck, squeezing so hard I thought I might pass out.

"John! Damn! Stop!" The other guard rushed toward us. "You're going to bruise her.

You know they hate it when the pretty ones are bruised. This one is our big payday."

Their big payday? Oh God.
John loosened his grip on my neck but snatched my wet hair instead. He jerked me

around so hard I felt hair ripping free from my scalp. A big boot smacked my bare
bottom. "Get her back in her cage, Robbie."

"Come on, kid." Robbie, the other guard, took my arm and hurried me out of the

bathroom. As we walked down the hall, I heard the other women again, clearer this time.
How many of them were there? It sounded like so many. Dozens, maybe.

Would I soon be one of them? Would I be passed around between paying customers?

My virginity, the one thing I'd guarded so carefully, the gift I'd wanted to give to my
husband on my wedding night, would soon be cruelly and despicably taken from me.
There would be no love, no gently spoken words and soft caresses. I'd be taken roughly
and harshly, abused and beaten.

"Hey, kiddo, it won't be so bad for you."
Even though I couldn't see him because of the blindfold, I whipped my gaze toward

Robbie. Was this guy insane?

"You're not going to one of the brothels. They're going to put you on the auction block.

Some rich old bastard will buy you. I hear they treat some of these slave girls really nice."

Really nice? I wanted to puke. How could a man grow so callous? How could he keep

all of us locked up here and not think about what the hell he was doing? Didn't he see us

as human beings? Were we just a commodity to be sold and traded?

Shoved back in my cage, I slid into the far corner and hugged my knees to my chest.

Still shivering with cold and soaking wet, I rubbed my hands up and down my naked
skin. The door to my cage opened unexpectedly and a towel was shoved against my
hand. I snatched it quickly and hurriedly dabbed at my slick skin.

But, as I dried my hair, I couldn't help but wonder if I wouldn't have been better off

letting myself die from hypothermia. Would that have been a kinder, gentler end than
what I faced once they sold me?

The sobs I'd been able to hold at bay suddenly broke free. I draped the towel around

my shoulders in a desperate search for some warmth and dropped my forehead to my
crossed arms. I cried into the small hollow between my folded knees and arms.

I'd find a way to make it through this. I wasn't as weak as everyone seemed to think.

Somehow, someway, I'd survive whatever awaited me.

But not knowing whether or not Nikolai had survived the attack threatened to crush

my spirit. I desperately wanted to believe he was alive. If any man in the whole world
could survive that nasty beating and stabbing and live to rescue me, it was Nikolai. He'd
do anything to get me back. Anything.

I only wished I'd been brave enough to tell him how much I loved him.

Chapter Six

Fighting to surface through the haze of drugs and pain proved more difficult than

Nikolai had expected. He came awake in the early morning. The grey skyline visible
through the hospital window had only started to lighten. Try as he might, he couldn't
concentrate long enough to stay awake. The strong arms of sleep dragged him back down
into the silent abyss.

When he managed to surface again sometime later, Nikolai thought for sure he was

dead. There was no other explanation for the sounds of prayer filling his ears. Blinking,
his vision cleared enough for him to spot the darkly garbed man sitting at his bedside.
Drugged and foggy from the head trauma, it took him a few moments to recognize the
man as Father Semyon, Vivian's priest.

Why the hell would a priest visit him? A terrifying thought struck. Was Vivian dead?

Had the holy man come to break the news to him?

Pain tore through Nikolai's gut and punched his heart. "No!"
"Easy," Father Semyon urged and took his hand. "You're all right. You must rest. She

needs you whole."

Calmed somewhat by the priest's assertion that Vivian still needed him, Nikolai

succumbed to the lull of the familiar Russian chants of the older man's prayers.

The next time his eyelids fluttered apart he spotted Ivan sitting next to his hospital

bed. His slight movement drew his friend's attention. In an instant, Ivan was on his feet
and leaning across him. "Kolya?"

His hand trembled and felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds as he tried to grasp the

front of Ivan's shirt. "Vanya, they took her."

Ivan's harsh face turned sympathetic. "I know."
"Ransom?"
"Nothing yet."
Ivan's answer stabbed through his gut like a hot knife. If this wasn't about money…
"We have to find her."
Ivan gripped his hand. "We're looking. Everyone is looking. Dimitri, Kostya, Santos

and the police—we're all looking for her. Yuri put out a reward. We'll find her. You have
to rest."

"I have to get up." He tried to push himself into a sitting position but the medications

dripping into his veins left him woozy and weak. Scowling at the IV lines running out of
his arms, he reached over to rip them out, but Ivan's powerful hand stopped him.

"No. You're no good to her like this. Rest. Heal."
Nikolai started to fight Ivan but the bastard hit the dosing button on the medication

pump. What little strength he possessed fled him as the drugs poured into his
bloodstream. He angrily smacked at Ivan but it was no use. Sleep gripped him and
wouldn't let it go.

But the next time he jerked awake, Nikolai immediately sensed something was

different. His entire body throbbed with pain. The top of his aching head threatened to
pop off at any moment. He hissed as the raging discomfort made his stomach churn.

Out of nowhere, a hand holding a pink plastic basin appeared. Bracing his gut with his

arm, Nikolai retched into the basin. His whole body protested with spasms that cut him
to the very core.

"Are you finished?"
Nikolai lifted his bleary gaze to Detective Santos' stony face. Wiping at his mouth,

Nikolai nodded. "Da. Yeah."

"I know you're in pain and I'm almost sorry for it, but I had to shut off the drugs. I

need you awake." Santos dropped the basin in the sink across the hospital room. "Can you
walk?"

"I'll crawl if I have to," Nikolai growled and jerked the sheet from his body.
"We don't have a lot of time. Dimitri and Ivan are out there running interference with

the nurses and the rookie posted to your room." Santos slid an arm around Nikolai's
shoulders and helped him to the edge of the bed. He backed away long enough to grab a
plastic bag filled with clothes. "One of your men gathered your things."

Nikolai cast an untrusting eye toward the detective. "Why are you helping me?"
"Because you're the best chance I've got of getting my cousin back. Even if you did lose

her," Santos added angrily.

"I didn't lose her. She was taken from me." The vise-like grip around his heart

tightened as the memory of her terrified scream ricocheted in his head. It was a sound he
would never forget.

Nikolai grabbed the bag and dropped it onto the bed. He'd been in hospitals enough

times to know how to remove his catheter and IV. Moving slowly, he embraced the
discomfort that accompanied every twitch of his battered muscles. He deserved those
gut-twisting jabs of pain for putting Vivian at risk and failing to protect her and keep her
safe.

Why had he asked Sergei to bring her to the warehouse? Why had he picked a fight

with her over the paintings? Why hadn't he fought harder to protect her? How could he
let those monsters take her?

Distraught with his failures, he finished dressing. Putting on his shoes nearly made

him black out but he pushed through the pain. The detective peered around the door
long enough to ascertain they were in clear before waving his hand for Nikolai to follow.
Still a bit woozy, Nikolai put a hand to the wall for support as he slipped out of his
hospital room.

Looking back, Santos shot him a brief glower of irritation. The detective reluctantly

put an arm around Nikolai's shoulders to help him move faster. He grudgingly accepted
Santos' aid.

Out in the cold, wet December night, he found Kostya and Sergei waiting near an

SUV parked in the loading zone around the rear of the hospital. Not a word was spoken
as they climbed into the SUV. He hissed with pain and put a stabilizing hand against his
ribs.

"Here." Kostya shoved a couple pills and a bottle of water into his hand. "Take these.

They'll help with the pain but keep your mind clear."

He trusted the medicine dropped into his palm. Before coming here, Kostya had been

a biochemist who worked research and development in one of Europe's mega
pharmaceutical firms. His keen knowledge of science was the key to his excellence in the
field of cleaning.

A few blocks from the hospital, three different cars joined them, each one packed with

his soldiers and captains. Voice gravelly, he ordered, "Tell me everything, Kostya."

"There isn't much to tell." Kostya didn’t sugarcoat it. "We've gone to the usual

suspects. Everyone is talking. They're all scared shitless that they'll be blamed or caught
in the crossfire. No one has given us anything good until now." Kostya turned in his seat.
"And the old man called twice. He's threatening to send Grisha."

The last complication Nikolai needed was Maksim, their boss, sending one of the

Moscow boys down to Houston. Though Grisha had been the man who brought Nikolai
into the family fold as a teenager, he didn’t trust the captain to keep this nightmare from
spiraling out of control.

Grisha had always been the type to favor a violent answer to every problem. Once,

Nikolai had been that stupid and immature but with age came wisdom. He'd learned that
the best way to handle these types of situations was calmly and quietly.

More distressingly, Maksim had been signaling his displeasure with the way Nikolai

ran Houston. While Nikolai had been consciously moving their syndicate into cleaner,
easier business, Maksim had been looking to grow into riskier, higher earning areas.
Nikolai's refusal to open Houston to some of those opportunities hadn't gone over well
with the old man.

If Maksim thought this was his chance to wrest control from Nikolai's hands, he was

dead wrong. Nikolai knew his men. This would push them closer together. They would
rally around him now.

"You let me handle the old man." He gestured toward Sergei with a tip of his chin.

"Where are we headed?"

"Besian called. He says he has something you'll want to see."
The Albanian wasn't the kind of man who would waste Nikolai's time. More

importantly, Kostya and Sergei wouldn't have let the detective break him out of the
hospital if this lead wasn't promising.

He glanced at Vivian's cousin. The younger man looked as if he hadn't slept in days.

His tense expression told the story. "The Marshals intercepted a call between someone in
the Calaveras' club house and Romero. It was a quick call and a simple message. 'He has
her.' It's useless as far as intel goes but I thought you'd want to know."

"Not that useless," Nikolai murmured. "He? Romero knows who has his daughter. He

was probably expecting her to be taken."

"Do you think he set it up?" Santos hesitated. "Maybe prison has softened the old

bastard. He might have had her snatched up to keep her safe while he makes whatever
move he's planning to make by flipping."

He snorted derisively. "A man who used his child to run drug shipments around

Houston doesn't suddenly grow a conscience in prison."

"I suppose you are the authority on the intersection of conscience and prison terms."
Nikolai let the dig slide. Instead, he insisted, "Romero didn't take early release from

the pen just because he wanted to flip on his old crew. He's running another game, a
game those Marshals probably don't even suspect."

"I'm sure they've studied it from every angle. They wouldn't have given him a deal

otherwise."

"And I'm sure that police officers and lawyers don't think like criminals." Irritation

laced his voice. "You have to stop thinking with your cop brain. What does a man like
Romero want?"

"Money? Power?"
"Yes, but he also wants something even more precious. He wants freedom."
Santos blinked. "Freedom? From prison?"
"Nothing that simple," Nikolai replied. "You can't possibly understand it but there's a

heavy price that's paid for a life like Romero's. He's fifty years old but he's still got
someone yanking on his goddamn chain and telling him what to do. How high to jump
and how fast. It wears on a man. It makes him hungry for freedom. For the chance to
make his own decisions."

Santos studied him. "And what's the price of freedom these days?"
"Too high," Nikolai murmured. Glancing out the window, he remembered what Ivan

had survived to get out of the life. Despite Nikolai's attempts at shielding his friend and
lessening the pain involved with clawing his way out of the family, Ivan had suffered
terribly. The beating he'd taken at the hands of his own crew had been one that most men
would not have survived.

Shrugging off those terrible memories, Nikolai thought of Vivian. "They took her to

show me and Romero that we're not in control. This is about fear and power."

Santos laughed harshly and in disbelief. "Is there someone out there that scares you?

That scares Romero?"

"We all have our boogeymen." He glanced at the detective. "Even you." He considered

where they were headed. "Do you understand what happens if you stay with us tonight?"

Santos held his gaze for a long moment before turning back to his window. "Tonight,

I'm not a cop. I'm just a man trying to save his family."

Nikolai understood the detective's motivation but he wouldn't allow the man to cross

that

line. When they had Vivian safely home, she would never forgive him if she learned

he'd allowed her cousin to compromise his career and his personal integrity.

Sergei drove them to one of the repair garages the Albanians used as a front for their

chop shop trade. They pulled into one of the bays. A couple of men in mechanic's overalls
tugged on the overhead chains to lower the doors and give them privacy.

Though his body throbbed mercilessly and his head pounded, Nikolai climbed out of

the SUV without allowing a hint of his pained state to cross his face. He made his way to
the center of the garage where Besian waited. Flanked by their men, they greeted one
another with silent looks.

"Shit." Besian winced at the sight of him. "They really did fuck you up." His gaze

shifted to Santos. Eyes narrowed, he asked, "Why the hell is he here?"

"I didn’t realize I needed your permission to conduct my business as I see fit."
Besian put up his hands. "No need to be so touchy."
Not in the mood for chit-chat, Nikolai cut to the chase. "Do you have information on

Vivian or not?"

Before Besian could answer, a side door opened. Sergei and Kostya, both on edge,

immediately pulled their weapons. The sight of guns drawn from jackets spurred Besian's
crew to do the same.

"Hey! Wait!" Besian stepped to the side, putting his body in the line of fire. "I promised

Lorenzo Guzman this guy would have safe passage. If you want to kill him, do it on your
own turf. For now, he's protected."

Julio Jimenez, one of the Guzman Cartel reps, stepped out of the office with both

hands held high. Nikolai had worked with Julio when trying to secure Joe Cruz's release
from the cartel's clutches. If Lorenzo had given an order to take out Nikolai and kidnap
Vivian, Julio would have been the man who carried it out.

And Eric Santos knew that. The detective stepped forward but Nikolai managed to

stop him with a stern look. Reminded of his place, Santos clenched his jaw and stepped
back into line.

To show that he was unarmed, Julio slowly spun around while lifting his shirt. "I'm

only here to talk."

Nikolai flicked his fingers. Sergei and Kostya lowered their weapons but didn't holster

them. Besian's crew followed suit.

Showing some reluctance, Julio joined them at the center of the garage. He swept both

hands out in front of him before declaring, "We had nothing to do with this. We don't
want trouble with you. Lorenzo wanted me to assure you that we're interested in
protecting and continuing the business relationship we've enjoyed."

"You can tell El Jefe that until my Vivian is safely delivered there will be no business.

Me entiendes

?"

"Absolutely," Julio replied with a saccharine grin.
"If I find out the Calaveras were behind this attack and kidnapping, I'm going to put

an end to that club."

"We understand that's the cost of doing business—but I can assure you the club wasn't

behind this."

Nikolai studied Julio. The man was as slick as they came but he had a clear tell.

Tonight, Nikolai didn’t see it. Julio was telling the truth—or, at least, what he knew to be
the truth. "We'll see."

A strange noise startled all of them. Their gazes snapped to the maroon sedan nearby.

This time the noise that emanated from the trunk was louder and easily identified as a
man shouting into a gag.

He glanced at Besian. "What's in there?"
"Your gift," the Albanian answered with a smile. "And my reward."
He arched an eyebrow. "Reward?"
Kostya cleared his throat. "Yuri offered a big reward for information on Vivian. It was

triple for her safe return."

Nikolai didn't even want to think about how much money his dear friend with those

deep billionaire pockets had put up. Because his girlfriend was Vivian's best friend, Yuri
would do anything to help.

Besian approached the car and fished a key fob from his pants. The car beeped twice

as the trunk was unlocked and popped open. Lifting the lid, he gestured to the bound
and gagged man stuffed in there. Dressed in jeans and a hoodie, the man didn't look
familiar to Nikolai—until he spotted the angry, red wound in the man's hand.

"Yes," Nikolai said as the memories of the attack frantically flashed through his mind.

"I stabbed this one."

"His brother-in-law ratted him out to me. He wanted the reward but didn't want to

come forward on his own. Better to let me do the dirty business—and get the bigger cut."

"Who is he?" Nikolai reached into the trunk and yanked down the collar of the man's

shirt in search of gang tats but he had unmarked skin.

"He's got no affiliation. The brother-in-law gambles in one of my underground casinos

but he's just a plumber." Besian cruelly poked the man's wounded hand and drew a
shriek of pain. "He's called Bill Rathbone. He's a dentist." Besian shrugged. "He's nobody."
He spit into the trunk, splattering the crying man. "He was nobody. Now he's all yours."

"Sergei."
Without a word, the lumbering enforcer walked over, scooped up the wailing man

and carried him back to the SUV. Kostya popped the back hatch and Sergei dropped the
dentist into the cargo area.

Nikolai didn't take his eyes off the man who had taken part in the attack and

kidnapping. His mind raced with all the terrible things he could do to make this man
talk. It had been a long time since he'd experienced this sort of bloodthirsty need to make
a man hurt. The idea that Vivian might be in pain right now spurred his bloodlust.

Besian dared to lay a hand on his arm. "Whatever happens—we're with you."
Nikolai accepted the offer of alliance with a curt nod. Things were still so uncertain.

There was something in the air, something new and worrying, that all the factions of
Houston's criminal world could smell.

"Nikolai?" Julio Jimenez stepped a little closer. "When this is all settled, Lorenzo

would like a sit-down to discuss new terms."

Nikolai's eyes narrowed to slits. "We'll see."
Julio didn't push it. He melted into the background with a sickening smile.
Turning back to the SUV, Nikolai joined Santos in a slow walk. Thinking of the bound

and gagged man writhing around in the cargo area, he wanted to give Vivian's cousin a
chance to back away without compromising himself. "This is your last chance to step back
over the line to your side of the law, Eric."

The detective seemed surprised by Nikolai's use of his first name but he didn't say a

damn word. No, he simply jerked open the passenger door and climbed into the SUV.

So be it

, Nikolai thought and slid into the front passenger seat. As Sergei backed out of

the garage, Kostya leaned forward and extended Nikolai's favorite lighter and an
unopened pack of cigarettes. He kept them in his desk at Samovar but Kostya had
obviously known he'd want them tonight. Though he'd been trying to give them up at

Vivian's urging, he couldn't deny the need to feed his nicotine addiction right now.

The first long tug of the hot smoke into his lungs brought such relief. Fully aware that

Sergei was on Vivian's team when it came to this particular habit, he cracked the
window. The chilly December air whirled around him. The bracing cold snapped the
drowsiness right out of him.

Staring out at the bright lights of the city, Nikolai thought of Vivian. Was she warm?

Was she hungry? Was she injured? Were they hurting her? The crushing weight of guilt
and fear compressed his chest.

Flicking cigarette ash out the window, he thought of their last conversation. Had he

really said that she should consider leaving Houston? The very idea was like an ice pick
through his heart.

The memories of everything that had gone down in her studio ripped at his

conscience. She'd been so angry with him—and for good reason. He'd been an
abominable asshole to her about the painting. He'd reacted with panic and fear instead of
manning the fuck up and telling her the truth about what had really happened that
night.

And he'd never forgive himself for that.
Never.
Just as he'd never forgive himself for never telling her what she meant to him. Faced

with losing her forever, he now understood how stupid he'd been to keep her at a
distance. He'd convinced himself he was looking out for her, that he was trying to do the
best thing for her by refusing to acknowledge what had grown between them, but he'd
been dead wrong.

A pitiful whine from the rear of the SUV interrupted his thoughts. Finishing his

cigarette, he pinched off the end before tossing it out of the window.

Finally, Santos dared to ask, "Where are we taking him?"
Kostya provided the answer. "We're going to my place."

Chapter Seven

This time of night, the storage center was a ghost town. They owned and operated

several of these storage places around the city. Despite the high initial outlay, the acres of
storage containers, some climate-controlled and others bare bones, had proven to be a
profitable enterprise. The added perk of having hundreds of containers available at a
moment's notice was one that couldn't be touted enough.

Tonight, Sergei took them deep into the maze of storage rows before killing the lights

and engine. From the outside, this row of connected storage sheds looked exactly like all
the others but inside was a different story.

Kostya removed his keys and unlocked his secret space. Sergei grabbed the dentist

from the rear of the SUV and hefted him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Finally
feeling the analgesic effect of the pills Kostya had given him, Nikolai was able to move
without constant nausea from the pain. The cigarette, his first in almost two weeks, had
given him a nice buzz that edged off the dull throbbing in his skull and the stabbing ache
in his shoulder.

The frigid interior of Kostya's storage locker greeted them. Bright fluorescent lights lit

up the surprisingly cavernous interior. Though it looked like one mid-sized unit from the
outside, it was actually four connected units. Plastic sheeting covered the walls, ceiling
and floor. A crinkling sound accompanied their footsteps.

When Sergei dropped the dentist into the lone chair sitting in the middle of the room,

the man tried to run but Sergei's meaty hand held him place. Kostya opened a cabinet
along the right wall and retrieved a handful of zipties that he used to quickly bind the
man to the chair. Stuck there, the dentist scanned the room in a panic. It was the meat
hooks hanging from the ceiling that really made him scream.

One look at Detective Santos' pale face told Nikolai that Kostya's theatrics were

working. When Kostya slipped into surgical booties and a black apron, Santos slid closer
to Nikolai. Voice hushed, he hissed, "What the hell is this? I thought you were going to
work him over a little bit. I didn't realize you were going to field dress the poor bastard."

Nikolai held the detective's gaze before glancing toward the door behind them. "If you

want to leave, go now."

Santos clenched his jaw and crossed his arms but didn't move. Sergei placed another

folding metal chair across from the dentist. Nikolai carefully sat down, mindful of the
bruising along his sides and the way quick movements made his head ache.

Leaning back, he got comfortable and stared at the weeping dentist. The man looked

pitifully out of place. There was nothing hard about him. He had that beaten-down
soccer dad look. Why the hell had he taken part in such a brazen attack?

"All right, Bill," Nikolai said very calmly. "We're going to have a discussion. You're

going to tell me the truth. Do you know what happens if you lie to me?"

On cue, Kostya whipped the black covering off his little cart of horrors. The gleaming

silver instruments of torment inspired a ball-shriveling shriek from Bill. The gag in his

mouth dampened the sound somewhat but it didn't matter. The night attendant at the
storage center knew better than to poke around and ask questions if he heard a sound
like that.

Tilting his head, Nikolai studied the man. "I'll take that as a yes."
Kostya stepped forward and tugged the rag gag out of the man's mouth. The second it

was free, the dentist started to beg for his life. "Please. Please. Don't kill me. I have kids. I
have a wife. Please."

"You tried to kill me. You took something very precious from me. Why should I let

you live?"

"No, please!" He sobbed pathetically. "Look, I'm not a criminal. I'm a dentist. You

know? I deal with cavities and dentures. I'm not a kidnapper."

"Not a kidnapper?" He leveled an icy stare Bill's way. "Kostya, did that sound like a lie

to you?"

"Da." He turned to his cart and retrieved a pair of gruesome looking pliers.
"It's not a lie. I didn't want to take her. They made me."
Seizing on the chance to get to the mastermind behind this sick plot, Nikolai asked,

"Who made you?"

Bill shook his head. Sweating profusely, he refused to answer. "I can't."
Fishing the pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, Nikolai said, "You know, my

friend here, he does some dabbling in dentistry."

Eyes wide, Bill started hopping in the chair. "No. No. No."
Slightly amused, Nikolai watched the metal chair travel a few feet before Sergei

finally stepped forward and put his foot out to halt the dentist's escape. Clamping his
hands on the man's jaw, Sergei forced it wide open so Kostya could reach in with the
pliers.

"Jesus, Maria y Jose!" Santos rubbed the side of his face. Clearly disturbed, he asked,

"His teeth?"

Nikolai glared at the detective as Bill gurgled and shouted. His patience thin, he

snarled, "If you don't have the stomach for this, get the fuck out! I shouldn't have to
remind you that this piece of shit kidnapped Vivian. For all we know the pigs who have
her have done far worse than pull a couple of teeth."

As Santos breathed heavily and visibly clenched and released his jaw, Kostya jerked

hard and the dentist shrieked. Pale with horror, the detective turned his back as Kostya
dropped the bloody tooth on a metal tray atop his cart. "Another, Boss?"

Nikolai gave the tiniest shake of his head and tugged a cigarette from the pack. As he

rolled it between his fingers, he watched as a wet spot spread across the front of Bill's
jeans. Piss pooled on the plastic beneath the man. Certain he'd gotten his point across,
Nikolai said, "Does my friend need to check your mouth for any more cavities or are you
going to cooperate?"

"I'll cooperate." Blood-tinged saliva spilled down Bill's chin. "No more. Please. No

more."

"Who do you work for?"
"No one." Bill inhaled a shaky, sobbing breath. "I really am just a dentist but there was

a debt. The loan shark got killed and this new guy said he'd bought the loan but he didn't
want money. He wanted this favor and then he'd clear all of our debts."

Nikolai's fingers went still and he clamped the cigarette between his fingers. Even in

his injured state, his mind quickly flipped through all the angles. "You had a debt with
Afrim Barisha?"

Bill nodded quickly. "I got in over my head with the expansion of my practice. The

fucking recession hit and I had too many expenses. My child support and alimony for my
ex-wife in Dallas and then twins with my new wife—I couldn't keep up so my brother-in-
law told me about the Albanian and his loans."

"But you got behind," Nikolai guessed.
"Yeah, but he was letting me spread out the payments. He'd agreed to have my boat

stolen."

In other words, Afrim would have one of Besian's men steal the boat and sell it on the

black market. After he collected the insurance payout from Bill and his cut from Besian,
he'd be in the black again on the man's loan or damn close.

"But then Afrim got killed and this guy showed up and told me that if I didn't meet

him at the bar where Afrim ran his loan sharking business, he'd kill my wife and sell my
kids. He had their pictures and their schedules. I panicked."

"A guy? What guy? White? Black? Latino? Asian?" Now Santos was intrigued. His

horror at witnessing Kostya yank that tooth out of Bill's head seemed to vanish as he
started to interrogate the man.

"He's a white guy. Tall. Brown hair. About twenty pounds overweight. He said his

name was John."

"Did you recognize him?"
"No, I'd never seen him before that night."
"Did he tell you who he worked for?"
"No. He had tattoos on his neck. Lightning bolts and a skull. He said that his boss

would make the Albanian mob look like the Boy Scouts. I didn't ask questions."

Eric glanced at him. Lightning bolts and skulls were common among the skinheads

who were trying to grow their territory.

"How many of you were at the bar that night?"
"I don't know. Ten? Eleven?"
"Did you know any of those men?"
"I recognized their faces but I don't know their names. They were guys I'd see at the

bar making payments, you know?"

Santos paused. "You said this guy John threatened to sell your kids. What do you

mean by that?"

"He had pictures of dog cages but they weren't holding dogs. They were holding girls.

Women," he added and sniffed loudly. The front of his shirt was now covered in bloody
saliva and his cheeks glistened with tears. "It was sick. Sick."

Nikolai's gut soured as those old buried memories of his miserable childhood

resurfaced. Until Yuri's recent trouble, he'd been able to forget them, but they'd been
dredged up by a grudge-wielding psychopath who had tried to kill Lena and Yuri. As a

child in the orphanage with Yuri, Dimitri and Ivan—the men he considered his brothers
—he'd been the oldest by a few months. He'd always done his best to take care of the
others, to shield them from the nightmare of that negligent hell hole, but he'd never
imagined his desire to protect them would cost him so much.

It had started innocently enough. Back then, he hadn't understood how pedophiles

groomed their victims or even what a pedophile was—but he'd quickly figured it out.
Pasha, the man who ran the orphanage, picked the prettiest boys for his favors.
Eventually, Pasha had started renting out some of the boys to high-paying customers.

The dirty old bastard had used Nikolai's desperate need to protect his brothers from

such pain to manipulate him into maintaining his silence. He'd have done anything to
keep Ivan, Dimitri or Yuri from experiencing the shame and trauma of having grown
men—and even a couple of women—pawing at him and abusing him.

But then Yuri had followed him one night and had discovered Pasha hurting him.

He'd reacted as any child would have. He'd picked up the nearest weapon—a pipe—and
whacked Pasha across the back of his head. The older man had gone down like a sack of
rocks. They'd run back to the orphanage, grabbed Dimitri and Ivan out of their beds and
fled.

Even now, all these years later, the painful memories triggered his gag reflex. It was

all Nikolai could do to muscle down the urge to vomit. His skin crawled. Hot and cold
shivers raced up and down his back. With a slow, quiet exhale, he managed to regain
control of his body and mind.

"Sex trafficking?" Aghast, Santos glanced at him. Fear contorted his face. "No. Not

Vivian."

Suddenly, this whole mess felt very personal. Maybe it had nothing to do with

Vivian's father after all. Nikolai had always taken a hard stance when it came to the skin
trade. From the beginning of his introduction to the underworld, he'd refused to deal in
prostitution or trafficking. He'd turned a blind eye to Kostya's strip club sideline, but it
didn't sit well with him and he wouldn't take the customary percentage that was
typically kicked his way.

"Where did you take Vivian?" Nikolai's tone warned the man not to lie.
"I don't know. I was in a different SUV. We headed to a parking lot across town where

we met up with the guy who set up the attack."

Kostya picked up a chisel and took a menacing step forward.
"Jesus!" Bill screamed and tugged his head as far to the side as possible. "Wait! Wait!

When I was leaving that night, I heard John talking on the phone to some guy named
Lou about making arrangements for a shipment."

"Lou?" Santos perked right up. "You mean Mr. Lu?"
Nikolai caught the detective's eye. Mr. Lu ran a bustling import and export business

that looked clean from the outside but was dirtier than hell on the inside. He laundered
money for the local Triad syndicate and brought in weapons and other goods for the
Vietnamese crime family. Apparently, it wasn't just knockoff purses in those container
ships of his.

"Maybe?" Bill gulped nervously. "I really don't know. They separated us into groups

that night we met at the bar. Our crew was supposed to attack you, to hurt you, and the
other guys were supposed to grab the girl."

"This guy is fucking useless," Santos growled. "Look, I've got an ex-girlfriend, Katrina,

who works vice. She's been on most of the trafficking busts since the summer. Maybe she
can help us narrow down a list of possible locations where they're holding Vivian."

"Let me make some calls. There's a pimp who likes the girls at Wet. If there's

competition on the streets, he'll know all about it." Kostya eyed Santos with distrust. "We
don't need them involved any more than they already are."

"Go." Nikolai flicked his fingers. "Find out everything you can."
He wouldn't let himself consider what Vivian might be suffering right now. The rage

building within him threatened to explode—and when it did, the whole city of Houston
would burn.

"What the hell are we going to do with him?" Santos gestured to Bill. Finally finding

his balls, he said, "You can't kill him. I won't let you."

"No?" Nikolai's brow arched imperiously. "Well," he inhaled deeply and found the

strength to push out of the chair. With a slight a wince, he lifted his sore arms and lit the
cigarette he'd been toying with during the interrogation. As he took a drag, he
considered what to do with the man. All sorts of violent possibilities flashed before his
eyes.

But then the image of Vivian clouded his vision. Sweet, soft-hearted Vee would argue

for mercy.

"You have forty-eight hours to get the fuck out of my city. If I find out that you've set

one foot in this county—"

"I won't. I swear. I'm gone." Bill shuddered with relief. "I'll take my family and go

tonight."

Nikolai figured the dentist understood that he was the least of his worries. The man

who had bought his debt would want to tie up those lose ends now that the botched
attack and kidnapping had been completed.

Clamping his cigarette between his lips, he approached Kostya's cart and scanned the

implements available to him. He finally picked up the small blow torch. Santos groaned
and wiped a hand down his face before swearing in Spanish. Ignoring the bleeding heart
detective, he flicked on the torch. "Let's fix that hand…"

* * *

Shivering, I tried to stay awake in the cramped cage. The nasty collar now biting into

my neck forced my head into an awkward position. A short leash had been looped to the
back of the collar and secured to the cage ceiling. Every time I drifted off from
exhaustion, the weight of my head caused the leash to tighten and the collar would dig
into my throat so badly I'd start to strangle.

The tight rope bonds binding my wrists to my ankles kept me in this painfully bent

position. Breathing was beginning to grow difficult and I'd already lost feeling in my
fingertips and toes.

I had no one to blame for my new predicament but myself. When they had taken me

out of my cage for my shower earlier, I'd done the stupidest thing. I'd attempted to
escape—and failed.

Before they came to get me out of my cage, I'd heard a big rig truck back up to the

warehouse. The beeping alarm and the hissing brake sound I'd recognize anywhere.
Many of the vendors who delivered to Samovar pulled up around back with their
massive trucks packed with restaurant orders from all over the city.

But I doubted this truck would be carrying anything as innocent as produce.
Not long after the truck arrived, I'd heard high-pitched wailing and screams. I'd

nearly puked as the horror of it struck me. Those poor women were being taken away
from the warehouse. They'd be sold and used and abused until—well—I didn't really
know. As ugly as the business of trafficking was, I doubted the girls being bought and
sold like cattle had long lives ahead of them. They were disposable.

And it sickened me. I couldn't stop thinking about the fate that awaited me after I

heard the truck rumble away from the warehouse. I'd started to scheme right then and
there. I had to get out of here. However slim the chance, I had to take it. I couldn't let
some disgusting monster buy me on the auction block and turn me into his sex slave.

When Robbie had come to get me for my shower, I'd rejoiced at my good luck. He

wasn't as big as John or as mean. Despite the blindfold, I'd been sure I could take him.
Looking back, I should have waited for a better opportunity because I'd failed miserably
in my attempt to flee.

Oh, sure, I'd managed to kick Robbie in the balls, rip off my blindfold and make a run

for the double doors at the end of that long hallway—but John had been waiting on the
other side with that awful cattle prod of his. One jab against my ribs and I'd fallen to the
floor with a shriek.

But he hadn't stopped there. He'd popped my backside and thighs with the horrible

device until I'd been sobbing and begging him to stop. Only then had Robbie, the guard
who seemed to have the most conscience left, stepped in and forced him to stop torturing
me. The collar and rope hogtie had been Robbie's idea of punishment.

The two idiots didn't seem to realize that the payday they wanted so badly was about

to die from neglect.

For the first time since being taken from Nikolai, I experienced true despair. My hope

began to fade. Bound and collared in this cage, there was no chance of escape. My fate
was sealed. I was either going to succumb to exhaustion and slowly strangle to death
because of the collar cutting into my throat or I would be sold to some sick psycho who
would do ungodly things to me.

My spirit broken, I started to weep. With my body bent in half and my breasts

smashed up against my knees, I forced the ragged sobs to stop. It was growing so difficult
to drag even easy, slow breaths into my squished lungs. Crying was just going to make
me pass out faster.

Dizzy and numb, I thought I was hallucinating when I heard the sound of running

footsteps in the hallway. A gunshot startled me. Holding my breath, I listened carefully.
What the hell was happening out there?

The door to the room where they were keeping me burst open. "NO! Please!"
It was John—and he was begging for his life. "I did everything you asked. We're

partners. We—"

But he never got to finish his pleading statement. The pop of a gunshot echoed so

loudly in the cavernous room. A second later, a body dropped to the floor with a muffled
thud. With the blindfold covering my eyes and my arms and legs bound, I could only
wait and listen in sheer terror.

Those heavy footsteps I'd come to recognize as belonging to the shot caller drew closer

to my cage. I tried to breathe quietly and flattened my body as tightly as possible—as if
making myself a smaller target would somehow protect me.

The footsteps stopped right next to my cage. That all too familiar scent of cloves

invaded my nose. Fainter but just as noticeable was the acrid stink of gunpowder. My
entire body trembled with anxiety.

Something metal scraped the side of my cage. A moment later, the warm, hard

muzzle of a handgun jabbed against my temple. I squeaked as my heart stuttered wildly.
This was it. He was going to kill me now.

The agonizing wait for the end made my stomach pitch and heave. Would I feel the

bullet ripping through my skull? Would I hear the deafening roar of the pistol firing?
Would it happen so fast that I'd be spared the agony of being shot?

The muzzle pushed hard against my temple, so hard that I gasped. The metal tip bit

into my skin. Any second now…

With a rough jerk, the man who smelled of cloves pulled the gun away from my head.

I didn't dare breathe. I stayed perfectly still—and prayed that God would spare me now.

A rustle of clothing was the only sound I heard before the man backed away from the

cage and left the room. The slamming door made me jump. Left alone, locked in the cage
with only two dead bodies to keep me company, I finally lost it.

Shaking and sobbing, I turned my head as far to the side as the stupid collar would let

me and vomited. My empty stomach produced only bile but the trauma of what I'd just
experienced, of narrowly escaping with my life, overwhelmed me.

Now I really feared being left for dead. It was clear that moving the other women

earlier had been part of some larger plan by the man in charge. Something had happened
to rattle him, to make him believe his location wasn't so safe anymore. Had Nikolai or
Eric discovered something? Were they getting close to finding me? A spark of hope
ignited within me.

But why had the man who smelled of cloves killed his partners? Why were John and

Robbie dead but I was still alive? If he was cleaning up loose ends, he'd left a big one
right here in this cramped cage.

The smell of smoke tickled my nose. Certain I was having some kind of brain

malfunction, I lifted my head and inhaled deeply. There was no mistaking the smell of
scorched metal and burning drywall.

Oh my God. The building is on fire.
The awful truth hit me. I wasn't a loose end that he'd left behind. He'd found a way to

make me truly suffer in my final moments here on this earth.

"Help!" I don't know why I screamed. There was no one out there to help me but I

couldn't stop. "Help!"

Though it was futile, I tugged hard on the ropes binding my wrists to my ankles. I

ignored the searing pain of the rope fibers burning and abrading my tender skin. At this
point, I didn't care if I ripped all the skin off my arms. I had to get loose.

"Please, God. Please." I didn't want to die like this. I didn't want to suffocate from

smoke inhalation or experience the agony of flames licking at my naked skin. "Please."

As I prayed for a miracle, I continued to yank and twist. Rubbing my face against my

knee, I finally managed to push the blindfold out of the way just enough for me to see my
ankles and wrists. The poor lighting in this room barely illuminated the lower half of the
cage.

Full-fledged panic set in as the first whirling wisps of smoke started to sneak under

the door. I pulled so hard on the ropes that blood started to seep from my wrists. The
broken skin throbbed mercilessly but I didn’t care. I had to get out of here. If that meant
losing a hand so be it.

The dull roar of fire in the other parts of the warehouse had grown so loud now. Metal

pinged as the heat warped its structure. The crashing jangle of metal sheets hitting the
concrete floor told me that I didn't have long. Before the smoke killed me, the building
would probably collapse. Already the thick cloud of smoke spilling into the room made
me cough. Soon, it would choke me.

Sobbing, I tried even harder to free myself from the ropes. "No! Please."
Jerking and twisting and weeping, I didn't even hear the shouting voices at first. It

wasn't until I heard my name ricocheting around the warehouse that I snapped my gaze
to the door. I didn't believe it at first. Surely I was hallucinating now.

"Vivian!"
Awash with desperation, I screamed, "Help! I'm in here! Help!"
"Vee!"
My heart threatened to burst. There was only one man in the whole wide world who

called me Vee. "Nikolai!"

A heartbeat after I shrieked his name, the door burst open and he stumbled into the

room. Smoke billowed around him. With his arm across his nose and mouth, he scanned
the dimly lit space for me. His gaze landed on John's body before hopping to the cage.
"Vee!"

He raced to the cage and dropped to his knees beside it. Those heavily tattooed fingers

reached through the wire squares to touch my shoulder. The horror of my predicament
appeared on his handsome but very bruised and scratched face. "Solnyshko moyo," he said
on a ragged breath. "What have they done to you?"

My sun

. The tenderly spoken pet name brought tears of utter joy to my eyes. Relief

gripped me as I felt his warm skin against mine. Bound and battered, I rubbed my cheek
against his gentle hand like a puppy seeking comfort from its owner. "You came for me."

"Always, Vee. Nothing will ever keep me away from you."
He spoke the words like a vow. Even as the whole world seemed to burn around us, I

recognized that everything had just changed between us.

"Vivi!" Eric rushed into the room with Sergei and Kostya following right on his heels.

They all looked at the dead body on the floor, their faces contorting with confusion.
There wasn't time to explain. The warehouse would soon be engulfed in flames.

Nikolai grabbed the heavy locks on the front of my cage. "Check the body for keys."
"No time, Boss." Sergei dared to go against Nikolai. He shoved everyone out of the

way, crouched down at the knees and grasped the sides of my cage. With only a short
grunt, he lifted me and the cage right off the concrete floor. I went rigid with the fear of
being dropped, but if anyone could carry me out of here with the added weight of the
cage it was the big-as-a-grizzly-bear Russian. "Let's go."

I'd never been more grateful to be so tiny and thin. Though I'd always envied Lena

and Bianca's curves, I realized now how much added strain that would have put on
Sergei. The giant Russian had the thickest, most ripped arms I'd ever seen, but it was a
long way out of that warehouse and he was booking it because of the fire.

Nikolai ran alongside us while Kostya hurried ahead and Eric brought up the rear. By

the time we made it outside, we were all coughing and gasping for clean air. Sergei
hardly slowed down as Kostya popped the back door of the silver SUV. He hefted me
inside the cargo area with a growl of effort.

Not willing to be parted from me, Nikolai crawled in to the space beside me. From the

tense set of his jaw, I could tell he was in so much pain. After the beating he'd taken, I
couldn't quite believe that he was up and moving around so quickly. For me, though, he
seemed willing to do anything, even risk further injury.

Kostya hopped in the back with us while Eric and Sergei piled into the front seats.

Nikolai reached into the cage again and stroked my arm as Sergei hit the gas and raced
away from the burning warehouse.

While Kostya unzipped a black backpack, Nikolai pushed the blindfold onto the top of

my head. His fingertips brushed my cheek. Suddenly, I was very aware of my naked
state. No man had ever seen me unclothed. Now four more men had seen me like this,
one of them my own cousin.

Nikolai whispered sweetly to me in Russian. His reassuring voice helped me stay

focused. After the hell I'd just survived, I was fading fast.

"She needs an ambulance." Eric had crawled onto the middle seat. "She could have

smoke inhalation injuries."

"The doctor is less than five minutes from here." Kostya produced bolt cutters from his

backpack and started to snap the locks. "Sergei!"

"Already headed there," he shouted back.
"The doctor?" Eric didn't sound happy. "She needs a real hospital, not some vet you

guys pay to patch you back together."

Nikolai stroked my arm. "He's a trauma surgeon with a full staff and operating

capabilities. She'll be in good hands."

"Do you have a burner phone?" Eric's voice grew distant as he traveled back to the

front seat of the SUV. Sergei's gruff voice answered him. Not long after, I heard Eric
calling 9-1-1 and reporting a warehouse on fire.

Kostya cut the last lock and jerked the cage door open. Instantly, Nikolai slid in front

of the cage to reach in for me. Kostya thrust a knife into his hand. With quick swiping
motions, Nikolai sliced through the ropes binding my limbs and the leash attached to the
collar. I groaned as pain darted through my feet and hands. My shoulders ached so badly.
Pulling a deep breath into my oxygen-starved lungs eased some of the dizziness I'd been
feeling.

"Let me." Kostya gently shoved Nikolai aside and scooped me out of the cage. It was

clear he wanted to spare Nikolai the pain and injury of picking me up and moving me.

Remembering how I'd been sick, I apologized to the man they called a cleaner. "I'm

sorry. I'm getting you all dirty."

He cracked a small smile. "I've had worse on me."
Nikolai had shrugged out of his jacket and held open his arms. Kostya deposited me

on Nikolai's lap before climbing out of the cargo area to give us privacy. Very carefully,
Nikolai wrapped his jacket around me. When I was covered, he unbuckled the nasty
collar squeezing my neck and tossed it across the cargo area.

Cupping my face, he peered down at me. Voice cracking, he finally asked, "Did they

hurt you?"

When he said hurt, he meant rape. "Not like that."
He studied my face for any signs of lying. The grim line of his mouth relaxed when he

was assured I was telling the truth. "But they did other things to you."

I gulped as his finger traced one of the burn marks on my thigh. Fresh tears prickled

my eyes. "Yes."

Gathering me tightly to his chest, he threaded his fingers through my hair. "Don't

think about any of that right now. Rest." He pressed a tender kiss to the crown of my
head. "Laskovaya moya."

Even as the most painful muscle spasms and pins-and-needles sensations racked my

poor abused body, I delighted in Nikolai's pet name. The soft caress of his hands made
me feel safe and secure. Though I tried to stay awake, I began to drift.

The SUV finally slowed to a stop. I hovered on the verge of passing out now but I

could hear Eric arguing with Kostya. One harsh word from Nikolai silenced them. The
back door of the SUV opened to reveal Sergei's hulking form.

"I'll take her, Boss."
"Be careful with her." Nikolai reluctantly allowed Sergei to take me.
Cradled in the massive fighter's arms, I glanced back at Nikolai who slid out of the

cargo area to follow us. As he bent forward, the front of this buttoned shirt gaped open
just enough to give a glimpse of his chest. The overhead light from the cargo area
silhouetted him so oddly in the darkness of the night. It wasn't until he turned to face me
fully that I got a good look at the tattoo emblazoned across his sternum.

Suddenly, I was taken back to another night, a night warmer and balmier than this. A

night when a man silhouetted in the shadows had shot me. A man with that exact
tattoo…

Our gazes clashed. In that moment, I saw the ugly, awful truth etched into the face of

the man I loved more than anything in this world. It wasn't some unnamed thug
squatting in a nice house who had shot me that night.

It was Nikolai.

Chapter Eight

By four in the morning, Nikolai had Vivian safely tucked into his bed. He stood in the

doorway of his bedroom and watched her sleep. She'd been through so much in the last
few days and desperately needed to rest and heal.

Their visit to the doctor had taken nearly three hours to complete because the doctor

wanted to watch all of them for adverse reactions to the smoke inhalation. After giving
Vivian IV fluids, treating her burns and scrapes, and administering a sedative, the doctor
had sent them home with strict instructions for her care and a number of prescription
bottles to treat Nikolai's own injuries. The pain meds were tempting but he refused to
cloud his mind right now, not when everything was still so unsure.

He didn't want to think about how close he'd come to losing her. If Sergei hadn't

managed to beat the location out of the driver they'd finally tracked down through
Kostya's lead, they might have arrived too late. He thanked God they'd gotten there in
time to save her from that raging inferno.

Even though he still had to work out who the hell had masterminded the attack and

kidnapping, his first concern was Vivian. He'd seen that flash of recognition on her face
when she'd spied that tattoo he'd kept so carefully hidden from her all these years. In that
moment, he'd wanted to drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness. He'd wanted to crawl
to her and plead with her to let him explain.

She'd clammed up after she'd made her terrible discovery and had all but avoided his

eye contact. He didn't know if she'd ever forgive him for what he'd done or how he'd lied
to her. He didn't deserve that forgiveness and if she hated him from now until his very
last breath he wouldn't hold a grudge.

"Boss?" Sergei's voice dragged Nikolai from his troubled thoughts. He glanced back

toward the hallway to see his enforcer extending a cell phone. Sergei's busted up
knuckles were swollen and bloody. "It's the detective."

After they'd received their treatment, Santos had asked to be dropped off a few blocks

from the parking garage where he'd stowed his car. Nikolai sensed the man felt
conflicted about his part in the night's events. Cold as it sounded, the detective's guilt
wasn't his problem, and he wasn’t going to expend any more energy thinking about it.

"Yes?" He answered a bit gruffly, the stress and physical exhaustion irritating his

already frayed nerves.

"How is she?"
Nikolai's watched Vivian for a few seconds. "She's sleeping."
"Good. Look, from what I've heard, the whole damn warehouse burned to the ground.

There's no evidence connecting us to it yet but—"

"The police are already hounding me for an interview. My lawyer informed them that

Vivian was recovered and is here at my home. Two detectives have asked to interview us
in a few hours."

"Yeah, I know. I got called about five seconds after your lawyer informed the station

Vivian was safe."

"And what did you say?"
"I acted surprised. Whether Katrina bought it is anyone's guess."
"As far as I'm concerned, I haven't seen you since the other morning at Vivian's

apartment."

"I was seen going into your hospital room."
"Where I was unconscious," Nikolai reminded him.
"You don't need to protect me. I willingly went with you tonight. I crossed that line of

my own accord."

Nikolai's gaze returned to Vivian. "I'm not protecting you. I'm protecting her. If you

get disciplined, she'll feel the guilt."

Santos sighed. "What's the story you're giving the detectives?"
"I received a phone call with a ransom demand, slipped out of the hospital, gathered

the money and exchanged it for Vivian."

Santos grunted with uncertainty. "Let's hope it works."
"It will."
"I'll drop by later to visit her." Santos hesitated. "Just—take care of her."
He heard the subtle dig. Take care of her better than the last time…
A second later, the phone line went dead. Nikolai frowned at the phone before

handing it back to Sergei. The behemoth looked like he was about to drop from
exhaustion. "Go home. Get some sleep. Ice your hands."

Sergei shook his head. "My place is here, guarding the two of you."
"I appreciate your loyalty but Kostya already has five men on the house. If you won't

go home, use one of the guest rooms and take a nap. I need you rested and alert."

Somewhat reluctantly, Sergei nodded and lumbered down the hallway. With the

house secured by men he trusted, Nikolai closed his bedroom door and slowly made his
way to the comfortable reading chair next to his bed.

Mindful of his aching sides and throbbing head, he sat down very carefully. He

stretched out his tired legs and closed his eyes. For a long time, he sat there and enjoyed
the silence. He lightly ran his hand over the stitched up hole in his shoulder. He'd
aggravated the wound badly today but had miraculously avoided busting any of the
stitches. The back of his head pounded mercilessly. He touched the staples there and
winced.

"I'm getting too old for this shit." The grumbled words sounded rather loud in the

quiet stillness of his bedroom. All too soon he'd be forty—and that was much too old to
be brawling in the damn streets and dragging his woman out of a burning warehouse.

His woman? He stared at Vivian. The light of the bedside lamp illuminated her

gorgeous face. Even with the bruises she was still the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. He
reached out to take her small hand. Guilt pierced his heart at the sight of the bandages
covering the nasty wounds on her wrists.

He traced each slender finger and drew his initials on the back of her hand. The

tattoos marking his skin seemed so starkly violent when compared to her pristine skin.
He wore the evidence of his misdeeds for the world to see.

And tonight she'd seen first-hand what he was truly capable of doing. He'd shot an

innocent child. He'd nearly killed her. There was nothing that would absolve him of that
sin. Nothing.

Cradling her small hand, he tried to memorize the feel of her skin against his. For all

he knew, this was the last time he'd be able to touch her. When she woke, she would be
furious with him—and rightly so.

Nikolai considered the way he'd gone from doing anything and everything to ignore

the siren's call of his love for her to now wanting to do anything and everything to keep
her in his life. All the things that he'd seen as obstacles—her age, his profession, her
innocence, his darkness—no longer mattered to him. Only their tangled mess of a past
stood between them now.

But he didn't know how to fix that one. The truth would come out when she woke

and then what? Would she hate him forever? Would she demand to leave? Could he keep
her here against her will even if it was in her best interest?

The answer came swiftly. He'd let her go. He'd send her anywhere in the world she

wanted as long as it meant keeping her safe and happy. It would kill him to give her up
but he'd do it if she truly wanted to leave.

A knock at the door drew his irritated gaze. "What?"
Kostya peeked into the room. "You have another call."
Not wanting to drag his tired, aching ass out of the chair, Nikolai flicked his fingers.

"Who is it?"

"Grisha."
Nikolai's lips pursed. The very last person he wanted to speak with tonight…
"I called Ivan and Dimitri to let them know Vivian was safe. Dimitri promised to call

Yuri to pass along the good news."

Nikolai accepted the phone from Kostya. "Thank you."
"I'm going to leave for a while. I'll be back by noon."
Nikolai nodded. "Take as long as you need."
When Kostya closed the door behind him, Nikolai rubbed his forehead and answered

with a resigned exhale. "Grisha."

"Kolya." The nickname sounded different coming from his old acquaintance than it

did from Vivian's sweet mouth. With her, it was always teasing and light. From Grisha, it
was a warning. "I hear you got your girl back."

"Yes."
"Do you know who took her or who attacked you?"
"Not yet." He didn't care to divulge what details he knew. Things were still too

uncertain to send information up the chain. He didn't want poorly sourced intel to spur a
bad decision that would send his crew into harm's way.

"The old man isn't happy. First, you had that shit with the Albanians and the junkie

who stole from them. You stuck your neck out to buy protection for that crackhead's
sister even though you'd been told not to intervene. Then it was that shit with Yuri and
the crazy chick I tracked down from Moscow. Now this?"

Nikolai didn't take the bait. Grisha liked to argue but he wasn't going to play that

game, not tonight. He'd always been jealous of Nikolai's cherry assignment here in
Houston and Nikolai was too tired to listen to Grisha shit on the choices he'd made for
his crew.

While he wasn't thrilled with all the fucking drama he'd dealt with this year, Nikolai

also knew that his time in control of Houston had been the most quiet, successful and
profitable in the entire organization's history. "If you're done riding my ass, I'd like to go
to bed. It's been a long night."

Grisha chuckled. "If I had that sweet little thing waiting in my bed, I wouldn't want to

waste time on the phone either."

Nikolai narrowed his eyes. Had Kostya told Grisha that Vivian was staying in his

room or was Grisha simply guessing? "Are we finished?"

"Maksim says to get this mess cleaned up and to do it quickly. He doesn’t like

problems."

Nikolai marveled at the old bastard's hypocrisy. In last few years, Maksim had

dragged most of the organizations many branches into some of the riskiest, high profile
areas of earning like identity fraud. There had been more trouble than Nikolai cared to
remember. His crew had been spared most of the problems because of his rules but others
weren't so lucky.

"Neither do I." Ending the call, Nikolai tossed the phone onto the bedside table.

Closing his eyes, he found a comfortable position for his head and began to work through
the various angles of this mess.

Kostya had managed to reach out to Sheets, the pimp who frequented Wet, his strip

club. The man had been knowledgeable about the illicit trafficking occurring throughout
the city. While he'd confirmed that Mr. Lu was the man pushing the shipping containers
of women through customs, Sheets had surprised Nikolai with the information that the
Asian syndicate wasn't the running game. He didn't know the man's identity—it was all
hush-hush—but he did know the name of the trucking company used to run the women
around town.

Nikolai had instantly recognized the company as one owned by a man connected to

the Calaveras. The alarm bells had started ringing. Was Vivian's father involved in her
kidnapping? Was this the motorcycle club's way of getting back at him for turning on
them? Where did the cartel fit into all of this?

Julio had seemed truthful when he'd sworn none of the Guzman Cartel allies were

involved in the kidnapping or attack. He wasn't that good of a liar so either he'd been
purposely kept out of the loop about the Calaveras using one of their legit businesses for
trafficking or the motorcycle club had somehow managed to keep that very quiet.

What went on in the spidery web of the cartel's empire mattered very little to him as

long as they stayed out of his business and out of his way. Somehow they were tied up in
this and he needed to know how and why.

But who had ordered the attack and kidnapping? Who wanted to hurt him? Who

wanted to hurt Vivian? Those were the questions he needed answered.

Mr. Lu seemed like the most likely place to begin but whether or not he'd be willing to

cooperate was anyone's guess. The old man could be a cagey bastard. He was always very

careful to leave many layers of plausible deniability between him and any illegalities.

It was a model Nikolai had been trying to follow for the last few years. Slowly but

surely, he was distancing himself and his crew from the seedier, darker side of their
world and into legitimate forms of earning. Unlike Ivan, his desire to leave behind this
life wouldn't be easy or quick. Maybe it would prove impossible—but he'd been trying.

Now there seemed only one way to find the answers he so desperately needed. He

had to wade deeper and farther into those murky waters—and pray he wouldn't drown.

Chapter Nine

I dreamed the same dream that had tormented me since that fateful April night nearly

eleven years ago—but this time there was no abrupt end. This time I remembered
everything

.

The scent of the house filled my nose. I remembered the faint lingering mulberry

aroma from a candle. I could feel the weight of the too large hoodie my father had given
me, the black cotton draping my smaller frame. I felt the bite of the window frame
against my knees as I climbed in through a bathroom window to open the front door for
my father.

And then I was inside the pitch black house, moving silently after my father. He

signaled that I should go upstairs and retrieve the valuables from the closet while he stole
from the office. I quietly climbed the staircase to the second floor and made my way to
the master bedroom.

Everything was exactly as my father had described on the fast food napkin drawing

he'd given me earlier that night. I stopped in the doorway of the perfectly arranged room
and considered how very odd it was that my father had known simply everything about
this house. Even at that young age, I'd known something wasn't right.

Instead of the dream skipping to the very worst part, to the moment of sheer terror

when I'd been blasted with a 9mm, the dream seemed to slow down. I moved into the
closet, found the wooden jewelry cases, and started stuffing my pockets with all the
valuables I could grab.

But a strange noise from downstairs drew me out of the closet. This was something I

hadn't ever remembered. This was new.

Jamming a handful of jewelry into the hoodie pocket, I came out of the closet and

heard the sounds of a scuffle. A muffled gunshot popped in the stillness of the house.
Startled by the sound, I jumped. Was that what had sent me running to the window?

Even in the hours after the shooting, I'd never been able to remember why I'd run to

that window. It had never made sense to me. Now I understood why I'd done that. I'd
been a panicked child looking for the first means of escape.

But I'd tripped over an ottoman and hit the floor hard. The loud clatter had alerted the

man fighting with my father that I was upstairs. The sound of heavy footsteps running
up the stairs had scared me so badly I'd scrambled to my feet and rushed to the window
in a desperate attempt to flee. I had the window open, the screen popped out and a foot
on the ledge when a harsh snarl stopped me dead in my tracks.

"Put down the gun!"
The gun? I didn't have a gun. Terrified and unable to speak, I turned quickly and

reached into the pocket of my hoodie to remove all the jewelry I'd stolen. Almost
instantly, the first gunshot exploded in the room. It wasn't until the second and third
bullets slammed into my body that I realized I'd been shot.

Staggering backward, I hit the window ledge and lost my balance. In that final

moment before falling, I saw the man who had fired at me. There was just enough

moonlight to illuminate his horrified face. It was a younger, meaner Nikolai.

With a ragged sob, I bolted upright in bed. "No!"
"Vee!" Nikolai was at my side in an instant, his gentle hand caressing my face.
Suddenly averse to his touch, I smacked away his hand. "Don't!"
Nikolai recoiled immediately. He stumbled backward and put space between us. It

took me a few moments to clear my sleepy mind and come to grips with my
surroundings. I didn't remember anything after meeting the doctor in that ultra-bright,
state of the art outpatient surgery center he owned with a couple of partners.

Was I in Nikolai's home? In his bedroom? The space seemed so masculine with its

leather furniture and earth tones. It was exactly the kind of décor I would have imagined
him choosing.

Of all the ways I'd ever fantasized about being invited into his bed, this absolutely

wasn't one of them. Kidnapped and nearly killed in a blazing inferno, I'd been brought
here to recuperate. I'd finally spent the night in the bed of the man I loved so desperately.

In the bed of the man who had tried to kill me when I was just a kid.
Voice croaking, I demanded, "Take off your shirt."
Nikolai swallowed hard but didn't deny my order. He slowly flicked through the

buttons and peeled the white cotton from his body. The shoulder area was stained with
dried blood from the seepage around the bandage covering his stitches. With the heavy
drapes drawn, the glow of the bedside lamp spilled onto the many, many tattoos now
revealed to me.

But it was that tattoo smack dab in the center of his chest that interested me most. The

strange cross adorned with thorny vines was the stuff of my nightmares. It was the thing
that had inspired my latest selection of haunting art pieces. It was the thing that
threatened to tear us apart forever.

Not even trying to hold back, I wept pitifully. "You shot me."
Nikolai dropped to his knees. I'd never seen anything like it. He seemed to have lost

all control of his body. Falling forward onto his palms, he crawled to me. The agony
carved into the angular lines of his face told me how much he regretted what had
happened. "I am sorry."

"Sorry? You lied to me." Rearing back, I started to slap his face but remembered at the

last moment that he'd suffered a head injury. The blow landed in the spot where his neck
curved into his shoulder, narrowly missing the place where he'd been stabbed.

Anger and betrayal surged through me, burning me right up. I balled up my fist and

slammed it into his chest again and again and again. He didn't try to stop me. If anything,
he seemed desperate for me to continue, for me to pummel and beat him until the
physical pain overcame the emotional hell he suffered.

Weak with hunger and exhaustion, I finally stopped hitting him. Nikolai slumped

forward. He pressed his cheek to my naked thigh, the rough stubble of his jaw rasping
my skin. The warm spreading wetness of his tears stunned me. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Trembling with shock at his emotional reaction, I stared at his head and the broad

expanse of his back. Seeing the scars and the tattoos drove home how incredibly broken
he was. How agonizing had it been for him to keep this secret all these years?

Though my anger and betrayal over the lie we'd lived for so long wouldn't fade

overnight, in time it would irritate me less and less. In some strange way, the lie between
us hadn't pushed us apart. It had bound us together so tightly there was no way to know
where one of us ended and the other began.

I threaded my shaking fingers through his thick hair. I carefully avoided the ugly

wound along the back of his head as my fingers trailed down toward his neck. I marveled
at the surprising softness of his inked skin. The marks stood out so starkly against his pale
skin, each one a reminder of some terrible deed.

He carried the evidence of his crimes on his skin for everyone to see. Part of my

fascination with gang-related tattoos was the willingness of a person to display their sins
to the outside world. I couldn't understand it. All the stupid, criminal things I'd done as a
child were my greatest shames. I wanted no one to know about them.

But men like Nikolai and Ivan and Kostya? They wore them brazenly—but not with

pride. I'd quickly learned that most of the subjects I'd interviewed for my paintings
weren't proud of the things they'd done. They regretted them immensely yet they
marked their bodies with reminders. Was it a form of penance?

Nikolai's tattoos set him apart from others. They were the types of markings that

made people give him a wide berth. Did he want to be shunned and treated badly? Did it
make him feel better or ease the guilt?

Even Ivan who had reformed himself often received the leper treatment. Erin had told

me of a time they'd gone to one of the city's best restaurants and been informed their
reservation had been mysteriously lost. In some ways, Ivan was still being punished for
crimes he'd answered to years ago.

Feeling so conflicted, I tried to remember the faith that gotten me through difficult

passages in my life. I closed my eyes and considered what my faith had taught me. There
was only one thing to be done.

"I forgive you, Kolya."
His head popped right up. Bleary-eyed, he gawked at me. "Don't say that."
I brushed my fingertips along his square jaw. "I said it. I mean it. I forgive you."
His rough exhalation ruffled the thin fabric of the blue hospital gown covering my

nakedness. "I don't deserve it. I’m a monster who shot a child and then lied to her for
eleven fucking years."

I couldn't disagree with most of that. "Why?"
He glanced at me with red-rimmed eyes. "Why did I shoot you? Or why did I lie?"
"Both."
"When I woke up to a gun in my face, I went into survival mode. After I took the gun

from your father, we grappled but he got free and ran. Then I heard that noise upstairs. It
was so damn loud. I ran up there and saw this shadowy figure at the window. I thought
you had a gun. I couldn't…I couldn't see very well. The hoodie and the light from the
window made you look so much bigger—and then you reached into your pocket and I
reacted."

My eyes drifted shut. Of course. He'd been amped up with adrenaline and probably

had tunnel vision. "I was trying to pull the jewelry out of my pocket. I didn't have a gun."

"I figured that out after you fell. I rushed out there to see if you were still alive." He

rubbed his forehead and choked out the next words in such anguish. "You reached for my
hand and asked for your mama."

Hot tears dripped from the corners of my eyes. "I don't remember any of that."
"I do. I remember it all."
I really didn't want to get into all the nitty-gritty details but I knew that if I didn't ask

now I never would. "How did you convince the police you weren't the one who shot
me?"

"Kostya was in the house next door. We'd bought them as part of our plan to expand

into this territory. He took care of everything in the house to make it clean before the
police arrived."

My gut twisted. "Does everybody know the truth but me?"
He grimaced. "Only Kostya, Ivan, Dimitri and Yuri. They were sworn to silence."
Apparently they had kept their vows. If Erin or Lena had learned the truth, they

would have told me.

The thing he'd said about my father finally struck me. "Wait—did you say my father

tried to kill you? Was it a botched hit?"

Nikolai nodded. "I've never figured out who paid him, and he never spoke about it.

He took that name with him into prison."

If there had been anything in my stomach, I would have vomited it up right then and

there. "I took part in a hit."

Nikolai cupped my face. "You didn't know. You were just a baby. Nothing that

happened that night was your fault."

"But you could have been killed."
"I wasn't. I survived, and you survived. That's all that matters."
I gulped hard. "Why didn't you tell me the truth? All these years…"
"I didn't know how to do it. At first, I was relieved that you didn't remember. It was

selfish of me, but I didn't want to go back to prison. For the time since childhood, I was
scared

. I was terrified of the monster I'd become. A man who could shoot a child?" He

shook his head. "I had to change. I had to find a way to make all the bad things I'd done
right."

"By what? Taking care of me?"
"I felt responsible for you. After the way you'd fought to survive, I wanted to make

sure that you never wanted for anything. I wanted you to have opportunities in life. I
never intended…"

I tilted my head after his voice trailed off to nothing. "You never intended what?"
"To get close to you," he said finally. "After your grandparents were gone, I planned to

look after you from afar, to make sure your tuition and living expenses were paid so you
could pursue your art." He exhaled with such dejection. "But then you got close to me and
it was all over. I started to crave you. I need you. The thought of being separated from you
makes my heart bleed."

My brain threatened to melt as the words I'd dreamed of him saying poured out of his

mouth.

"But how sick is that, Vee? I'm in love with you the woman I nearly killed as a child."

He shuddered with disgust. "I'm a fucking monster."

My chest tightened as his pain-filled voice wrapped around me. Touching his jaw, I

whispered, "You're not a monster."

"I am, Vee."
Emboldened, I insisted, "You can't be a monster because I love you."
He inhaled sharply. "You shouldn't."
"Maybe you're right," I conceded, "but it doesn't matter. It doesn't change the way I

feel about you."

"You can't love me."
I wiped the slick wetness from his cheeks. "I do love you."
His intense stare seared me. Voice husky with emotion, he admitted, "You're too good

for me and I should be a better man and push you away—but God help me I can't. I love
you, Vee."

I tried to slow the dizziness coming over me as my world spun from his admission of

love. Still kneeling at my feet, Nikolai slid one arm around my waist. Tentatively, he
touched my cheek, his fingertips gliding over my skin as a light as a feather. Our gazes
remained locked as he moved closer. My eyes closed as I waited for the kiss I'd wanted
for so very long…

"Boss?" Sergei's booming voice penetrated the door. "Detective Santos is here. The

other cops are on their way."

I silently cursed Sergei's bumbling interruption. Jerked out of that perfect moment,

Nikolai sat back on his heels. He ran his thumb across my lower lip, his very touch
branding me forever as his. "You should shower and get dressed. The bag you packed is
on that bench over there. I'll come get you in a while."

"Okay." It wasn't the most eloquent response, not after the baring of our souls, but it

was all I could manage in my stunned state.

As Nikolai stood, I expected that icy wall to slam down between us again, but he

seemed almost relieved to have everything on the table. I'd grown so accustomed to him
going out of his way to avoid touching me that it was a bit startling to have him bend
down to kiss the top of my head. It wasn't the real kiss that I craved so desperately but it
meant almost as much to me.

"Do you need me to stay here? Are you too dizzy to shower alone?"
I licked my lips at the idea of Nikolai helping me shower. "Um…no. I'm fine."
"If you need me…"
"I'll yell for you."
Nikolai stepped into his bathroom and the attached master closet to retrieve his

clothing and toiletries. He paused at the door and gestured between us. "We'll finish this
later."

When he exited the bedroom, I was left wondering what this was. I doubted it would

be anything as simple as dating. I had a sneaking suspicion that Nikolai Kalasnikov was
about to turn my neatly ordered life completely upside down.

*

When he stepped out of the bedroom with his shirt gaping open, Nikolai caught

Sergei's eyes widen with surprise. The enforcer didn't say anything but quickly averted
his gaze. Anyone else would have made a dirty remark about coming out of his bedroom
half-dressed, but Sergei was smart enough to know that Nikolai wouldn't allow that kind
of comment when it came to Vivian.

Clearing his throat, Sergei said, "I'll tell Santos you'll be down soon."
"Is David here yet?" He needed his lawyer at Vivian's side before the other detectives

arrived to question her about the kidnapping.

"He called the office line earlier. He's on his way."
"Keep him in the library. The other detectives, too," he added. "Santos can wait

wherever—but keep an eye on him."

"Kostya's with him now."
"Good." The last thing he needed was Vivian's cousin snooping around his house.

Thinking of her, he ordered, "Send someone out for breakfast. Vivian needs to eat."

"Dimitri stopped by this morning with boxes from Benny's bakery. It's taken care of,

Boss."

That was just like Dimitri and Benny to be so thoughtful without intruding or making

a big scene.

"Boss, uh, Vivian's priest is here."
Nikolai blinked. "Father Semyon?"
"Yeah. He was at the front door just after sunrise. He said he was happy to wait so we

didn't wake you. I've given him tea and breakfast. He's been talking with Santos."

Jesus

, Nikolai thought crossly. A detective, a priest and a lawyer in his home! It was

like the setup to a bad bar joke.

"Keep him busy." Nikolai tapped the door to the master suite. "Don't let her

downstairs without me."

His instructions given, Nikolai made his way to the guest room across the hall and

entered the bathroom. Getting undressed proved to be more painful than he'd expected.
Sleeping in that chair hadn't done his battered body any favors. Maybe he needed to
listen to the doctor and take it easy today. One of those painkillers might not be such a
bad idea either…

Once in the shower, he rested his head against the tile and let the warm water spill

over his tired, aching body. He'd expected to feel such shame at breaking down in front
of Vivian. He'd long lived with closed-off emotions and letting them loose now felt
strange and unsettling. He rubbed his chest. The soreness on the surface caused by
Vivian's blows would fade soon enough. Deeper inside of him, he felt the tightness of his
guilt finally easing some.

Vivian's face danced before his eyes. Though he'd been dreading the revelation of the

ugly, sordid secret between them, he'd never felt freer than in the tense moments after
the truth had been spilled. Her forgiveness still stunned him. He didn't deserve it and he
didn't fully accept it. Maybe he never would—but he cherished her kindness.

As he dried off and pulled on his jeans, Nikolai accepted that things could never go

back to the way they had been between them. The old days of dancing around their
feelings and pretending it wasn't real were gone. He had to make a decision about their
future and he had to make it soon.

When he left the guest room, he found Sergei standing guard outside the master suite.

"David is here but not the other detectives."

"We'll be down in a few minutes." Nikolai knocked on the door and waited. Though

he'd love nothing more than to catch a peek of her dressing, he doubted he could hold
back if he did. His emotions were too close to the surface today. Sergei's interruption
earlier had kept him from kissing her. Right now, he didn't know if that was a good or
bad thing.

"Come in."
Nikolai pushed the door open and found her standing by the window overlooking the

backyard. The faint early sunshine of an early December morning painted her with a soft
gray light. She'd pulled her hair into a low bun with wisps framing her face.

He noticed the layers of clothing she'd chosen—jeans, a t-shirt, a cardigan. It wasn’t

because his home was chilly. No, he sensed that after the traumatic ordeal she'd survived
she wanted to feel wrapped up and covered. The reminder of his failure stabbed his
heart.

"I had no idea your backyard was so beautiful."
He crossed the room to stand next to her. "It's prettier in the spring and summer,

when all of the trees and bushes are flowering."

"I didn't know you were such an avid gardener." Her gaze remained on the oversized

and extremely private backyard. "Are those cabbages?"

"I keep ornamental cabbages and kale in the borders." He pointed out the dense rows

of flowering bulbs along the back wall. "I've had good luck with the paper whites and
crocus this year."

She turned a dazzling smile on him. "I can't believe I never realized what a green

thumb you have."

"I didn't know I had one until I bought this place." He gestured to the now beautifully

landscaped yard. "When I first started, it was an overgrown, rotten, rundown mess. The
house, too," he added.

"So why did you buy this place if it was in such bad shape?"
"I don't know. Something about it attracted me. Maybe it was the challenge it

presented. There's a lot of privacy in these older historic neighborhoods." He thought of
his neighbors who came from old money and kept mostly to themselves—unless they
needed a favor, of course. "It's quiet here. I like quiet."

"Then you'd better send me packing because I have a feeling all of this crap with my

dad is about to blow up and get very noisy."

"You're not leaving my sight." The words came out in a rush. Her startled expression

urged him to be gentler. "I need you to stay here where I can keep a close eye on you.
After what happened to us, we have to be more careful."

"I'm the reason you got hurt. My father is the reason I was taken."

"We don't know that. Maybe this is my old sins coming home to roost."
"Or maybe it's us," she said softly. "What if—what if that hit on you wasn't called off,

Nikolai? What if the person who ordered it has simply been waiting all these years? What
if he's ready to finish what he started?"

Stroking her cheek, he asked, "What happened in that warehouse?"
"The men who took me handed me over to two guards, John and Robbie, but they

were the only ones who spoke. There was another man, a silent man, who called the
shots. He would come into my room and stare at my cage…and I got the feeling he didn’t
know what to do with me. When he killed Robbie and John last night, he came up to my
cage and pushed the muzzle of his gun right up against my head—but he didn't pull the
trigger."

Nikolai's fingertips ghosted over the circular bruise on her temple. His heart skipped a

few beats at the realization of how very close he'd come to losing her.

"I think he wanted to hurt us. To hurt you and me," she said softly. "What if my father

is threatening to tell who hired him to kill you? What if that's what this is all about? What
if the man who had me kidnapped thinks I know? When he set that fire, he expected me
to die in it—and he expected to hurt you with the knowledge that I'd suffered until the
very end." She gripped his hand. "But I'm still alive and he's still out there."

"I failed you once." He tightened his clasp. "I won't fail you again."
"It's not me I'm worried about, Nikolai. It's you. I can't protect you the way you can

protect me. I don't have an army of street-smart soldiers to back me up and keep you
safe."

Her concern touched him so deeply. "I can take care of myself."
"You don’t always have to do everything alone."
"I'm not doing it alone. I have Kostya and Sergei and the others."
She gulped nervously. "And me? Where do I fit in to your life?"
Grasping the chance to show Vivian exactly what he wanted with her, he slid his arms

around her waist and tugged her close. "You fit right here."

Like a teenager with his first girl, Nikolai's fingers trembled slightly as excitement and

anxiety rippled through his core. He caressed her cheek and slid his hand along the nape
of her neck. Cupping the back of her head, he lowered his mouth to hers.

He took his time, teasingly dipping his head until their lips were mere centimeters

apart. Their excited breaths mingled as the moment they'd both desired for so long finally
arrived. Heart racing and stomach pitching, he pressed his lips to hers in a chaste,
innocent kiss.

Her hands flew to his arms as if she needed to steady herself. His hand drifted along

the side of her neck, sliding across that spot where her pulse beat so quickly. Desperate
for more of her, he flicked his tongue against the seam of her mouth and silently asked
for permission to enter.

As her lips parted, Vivian made a whimpering, kittenish sound that—God help him—

traveled straight to his cock. Rock-hard and aching, he stabbed his tongue between her
lips and tasted the minty hint of her toothpaste. He warred with himself for control as he
devoured her sweet mouth, gliding his tongue against hers in the same way he wanted to

sink into her hot willing flesh. The knowledge that his bed was only a few feet away
tempted him greatly.

But he mastered his desires and forced them into submission. Vivian deserved so

much better than a rough, frantic fuck while his house teemed with police and lawyers
and his soldiers.

He eased off the intensity and drew their wickedly sensual kisses to a slow stop.

Shuddering in his arms, she pressed her cheek to his chest. He lowered his lips to the
crown of her head and held her.

When she spoke, her voice was husky and filled with determination. "We can't go back

to the way it was, Kolya. You can't push me away. If we're going to get through this, we
need each other."

"I'm done playing that game."
"Good." With a steady inhale, she straightened and stepped out of his embrace. "We

should go down and face the police now. Better to get it over with, you know?"

"I want you to eat first. Your priest is here. You should let him counsel you." Nikolai

felt awkward discussing matters of faith. "I’m sure he'll know the right things to say to
help you. You can speak with my lawyer and your cousin while you have breakfast. The
detectives can wait."

"They're busy people—"
"Who can reschedule if they're in that big of a rush," he interjected. "You've been

through hell and need to rest. The doctor gave me strict instructions about your fluid and
food intake. If you don't take the time to recover, you'll end up in the hospital."

"And you?" She gently rubbed his chest. "You suffered more injuries than me. You

need to rest. You need to recuperate."

"I've survived worse."
"I don't find that comforting."
Certain she wasn't going to let it go, he promised, "I'll try to take it easy tonight."

When one of her delicately shaped eyebrows arched, he quickly amended, "I will take it
easy tonight."

Seeming satisfied with his promise, she let her hand drop from his chest. He touched

the small of her back and guided her toward the door. As they drew close, she started to
resist. Suddenly anxious, she asked, "What am I supposed to say?"

"The truth," he said simply. "You should tell them absolutely everything that

happened until the moment we rescued you. We want them to find those other women
who were taken and trafficked. You have to give them all the help you can because
they're going to need it."

"I do want to help those girls." She looked so sad. "I think you might be better

equipped for that one. You and Eric found me in that warehouse before the police did."

"We have better contacts."
"Funny," she said rather dryly. "What do I say about the doctor?"
"You tell them that we had a family doctor visit you here."
"A family doctor?"
"Do you know Dr. Moscowitz?" He named one of Samovar's regular visitors.

"Nikolai, he's, like, ninety years old and hasn't practiced medicine since the fall of the

Berlin Wall. Does he even have a medical license?"

He snorted at her description of the old man. "Yes, he has a license, and yes, he still

practices. He volunteers at one of those free clinics."

"Well…okay."
He clasped her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You'll be fine. Tell the truth

and everything will be all right. You're smart and strong and you have a wonderful gift at
reading people and strategizing." So glad to be free to touch her as he wished, Nikolai
kissed her forehead. "Don't underestimate yourself."

His pep talk finished, he led her out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen where

breakfast and Detective Santos awaited her. The moment Santos spotted them holding
hands, he scowled. He looked like he wanted to jerk them apart but he bit his tongue.

As the cousins embraced and talked quietly, Nikolai's private phone began to ring. He

stepped into the butler's pantry to answer. "Yes?"

"Nikolai!" Julio Jimenez greeted him. "I hear you got your girl back safely. I'm happy

for you."

"What do you want, Julio?"
The other man laughed. "That's you, huh? Always cutting right to the chase. Look, El

Jefe

wants a sit-down. Tonight."

"Why?"
"I'm just the messenger. I don't have the details." Julio paused. "He said it was very

important that you meet tonight."

"Fine." He wasn't about to meet the slithery bastard anywhere that he couldn't vet

first. "Kostya will call you with the details."

Ending the call, he stepped back out into the kitchen to find David giving Vivian

instructions for her interview with the detectives. She glanced at him and he offered a
supportive smile. Her tense expression relaxed.

In that moment, he knew it was time. He had to accelerate his plans to get out of this

life. He had to find a way to extricate himself—or else he risked losing Vivian forever.

Chapter Ten

"Can you see us now?" Later that evening, I shifted my laptop to a stack of books Erin

had grabbed from Nikolai's shelves. We were trying to Skype with Lena who was still
snowed in back in Moscow.

"Okay—now all I can see is a perfect shot of Benny's rack," Lena said with a loud

laugh. "And, seriously, Benny when did your boobs get so huge? Is that, like, a pregnancy
thing or a married girl thing?"

Benny shot her the finger. "Can you see this?"
"Oh, someone's touchy." Lena giggled gleefully as Erin pushed another book onto the

tower and I adjusted my laptop again. "Okay. That's perfect. Now you two get on the
couch with Benny so I can see all of you at once."

Playfully, Erin said, "If Benny's growing rack is a married girl thing, Ivan is going to be

thrilled."

My gaze drifted to the engagement ring she wore. She'd been a bit nervous about

announcing her news when she'd arrived at the house but I'd honestly been so thrilled
for her. Her Christmas Day proposal had seemed so magical and sweet as she'd recounted
all the details to us.

Right now, it was nice to be surrounded by friends and their laughter. After what I'd

gone through, I craved normalcy. This impromptu girls evening in the library at Nikolai's
home was the perfect ending to an otherwise stressful day.

"Girl, show me that ring again!" Lena practically salivated over the chance to admire

Erin's ring. I found it a bit amusing considering Yuri had already gifted Lena with more
diamonds than most of us would see in a lifetime. "Oh, Erin," she said with such
happiness. "It's perfect. You tell Ivan I said he did really well."

"I will." A little teary-eyed, she blinked rapidly and traced the exquisite setting.

Perking up, she asked, "So how is Moscow?"

"Cold," Lena said. "And snowy."
"It's Russia," Benny pointed out.
"It's ridiculous," Lena replied. "But I have to admit there's something really gorgeous

about this place. It's sort of…stark. In the mornings, everything glistens, and it's really
lovely."

"Should we expect change of address cards soon?" I teased.
"Hell no," she shot back with a laugh. "This Texas girl needs her heat and sun and

forty-degree winters. Hey, but speaking of address changes, when do I get to see pictures
of this new house you and Dimitri bought, Benny?"

"Soon." Benny and Dimitri had closed on their first home together a few days before

Christmas. They'd been planning to purchase one of the lots in the gated community
where Ivan and Erin lived and build a house to spec but they'd stumbled onto the perfect
cul-de-sac house one street over. The house had been a foreclosure and Dimitri had
managed to snap it up at the auction for a steal.

"Are you making a lot of changes?" Erin wondered in between nibbles on some snacks

she'd brought with her. "The bones of the house look great. From the outside, at least,"
she added. "It's not very old."

"The house is in great shape," Benny agreed, "but Dimitri can't stand carpet and I think

the pumpkin orange kitchen is frightening."

"Sergei's crews do fantastic work. You should get them to bid," Erin suggested. "We

were happy with the small projects they did for us."

"And I'm sure you'll get a family discount," Lena chimed in.
"Let's hope. So tell us about these quickie internships you're doing over there," Benny

interjected. "Do you still feel like opening your own crisis management place is what you
want to do?"

"I'm getting a better feel for it," Lena said. "Ty and I sort of jumped in feet first when it

came to helping Dimitri get his private security firm out of that tight spot after what
happened with Katya and Jake. We were lucky that everything we tried worked out fine.
Right now, I'm taking lots of notes and trying to make the best of this opportunity."

"Where are you headed next?" I wanted to live vicariously through her. "Someplace

amazing?"

"If the damn snow stops enough for a runway to be cleared, we're going to fly to

Amsterdam to meet with Yuri's friend, Niels, and a colleague of his who runs one of
Europe's hottest crisis management firms."

Sitting in the corner of the couch and surrounded by my friends, I felt some of the

lingering fear begin to dissipate. They all instinctively understood that I didn't want to sit
here and rehash all the gory details of my kidnapping and abusive treatment. After
telling the detectives everything—even going so far as to sketch everything I
remembered about the warehouse and the faces of the two deceased men who had been
guarding me—and letting them take pictures of my injuries, I didn't want to talk about
what had happened. I needed some time to recharge my batteries, so to speak.

Proving they were the most amazing friends a girl could have, they continued to crack

jokes and talk about anything and everything but the kidnapping—and I loved them for
it.

Erin clucked like a mother hen when our Chinese delivery arrived and I said I wasn’t

that hungry. Under her watchful eye, I found my appetite and ate enough to satisfy her.
She was right, of course. With more food in my belly, I did start to feel better.

Benny produced some of those sugar bomb cupcakes that I tried not to eat too often.

Tonight, I found I couldn’t say no. I practically licked the paper wrapper clean to get the
last tasty, decadent, chocolate morsels.

All too soon, Lena had to end her Skype session and then Benny and Erin had to leave.

Dimitri and Ivan had been patiently waiting in another room while we had our girls'
evening. I assumed they were both concerned with leaving the women they loved alone
with me right now. I didn't blame them. There was no telling who was trying to hurt me
or Nikolai or how far they were willing to go. I mean, they'd had me kidnapped and
were willing to sell me on the underground sex market!

As I hugged Erin and Benny in the entryway of Nikolai's house, a stream of men

carrying boxes started pouring in through the front door. Taken aback, I watched them
head upstairs with the boxes. A few of them spoke to Ivan and Dimitri. I noticed the oh-
shit glances between the two friends and figured they knew something that I didn't. The
way they hurriedly whisked Erin and Benny from the house confirmed my suspicion.

Carrying two big boxes, Sergei brought up the rear of the human train. I stuck out my

foot to stop him. "What's going on?"

He shifted the heavy weight of the boxes. "Look, I just do what I'm told, Vivian. If the

boss says to go to your apartment and pack everything up, that's what I do."

I reeled backward with shock. "That's my stuff? All of it?" My gaze jumped to the

second floor. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to my apartment?"

"Because I knew you'd get angry with me and I'm not getting in the middle of

whatever is going on here," he explained.

Unhappy, I crossed my arms but held my tongue. The person I wanted to yell at for

being so impossibly overbearing wasn't here—but he'd be home soon enough. I hoped for
his sake he'd finally taken one of those pain pills because after I was done with him he
was going to need it.

* * *

Nikolai waited patiently for Lorenzo Guzman to arrive at the empty airplane hangar.

Seated in the backseat of Kostya's new car, he tried to find a comfortable position for his
aching body. Making conversation, he remarked, "I like this new car. It's roomy back
here."

Kostya eyed him in the rearview mirror. "You may not like it as much when you see

the bill sitting on your desk."

Nikolai laughed. He wouldn't put it past Kostya to stick him with the bill for a

replacement, even if his insurance would cover most of the damage to the old car.

Thinking of the damage that Kostya's car had sustained during the attack forced

Nikolai to relive the agonizing hour of listening to Vivian recount her ordeal to the
detectives. His fingers curled to tight fists as rage saturated every pore in his body.

Hearing the way they'd stripped her, shocked her and abused her in that shower had

made him want to commit murder. In some ways, the two guards who had been
executed had gotten off easy. If they'd been found alive, Nikolai didn't know what he
would have done to them. Terrible things…

"Looks like they're here," Kostya sat up straighter. With his black leather gloves on, he

was ready for trouble. Tonight, Nikolai hoped there would be none of that. Kostya had
arranged security and Nikolai trusted everything would go well.

Lorenzo's SUV rolled to a stop. The cartel boss stepped out alone and showed that he

was unarmed before approaching Nikolai's car. Kostya slid out of the front seat, opened
the back passenger door and waited outside the car while the two men had their talk.

The bright light before the door closed gave Lorenzo a good look at Nikolai's bruised

face. He whistled softly. "What the hell is the world coming two when a boss isn't safe on
his own streets?"

Nikolai had been wondering the same thing. "It tells me that a new game is trying to

move into town and upset the balance." He glanced briefly at the Mexican mafioso. "You
wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"You think I flew all this way to shoot the shit, Nikolai?" Lorenzo played with his

watch band. "We've worked together for years. I stay out of your business. You stay out of
my business. Everyone is happy."

"Until someone gets ripped out of a car window and an innocent woman is

kidnapped…"

"I'd be careful calling Romero's girl innocent. She tried to kill you, after all."
Nikolai's gaze snapped to Lorenzo's profile. The semi-darkness of the backseat made it

difficult for him to read the man. "What happened back then wasn't her fault. She was
just a child being manipulated by her father—a man who is still on your payroll."

Lorenzo made a soft sound. "Don't believe everything you hear."
"I believe what I see and what I can prove. Would you like to explain to me how a

trucking company allied with your outfit was used to truck trafficked young women
from the same warehouse where my Vivian was being held?"

Now Lorenzo was the one who showed surprised. "I can't explain that but I have my

suspicions."

"And they are?"
"Suspicions I'm keeping to myself until I have proof," he replied rather cryptically.
Nikolai sighed. "Then what the hell is the point of this meeting?"
"The Calaveras put a price on Vivian's head. They think it will draw out Romero. I

know it won't but they're not very smart. Luckily for her, they were motivated by money
and the promise of ongoing business with your outfit. I was able to tentatively buy the hit
contract."

Nikolai digested that bit of information. Now the reason for Lorenzo's visit was crystal

clear. "We don't work with the Calaveras. That's a long-standing rule."

"Not even to save your girlfriend?"
Lorenzo had him by the balls—and he knew it.
"What do you want?"
"I need guns."
Nikolai frowned. "What happened to your Middle Eastern connection? I thought you

were getting shipments from Palestine."

"We were but the situation in Syria has drastically reduced the availability. I have

specific needs."

And Nikolai had a connection that no one else could reach. He didn't often step

outside the family to conduct business but Grisha had clamped down on weapon exports
a few years ago. Grisha had sworn it was because of supply problems but Nikolai hadn't
believed it. He'd suspected Grisha was trying to keep Nikolai's crew from growing too
big and successful. Refusing to be squeezed by his own family, Nikolai had reached out to
an old acquaintance.

"Liam doesn't like working south of the border. You're a bit too flashy for him."
"Set up a meeting. We'll see what he says after we talk money."

"I can't make any promises."
"I'll make you one. Get this contract running for me—and I'll take care of Romero,

once and for all."

The offer tempted him greatly. Despite his black reputation, Nikolai had never been a

fan of eliminating problems. He'd always found other ways to work around them.
Sometimes all it took was one good ass whipping to put a man in line but that wasn't
going to work with Romero. The man was a walking liability. His very existence posed a
threat to Vivian's safety.

"Not if I get to him first," Nikolai calmly replied.
"You can try," Lorenzo answered, equally as calm. "Set up the meeting. We'll go from

there. I look forward to many more years of business with you, Nikolai."

His offer made, Lorenzo stepped out of the backseat, returned to his SUV and left the

hangar. Needing some air and some space to think, Nikolai climbed out of the car and
walked to the open end of the hangar.

For a long time, he simply stared at the airplanes taking off and landing on the nearby

runways. On edge, he lit up a cigarette and enjoyed the soothing burn in his lungs while
his mind worked the angles and considered the options. Trouble was coming. He could
feel it in his damn bones. There was going to be a shakeup in the way Houston's
underworld worked—and if he wanted to survive, he had to start thinking bigger. He
had to start thinking about the many maneuvers it would take get him out, keep his crew
safe and keep Vivian alive.

Snuffing out the cigarette, he plucked his phone from his pocket and dialed Liam's

number. It took nearly seven rings for the Irish arms dealer to finally answer. When he
did, he was panting. Knowing Liam, he'd either been exercising or fucking. The man did
little else.

"Well—if it isn't my long lost Russian friend! How's the head and the shoulder?"
Nikolai touched the staples in his scalp. "They'll heal. How are you?"
"Oh, same old shit. Just a different day," he said with a laugh. "But I know you didn't

call to chat. What do you need? Are you looking to stockpile some steel for a new war?"

"Not yet," he said. Reluctantly, he finally admitted, "Lorenzo Guzman wants a sit-

down."

"Like fucking hell," Liam snapped. "I don't work with those men. It's too risky."
"I'm not asking you to compromise your business model. I'm just asking for a sit-

down."

Liam grunted on the other end of the line. "This favor wouldn't have anything to do

with that pretty little waitress would it?"

He'd always suspected Liam knew the full score when it came to Vivian and her

father. "It might."

Liam went silent. Eventually, he exhaled roughly and said, "New Year's Eve. You pick

the place but it better be your turf."

"Done."
"See you then."
"Da."

The arrangement made, Nikolai slipped his phone in his pocket and returned to the

car. Kostya didn't say a word as they headed home. He likely sensed that Nikolai wasn't
in the mood to chat. It was one of the things that Nikolai liked most about his right-hand
man. He always knew when he was needed and when he wasn't.

Right now, he wasn't.
Running his thumb back and forth across his lighter, Nikolai replayed the

conversation with Lorenzo Guzman. Even if Nikolai managed to secure a deal between
Liam and Lorenzo, the cartel boss was going to hold the threat of releasing that contract
on Vivian over his head. Lorenzo obviously thought he needed leverage—and that was
troubling.

Lorenzo clearly suspected that he was going to come up against one of Nikolai's allies.

The Mexican wanted to be assured of Nikolai's support. What kind of trouble was
Lorenzo expecting? It had to be big to make him nervous enough to switch arms dealers
rather than waiting out the supply problems with his current guy.

Unless he wasn't telling the truth about the Syria connection. Had he been dropped by

his old supplier? Was he getting squeezed? Liam would know—and he'd charge an
exorbitant tax for resupplying Lorenzo. If the cartel boss was between a rock and a hard
place, he'd have no choice but to pay it. For Nikolai, it meant a huge payday in referral
fees.

As he tossed his lighter back and forth between his hands, Nikolai let his thoughts

turn to Romero and the Calaveras. That situation had to be dealt with and very soon.
Nikolai wasn't about to let Lorenzo dictate the terms when it came to eliminating that
problem. It suited his overall goals to let Lorenzo think he had the upper hand but
Nikolai had another way to reach Romero and the Calaveras and he meant to use it.

When they pulled into the garage hidden along the side of his house, Nikolai reached

forward to tap Kostya's shoulder. "You should go home and get some rest."

"Tomorrow," he said and killed the engine.
Left frowning in the backseat, Nikolai reached for his door but Kostya was already

opening it. Standing side by side, he clapped Kostya on the arm. "You're a good friend."

Kostya laughed. "What do you need?"
Nikolai smiled. "It's not a big favor. Get a message to Besian. Tell him I want to sit

down with him and Diego tomorrow. Let's get this shit between their crews ironed out.
Someone is trying to kick-off a gang war and it's the very last thing this city needs."

"I'll get it done. Anything else?"
"Get me a meeting with Mr. Lu."
Kostya made a nervous sound. "That's going to be expensive."
"I'll make it worth his while. I have a feeling we're going to need his import expertise

very soon."

His orders given, Nikolai patted Kostya's back and left the garage. He traversed the

flagstone pavers to the side entrance of the house. In the mudroom, he carefully peeled
out of his coat and placed it on its hook.

When Nikolai stepped into the kitchen, Sergei glanced up from his foot-high plate of

sandwiches. The enforcer took one look at him and shoved one of his beer bottles down

the long granite island. "You'd better drink that before you go see her."

Nikolai pushed the beer back toward Sergei. "She's mad?"
"Furious," Sergei corrected. With a lopsided smile, he added, "But she's barefoot and

doesn't have her purse so there's little chance of her coming after you like she did me and
Kostya's car."

Nikolai grunted at the memory of chasing after her down that sidewalk. At the time,

their fight had seemed so monumental. Now, after everything they'd survived, it seemed
like a simple tiff. "Kostya will be in soon. If anything comes up, let him handle it. I don't
want to be disturbed."

Sergei nodded. "We'll keep it down."
Bracing for an argument, he left the kitchen. It took him a few minutes to find her in

the media room watching one of those awful reality shows. He didn't know how anyone
so smart could stand to watch such trash, but he wasn't about to chide her for her choice
of evening entertainment.

He didn't step into her view immediately. Instead, he stood in the shadowy spot there

to observe her better. He liked the way she looked in his home. Seeing her barefoot and
in pajamas drove home the point he'd been considering all day. There was nowhere else
she belonged but right here with him. In his life, in his home, in his arms. She was his—
and it was time to stake his claim.

Stepping fully into the doorway, he drew her attention. The moment she caught sight

of him, she sat up and flicked off the television. She tossed the remote on the cushion
next to her. "We need to talk."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Not in here, Vee. Let's go to the library. It's private."
"Fine." With an angry scowl, she shoved off the couch and stormed toward him. She

tried to brush by him but he captured her with a hand curved against her hip. With one
step, he backed her up against the arched doorway and slid his other hand to her nape.
Eyes wide, she put her hands against his chest but not to push him away. "Nikolai—"

"I missed you today." He'd never been a very emotional man. It wasn't easy for him to

make himself vulnerable, but after the way he'd broken down in front of her, he
understood that she wouldn't ridicule him for showing a softer side.

But he'd only do it for her.
Her angry expression melted. "I missed you." She inhaled and narrowed her eyes.

"You've been smoking."

He let a grunt of annoyance escape his throat. "It's been a stressful day."
"Don't fall back into the habit." She ran her hand up and down his arm in an

encouraging way. "You've been doing so well."

Not wanting to lie to her by swearing to stop, he said, "I'll try harder."
A sweet smile curved her mouth. "I know you will."
Curling her fingers into the fabric, she gripped the front of his shirt as he lowered his

mouth to tease it across hers. He held the simple kiss for a few seconds before delving his
tongue between her lips. The sugary sweetness of cake frosting clung to her mouth. She
whimpered softly as he flicked his tongue against hers.

Spurred on by her reaction, he moved his hand from her hip to cradle her face. As her

fingers tightened around the fistfuls of fabric, he deepened their kiss. She rose up on
tiptoes to meet the ravenous descent of his mouth. When her soft breasts pressed against
his chest, he felt his control slipping. The urge to run his hands along her feminine curves
was almost too much to squelch.

Pulling back, he kissed her tenderly. She relaxed against the doorway and let her

hands slowly fall from his chest. Pouting up at him, she playfully accused, "You did that
on purpose."

He grinned. "Did it work?"
"A little," she said and toyed with a button on his shirt. "I'm still really annoyed with

you."

He grasped her hand and gave it a tug. Still a bit dazed by his kiss, she followed him

without a fight. Once they were safely enclosed in his library, he released her hand and
leaned back against the door. She put some distance between them and moved to the
seating area. "You stay there. I don't want you kissing me again and making me forget
why I'm angry with you."

"Whatever you say, solnyshko moyo."
She rolled her eyes. "You better keep laying it on thick." She fixed him with her

frustrated glare. "You told Sergei and his guys to clear out my apartment."

It wasn't a question but he answered it anyway. "Yes, I did."
"They went through my private things, Nikolai. How do you think that makes me

feel?"

The truth was he hadn't even considered that. He swore under his breath. "I'm sorry. I

wasn't thinking about it that way. I just wanted to get you out of that apartment as
quickly as possible."

"Why?"
Staring at her, he wondered if she wasn't suffering from some kind of amnesia. "Vee,

you were kidnapped. You were nearly killed. You can't be alone. I have to keep an eye on
you. No." He slashed his hand through the air. "You're not going back."

Her shoulders tilted back. "Says who?"
"Says me." His matter-of-fact statement seemed to draw her ire. "It's silly to drag this

out. You need your things here. You can't live out of a suitcase forever."

She crossed her arms. "Look, Nikolai, you can't just tell me I'm not going back to my

apartment. That's not the way this works. I'm not moving in here."

"Yes, you are."
"Like hell," she replied snippily. "I agreed to stay with you until this crap storm with

my dad blows over. We never discussed something like this."

She was right, of course, but he wasn't about to back down. "The situation has

drastically changed, Vee. You can't live alone. It's not safe."

"So tell me that and then ask me what I think we should do, Kolya!"
He winced as the full weight of his one-sided decision was finally presented to him.

He'd gotten so used to giving orders without asking for opinions that he'd run roughshod
over Vivian. "I didn't mean to come across so…controlling. I only wanted what's best for
you."

"And that's why I'm not throwing books at your head," she replied with a little smile.

"I know why you did it. I just need you to understand why I'm upset."

"I do." He hesitated. "I can't promise this won't happen again. In fact, I'm certain it will

happen again. I've been this way for a long time, Vee. I'm not going to change overnight."

"I don't expect that, but I'm not taking orders from you like one of your men." She

swallowed nervously. "I mean…I don't really know what we're doing or what this thing
between us is…but I can't—I won't—be ordered around like an employee. I watched my
parents treat one another so badly and I'm not interested in that kind of thing. Either
we're equals and partners…or we're nothing."

Aghast at how badly he'd overstepped her boundaries, he crossed the distance

between them in quick strides. He could imagine how much courage it had taken her to
say that to him.

He brushed his bruised and battered knuckles along her cheek. "There aren't many

people in this world brave enough to put me in line." Smiling, he dipped his head and
kissed her sweetly. "I'm glad you're one of them."

She exhaled with relief. "It wasn't easy."
"Don't be afraid of me, Vee. There's nothing you can't say to me. I want us to be on the

level with each other."

She hesitated and bit her lip. He ran his thumb across her plump flesh to stop her.

Glancing up at him, she held him in place with her vulnerable blue eyes. "I don't think
staying here is such a good idea." Before he could ask why not, she hurriedly explained,
"A couple of kisses and you've got me wavering on the edge. You're too tempting,
Nikolai. I can't cross that line. Not even for you," she added on a whisper.

That line?
Sex.
He'd be a lying bastard if he told her that he wasn't interested in a physical

relationship. Even with his dull headache and throbbing side, he wanted to take her
down in front of the fireplace and ravish her. He wanted to feel her thighs wrapped
around his waist and her shaky breaths against his throat as she came. He wanted to
thrust into her slick cunt again and again and fill her with his seed, to mark and bind her
to him forever.

"Then we're at a crossroads, Vee."
Confusion marred her pretty face. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I'm not letting you leave this house, and you can't stay here if your virtue is

constantly under attack."

She eyed him warily. "What's your solution?"
What was she thinking? Did she imagine he was going to farm her out to Sergei or

Kostya for safekeeping? Or was she beginning to understand that he was about to
propose a much more permanent solution.

"There are two choices here. One—I put you on a plane tonight and send you to Yuri.

He'll hide you away in some secret place that even Lena won't know about until you're
finally safe again. Whenever that might be," he added.

Her tired sigh told him she didn't like that option. "And the second choice?"

Throat tight, he offered her the last form of protection possible. "Marry me."

Chapter Eleven

Marry me

.

The shocking words ricocheted around in my head. Thrown completely for a loop, I

stumbled to the closest chair and dropped onto the cushion without any finesse. My
knees wobbled and my tummy pitched as I tried to figure out if he was serious.

"Marry you?"
He slowly sat down on the coffee table. There was no masking the pain that caused

him to grimace. I ached for him and reached out to soothingly pet his knee. In one swift
movement, he captured my smaller hand in his. "You deserve so much better than me. I
know that. It's selfish of me to even ask you to be my wife."

"Why?" I had to know what he was thinking. What had motivated him to ask me

something so incredibly serious?

Head down, he traced my middle finger. "I need you by my side. This whole

damned city is a powder keg and one spark is about to send it up in flames. I have to
know you're protected. I have to know you're right here."

What had spurred his sudden proposal? Certain I wouldn't like the answer, I asked,

"Where were you tonight?"

Nikolai's gaze finally met mine. With a heavy sigh, he confessed, "I was meeting

with Lorenzo Guzman."

My lips parted on a gasp. "The drug lord? I didn’t know you were in business with

him."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Vee. I'm willing to tell you some of it but

not all of it. What you need to know right now is that there's a price on your head and
Lorenzo Guzman bought it. He's using it as leverage against me."

My heartbeat sprinted. "For what?"
"A gun deal," he said reluctantly. "His buyer is having problems and he needs a new

supply line."

I licked my lips. "And then what? I mean—he's not going to stop with just these

guns, right? He's going to keep beating you over the head with the hit on me to make you
do what he wants."

"He's going to try."
"What does that mean?"
"It means he's underestimated me. He has no idea how far I'm willing to go to finish

this."

I gripped his fingers even tighter. "Please don't do anything terrible for me. I

couldn't bear it." My voice cracked as I thought of what he might have already done just
to get me back. "Please."

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "I can't promise you that, Vee. I won't sit

here and make a promise I don't intend to keep. I can't have any more lies between us.
The last one nearly killed us. No more, angel moy."

It struck me then how deeply he cared for me and how determined he was for our

relationship to move forward with a solid foundation of truth. Even if that truth wasn't
something I wanted to hear…

"You know what I am. You know who I am. This is me, Vee. This is all I can offer."
I heard the shame filling his voice. Cupping his jaw, I raised his gaze to mine. "I

know what you are."

"I'm a criminal who shot a little girl and then lied to her for eleven years. That's

what I am."

A painful band squeezed my heart. "I've forgiven you for that. We have to move

forward, Nikolai. It's done."

"For you, maybe," he said glumly. "For me? I will never forgive myself for what I

did."

There was nothing I could say to change his mind or assuage the terrible guilt he

carried. I grazed my fingertips down his cheek in a soothing gesture. His eyelids briefly
closed. Such longing appeared on his face. How long had it been since someone had
touched him with kindness?

"The night I shot you…when I was kneeling over you and holding my hand to your

bleeding belly…that was the first night I had prayed since childhood."

I wasn't supposed to know about the abuse he'd survived as a child. When that

crazy woman had tried to kill Lena and Yuri, she'd had her cohort leave a cryptic note
written in Russian on Lena's pillow. Unable to decipher it, Lena had sent me a snapshot
via her phone. There, in red ink, I'd read all about the way little Nikolai had been pimped
out for money.

After what he'd suffered at the hands of that disgusting orphanage director and his

pedophile clients, I wasn't surprised that Nikolai had divorced himself from a
relationship with God. I could only imagine how many unanswered prayers he'd sent out
into the great beyond while being abused so horrifically.

"You survived," Nikolai continued, "and I knew then that I'd been charged with

looking after you. It's my duty to keep you safe. I feel it here." He dragged my hand to his
chest, right above his beating heart. "When they took you, I prayed I'd find you safe and
alive—and I did."

To hear Nikolai talking about faith and prayer left me speechless.
"I'm not taking any more chances when it comes to you." He took both of my hands

now. "You'll marry me and become my wife and then everyone will know the price of
harming even one hair on your head."

He was offering me everything I'd ever wanted from him but I wasn't sure the

motivation was right. Perhaps it was a childish and naïve thing to consider with my life
on the line—but I couldn't deny what I was feeling. I wasn't like Lena or Benny or Bianca
or Erin. I'd never wanted a high-profile career or a business. I'd always been drawn to
quieter, simpler things. To keep a beautiful home, raise children and paint on the side
was my ultimate dream.

But this wasn't the way I wanted it.
"I don't want to get married as a preventative measure, Kolya. I want to get married

because the man asking me wants to build a life with me."

"I want that," he said on a hurried breath. "I want so many things with you. I never

wanted you to end up with a man like me. I've done everything possible to steer you
away from my kind so I know how hypocritical it is for me to sit here and ask for your
hand."

"But?"
"But I love you, Vivian. Rightly or wrongly, we've been bound together for ages.

There's no one else for me." He caressed my face and peered intently into my eyes. "What
do you want, Vee?"

Snatching my chance to have the one thing I'd wanted for so long, I answered

honestly, "The one thing everyone keeps telling me I can't have."

This time, I was the one who kissed him. As if holding back, he held perfectly still

when I pressed my lips to his. It wasn't until I turned the tender kiss into a needful,
seeking one that Nikolai seemed to lose his control. Wrapping both arms around me, he
slid to his knees in front of my chair.

With a low growl of desire, he stabbed his tongue against mine. I'd been kissed quite

a few times but I'd never experienced one like this. This was a soul-searing mating that
left me trembling and overheated. When Nikolai kissed me, he did it with such
passionate intensity that it drove the air right out of my lungs.

I grew insanely aware of my body. Of course, I'd never had my legs wrapped

around a man's waist before this—and it did crazy things to me. Nikolai's muscled chest
seemed impossibly hard against my front. My breasts suddenly felt heavier and ached to
be touched and caressed. The thin fabric of my camisole top and the loose cardigan I
wore were no match for Nikolai's body heat. He warmed me through and through.

When his hand glided down my spine, I gasped against his mouth. The simplest

touch set me on fire. I rocked against him—and became very aware of another part of
him. Kneeling between my parted thighs, the tented front of his jeans rubbed against the
flimsy cotton of my pajama bottoms. Only a few millimeters of fabric separated our
bodies now.

I'd meant it earlier when I told Nikolai that he tempted me. Never before had I

allowed myself to get into a tricky situation like this. Anytime a goodnight kiss or movie
make-out session had gotten heated, I'd deftly applied the brakes. Tonight, though, I felt
powerless to stop Nikolai. My body ached for his intimate touch.

As if reading my mind, Nikolai tore his mouth away from mine. Panting against my

neck, he buried his face in the sloping curve there. "We have to stop."

No

! My brain screamed for us to keep going. I wanted to know the secrets that my

friends understood. I wanted to know what it felt like to have my lover guide me down
to the floor. I wanted to feel Nikolai's weight on top of me, to feel his naked skin against
mine.

No.

This time it was my conscience talking. The lust-driven haze began to fade and I

was able to look at our situation with clear eyes and a clear heart. Yes, I still wanted
Nikolai in the most wild, intimate way—but I had to wait.

He spoke in low tones, his voice muffled by the way he still had his mouth pressed

to my throat. The Russian words drifted to my ears. "I'm sorry."

Confused, I asked, "For what?"
He pulled back and kissed me gently. "For pawing at you like this," he clarified.

"You've been through a terrible trauma, and I should be giving you space to heal and sort
out your thoughts, not bombarding you with marriage proposals and kissing you."

"I'm okay. Really," I added when he shot me a disbelieving look. "I'll never look at a

dog cage the same way again, and I don't think I want to try any of that bondage
nonsense that Dimitri and Benny like, but I'm going to be fine."

Nikolai looked equal parts scandalized and amused. "I'd always wondered what the

four of you talked about when you got together for those Russian lessons of yours. I'm
surprised you know the words to describe Dimitri's dirty little secret in our language."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please. I might be a virgin but I'm not innocent. I've read

things. I've seen things."

Mischief sparked in his pale eyes. "What kinds of things?"
My face burned with embarrassment. "I'm not talking about that with you."
He dragged his fingertip down my throat to the neckline of my camisole. Holding

my gaze, he promised, "You will."

My mouth went dry and my tummy wobbled as his full meaning hit me. Someday

very soon, he wouldn't stop after a few kisses.

"You never answered me." Tipping my chin, Nikolai asked, "Will you marry me?"
"Yes." The answer came so easily. I'd loved Nikolai for so long. I accepted him just as

he was, with his dark complicated history and all.

Even as I agreed to marry him, I understood there would be people who would

fight me on my choice. My cousin Eric was going to blow a gasket. Benny and Bianca
would quietly support me, even if they both thought I'd lost my mind. Though her
situation was slightly different because Ivan had left behind his old life, Erin would
understand me. Lena—well, she was probably going to read me the Riot Act.

But I couldn't live my life worrying about what other people thought of me. I had to

live my life for me and only me.

And I wanted Nikolai. I wanted to be his wife. I wanted to face our obstacles

together. More than anything, I wanted to help him get out of this life, if that was even
possible.

"I'll take care of you," he vowed with such love. "I can't give you the gleaming yachts

and diamonds like Yuri gives Lena but I'll love you with every fiber of my being."

"I don't need diamonds and yachts. I just need you."
"I'm yours. I think I've been yours since the first time I heard you singing Ochi

Chernye

with Sveta at the restaurant."

The teasing slant to his mouth made me smile. I was a truly terrible singer. There

had been times Lena had threatened to move out if she had to hear me sing one more
Ke$ha song—and rightly so. "Well—it must be love if my awful voice enchanted you."

He laughed and kissed me again. "It's late. You should sleep."
Of the two of us, he looked the most haggard. "Are you going to bed?"
"Yes." He moved slowly and carefully so as not to aggravate his injuries.

"Will you take a pain pill? You shouldn't be in so much agony, Nikolai." Certain the

only way to make him take care of himself was to use guilt, I said, "I won't be able to
sleep if I'm thinking about you suffering."

He looked like he wanted to refuse but he finally acquiesced with a nod. "All right."
"Thank you."
When we got upstairs, I followed him to his bedroom and slipped by him before he

could stop me. I headed straight for the master bathroom, found the pill bottles the
doctor had given him and read the labels. After filling a glass with water, I shook two
pills onto my palm and carried them into the bedroom. Nikolai had already toed off his
shoes and was unbuttoning his shirt when I presented him with is medication. I sensed
he wasn't fond of the coddling but he didn't fight me. He tossed back the pills and drank
the glass of water.

"Do you plan to check my mouth now?"
I put a hand on my hip. "Do I need to?"
"I swallowed them."
"Would you have swallowed them if I wasn't standing right here?"
"Probably not," he grudgingly admitted. "I don't like having my senses dulled,

especially not now."

"Nikolai, you've got Kostya, Sergei and, like, a dozen other guys hanging around

this place. You and I both know that the police department probably has this house under
surveillance. We're safe."

"For now," he grumbled and started to peel out of his shirt. When he winced, I

pushed aside his hands and dragged it down his arms. Positive he wouldn't be able to
bend over to remove his socks, I crouched down and tugged them off his feet. My gaze
landed on his belt buckle but he just smiled. "I think I've got that one."

"Right," I murmured nervously. I carried his shirt and socks to the hamper in the

roomy walk-in closet. When I stepped back into the bedroom, he still sat on the edge of
the bed. Anxiety gripped me. "Um…so…I guess this is good night."

"Stay with me."
He wasn't asking. I swallowed nervously. "I can't."
"You can." He held out his hand. "You need to stay with me tonight."
I stared at his hand with some trepidation. "Why?"
"Because after taking those two pain pills, I'm going to pass out cold very soon. If

you have another nightmare like last night, I'll be too groggy to cross the hall and find
you." His brow arched. "Unless you want Kostya to hold you until you fall back asleep?"

The idea of Kostya snuggled up against me wasn’t one I found very appealing.

Still…I worried this might be a step too far for us, especially after that passionate make-
out session in his library.

"We're just sleeping."
"That's all."
I trusted him not to push the issue. If our relationship had proved anything, it was

that the two of us were very patient and good at waiting. "All right."

He motioned to the side closest to the window. "You sleep there."

While I slid under the covers, he disappeared into the bathroom. He exited a few

minutes later and paused in the doorway. He'd pulled on pajama pants but remained
totally naked from the waist up. Every single one of his many tattoos was bared to my
sight. The dark bruises marring his skin looked so painful. "Do you need the light?"

Feeling a bit childish, I admitted, "I sleep with a night light at home."
He didn't tease me about it. He simply dimmed the light and shut the door most of

the way before crossing the room and switching off the bedside lamp. When I felt the bed
dip with his weight, I clenched the covers tightly. I wasn't sure how I would ever relax
enough to sleep with Nikolai resting inches away from me.

It took me a few seconds to realize he was staying on top of the comforter. "You're

going to freeze."

He chuckled. "Sweetheart, I'm from Russia. This isn't cold."
"Well…"
He leaned over in the darkness and pecked my cheek. "Stop worrying about me. Go

to sleep."

Sleep would come soon enough because I was just as exhausted, emotionally and

physically, as he was, but I doubted it was possible for me to stop worrying about him. It
wasn't a switch I could flip on and off so easily. Now that there was no question that we
belonged to one another, I experienced such a surge of possessiveness toward him.

Rolling on my side, I stared at his face. The light from the bathroom only

illuminated the bottom half of the bed so I couldn't see his eyes—but I could feel his gaze
boring into me. Very slowly, I slid my hand across the comforter toward him. Halfway to
touching him, I felt him reaching for me. Fingers interlaced, we said nothing but simply
held tight to each other.

I didn't know how we were going to get through all the troubles facing us but I

believed we'd make it out alive and safe. There was nothing we couldn't conquer
together.

Chapter Twelve

"Are you sure you want to do this?"
Nikolai killed the engine and glanced at Vivian. She pulled a long lace scarf from

her purse and placed it atop her head. Though he'd never seen her immodestly dressed, it
was still a bit jarring to see her covering her beautiful dark hair. The dress code at the
church was extremely conservative and she looked the part of devoted congregant.

"I don't mind a small Justice of the Peace wedding." She tucked the scarf around her

shoulder.

"I'm sure you wouldn't but I want it done properly for you."
She fidgeted with the lacy trim. "What if Father Semyon refuses to marry us?"
He can try

, Nikolai thought crossly. "Let's sit down with him and see how it goes.

There's no reason to get worked up over something that hasn't happened."

Vivian bit her lower lip. She looked a bit nervous before asking, "Um…how long has

it been since you were inside a church?"

"Too long," he admitted and opened his door.
That was probably the reason Father Semyon had asked them to join him inside the

narthex instead of his office. The clergyman wanted to remind Nikolai who set the rules
here. Though he was loathe to admit it, Nikolai already felt uncomfortable and on the
defensive, and he hadn't even escorted Vivian to the front door yet.

A chill crept along Nikolai's neck when they entered the simply decorated narthex,

the room just inside the entrance of the church. He ignored the unpleasant feeling and
tried to remember why he'd come here.

Despite Vivian's assurances that she wouldn't mind a quick trip to the courthouse to

cement their union, he knew better. She'd embraced her faith and lived accordingly in
her day-to-day life. If she'd ever dreamed of her wedding day, she'd probably dreamed of
a beautifully celebrated church wedding. He wanted to give that to her.

He stood back as Father Semyon warmly greeted Vivian. She spent so much time

volunteering with the congregation and attending services that she was very close to the
holy man. Not quite old enough to be her grandfather, the priest had taken a very keen
interest in guiding her once she'd joined his flock.

Nikolai had given the man a wide berth when he'd visited Vivian at the house. He'd

extended his welcome and made the priest feel comfortable but he hadn't quite known
what to say that wouldn't sound awkward or empty. The brief memory of the clergyman
praying at his bedside in the hospital still left him unsettled. Why would a priest waste
his prayers on a lost case like him?

"Nikolai, welcome." Father Semyon shook his hand. "Are you familiar with your

surroundings? Would you like me to explain what this place is and what it means?"

Nikolai shook his head. "I spent plenty of time in places like this as a child. It's not

something one forgets."

"No." Father Semyon offered a gracious smile before gesturing to a trio of chairs

he'd arranged. "Let's talk."

Nikolai took the seat next to Vivian and fought the urge to fidget as the priest

simply stared at them. With a deep sigh, the man sat back and crossed his legs. He
pressed his fingers together to form a steeple. "I'm going to be totally honest with the two
of you. I'm not thrilled with this development."

And so it begins…
"Father—"
The priest held up his hand and gently cut off Vivian's interjection. "But I won't stop

you."

Nikolai stiffened with surprise. He'd been expecting a real fight. Why was the holy

man capitulating so easily?

"Thank you, Father." Relief filled her voice.
"Don't take that as a full-fledged endorsement of this union," he cautioned. "You're a

smart young woman, Vivian, but we can all be blinded by love. Sometimes what the
heart wants isn't what the physical and spiritual body needs. This is a lifelong
commitment you're making to this man. You should take some time to think about this."

For the first time since asking her to be his wife, Nikolai felt real fear. If anyone in

the world could sway her to refuse his offer, it would be this man. Nikolai sneaked a
glance at Vivian but she looked utterly calm and resolved.

"I know the man I'm marrying, Father Semyon. I'm ready to make that

commitment."

Suddenly, Nikolai was the one with cold feet. Was he really going to drag Vivian

even further into the murky world he inhabited? Was he going to taint her with his dark
soul?

But then she smiled at him. That bright, playful smile warmed him in ways he

couldn't quite describe. It infected him with hope. With Vivian at his side anything was
possible. Maybe even getting out…

"Very well," Father Semyon remarked sadly. Turning his attention to Nikolai, the

priest asked, "Have you been baptized?"

Nikolai nodded. "All the boys in the orphanage were baptized and received

chrismation."

The priest made a throaty noise. "And how long has it been since you made

confession?"

"A while," Nikolai replied and shifted on the uncomfortably hard chair.
The priest's bushy brows rose. "How long is a while, Nikolai?"
Nikolai couldn't bear to meet Vivian's questioning gaze. "Twenty-four years," he

finally answered. "Give or take a few months."

Father Semyon made another unhappy noise. "Have you been married or

divorced?"

"No."
"Do you remember the name of your childhood church? I'll need your records, if

possible. I understand that sometimes it's difficult to track these things down back home."

He was relieved to have a question he could answer easily. "Ivan is still in contact

with the priest there. I'll get the details from him."

"How soon would the two of you like to be married?"
"The sooner the better," Nikolai said and leveled a meaningful glance at the priest.
His eyes widened slightly. "I see. The earliest I can perform the marriage is mid-

January, but I'll require you to complete the counseling sessions." The older man gave
him a hard look. "All of them."

"That's not a problem, Father." Nikolai would jump through whatever hoops the

priest placed between him and the wedding. He fully expected to find the experience
thoroughly discomfiting.

Father Semyon reached into his pocket and retrieved a key ring. "Vivian, would you

mind going to my office and picking up the folder and packets on my desk. I left your
paperwork there and you'll need to fill it out before our first counseling session."

She shot the priest a knowing smile. "Yes, Father."
Keys in hand, she passed by Nikolai on her way out of the narthex. She gave his

good shoulder a reassuring squeeze of encouragement before disappearing and leaving
him alone with the priest. Sitting there, awash in trepidation, he realized how crazy his
life was. He'd felt more comfortable sitting in the backseat of a car with a murderous
cartel boss than he did sitting across from this kindhearted man.

"Is she still in danger?"
"Yes."
"Because of her father—or because of you?" The priest didn't pull any punches.
"I don't know. It's probably a mix of both."
Father Semyon heaved an irritated sigh. "You should stop this nonsense now and

send her away. You have the friends to make it possible."

"I tried. I offered her that alternative." Nikolai rubbed the back of his neck and

decided to lay it all out for the priest. "I agree with you. She doesn't belong with me. She's
too good for me."

"Then why are you marrying her?"
"Because I love her," Nikolai answered simply. "Because she loves me. You can sit

there and cast judgment on me but it won't change the way we feel. I'm not a perfect
man. Hell, I'm not even a very good man—but she makes me want to be better."

The priest smiled. "Well, God works in mysterious ways. Perhaps she'll be the one to

save you. Someday you might even be a leader in our congregation."

Nikolai laughed harshly. "I wouldn't go that far, Father."
"I am the eternal optimist." Standing, Father Semyon extended his hand. Nikolai

rose and accepted it. "I'll expect a full confession before the wedding. I can't in good
conscience marry the two of you inside this church without knowing that you've done
penance and come clean with God."

Sensing this was the final test, Nikolai accepted with a nod. "Pick the day, Father,

and I'll be here." With a wry smile, he added, "You'd better clear your schedule. We're
going to be in that box a long time…"

* * *

Later that afternoon, I ducked into the library and shut the door. Sergei, my

shadow, took the hint that I wanted some privacy and didn't follow me. He was probably
standing outside the door with his ear pressed against it but he wasn't being intrusive.

I picked out the big, comfy reading chair by the window for my phone call. My

tummy a ball of nerves, I waited for Lena to answer. She took her sweet time as usual and
finally picked up on the fifth ring.

"Hello?" She panted into the phone.
"Um…did I catch you at a bad time?"
She laughed. "I wish it was something that salacious making me huff and puff like

this! No, I was in the other room of the hotel suite, and I tripped over one of my damn
shoes on the way over here."

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, how many times have I told you to just put them in the

dang closet when you take them off?"

"Man, you and Yuri both!" Yuri's deep voice was barely audible in the background.

"Oh, hush," Lena playfully chided her boyfriend. "I'm trying to talk to my bestie. Now go
away."

I smiled at the way they teasingly griped at each other. "I can call back later."
"No, I want to talk to you." A door clicked shut. "Okay—it's just the two of us now.

Seriously, Vivian, are you okay? I mean, you looked fine last night but I know it can take
a while for trauma like that to set in. After what happened at my old house with Katya
and Jake…" Her voice died off. "You remember what a mess I was when it finally hit me.
It's been almost two months and there are still days when I feel that panic setting in and
I'm, like, one step away from freaking the fuck out. So—really. How are you?"

"I'm okay. I'm not great but I'm getting there. I just keep thinking about those other

girls, the ones that didn't get rescued. I'm so lucky, Lena. So lucky," I said softly.

"Do you think they'll find them?"
"I hope so. I pray about it every chance I get. The police said all the details I

provided were helpful. Nikolai promised me he'd do whatever he can to find them and
to stop the trafficking."

"I imagine he sympathizes with those women in ways the two of us can't," she

whispered. "Does he know that you know about…you know?"

"I assumed that Yuri mentioned it when all that awful stuff went down. Even if Yuri

didn't say anything about me translating that letter, I'm sure he assumed you would have
sent me a copy of it." I traced my finger over the bumpy stitching on the leather cushion.
"I don't know how to bring it up but I'll have to eventually."

"Good luck," she said uneasily. "That's going to go down as the most awkward

conversation ever."

"Probably," I agreed.
"So—how is it staying there in his house?"
"Um…it's different. I'm surrounded by his guys all day long so I don't really have a

feel for what it would be like if it were only the two of us."

"Well, hopefully this shit with your dad and whoever tried to kidnap you will be

cleared up soon and you can get a new apartment and shed the bodyguards."

Realizing the moment had arrived, I gulped. "Well…the thing is…"
"Vivian." Lena said my name in that warning tone. "What's going on?"
"Don't be mad at me." We'd been friends so long I didn't know what I'd do if she

truly disapproved of my decision or tried to stop me.

"Vivi!"
"Nikolai asked me to marry him—and I said yes." The words rushed out on one

breath. I didn't even know if she'd been able to decipher them because a long, tense
silence stretched between us. Dread filled me. "Lena?"

"What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to be honest."
"Do you?"
"Of course."
"Then, honestly, I think you'll never be happy with anyone else but him. For

whatever reason, you two are tangled up in each other. Hell, maybe you're soul mates. I
don't know. But," she emphasized, "I will say this. If you're thinking that you can save
him or change him or whatever, you need to stop it right now. You can't, Vivian. Nikolai
is who he is. He is what he is. You have to be okay with that from the moment his ring
goes on your finger and not expect anything else from him."

She wasn't saying anything I hadn't already considered. "I don’t want to change

him, but I have to try to help him get out."

Lena muttered a string of curse words. "Vivian, that's dangerous. It's probably not

even possible. Look, Yuri told me what they did to Ivan when he wanted to get out. They
nearly beat him to death—and that was after they took every penny from him that he
hadn't squirreled away with Yuri. Ivan wasn't even close to Nikolai's level in that
organization. What do you think they'll do to him if he tries to walk away?"

My gut twisted. "They'll try to kill him."
"Exactly, baby girl." With a resigned sigh, she counseled, "You have to be okay with

him staying in that life, Vivian. If you're intent on having him, you have to accept that
you're taking on a package deal—and all that crazy mob shit comes with him."

Laid out in black and white it was a daunting thing to consider, but I wouldn't be

swayed. "I've made my decision."

"And I support you."
"Thank you."
"So—when are we doing this? Do I need a dress? Are we going to the courthouse?"
"Actually, we're going to get married in the church."
Lena sputtered and choked. Coughing to clear her throat, she cried, "The next time

you're going to drop a bomb like that warn me not to take a drink of the water bottle
sitting next to me, okay? You nearly killed me!"

"Sorry."
"Jesus." She sounded stunned. "Nikolai actually went into a church with you—and it

didn't spontaneously combust?"

I glared at my phone. "Oh, haha. Very funny."

She snickered. "Come on, Vivi! You have to admit it's kind of wild, right? I mean,

Nikolai in a church."

"I'm hanging up now…"
"Quit being such a baby! I'm just teasing. But—hey! If you're getting married in the

church, does that mean I don't get to be your maid of honor?"

I could hear her pouting. "You can be my maid of honor but you can't be the sponsor

of our marriage." I used terms she'd understand. "Unless you want to convert?"

"Uh—no thanks. I really just want to stand by you and look pretty."
I snorted with amusement. "I'm shocked."
"So what's the date?"
"We're doing it in 3 weeks. I'll send you all of the information later in an email."
"You better go see Bianca! If anyone can get you a dress in that amount of time, it's

her."

"I planned to call her later, after I talked to Erin and Benny."
"Ooh," Lena drew out the word. "You think Erin is going to get upset about you

stealing her wedding thunder?"

"Are you kidding? She's going to want to plan everything."
"Let her. You saw what a fabulous job she did with Benny and Dimitri's shindig. It'll

be good practice for her wedding in the summer."

"As if I'll have a choice!" I giggled. "Ten bucks says she's ringing the doorbell

tomorrow morning with an armload of magazines."

Lena laughed. "That’s so Erin."
"Kitten?" Yuri called softly to Lena. His sweet pet name for her always made me

smile. "The car will be ready in ten minutes."

"Okay. Hey, Vivi? I have to cut this short. We're headed out for dinner."
"It's fine. Go have fun."
"Oh, we will." The way she said it had be convinced they would be ringing in the

new year with a very big, ahem, bang. "Congratulations, Vivi. I really mean that. I hope
you'll be very happy."

"Thank you."
"All right. Send me the info and I'll call you sometime tomorrow."
"I will. Happy New Year, Lena."
"Happy New Year, Vivi."
After saying our goodbyes, I ended the call. Instead of dialing Erin, I sat back and

stared out the bay window overlooking the front corner of the yard. I envied Lena's
white Christmas and New Year's Eve in Russia and Amsterdam. I imagined how
beautiful it must be, everything pristine and white.

Winter in Houston rarely included snow. This year it had been bitterly cold—to us,

at least—but precipitation had consisted of little more than drizzle and sleet. Today a fine
icy mist made it nearly impossible to see beyond the wraparound porch.

There wasn’t much traffic on Nikolai's quiet street so the blue truck coming down

the road garnered my attention as it emerged from the misty fog. Nothing about it
aroused my suspicion until it slowed to a crawl. When the window began to roll down, I

panicked and nearly dove out of my chair. Was it a drive-by?

My heart jumped to my throat when a hand appeared in the open window. The

cold fog was too dense for me to make out the man sitting in the passenger seat but there
was something so dreadfully familiar about that dark-skinned four-fingered hand.

I started to scream for Sergei but something told me to be quiet. The truck window

closed and the vehicle disappeared from my view. I got up and moved to the window,
craning my neck for a better look, but it was too late. The truck was too far away now.

Was that…? No. It couldn't be. He wouldn't come here. He wouldn't dare. He was

being held by the Marshals.

Unless…
"Sergei?"
The door opened a moment later, confirming my suspicion that the behemoth had

been keeping very close. He stepped inside the library. His huge shoulders and
uncommon height made the spacious room seem suddenly small. "What's wrong?"

"When will Nikolai be home?"
"It will be late. He's on business."
I understood what he was saying without actually saying it. "Okay."
"I can get you whatever you need. Anything," he added. "You ask, and I'll bring it to

you."

While I appreciated his offer, the one thing I wanted right now was Nikolai. Not

wanting Sergei to worry, I pasted on a smile. "It's fine. It can wait. I'm going to call Erin
and Benny." I gestured to my phone. "After that, we should do something about dinner.
It's New Year's Eve, after all."

"Nikolai made arrangements for us. There's a delivery coming in a couple of hours."
"Oh."
"He wanted you to rest this afternoon. I'm supposed to make sure you relax."
Putting Sergei at ease, I promised, "After I'm finished with my phone calls, I'll be a

good girl and watch TV and sketch."

But I wasn't sure how I was going to relax with the specter of my father's return

haunting me.

Chapter Thirteen

"That went better than I'd expected," Nikolai remarked as he reached for his

seatbelt.

"I'm sure you had the bar set rather low," Liam replied dryly. He stretched out his

legs as the SUV driven by Kostya pulled away from the carwash. It was one of the
legitimate businesses Nikolai's crew owned and a place where he occasionally conducted
sensitive meetings like the one they'd just had with Lorenzo Guzman.

"His hardware needs seemed fairly easy to meet."
"Most of them," Liam agreed. With a smile, he added, "It will be a fair little earner

for you."

Nikolai made a humming sound in acknowledgement. For brokering the deal, Liam

would kick twenty percent his way for every successful shipment. Nikolai would split ten
percent between his captains and pocket the remainder. For doing little more than
matchmaking, it was a nice income.

"But what are we going to do about the shipments?" Liam reached into his jacket

and retrieved a package of gum. As he peeled away the paper wrapper, he continued, "I
don't have a supply route established here. When I run a quick shipment to you every
now and then, it's one thing. This calls for something different. I need to be assured a
certain level of protection."

"Let me handle it. I've got something in the works. It'll be large shipment containers

aboard ships. It shouldn't be a problem." He didn't add that the man he had in mind was
used to bringing in much riskier cargo.

"I trust you to get it under control, but you'd better move fast. He wants that first

shipment in two weeks and I intend to get it to him."

"Relax. It will get done."
Liam tucked the empty gum wrapper into his pocket. "So—is it true?"
Not fond of guessing games, Nikolai asked, "Is what true?"
"The word on the street is that you were seen going into church earlier today and

that you're marrying that sweet little ward of yours."

Nikolai's cheek twitched. He hated being the subject of wagging tongues but this

tale was salacious enough to keep the gossips busy for weeks. "I am marrying Vivian."

Liam whistled. "That's a hell of a mess to marry into, Nikolai. As fathers-in-law go,

Romero Valero must rank among the very worst."

"It won't be a problem for long."
Liam laughed harshly. "Oh, that will be a hell of a conversation starter at the

holidays."

Nikolai didn't answer him.
"You'd better be careful. A man like Romero doesn't snitch on his outfit. Knowing

that wily bastard, he's probably playing the government against the motorcycle club
against the cartel. He's found a better angle—and he'll come out on top."

"No doubt," he agreed quietly.
After dropping Liam a few blocks from his hotel, Kostya drove to the Vietnamese

restaurant tucked away in a rundown shopping center so Nikolai could make his meeting
with Mr. Lu. He went in alone and was directed to a table in the rear where the older
man waited. Understanding Nikolai's paranoid nature, Mr. Lu had left the seat facing the
front entrance for him.

"Lu," Nikolai greeted.
"Russian," the white-haired man returned. "I've already ordered. You like Muc Rang

Muoi

?"

"Squid isn't a favorite of mine."
"Then you'll eat the Bo Nuong Xa."
Nikolai decided it was a damn good thing he liked the lemony beef dish because he

clearly wasn't going to have a choice in his dinner. "You know why I am here."

"Of course." He sipped his warm beer. "And you know what I want."
"A way out of that rather nasty little sideline you've gotten mixed up in, I expect."
Mr. Lu smiled. "I'm listening."
Nikolai sat back as the waitress delivered their tray of food. He waited for her to

leave before addressing the old man. "You first."

"A man calling himself J.P. came to see me about a year ago. He wanted to arrange

cargo shipments between Cyprus and here. He had the money ready, and I wasn't
particularly concerned about the cargo until…"

"Until what," Nikolai prompted.
"In July, a couple of my workers called me to the warehouse. They were all in a

panic. The moment I stepped close to the container, I knew what it was. The smell…" Mr.
Lu's voice grew tense. "Once you've smelled decomposition, you never forget it."

Nikolai's stomach knotted. "The heat?"
Mr. Lu nodded. "They had those girls packed in those containers like cattle. There

wasn't enough ventilation or water for them. They cooked to death."

Whatever appetite he'd had fled. Nikolai pushed his plate forward to escape the

citrusy scent of the beef. "Why didn't you stop it then?"

"This wasn't the type of agreement a man could just end." He hesitated. "The money

and main contacts came from a nice-looking guy. That J.P. was clean cut. The crew who
picked up the shipments? Not so much." He shook his head. "They're the type who like to
cover themselves in lightning bolts and runes…"

Nikolai blinked. "You got into bed with the white supremacists?"
"As I said, it wasn't done deliberately."
Drumming his fingers on the table, Nikolai wondered aloud, "But how are they

getting women from Cyprus? The skinheads around here are locally based. They have
few connections to anything international."

"Oh, they have a connection to someone very powerful." The older man smiled

wryly. "Someone from your past."

Nikolai's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
Mr. Lu shrugged. "I don’t know his name. I can't even tell you what he looks like.

All I know is that J.P. was working with a Russian from the Moscow syndicate. He
gathered up the girls from Eastern Europe and Southeast Asia and had them funneled
into Cyprus where my contacts picked up the containers and brought them here to
Houston. The skinheads took the shipments and that's all I know."

Reeling from Mr. Lu's revelation, Nikolai began to form a better picture of the

situation. Vivian's kidnapping and the attack on him wasn't about her father at all. It was
about him. It was about someone from Moscow trying to push him out of the way. They'd
taken Vivian and tried to kill him to show his weakness, to make his men doubt him.

And this trafficking mess was an inroad. The man trying to usurp his position was

laying the foundation for his takeover by setting up sidelines of earning, including killing
Afrim Barisha and taking that heavy loan sharking action.

"Where can I find this J.P.?"
"A cemetery."
"He's dead?"
Mr. Lu looked rather amused. "Got himself shot. I was dealing with a man named

John—but from what I hear, he got himself shot too. Seems to be a risky business."

Nikolai held Mr. Lu's gaze. "I want you to stop the shipments."
Mr. Lu raised one thin eyebrow. "It's a lot of money."
"It's a lot of risk. Too much risk for a man like you," Nikolai added.
"And you?" Mr. Lu jabbed the air with his chopsticks. "You've become rather risk

averse during the last few years. When I first met you, there wasn't a job you wouldn't
take if the money was right. Now I hear you're giving action away to the Hermanos and
Albanians to smooth over the Afrim Barisha hit."

Nikolai ran his finger along the edge of the table. "A man has to reevaluate his

strategy every now and then."

"And your new strategy is?"
"Less risk, more money," Nikolai said, thinking of Vivian and the life he wanted

with her. It was a life that didn't include another stint in prison or worse.

Mr. Lu gestured to Nikolai's plate. "Eat. Talk. Let's do business…"
It was nearly eleven by the time Nikolai left Mr. Lu and the Vietnamese restaurant.

His belly full, he slid into the front seat with Kostya. As they drove across Houston,
Nikolai stared out his window. He wanted to ask Kostya if he'd heard about someone
from back home trying to muscle in on their territory but he kept his questions to
himself. There was nothing to be gained by revealing his hand this early in the game.

When he stepped inside his home a quarter of an hour later, Nikolai consciously

pushed all the dirty business dealings he'd accomplished today into a mental box and
shoved them to the very back of his mind. He didn’t want any of that to touch Vivian.
Though their relationship was far from typical, he hoped to give her some sense of
normalcy.

Not surprisingly, he found Sergei eating in the kitchen. The spread he'd arranged

from Samovar had been neatly laid out upon the island. From the looks of it, the food had
been very much enjoyed. Of course, Sergei had probably vacuumed up half of the
delivery himself.

"You keep eating like that and we're going to have to put you on a diet before your

next fight," Kostya warned and swiped the heaping plate from Sergei's hands.

"When you can survive one of Ivan's workouts, I'll let you tell me when to stop

eating." Sergei stabbed another piroshky with a fork and transferred it to the plate he'd
tugged out of Kostya's grip. "She's in the media room, Boss."

Nikolai grabbed a bottle of beer from the ice-filled sink and popped the top. He

flicked it in the trash and left behind the two bickering men. When he entered the media
room, he discovered Vivian on the sectional watching one of those of New Year's Eve
countdown shows. It was the second time in as many nights that he'd arrived home to
find her dressed for bed and looking relaxed. He had to admit that he rather liked it.

He wrinkled his nose at the biting scent of toenail polish remover. She had a dozen

bottles of toenail polish in different colors lined up on the coffee table along with a
handful of manicuring tools. When he came into the room, she smiled up at him and
motioned toward her beauty shop. "I hope you don't mind."

"I don't." He peeled out of his jacket, unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his shirt

sleeves before kicking off his shoes.

She patted the space next to her. "Sit with me?"
"Where else would I sit?" Amusement colored his voice as he settled onto the

cushion next to her. Relieved to finally be able to act on his desires, he leaned over and
kissed her long and deep and hard. Her shuddery breaths tickled his cheek when he
pulled back enough to gaze into her pale eyes. "I like coming home to you."

"I was really sad to be away from you all day—but if you're going to kiss me like

that every evening, I think I'll learn to deal."

Her mischievous grin warmed him down to the very core. He took a sip of his beer

before setting it aside. Staring at the paint colors, he asked, "Which one?"

She wiggled her bare toes. "I'm torn between the purple and the pink."
"Then we'll use both."
Surprise rippled across her face. "We?"
He picked up the purple bottle and gave it a shake. "I painted all the walls in this

house. How hard can it be to paint ten little toenails?"

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Um…okay. Just so you know—there are plenty

of cotton balls and swabs right there to clean up your mistakes."

He scoffed playfully. "You're not the only artist in this house."
"Uh-huh," she said with a laugh.
He changed his position on the couch and dragged her dainty feet onto his lap.

She'd rolled up the bottoms of her pajama pants to her knees so her calves her totally
bared. Despite the fact that he was only supposed to be painting her toenails, he couldn't
let this chance to stroke her soft skin pass him by.

Heat curled low in his belly as he trailed his fingers up and down her slim, toned

calves. Very soon, he wouldn't have to content himself with merely touching her skin. In
a few short weeks, her body would be his to discover and enjoy. The myriad ways he
could make her sigh and moan and cry out her pleasure made his cock throb.

Ignoring his baser thoughts, Nikolai unscrewed the polish lid and wiped the excess

polish against the glass rim before dabbing at her big toe. He planned to paint every
other toe purple and then do the others in pink.

"Kolya?"
"Yes?"
"I think…I think I saw my dad today."
His head snapped right up at her shocking statement. He smeared purple polish all

over her toe but neither of them hurried to clean it away. "You think or you did?"

She gulped. "I was sitting at the window in the library after I called Lena. It was sort

of misting, and I couldn't see very well. There was this blue truck coming down the
street, and it slowed down right in front of the house. The window rolled down—and I
saw a man's hand. It wasn't waving. It was just…there. It only had four fingers."

"Which four?" Romero Valero had lost his forefinger after a drug deal gone bad

many years ago. Lorenzo Guzman's father had chopped it off with a damn machete to
send a message to anyone else who tried to short him. Years later, when Lorenzo was
ready to lead a coup against his father, it had been Romero who killed the elder Guzman
—with that same machete.

She wiggled her forefinger. "This one was missing."
He put down the bottle of polish, picked up a cotton ball and soaked it in the

remover. As he wiped her skin, he said, "Don't let him rattle you. He's only trying to push
your buttons."

"Well, it worked, Nikolai." She wrung her hands. "What does he want?"
"Who knows," he grumbled. "He's not an easily understood man."
"Was he threatening me? Was he threatening us?"
"It's possible."
"What more does he want with me? Hasn't he done enough to hurt me?"
Thinking of his discussion with Mr. Lu, Nikolai revealed, "He's not the reason you

were taken or the reason I was attacked."

"But…"
"I think it's probably a coincidence that all of this happened right after your father

was popped from prison. It's two separate issues. Whatever your father is doing, I don't
think it really concerns us much anymore."

"What about the hit the Calaveras put out on me?"
"I doubt it had any teeth behind it." He dried her skin with a paper towel and

opened the polish again. "It suited Lorenzo Guzman to use it against me, and I let him do
it so he would think he was winning that round."

"But he wasn't?"
Nikolai shook his head. "He actually played right into my hands."
"How?"
He debated how much to tell her. "I wanted to stop the trafficking, but I needed

something to offer to the importer handling the shipments. Lorenzo wanted guns so I put
him together with my connection—"

"The Irishman?" she interrupted.
Nikolai stared at her. "How do you know about Liam?"

She shrugged. "People say things."
"People?"
"Well…I mean, sometimes I overhear things at Samovar…"
"Overhear?" He pinched her leg. "You mean eavesdrop."
"Ow!" She lightly smacked his hand. "Okay, so maybe once in a while I listened in

on conversations I shouldn't."

"Vee, that's dangerous." He used his warning tone with her. "Listen to me. It's one

thing if I choose to tell you something. It's quite another for you to go snooping around
where you don't belong."

"Jeez!" She frowned at him. "You don't have to be so grumpy about it."
"I'm not grumpy. I worry about you knowing too much. Until we're married, you

can be forced to testify against me."

Her lips parted in shock. "I didn't think about that."
"I know you didn't. Forget about the Irishman."
"I will." She pulled her feet off his lap and forced him to meet her questioning gaze.

"Did you offer the importer guy the gun traffic for the cartel?"

His lips settled into a grim line as he began to question even telling her that much.

He tugged her tiny feet back into place. "Vivian, I agreed that there would be no secrets
between us, but there are some details you simply cannot know. Leave it alone."

She stayed quiet as he painted the nails on her right foot. When he switched to the

left, she asked, "Do you think you'll ever find those girls who were with me in the
warehouse?"

"I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. "I wish I could promise you that I'll find

them, but it's not that easy."

He didn't tell her that those poor women were likely states away by now and in the

hands of new pimps or owners. If the white supremacists holding them thought there
was any chance they'd been tracked, they would kill and dispose of the women rather
than risk it. To them, those girls were disposable and easily replaced.

"I will keep looking, Vee."
"I know you will." She reached out and gave his arm a squeeze. Sitting back against

the arm of the couch, she laughed softly. "This is so…normal. You and me and the TV."

Infected by her laugh, he smiled at her. "I like it."
"Do you think we could maybe go on a real date sometime? Before we get married, I

mean."

She had a point. They were going about this whole thing rather backward. Most

couples kissed, dated, made love and lived together before marrying. He'd brought her
into his home and kissed her, but they'd skipped all the other steps.

While he recognized that many people would assume they were rushing head first

into a life-changing event, he felt their last year of friendship had simply been a gentler
version of courting. They were like Dimitri and Benny who shared a five-year friendship
before coming together in a night of wild passion. Without the wild night of passion, of
course.

"What would you like to do?" He closed the purple polish and switched to the pink

bottle.

"We could have dinner and see a movie."
He made a face. "I don't do theaters. It's too dark. I can't see all the exits and

entrances."

"Oh."
He hated to shoot down her idea, but he wasn't going to compromise their safety.

Before she offered any other suggestions, he carefully added, "I don't do dancing either."

She snorted. "I'm stunned. Really."
He ignored her little barb. "I don't mind having a drink at Yuri's club while you

dance with your friends."

"Even my guy friends?"
Surprised by the question, he slowly lifted his gaze to her face. Her pouty lips were

curved in an impish, teasing smile. "I doubt many of them would be brave enough to try."

"Kelly might be."
Nikolai grunted at the thought of the younger Marine. Of all the men who had ever

shown interest in Vivian, Kelly Connolly was the only one who had given him any
concern. If ever there was a man who might have succeeded in drawing her away from
him, it was Kelly.

"I'm teasing." She rubbed his leg. "I've never been interested in Kelly in that way.

We've only ever been friends. For what it's worth, I think he's got a complicated lust
thing going on with his friend's sister."

"If his situation is complicated, how do you describe ours?" Nikolai took his time

applying the hot pink color to her tiny pinkie toenail.

"I'm not sure there is one word to describe our situation."
"Not even in the three languages you speak?"
She smiled at him. "Nope."
Commenting on her language skills made him think of her schooling. "When does

your final semester start?"

"The thirteenth."
It was the Monday before their wedding. "And you have the next Monday off?"
She nodded. "It's a holiday."
He felt guilty about the quickie wedding and the lack of a honeymoon. She

deserved so much better. "In the summer, when you've graduated, we'll do a belated
honeymoon."

"I'd like that."
He finished her nails and sat back. "What do you think?"
She leaned forward to inspect them. "Pretty good for your first time."
He found such happiness in her simple compliment. "Not as good as your paintings

but maybe there's hope for me yet."

She slowly moved her feet to the coffee table. "Maybe."
"Is everything set for the show?"
"Gustavo called me earlier. He's sending a truck tomorrow to the warehouse to pick

up those final paintings. Apparently, he couldn't get them when he sent the truck the

first time because it was cordoned off as a crime scene. I told him I'd meet him there so he
would know which paintings to take. I sort of assumed you'd want to go over first and
tell me which ones are okay to show."

Nikolai cringed at the memory of the way he'd behaved after discovering the

subject of her latest show. He reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth. He
kissed the talented fingers that created such hauntingly beautiful pieces. "You will show
them all."

She swallowed. "All of them? Even…?"
He exhaled a steady breath. "Even that one."
She didn't break their intense gaze. "Thank you."
"Don't," he said, his voice cracking. "I should never have behaved that way. I

panicked when I saw what you'd been painting and those awful, filthy things sprayed on
the warehouse wall. I thought someone was trying to send you a message when in reality
it was a setup to draw us there and make it possible for us to be hurt. I was angry but I
took it out on the wrong person." He kissed her knuckles. "I’m sorry, Vee."

"I know you are. That's why I'm not going to remind you what a massive dick you

were." Some of the sting left her rebuke because she said it with that megawatt smile of
hers.

"Such a dirty word from such a pretty mouth," he chided softly while leaning in to

claim her lips.

She put her hands on his chest, stopping him mere inches from his final destination.

"Wait."

"For what?"
She pointed to the television. "It's almost midnight."
He didn't want to wait, not when her soft, sweet mouth was so close, but he did.

When the massive crystal ball began to blink and lower, he moved in closer. As the crowd
counted down each second, Nikolai scooted nearer and nearer until he was almost on top
of her. As the crowd went wild on the television, he lost himself in her bright blue eyes.
"Happy New Year, Vee."

He didn't need to watch the dazzling display of fireworks upon the screen. When

their lips touched, their own personal fireworks began. As their tongues danced
erotically, Nikolai decided it was going to be a very good year indeed.

Chapter Fourteen

"It feels weird coming back here." I clenched my seatbelt tightly in my left hand as

Nikolai drove down the same street where we'd been brutally attacked that awful night.

He reached across the space between us and tugged my hand away from the belt.

Interlacing our fingers, he rubbed soothing circles against my skin with his thumb. "It's
better to face it now."

I understood what he meant but that didn’t make it any easier. I was so glad he'd

come with me to meet Gustavo at my studio.

"Are you going to be able to work here?" Concern radiated from him. "If this place

has been ruined for you, there are other properties I own that we could remodel for you.
If you want to continue to work outside the home," he added.

His remark made me frown. "Kolya, I don't intend to stop painting or selling my art

just because we're getting married."

He shot me a strange look. "I think we've crossed wires somewhere, Vee. I didn't

mean to insinuate that I thought you should stop painting once we're married."

"Oh." I considered what he'd said about working outside the home. He literally

meant painting outside of his house instead of in it. "Oh."

"What I meant was that we can always convert that sunroom off the back of the

house into a painting space for you. If you would prefer not to drive to a studio every
day…"

"I thought you meant—"
"Yes," he said with an amused chuckle. His smile faded. "You will have to stop

working at Samovar."

"Why?"
"It's unseemly."
"Unseemly?"
"That my wife should be waiting tables," he explained.
I started to argue with him but bit my tongue. I sensed this one of those issues for

him. He seemed to have very traditional ideas when it came to marriage. While I shared
some of those opinions, I wasn't simply going to bend just because he said so.

As if sensing my discomfort, Nikolai asked, "Have I upset you?"
"No."
"Vee?" He wasn't buying it.
"I'm just trying to figure out what your issue is. Do you not want me working at all?"
"Vivian," he said with some disbelief, "I might be what you call old school but I’m not

that backward. I want you to have a successful career as an artist. I want you to follow
your dreams—but you don't have to wait tables to do that anymore. I'll support you
while you find your way."

Before I could say anything, he rushed on, "If you honestly wanted to keep working

at Samovar, I'm happy to find a new position for you, but you can't wait tables. It would

be an uncomfortable working environment for everyone."

I thought of my coworkers. It would be strange to have the wife of the boss

schlepping trays from the kitchen to the tables and pocketing tips.

"Do you want to keep working at the restaurant?"
Feeling a bit sheepish, I confessed, "I'd been planning to give my notice if this

upcoming show did well enough to give me a cushion to just paint and create for a
while."

"And then what?" He pulled into one of the parking spots near the warehouse.
"Well…I don't know."
His mouth slanted with amusement. "You don't know? Vee, you have to have a

plan."

I picked at the oversized buttons of my pea coat. "I'm not like Lena and Benny. I

don't do five-year plans."

"Maybe you should think about it." He tapped my chin in a silent bid for my gaze.

When I looked at him, my heart sped up at the love reflected in his eyes. "You are so
incredible, Vee. There is so much talent inside you, but you have to be brave enough to
take big chances and let it out."

I bit my lower lip as anxiety flooded my core. "I'm not very good at taking chances."
He grinned. "That's not true. You're marrying me, aren't you?"
I rolled my eyes. "That's different."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I love you," I answered simply.
He unlatched his seatbelt and leaned across the middle console. Threading his

fingers through my loose hair, he clasped the back of my head and stared into my eyes. I
lost myself in the greenish pools of his irises. "Because I love you, we're sitting down
tonight and coming up with a plan for you. I love you too much to sit back and watch
you waste your potential."

As if sealing a vow, he pressed his mouth to mine in a tender kiss. Mindful of his

injured shoulder, I let my hands fall to his upper arms. I didn't want the kiss to end but
since that night in the library when things had gotten so dangerously heated between us,
he'd been very careful with me.

Even last night, as we'd kissed to celebrate the start of a new year, he'd only allowed

the wicked mating of our mouths to progress to a certain point before easing off. He was
driving me crazy with these teasing kisses that promised so much more but I understood
that he was only giving me what I wanted.

Every time we touched, I started to doubt my decision to wait. I had discovered

newfound respect for the couples I'd known who had made it a year or two between
their first dates and marriage.

"Let's get inside." He unlatched my seatbelt and sneaked in one more playful kiss

before sliding out of his seat. By the time, he came around to open my door, Sergei and
another couple of men had arrived. Two of them stayed in the SUV but Sergei came in

with us, just in case we needed help moving around the bigger canvases. Though he
wouldn't ever admit it, Nikolai's shoulder and ribs weren't in good enough shape for him
to be dragging around heavy objects.

I shivered as we stepped inside the chilly interior of the studio. As usual, I scanned

the tables and walls to make sure everything was exactly as I'd left it. The memories of
the last time I'd been here and of that terrible fight I'd had with Nikolai flashed before
my eyes. My heart ached as I remembered the way he'd spoken to me and the way I'd
shoved him.

As if sharing that memory, Nikolai slid his arm around my waist and pressed a

gentle kiss to my temple. I glanced up at him and saw the regret etched into his face. I'm
sure he saw the same reflected in my eyes. I hated that we'd been so ugly with one
another, but in some ways, I was glad it had happened. That fight had been like a
thunderstorm. All those raging emotions we'd kept so tightly concealed had been forced
into the open. Each angry thunderclap between us had cleared the air.

Sergei started toward the back wall. "Which paintings are going in the truck?"
I slipped out of Nikolai's embrace and trailed Sergei. When I reached the rack of

canvases, I started pointing to the ones that would be going with Gustavo today. As I
started ticking them off, I realized I was one painting short.

My stomach clenched as I rushed to the rack and touched the empty space where

the painting of the night I'd been shot normally sat. The cover was missing as well.
"Kolya!"

He appeared next to me and reached out to touch the same empty spot. Our fingers

brushed together and our gazes clashed. I didn't want to think that he'd done something
to it—but he had been so upset that night when I'd stormed out of the studio.

He must have been able to read the mistrust in my face because he winced. "I would

not do that you, Vee."

Feeling guilty for even thinking he'd do something so cruel, I placed my hand

against his chest. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head as if to indicate that he wasn't hurt by my silent insinuation, but I

could see it plain as day in his eyes. He turned his narrowed gaze toward Sergei and
quickly interrogated him. "Who came into the studio after we were attacked?"

Sergei shrugged. "I'm not sure, Boss. It got crazy. I was trying to keep you from

bleeding to death and Kostya was cleaning up the scene before the police arrived. We
had Alexei and Danny chasing after the SUV that had her."

Just then, we were interrupted by the rumbling sound of a moving truck arriving

outside. I began to despair about the upcoming show. There were only a few days to get
everything just right—and now the main piece of the show was missing.

"I'll find your painting, Vee."
If any man could accomplish the seemingly impossible, it was Nikolai.

* * *

A few nights later, Nikolai cruised down a quiet street and turned into Kostya's

driveway. The modest ranch style house on a corner lot didn't look like the type of place
a mob cleaner would live but then Kostya had never embraced such stereotypes. As he
waited for his friend to answer the front door, Nikolai stared at the strange little garden
gnomes hidden among the pansies in the front flower beds. Kostya had the oddest sense
of humor…

The door opened and Kostya waved him inside. "It's back here."
When they had discovered Vivian's painting missing, Nikolai had instantly

suspected Kostya of taking it. Not in a malicious way, of course, but in a misguided
attempt to protect him. Kostya's unwavering loyalty sometimes manifested in strange
ways—like taking the painting.

Kostya led him to the master bedroom. Nikolai's eyebrows shot to his hairline when

he saw the painting in question hanging on the wall directly across from the bed. "Is
there a reason you have Vee's painting in your bedroom?"

"I like staring at your naked chest before I fall asleep. It's soothing." Kostya betrayed

his deadpan delivery with the tiniest twitch of a smile playing upon his lips.

"Funny," Nikolai grumbled. When Kostya took down the canvas, it made a scraping

sound against the wall, and he cringed. "Be careful. She'll be broken-hearted if something
happens to this one."

"I can't believe you're going to let her show it." Kostya wrapped the protective cloth

around the canvas.

"I probably shouldn't," Nikolai agreed, "but the truth is out between us. We're not

going back to the way it was."

"You realize Santos probably saw your chest tattoos at the hospital. If he's at the

gallery tonight, he's going to recognize you."

It was a risky outcome he'd been considering since agreeing to let Vivian show the

painting. "I promised her she could show it."

"And how is that promise going to feel when you're sitting in prison?"
Unclear on where he stood legally, Nikolai didn't know how to answer that

question so he remained silent. When he reached for the painting, Kostya kept a tight
grip and refused to let go. Nikolai's hardened stare finally forced his friend to relent.
Sighing heavily, Kostya warned, "You're going to regret this."

Kostya's parting shot ricocheted round and round in Nikolai's head as he ferried the

painting to Vivian and her biggest showing yet. The heavily congested downtown traffic
slowed his progress and gave him plenty of time to think about what he was doing. His
gaze skipped from the windshield to the covered painting squeezed into the backseat of
the car.

Warring with his conscience, he considered how easy it would be to lie to her and

tell her that it had been destroyed or that he hadn't been able to locate it. He hadn't
revealed to Vivian that Kostya had taken it so it would be easy enough to pretend it was
lost forever.

Imagining the sad look on her face kept him from pulling over, ripping the canvas

with his knife and trashing it one of the many garbage bins along his route. He couldn't
do that to her. He couldn't destroy something she'd created, even if it put him at risk.

When he pulled into the private parking area along the back of the gallery, his

phone started to ring. Recognizing Vivian's ringtone, he answered while climbing out of
the front seat. "What's wrong, Vee?"

"Nothing," she answered brightly. "Where are you?"
"I'm here." He opened the back passenger door. "I have a surprise for you."
"You found the painting." She said it breathlessly, her voice filled with hope.
"Yes." Sliding the phone between his ear and shoulder, he grimaced as he reached in

for the canvas. Though he was healing well, his battered body still protested certain
movements and position.

"Don't bring it in, Kolya."
Bent in half, he went still. "What?"
"I'm not showing it."
"You built the show around this painting—"
"I did, but you're more important to me than showing that piece of art. I've moved

some pieces around and substituted the painting of Ivan for the one of that night. The
narrative still flows well."

He straightened up and placed his hand along the roof of his car. The frigid metal

burned his palm. "You don't have to do this, Vee."

"I do. I've been thinking about us and about what it would risk to show it, especially

if someone recognizes you. I don't know what the statute of limitations is for what
happened that night, but I don't want you going to prison over it. Everything that
happened that night was a mistake. We've both paid for it over the years. It's done. I want
it buried in the past—where it belongs."

His body relaxed and tension he hadn't even realized he'd been holding melted

from his bones. Some part of him still believed that he deserved to be punished for what
he'd done. He doubted that guilt would ever leave him—and rightly so.

But the thought of losing everything that he was trying to build with Vivian made

him shut and lock the door of his car. Tonight, she was making a sacrifice for their future.
He would do everything in his power to make sure that she never regretted it.

"Come find me," she said with a hint of a smile in her voice.
He pocketed his phone and touched his tie before buttoning up the front of his suit

jacket. Despite the January cold, he hadn't bothered with a coat for the short journey
between his car and the gallery. He showed his VIP pass to one of the clipboard wielding
assistants manning the back entrance and was waved into the building.

There was still a quarter of an hour before the official opening of her show but some

of their friends and a small group of Houston's fine art crowd had already trickled inside.
He spotted Vivian within seconds of stepping into the brightly-lit gallery space. Standing
with Gustavo, the gallery owner, and his partner, a high-end art dealer with several
international locations, she looked totally at ease and in her element.

She took his breath away in that flirty little cocktail dress and the strappy high

heels. From this distance, the black lace dress looked scandalously short and see-through.
In fact, he'd nearly choked to death when she'd come downstairs wearing it earlier that
evening. It wasn't until she'd drawn closer that he'd noticed the cleverly crafted illusion

of the nude-colored tulle beneath the black lace.

Nikolai didn't often feel uncomfortable. He'd risen to a certain level of prominence

within the underworld, and with that came a great deal of power, but this glamorous art
world that Vivian had been invited to inhabit was totally alien to him.

"You look as wound up as Ivan."
Drawn by Erin Hanson's soft voice, he turned to his left and found her standing next

to him with a glass of champagne. With her pixie-like haircut, slender, petite frame and
gentle sweetness, she was the absolute last woman in the world Nikolai ever would have
imagined his friend marrying. Well-educated and from an upper middle class family,
Erin wasn't the type who would typically give a man like Ivan a second glance but
damned if she hadn't fallen in love with him at first sight—if his friend's version of their
whirlwind romance was to be believed.

"This isn't my scene."
She laughed. "I can't stand those awful fights that Ivan drags me to but I've learned

to sit through them and smile. I've taught myself the rules of mixed-martial arts and the
ways the tournaments work because I know it makes him happy to have me there
supporting him and his fighters, even if I am cringing inside every time one of them gets
hit."

"There seems to be a higher learning curve when it comes to fine art."
She sipped the fizzy liquid and shrugged. "Someday you'll be able to talk about

giclee

art prints like a boss. You'll read books or Google the hell out it. That's what we do

when we love someone and want to show them how much we support them."

Across the gallery, Ivan projected a calm exterior as he chatted with Dimitri and

Benny, but Nikolai recognized the rigid stance as one of discomfort. Like him, Ivan kept
his hands down and out of sight when he was in public and among strangers, hiding the
heavy tattoos marking him as a criminal.

"It's different for you two," he said finally. If anyone could understand the

complexity of his relationship with Vivian, it was Erin. "You met Ivan after he'd reformed
himself and after he'd recreated himself as someone you could be proud of, as someone
you want to marry."

"Vivian wants to marry you. She loves you." Erin eyed him carefully. "You love her. I

know you're afraid of holding her back. It's the same thing Ivan feared when we got
together, but I went into our relationship with my eyes wide open. Clearly Vivian has
done the same thing."

He heard the slight disappointment in her voice. "You don't approve."
She avoided his gaze. "What I think doesn't matter. Vivian's made up her mind and I

support her. God knows she's more aware of what and who you are than the rest of us. If
she can accept it, we'll learn to accept it, too."

High praise indeed

.

Before he could tell Erin that he wasn’t as terrible as his dark reputation would have

her believe, he made eye contact with Vivian. She grinned at him and took a few steps in
his direction, but a man who looked vaguely familiar moved into her path. He gestured
toward her paintings as he spoke and Vivian's eyes lit up like Christmas.

"That's Yuri's friend. The one who helped him save Lena's dad by finding that

painting her cousin had stolen," Erin clarified.

"Niels." The name of the extremely wealthy Dane finally came to him. Polished and

suave, Niels chatted Vivian up like a pro. "What is he doing here?"

"Apparently, Lena showed him some photos of Vivian's work. He was so enamored

he changed his winter vacation plans to be here. He actually beat Lena and Yuri back to
Houston." She glanced at her watch. "They should be here soon."

Nikolai let a low sound escape his throat as he watched the billionaire art collector

and businessman move even closer to Vivian. Once, Yuri had confessed to tagging along
with Niels and a friend to one of their privately owned sex clubs. Niels had certain tastes.
Billionaire or not, he'd flatten that damn Dane if he slid even one inch closer to Vivian.

"Calm down," Erin said in that mothering tone of hers. "Vivian only has eyes for

you. She probably doesn't even realize that he's trying to flirt with her. Like it or not,
Vivian has to network. A guy like that could do amazing things for her career."

He heard the silent censure in Erin's voice. Don't hold her back.
"I would never do anything to jeopardize her future."
Erin laid a gentle hand on his arm. "I know you wouldn't."
He kept his gaze on Vivian who had now attracted another pair of wealthy looking

art buyers. "This will probably be my one and only appearance at one of her events."

"Why?" Erin sounded shocked.
"For the same reasons, I try to cover all this up when I'm out with her." He rubbed

his finger across the tattoo decorating one of his fingers. "I know what people think when
they see these. I don't blame them, you understand, but I won't let my mistakes ruin her
chances of making it."

"Nikolai," Erin said with a laugh. "You're really overreacting on this one. Vivian is an

artist. Hell, she's practically expected to have a mysterious history and a torrid love affair
with a bad boy."

Nikolai wasn't so sure he liked being called a bad boy. It seemed so very childish

and silly, especially considering all the things that he'd done. Deep down inside, he
hoped that Erin was right. He'd never forgive himself if loving Vivian and making her his
wife ruined the promising art career ahead of her.

"Shit." Erin hissed the curse word so quietly he barely heard it.
His gaze snapped in the direction she was looking. Detective Santos strode into the

gallery wearing a very nice suit—and a very angry scowl. When Santos found him in the
crowd, the detective glared daggers. The mean, warning glower promised a knock-down,
drag-out fight.

So much for my plans to play nice…

Chapter Fifteen

The moment I spotted Eric crossing the gallery I knew we were about to have a nasty

fight.

Benny must have noticed the look on Eric's face because she seemed to appear out of

thin air to intercept him with a smile. Those two had been friends so long that Eric
wouldn't be rude to her, especially not in her obviously pregnant state. When Dimitri
joined them, I knew I had just enough time to carefully extricate myself from the
conversation I was in with Niels Mikkelsen and the two art-loving Houstonians who
wanted to commission pieces for their new home.

As deftly as possible, I slipped out of the conversation with promises to return and

stepped into Eric's line of sight. He pinned me in place with his angry stare. I had a very
good idea of what had him so pissed off.

I glanced at Nikolai and Erin. Her face a mask of concern, she shot me an encouraging

smile, but it was Nikolai who had me the most worried. Though he generally tried to stay
out of my family business, I had a feeling that line was about to be wiped away. Soon, we
would be a family of two—and I doubted Nikolai was going to make room in our new,
tiny circle for Eric.

Nikolai and I shared a look that said everything. If I wanted him to, he'd come over

right now and handle it. Because he loved me, he was standing back and waiting for me
to decide what I wanted.

Inhaling a steadying breath, I approached my cousin. "Hey, Eric."
"Vivian." His gaze fell to my left hand and the ring finger that remained bare. "We

have to talk."

"Um…" I searched the gallery for a quiet space. "Let's go in the back. There's a storage

area that's private."

As we left Benny and Dimitri, she reached out and gave my hand a surreptitious

squeeze. I so needed her reassurance. I had a sinking feeling that Eric was about to lose
his shit, and I was going to be the target of his fury.

Safely tucked away in the storage room, I closed the door and leaned back against it

for support. Eric and I stared at one another. He was so angry his face was flushed and his
chest heaved with every breath. Finally, I sighed. "Just say it."

"What the fuck are you doing?"
I flinched at his growled question. Remembering that morning in my kitchen when

he'd told me that I had to find someone to protect me, I reminded him, "You told me to go
to Nikolai for help."

"I didn't tell you to fucking marry the guy!"
"Eric, please—"
"No." He swept both hands out in front of him. "I'm not letting you do this. I'm not

letting you throw your life away on a piece of shit criminal like that."

Hearing him describe Nikolai in such an awful way made my gut churn.

"Why, Vivian? Of all the men on God's green earth, why the hell are you marrying

that one?"

"I love him, Eric."
His mocking laugh echoed in the dimly lit room. He swore in Spanish, the bitterly

spoken words stabbing at me like ice picks. "Will you listen to yourself? Do you
understand how dumb that is? He's a fucking mobster, Vivian."

Squaring my shoulders, I stepped away from the door. I'd had just about enough of

Eric talking to me like that. "I know what he is—and I don't care."

"Oh my God!" Eric threw his hands in the air. "You cannot possibly be this stupid and

naïve."

"Apparently I am."
"Wow." He looked utterly disgusted. "I always thought you were an apple that had

fallen far from the family tree but now I see that you're just as crazy as your mother."

It couldn't have hurt worse if he'd slapped me. "Screw you, Eric."
His cheek twitched and regret darkened his eyes. "Vivi—"
"Get out!" My snapped reply did little to dissuade him from trying to change my

mind.

"No. He hasn't even put a ring on your finger. Just tell him you made a mistake and

you want to call off the wedding."

"No."
"Vivian, this isn't a joke. When you were just dating him or sleeping with him or

whatever the hell you two were up to, it was one thing. But this? This isn't happening.
Look, I know you're excited about the money and the jewelry and the cars—"

"Are you insane?" I interrupted his screed. "Is that what you think? That I'm with

Nikolai because I'm some money-hungry whore willing to spread her legs for a sports
car?"

"What else am I supposed to think, Vivian? This guy has basically been grooming you

to be his mistress since you started college."

I'd never wanted to punch anyone so badly in my entire life. "Shut up. Just. Shut. Up."
"No. You listen to me—"
"No," I interjected furiously, "you listen to me. Whatever you think is happening or has

happened between us is some sick, twisted figment of your imagination. It's none of your
damn business, but I've never been with any man, Eric. Never. Nikolai has never tried to
cross that line with me. Not once."

The knowledge that I was still a proud card-carrying member of the V Club seemed to

shock Eric. "But he—"

"He what, Eric? He helped me when my grandparents died, and I was all alone? He

made sure I finished college? He gave me a job and a way to support myself and my
dreams of becoming a successful artist? Who the hell else stepped up to help me? Oh,
that's right. No one!"

Now he was the one visibly flinching. My father's side of the family had written me

off as a very young child. I hadn't even known Eric existed until I was a teenager. Even
then, reformed as I was from my juvenile delinquent ways, his mother, my aunt,

wouldn't let me in their house. I wasn't even supposed to trespass into their
neighborhood.

"That's not fair, Vivian." His voice had softened now, but I was over it.
"Yeah, well, Eric, I know better than anyone that life sure as hell isn't fair."
"Life may have dealt you a shit hand, Vivian, but that doesn't mean you have to throw

it all away on that fucking mobster."

"Eric, I've made my decision. It's done."
"Then don't bother sending me an invitation. I won't be coming to your joke of a

wedding."

Radiating disappointment and anger, Eric stormed out of the storage room and left me

alone. My eyes burned so badly. I fought the urge to cry. Trying to compose myself, I
turned toward the back wall and dabbed at the corners of my eyes. My throat was so
tight but I refused to let a painful sob escape.

As I fanned my hot face and tried to forget the ugly things Eric had said, I heard the

door behind me open. Certain it was Nikolai come to rescue me, I glanced over my
shoulder—and nearly fainted as my father strode into the room.

"Mi'ja."
The sound of his raspy voice sent a chill right through me. Mouth dry and heart

racing, I pivoted quickly and put more space between us. "Stay away from me."

He chuckled, the dry, harsh sound like nails on a chalkboard to me. "I think we've

been apart long enough."

Prison hadn't seemed to age him much. If anything, he looked fitter and leaner than

I'd remembered him. His dark skin seemed paler to me but I doubted men in maximum
security prisons got much time outside. He'd gotten his hands on a nice suit and shoes,
probably to blend into the crowd. The long strands of black hair that had once hung to
the middle of his back had been chopped off in a simple crew cut.

Glancing around for a weapon, I spotted a box cutter on one of the worktables and

hastily snatched it up. I extended the gleaming blade and held it out in front of me. "I'm
not joking. I will cut you if you try to get any closer."

He didn't move but he cracked a smile. "I always knew you were a fighter like me."
"I'm nothing like you."
"Don't sell yourself short, kiddo. You and me? We're two peas in a pod."
The very idea of being anything like him made me want to vomit. "What do you

want? I thought you were with the Marshals."

His expression turned to one of utter amusement. "Prison teaches a man all sorts of

interesting tricks. Negotiation being one of them."

I didn't even want to imagine how my father had negotiated such freedom from the

Feds. "Why are you here?"

"To extend my congratulations, of course." He tilted his head for a better look at my

left hand. "Have we not made it official yet?" Laughing, he asked, "Or maybe Nikolai is
waiting for me to give him my blessing?"

I ignored his attempt at being funny. "I know what happened that night in the house.

When you left me there to die."

"You mean the night when the man you're marrying shot you?"
"I mean the night you took me on a hit."
For the briefest of moments, something that looked suspiciously like regret flickered

in his dark eyes. "Not my proudest moment as a father."

I didn't know what to say to that. "Why are you here?"
"When a man sits in prison for as long as I have, there isn't much to do there but

think." He seemed conflicted and shook his head. "You need to be very careful, Vivian.
There are people out there who want to hurt Nikolai, and they'll use you to hurt him."

"People? What people?"
"Jealous, angry people," he said. "People who have been carrying grudges for a very

long time."

"Who? I can't be safe if you don’t give me names."
"It's not the right time for that." He took a step toward me and then another. My hand

trembled as I held out the box cutter, ready to swipe him if he got too close. He carefully
skirted me and made his way to a door leading out to the alley. When he reached it, he
grinned back at me. "Where are you registered?"

"What?" I gaped at him in disbelief.
He shrugged. "I'm sure I'll think of a suitable wedding gift for my only daughter."

With a wave, he said, "I'll see you soon, mi'ja."

And then, as quickly as he'd appeared, he was gone.
I was still shaking and clenching the box cutter when the door leading to the gallery

opened and Nikolai stepped into the room. He took one look at me and ran to my side.
Gripping my shoulders, he asked, "Vee, what's happened?"

"It was my dad."
Shocked by my response, Nikolai glanced at the alley access door before studying me

more carefully.

"Solnyshko moyo." He kissed me tenderly and pried the box cutter from my hand. After

sheathing the blade and setting it aside, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me
toward one of wooden crates. Holding me in his warm, loving embrace, he sat down and
tugged me down onto his lap. "Are you all right? Did he frighten you?"

"Yes." I buried my face in the curve of his throat and inhaled the reassuring scent of his

cologne. "I don't ever want to see him again."

"I know you don't." He soothingly petted my back. "What did he want?"
"To warn me."
"Away from me?"
"No. He said there are people that want to hurt you. People with grudges." I lifted my

head and peered into his eyes. "Is he talking about the people who ordered the hit on
you?"

"I think so." Nikolai seemed reluctant to add, "I think it's someone from my past. From

Russia," he clarified.

Speechless, I returned my head to its former resting place and closed my eyes. If

someone from the old Moscow crew he ran with was trying to hurt him now, it was
going to get very messy.

Not wanting to talk about that possibility, he said, "I talked to Eric."
I tensed as I imagined the two of them fighting in the middle of the gallery. "Where?"
"Outside," he said and kissed my forehead. "I would never do anything to embarrass

you like that."

"What did he say to you?"
"Probably the same nasty things he said to you." Nikolai caressed my arm. "He's right,

you know. By marrying me, you're taking everything I've ever done wrong onto you."

Annoyed that he was letting Eric get to him, I insisted, "I know what I'm getting into,

Kolya. I chose you. I want you."

"You can still change your mind." He said the words in a whisper. "I wouldn't hold it

against if you've decided that I'm not worth the trouble. I would understand, and I
wouldn't stop helping you. I would always be there for you and I wouldn't—"

"Stop." I put my finger to his lips. Holding his gaze, I reaffirmed what he already

knew. "I love you, Nikolai. I want to be your wife. I want us to build a life together. I
know it's not going to be easy—but I believe in us."

He gulped and finally nodded. Dragging my finger away from his mouth, he held my

gaze as he leaned in for a kiss that made my belly swoop and my toes tingle. Though I
knew we'd have to put on our happy faces and mingle very soon, I closed my eyes and
enjoyed being held by him for a few moments longer.

But the faces of my father and Eric and the shadowy black figure threatening our

future dampened my excitement at what promised to be a very successful show. I didn't
know how the hell we were going to find our way out of this mess, but I knew there was
only one way we would get there.

Together.

Chapter Sixteen

"Hurry up, Vivi. I want to see this dress!"
I rolled my eyes as Erin practically beat down the door of one of the dressing rooms in

Bianca's wedding boutique. Standing behind me, Bianca snorted softly with laughter and
finished tugging the zipper into place. She smoothed her hands over the sheer lace and
grinned over my shoulder. Our gazes met in the mirror's reflection. "You look so pretty."

"Vivi, you better move it or Erin is going to tear down that door," Lena teased. "Benny

looks like she's about to smack her with one of these wedding magazines."

I could just imagine Erin out there tapping her foot and driving Benny crazy. With

Bianca's help, I gathered up the too long hem of the dress and exited the dressing room.
The oohs and ahs began the moment they saw me.

"It's perfect," Erin declared as I stepped onto a circular platform banked by mirrors.

"The lace, the style—it's so romantic and so very you."

"You look amazing," Benny confirmed. "Really beautiful."
Lena actually wiped at her eyes as she studied me. "Wow. Just—wow."
Even Sergei who had been shadowing me nonstop looked rather taken aback by the

sight of me in a wedding dress. He stood off to the side of our small party but inclined his
head as I slowly turned to show them the back of the gown.

Because St. Vladimir's had very strict dress codes for services, I'd chosen a gown that

had a delicate lace bodice and short cap sleeves. Lena came forward with the mantilla
veil I'd chosen and helped Bianca get it perfectly situated.

"Bianca," Erin said so excitedly, "you are amazing. I can't believe you were able to get

this dress together so quickly."

Bianca smiled as she fluffed the skirt. "I try to keep a broad selection of gowns that are

ready to go with minimal alterations. Sometimes a girl just needs a dress and she needs it
now."

Her playful wink made me giggle. While my friends discussed what kind of jewelry I

should wear and whether I needed to wear a different bra or those control-top
underpants that went from belly button to knee, Bianca grabbed her basket of alteration
supplies and started to mark the dress for its final adjustments. The shop was hopping
today so her other assistants and seamstresses were busy with other brides.

"Do you need some help?" Sergei surprised me by crouching down next to Bianca who

pinned the hem of my dress.

She shot him a strange look. "Oh, so you know about wedding gown alterations, do

you?"

He shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it onto one the nearby chairs. "My

mother is a seamstress. I learned to help her when I was little."

Bianca looked like you could have pushed her over with a feather. Recovering from

her surprise, she handed him a pin cushion. "Show me."

When he snatched the pin cushion from her hand, he frowned and clasped her

fingers. "What did you do to yourself?"

She tugged her hand free and scooted away from him. "I had an argument with my

power sander while I was trying to refinish some doors."

He sat back on his heels. "You are renovating your own home?"
"Yes."
"But that's dangerous work. It's hard work." His expression of consternation amused

me. "It's men's work."

Bianca rolled her eyes. "Says the man on his knees doing women's work."
The four of us watched their back and forth with interest. Realizing they had quite the

captivated audience, Bianca gestured to the hem of my dress. "Get to work."

"Sweetheart, you can order me around like that any day." Sergei's lopsided smile made

Bianca blush. She turned her back on him and focused solely on adjusting the hem of my
gown. He continued to sneak glances at her while they worked side-by-side.

Lena had that scheming look in her eyes but I shook my head to warn her against

getting any ideas about trying to push those two together. Bianca wasn't like me or Erin.
She had serious reasons for wanting to stay away from men like Sergei—no matter how
badly she was attracted to them.

While Bianca and Sergei finished working on the alterations, Erin ran through her

checklist with us. I'd been amazed at the wedding she'd put together for Dimitri and
Benny on such short notice but she'd really pulled out the stops to help me.

I had been sure we wouldn't be able to find a reception hall on such short notice but

Yuri had graciously given us Faze. When the lights weren't turned down so low for the
night club crowd, the interior of Faze was actually quite elegant. Erin and I had sketched
out some ideas for incorporating the metallic tones of the club. We'd chosen crisp white
linens and bright pops of color with the flower arrangements. On such a time crunch, our
mantra was simple but elegant.

Securing catering and a cake had been easy enough. Samovar would cater the

reception and the baker who had done Benny's cake owed her a favor and had happily
agreed to squeeze us into her schedule. Yuri had offered the VIP bartenders from Faze
and his booze vendor had apparently cut Erin a damn good deal on wine, champagne
and liquor. Considering the crowd coming to this wedding, we were going to need a
well-stocked bar.

"So I have all the deliveries arranged," Erin said as her pen moved down her checklist.

"Some of the guys from Ivan's gym have volunteered to help set everything up and break
it down after the reception."

"Because they want free food and alcohol," Sergei grumbled from his position on the

floor.

Erin laughed and playfully nudged him with the toe of her ballet flat. "It's cheap labor,

and I'm not about to turn it down."

"A woman after my own heart!" A perky blonde who had been busy with the bride at

the next fitting area swooped in with a business card already extended. "I shouldn't
eavesdrop but I couldn't help myself. You're very organized and on the ball. My name is
Jean, by the way, and I own a wedding planning firm."

"Oh." Erin accepted the card and glanced at the details. She shook Jean's hand. "I'm

Erin Hanson."

"And it looks like you're about to be a bride yourself, Erin!" Jean admired Erin's

engagement ring. "When is the happy day?"

"We haven’t settled on a firm date yet but we're thinking late May."
"That's a great time to do a Texas wedding. It's not too hot but the evenings are getting

long enough to do a nice outdoor reception." Jean smiled at me. "It sounds like you've
planned a beautiful wedding for your friend."

"Well," Erin said a little nervously, "I’m trying."
"Are you a new consultant? Starting your own business?"
Erin shook her head. "No, I'm actually an accountant. Or I was. Now I'm back in

school and working on an MBA."

"Well, if you ever decide that you'd like to pick up some part-time work or if you'd

like to investigate a career change, give me a call. My business is expanding, and I'm
always on the lookout for new consultants and planners."

Seemingly awestruck, Erin nodded. "Okay."
"Great." Jean reached over and patted Bianca's back. "I'll see you again tomorrow, Bee."
Just as quickly as she'd flitted into our conversation, Jean flitted right back out of it.

Benny was the first to ask what we were all thinking. "Well, Bianca, is she legit?"

"Absolutely," Bianca confirmed. "Her event planning business does weddings,

birthdays, quinceañeras, galas… She designs some really gorgeous weddings. Like—she's
been featured in bridal magazines."

"You should give it a try," Lena urged. "What do you have to lose, Erin?"
"We'll see," she said coyly and tucked the card into her purse.
As my fitting was finished and I switched back into my clothes, I couldn't stop

thinking about how our professional lives were changing so rapidly. Lena had walked
away from a comfortable but suffocating job and was in the planning stages of launching
her own specialized business. Benny had been fighting to keep her family's bakery open,
lost it in a nearly-fatal arson and had re-opened in a much better location where the
business was thriving. Erin had been laid off from her accounting job—that she'd hated—
and seemed to have found her niche in event planning.

And me? Well—the art show had produced results far and above my wildest dreams.
It had been a week since the sellout show, and I still couldn't quite wrap my mind

around all the opportunities it had created for me, especially with art prints and
commissioned painting inquiries. I'd always believed that I was good and that I had the
potential to support myself and a family as an artist, but I didn't have any idea I was so
close to realizing that dream. Though I wasn't nearly done developing and honing my
craft, I was getting there. I was close enough now that I could taste success.

"Are we making any stops on the way home?" Sergei asked as I buckled my seatbelt.

Since I'd returned to classes after the winter break, he'd been my constant companion.

"I don't need to stop anywhere. Do you?"
He shook his head. "I'm good."
As we drove home, we let the alternative radio station take the place of conversation.

I sensed Sergei was deep in thought about Bianca. When he steered us into the driveway,
my suspicions were confirmed.

"So—Bianca."
"Yeah?"
"She has a boyfriend?"
"No, but you're probably wasting your time there."
He frowned and unlatched his safety belt. "Why?"
"She doesn't date guys like you."
"Guys like me? Do you mean Russian? Or do you mean white?"
I rolled my eyes. "I mean gangster types."
Annoyance filtered across his face. "Why not?"
It wasn't my place to go around talking about Bianca's history but I could tell Sergei

wasn't going to stop asking. "When she was younger, she and her older brother stopped
at a convenience store one night before going to a movie. While they were there a couple
of punks decided to rob the place. They shot the cashier, and when they turned the gun
on her, Bianca's brother stepped in front of her and took the bullet."

"He died?"
I nodded. "She was really messed up by that. We actually met in one of those therapy

groups for childhood survivors of violent crimes. She's always been very careful about the
men she dates. Your…day job…puts you in a category that she isn't likely to overlook."

Sergei put his hands on the steering wheel and stared out the windshield. He seemed

to be thinking over everything I'd told him about Bianca. Eventually, he turned to me and
grinned. "That's okay. I like a good challenge."

I couldn't help but smile. He had no idea what he was up against. "Well—good luck,

Sergei."

He was still laughing when we started up the sidewalk to the house. "How did the

rest of you meet?"

Feeling a bit embarrassed, I admitted, "Lena and I had the same probation officer from

our run-ins with juvenile detention."

Sergei stopped dead in his tracks and stared down at me with absolute shock on his

face. "You were a juvenile delinquent?"

Face red, I nodded. "In my defense, I was really young—like ten and eleven. My mom

had just died, and my dad was really screwing with my head. My grandparents were
trying to rein me in and keep me on the straight and narrow. I was basically a hot mess."

He touched my arm. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. I honestly didn't know."
I had only known Sergei for a couple of years so I wasn't surprised. I doubted Nikolai

allowed his men to sit around and gossip about my sordid family past. "It's okay. We've
all made mistakes, right?"

"Da."
We started walking again, and I finished answering his question. "When it was time

for me to go to high school, my grandparents sent me to St. Mary's. It's a private all-girls
Catholic school that has one of the best college prep programs in the state. Lena was a
senior there and Erin was a junior and her best friend. They sort of took me under their

wing and kept an eye on me."

"And Dimitri's wife? When did you meet Benny?"
"Benny was Lena's roommate during their freshman year of college. I met her through

Erin who met her through Dimitri. She helped Lena and Benny reconnect."

We entered the mud room and slipped out of our jackets. Because it was sort of wet

and misty outside, I toed off my shoes and left them to dry on one of the mats rather than
trekking muck all over the hardwood floors.

Sergei trailed me into the kitchen. "Catholic school, huh? I bet you were hot in that

uniform, especially with that tiny little plaid skirt."

I playfully punched him in the arm. "You're a pervert."
He waggled his eyebrows. "You still have that uniform? I'd be happy to go upstairs

and help you find it one of those boxes so you can model it for me. "

"Sergei!" Nikolai's stern voice startled us. The icy glare on my soon-to-be husband's

face left Sergei pale.

Not wanting Sergei to get in trouble for some harmless teasing, I stepped between

them. "He was just joking with me."

Nikolai's gaze slid to me before flicking back to Sergei. "Danny needs help hanging

those paintings Vee unpacked last night. He's in the library."

"Sure, Boss." Sergei hastily crossed the kitchen and disappeared from sight.
Annoyed, I pursed my lips. "Nikolai…"
He held up his hand. "I know he was teasing you but I don't appreciate the humor. I

won't allow the men who work for me to make dirty remarks about my wife."

The blossoming feminist in me decried Nikolai's extremely conservative stance—but

I'd be lying if I said I didn't secretly relish his possessive, protective behavior. Even so…

"Kolya, you can't keep me in a glass box."
His cheek twitched in that way I'd come to recognize as his tell. He only did it when

he refused to acknowledge how unreasonable he was acting. "When it comes to you,
there are lines."

It was clear we weren't going to get anywhere with this conversation, not today at

least. Setting my purse on the counter, I closed the distance between us and wrapped my
arms around his waist. He relaxed under my touch and embraced me tightly.

Nuzzling my cheek, he whispered in Russian, "I don't mean to upset you. I shouldn't

feel so possessive of you but you're precious to me."

Being told I was precious to him made my heart swell. After the way I'd been

discarded and abused and used by my parents, I'd always secretly feared I wasn't good
enough to be loved or cherished. It was one of the reasons why I'd decided to wait until
marriage to make love. I wanted to know that I was truly loved and desired and special.
That I was worth the wait.

Nikolai cupped my cheek and traced my mouth with his thumb. "I'm not proud that it

made me so jealous to hear you two laughing about something so intimate."

"It didn't mean anything. It was just a silly joke."
"I know—but I want to be the one teasing you like that. I want to be the one who

makes you blush."

"It wouldn't take much," I said with a playful smile.
"No?" He lowered his face until our cheeks were touching. His lips brushed my ear.

"What if I told you that I'm counting down the hours until I can strip every last piece of
clothing from your body and run my hands all over your naked skin? That I sit in my
office and dream of all the wicked ways I can use my mouth to make you scream my
name?"

My face grew heated as he described the things he wanted to do to me. Breaths

hitching in my chest, I dared to glance up at him. The searing intensity of his gaze left me
trembling with excitement and arousal. Desire pooled low in my core, and my body
ached with such need.

I tried not to let my mind wander down that path but his words conjured erotic

images that left me licking my lips and clenching his arms. "I think about the same things
at night. You have no idea how hard it is for me to stay in my room. Sometimes I get up
and make it all the way to my door before I find the strength to go back to my bed."

My confession made him breathe harder. "Just a few more days and there won't be

any more doors between us."

As his mouth descended toward mine, it curved with mischief. "And you'd better dig

out that old school uniform because now I have to know what you look like in that tiny
plaid skirt."

My heart beat wildly in my chest at his naughty request. "Oh?"
"Yes." His lips teased across mine. "And I fully intend to have you while you wear it…"
"Nikolai!" I gasped at his scandalous request.
He laughed softly and kissed me again. "I like hearing you gasp my name like that."
I couldn't believe how he was teasing me. This was a side of Nikolai I'd never seen—

and I really liked it. The closer we got to our wedding, the more he relaxed around me.
These little glimpses of how our intimate life would be left me shaking with anticipation.

Licking my lips, I slid my hands up his arms and rose on tiptoes to kiss him. As my

hand glided along his chest, I encountered a hard bump. "What's this?"

"Reach into my pocket and find out."
I narrowed my eyes at the impish curve to his sensual mouth but did as instructed. My

fingers closed around the small box. Even before I retrieved it, I knew exactly what it
was.

Nikolai took the jewelry box from me and opened it carefully. "I thought it was time I

made it official."

I hadn't minded my bare finger at all. Engagement rings were just symbols. It was the

love between us that mattered.

But I'd be a bald-faced liar if I said I couldn't wait to get his ring on my finger. He'd

chosen a brilliant round diamond surrounded by a halo of tinier stones. Instead of
platinum, he'd had the dazzling stones set in intricate, entwined bands of yellow and
white gold.

"Nikolai," I whispered with awe as he slid the ring onto my finger. "It's so pretty."
"You like it?" The insecurity in his voice surprised me. With everyone else he was

supremely confident. Only with me did he allow himself to show any vulnerability. I was

reminded of that morning he'd made me breakfast, when he'd told me about love being a
weakness. I hadn't fully grasped his meaning then. Now, after everything we'd survived,
I understood so much better what he'd been trying to say that morning.

I touched his cheek and kissed him. "I love it, Kolya."
He traced the braided gold. "I picked platinum at first but I thought it would look too

cold on your finger."

I liked the way he described the richness and warmth of the gold. "It will match the

wedding band I picked for you."

"I know."
Of course he did. No doubt he'd already taken a peek at his ring at the jeweler he'd

sent me to see.

A loud clatter and a string of curse words, some Russian and other English, exploded

from across the house. Danny started arguing about whose fault it was the ladder had
fallen while Sergei complained about his hammered thumb.

With a heavy sigh of frustration, Nikolai touched his forehead to mine. Since he'd

rescued me, his home had been overrun with people. For a man who valued his privacy,
he probably found it nearly unbearable.

"How much longer do we have to live like this?"
His fingertips grazed my face. "I'm not sure."
Staring into his eyes, I found the courage to ask, "Does it make you nervous that it's

been so quiet since you rescued me? That no one has tried to hurt us again?"

He pulled me tighter into his embrace. "You shouldn't worry so much."
Even as he tried to soothe me, I sensed he shared my fears. The person who had

ordered the hit on him all those years ago had waited so long to try to hurt him again. I
suspected my father's release from prison had spurred my kidnapper to action. He
probably feared my father would squeal on him. Leaving me to die in that fire was his
way of hurting both my father and Nikolai.

But he'd failed. Would he fade into the shadows again and disappear for years? Or

was he going to find a way to finish what he'd started? My father's unexpected and
unwanted appearance at the gallery had me leaning toward the latter. This guy, whoever
the hell he was, wasn't going to accept failure a third time.

Our wedding was only a few days away. We should have been excited to start this

new phase of our lives together. Instead of focusing on creating a home and family
together, we were both constantly thinking about the danger that awaited us. The
looming threat hanging over us would suck the joy right out of what should have been
the happiest day of our lives.

Nikolai's lips ghosted across the crown of my head. "No one is going to hurt you."
"What about you? Who is going to keep you safe?"
"I'm handling it, Vee."
He spoke so calmly and sounded so assured. It occurred to me that Nikolai was

probably running a hidden endgame that he was deliberately keeping from me. I wanted
to be annoyed with him but I had a feeling he was trying to protect me. There really were
some things I didn't need—or want—to know.

He gently tilted my head back and peered down into in my eyes. "I won't let anything

ruin our wedding day. It will be perfect for you."

Warmth spread through my chest and curled around my heart as the knowledge that

he would do anything to make me happy. "I can only imagine the number of favors
you've had to call in to make that promise to me."

His lips briefly touched mine before he whispered, "You're worth it, solnyshko moyo."

Chapter Seventeen

Before I knew it, I was standing in an anteroom of the church while Lena fussed over

my gown and veil. The days between my last dress fitting and our wedding had sped by
so quickly. My tummy fluttered with a wild swarm of nervous little butterflies.

"You okay?" Lena shot me a knowing look as she dabbed at my hairline with a tissue.

"You're starting to sweat, Vivi."

"It's nerves." I played with my engagement ring. The familiar weight of the diamonds

and gold felt so right on my finger.

She put her hands on my shoulders and stared into my eyes. "Are you sure you want

to do this? There's still time to call it off."

If anyone else had asked me that question, I would have been irritated or angry. Lena

asked because she loved me and wanted what was best for me. "I know what I'm doing. I
want to marry Nikolai."

"You're not just marrying Nikolai. You're marrying all of it."
She wasn't saying anything I hadn't already considered. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't

proper—but I couldn't change the way I felt. "I love him. All of him."

"I know you do." Her gentle smile eased the slight sting of disappointment. "Whatever

my disagreements with his line of work, I know that he loves you so much, Vivi." She
primped my cap sleeve and inhaled a short breath. "So—let's do this. Let's get you
married and started on the next chapter of your life. A very happy chapter," she added
with a grin.

I slipped my arms around Lena and hugged her. "I love you, Lena. I'm really glad that

you're with me today."

"You're my best friend in the whole world. Where else would I be?" Her dark eyes

glistened with tears. She caught the tears threatening to spill from my lashes onto my
cheeks with the tissue. "See! I told you that expensive mega waterproof mascara was
worth it."

We giggled as she touched up the minimal makeup I'd worn today. I'd been to

weddings here at St. Vladimir's where brides came in fresh-faced but I'd chosen a natural
look with just the slightest hint of color.

"You're going to blow them away," Lena said as she bumped me aside with her hip so

she could get a better look at her reflection in the mirror.

"Says the maid of honor who upstaged the bride," I teased. With her darker skin, she

could pull off colors I could only dream about, especially that buttery yellow satin. The
shawl collar highlighted her neck and collarbones. The diamonds she wore today were
the same ones she'd worn to Benny's wedding to Dimitri. Apparently, they were officially
her good luck diamonds now.

She rolled her eyes and adjusted the tilt to her hat. "Oh, please. You're the one who

looks like a fairytale princess. The rest of us will be invisible once they get a look at you."

A knock at the door announced Sveta's appearance. The older waitress had long been

a good friend and supporter of mine. A friend of my grandmother, she'd taken me under
her wing when I'd started attending services at St. Vladimir's and had been my
godmother when I'd been baptized into the faith. Now, all these years later, she had
happily agreed to stand as my koumbara, my Orthodox sponsor in marriage.

Sveta smiled at me. "It's almost time, sweetheart. Are you ready?"
I took one final look in the mirror. The last few apprehensions fled. There was no one

else in the world I wanted but Nikolai. "I'm ready."

Gathering up my short train and the yards of lace from my mantilla veil, Lena

followed close behind me as we left the small dressing area. I'd taken six steps outside of
the dressing room before I saw Eric standing in the hallway. Dressed in a crisp, dark suit
he looked like one of the wedding guests but I doubted he'd come to celebrate.

"Vivian." His face a mask of anxiety and regret, he hurried to close the distance

between us.

My stomach pitched. Was he going to go off on me again? Right here? Just minutes

away from my wedding? "Eric."

He gripped my hands but didn't speak for a handful of tense seconds. "I shouldn't

have said those ugly things to you at the gallery. I'm sorry, Vivian. I really am. I was just
so angry—but that doesn't make it right. I'm sorry. So sorry."

My heart softened toward him. "I forgive you, Eric."
He rubbed the lace of my veil between his fingers. "I don't agree with the choice

you've made. Honestly, I came here intending to drag you out of here."

Lena took a step forward. "Eric—"
"But," he looked pointedly in her direction, "I'm not going to do that. You're my

cousin. You're my family, and I love you. I don't want to lose you from my life."

"I don't want to lose you either."
"You won't." He stepped beside me and offered his arm. "I know you guys don't do

that whole 'giving away the bride' thing but I'd like to walk you the rest of the way."

My eyes prickled with heat as I slipped my arm around his. Eric represented the last

link to my blood family. Even if he didn't like my decision, it meant so much to me to
have him with me today. "Thank you, Eric."

He leaned down and kissed my temple. "I love you, kiddo. If this is what you want,

then let's do it." He glanced back at Lena and grinned. "If I get the urge to stand up and
interrupt the wedding, I'm sure one good kick from Lena with those pointy high heels of
hers will shut me right up."

The tension between us faded with the laughter we shared. Arm in arm, I let Eric

escort me down the hall where I would meet with Nikolai—and begin my new life as his
wife.

*

Nikolai rested his hand against the cold window and stared at the empty benches

under the trees. There were birds hopping along the ground but he wasn't paying them
much attention. His thoughts were occupied with Vivian.

He'd never wanted anything as much as he wanted her. Right or wrong, he couldn't

imagine a day in his life without her by his side. He needed her like he needed air. She
was the sunshine that promised to illuminate the darkness in his world. He craved her
loving heat.

But the fear that he was going to ruin her life gripped him. The chilly fingers of dread

blossomed in his belly and spread through his chest. All those old fears returned. She was
too good for him. She was too innocent. She deserved so much better than a man like
him.

Guilt seized him as he thought of taking her as his wife and binding her to him

forever. Could he do this? Should he do this?

Yuri cleared his throat. "Don't get angry but I have to tell you something that you're

probably not going to like."

Torn from his conflicted thoughts, Nikolai glanced back at his best man. "What?"
"Eric Santos is here. He's with Vivian."
Nikolai's heart stuttered in his chest. "What does he want?"
"I don't know. He didn't look like he was ready for a fight. He's in a suit. He spoke

with the priest." Yuri stepped forward to adjust Nikolai's tie. "I think he came to make
peace."

Nikolai grunted. "I'll believe that when I see it."
"I didn't say peace with you. I meant peace with her." Yuri brushed his hands across

Nikolai's shoulders. "They are family. When you give her your name today, you take her
family as yours. Remember that."

"I've never tried to separate them." Not even when I wanted to break his legs for making her

cry…

"I'll ask Dimitri to keep an eye on him during the reception. They get along well."
Nikolai understood that Yuri was trying to head off any awkwardness at the

celebration. "That's a good idea."

"Well, you know me. I'm just full of good ideas."
Nikolai snorted. "You're full of something all right."
Yuri laughed. His expression grew serious. Grasping Nikolai's shoulders, he asked,

"Are you ready to do this?"

Did Yuri sense his second-thoughts? "I'm ready."
"Good." Yuri clapped him on the back. "I was sure you wouldn't get cold feet but a best

man is supposed to ask these kinds of things. If there are any doubters still questioning
your love and commitment toward Vivian, they must not have heard about your five-
hour confession with that poor father."

Nikolai glared at his friend. "It wasn't five!"
Yuri's smile turned teasing. "We had bets on whether or not they'd have to call an

ambulance to revive him."

He shot Yuri a look that would have frozen most men in place. "It wasn't easy for me

either."

Yuri's expression turned kinder. "The things we do for love rarely are."
"So I've learned."

Joking again, Yuri asked, "How big of a donation did the priest wrangle out of you?"
"That's between me, the priest and God," Nikolai evaded. He didn't tell Yuri that

Father Semyon had reminded him that no man was beyond God's grace. The priest's
words still unsettled him. There were many miracles Nikolai believed possible but saving
his soul wasn't among them.

The deacon gave a warning knock before entering the small chamber where they

waited. "It's nearly time, Nikolai."

Nikolai nodded but remained silent. His heartbeat ticked up a few notches now that

the moment was upon him.

"Oh! I almost forgot." The deacon reached under his vestments and retrieved some

folded papers. "I was supposed to return these official documents to you at your last
premarital counseling session."

Nikolai accepted the papers from the absentminded deacon. Before he could say thank

you, the man turned and left. Yuri's bemused expression said it all. "Interesting guy."

"You don't know the half of it," Nikolai grumbled, thinking of the excruciating

counseling sessions he'd attended with Vivian. They'd had surprisingly few
disagreements when it came to the topics covered but the long-winded deacon made the
sessions feel like torture. He'd rather sit in that cold metal chair in Kostya's storage locker
than listen to another droning lecture from the deacon.

"What did he give you?"
Nikolai flicked through the papers in question. "Vivian's birth certificate, her

baptismal certificate…" His voice faded to nothing as a document he hadn't provided to
the priest came into view.

"What's wrong?" Yuri moved closer for a better look. He scanned the document in

question. "Is that your birth certificate? Where the hell did you find this?"

"I didn't."
"How did the priest get it?"
Nikolai shook his head. "He sent off for my church records. Ivan gave him the contact

information for the priest back home. The priest there must have had a copy."

"Kolya." Yuri's panicked voice and tapping finger drew his gaze back down to the

certificate in question. "Is that—?"

Nikolai had to read the name listed as his biological father's four times. "That's not

possible."

"Apparently it is."
Mind reeling, Nikolai wished he'd never seen his birth certificate. He fought the urge

to rip it to shreds. Instead he folded everything carefully and slipped it into the pocket
hidden along the inside of his jacket.

Later, when he had time, he'd think about the implications of what he'd read. Today

was all about Vivian. He wasn't going to let this shocking and rather unwanted news to
ruin their day.

"Are you all right?" Concern darkened Yuri's face. "It would be a shock any day but to

learn this on your wedding day?"

"I’m fine." Nikolai shrugged off Yuri's concern. He wasn't fine. The fist twisting his

guts proved that. "Let's leave it."

"Okay." Yuri didn't push the issue. "Then it's time to go marry the woman you love."
Nikolai refused to go into his wedding ceremony with anything less than a clear mind

and clean heart. The hurt feelings of betrayal and anger surging within him were hard to
muscle down but he managed it finally. He refused to be bound to Vivian with such ugly
thoughts in his head.

Out in the small hallway with Yuri, Nikolai swept the space for a glimpse of her. At

first, the priest and the deacon and Sveta blocked his view. When they stepped aside,
everything and everyone else faded into the background. Their gazes met, hers a
reflection of the hope he held for their life together.

In that moment, only the two of them existed. She had never looked more beautiful to

him. The dress, the veil, her bright eyes—he could spend the rest of his life gazing upon
her and never tire of it.

The bells began to ring, signaling the ceremony was only minutes away from starting.

She smiled up at Eric who placed a chaste kiss against the top of her veil before releasing
her. She held out her hand, silently asking him to join her on their first steps toward
matrimony. His second-thoughts on making her his wife vanished. Whatever happened,
he would be a better man by having her at his side.

Taking her hand, he denied himself the kiss he craved so badly. Hands clasped and

arms looped, they faced the priest. It was time to begin their new life together.

Chapter Eighteen

Breathless and giggling, I finally managed to extricate myself from the crush of

dancing bodies on the packed dance floor at Faze. I desperately needed a drink and a rest.
Fanning myself, I skirted the edge of the dancing throng and ran right into Ivan.

The gleam in his eye told me I was about to get grabbed and ransomed back to Nikolai

again. It seemed Nikolai's friends had gotten together and decided to pay tribute to an
old Russian wedding tradition by snatching me various times during the wild reception
and making him perform certain tasks to get me back.

Dimitri had been the first to take me, but he'd done it so sweetly and gently. Instead of

stealing and running off with me, he'd sat down next to me, had a slice of cake and then
asked me if it would be all right to hide me away in the coat check area. No doubt they
were all worried about upsetting me after what had happened in December. In truth, I
was so glad to have everyone treating me like a normal girl again and without the kid
gloves.

Ivan held out his hand. I doubted he was going to just walk me away from the dance

floor. My suspicions proved correct when I grasped his hand. The big bear of a man
swung me up onto his shoulder as if I weighed nothing and hustled me away from the
dance floor and upstairs to one of the VIP sections. I couldn't help myself. I laughed the
entire way.

"Are you all right?" he asked after carefully setting me down.
"Yes." I still had a smile on my face as I moved to the railing overlooking the main

floor. "How long do you think it will take Nikolai to realize I'm missing?"

"He already knows. He's been watching you like a hawk." Ivan extended a glass of ice

water. "You've been dancing for hours. You need to stay hydrated."

"Thank you." I happily accepted the glass of water and took a long drink. Down below,

I caught sight of Nikolai crossing the dance floor to retrieve me. He began to encounter
obstacles every few steps. They made him drink and answer riddles and even pay.

Certain he would be busy for a few minutes, I took advantage of my high perch to

survey our reception guests. The wedding ceremony had been smaller and more intimate
but hundreds of our friends and acquaintances had poured into the elegantly decorated
Faze for the celebration. Russians had a certain reputation for their parties and tonight
was no exception.

"It looks like Santos has finally found a reason to celebrate." Ivan gestured to Eric who

now danced between two bombshell blondes.

Agog at the sight of my straight-laced cousin gyrating between those women, I asked,

"How much has he had to drink?"

"It's not a party until someone ends up dancing naked on a table."
I cringed. "Promise me you'll make sure he gets home safely. There's no way he can

drive like that."

"I'll make sure he gets a cab." Ivan tilted his head and smirked. "Although I have a

feeling, he won't need my help getting home."

My jaw dropped as one of the women grabbed Eric's backside. Feeling uncomfortable

watching my cousin groping and grinding, I quickly glanced away from the trio.

"I see that Sergei is still on Nikolai's shit list," Ivan remarked with a laugh.
I spotted Sergei standing guard over the gift tables. The unhappy expression on his

face wasn't directed toward his current position but the sight of Bianca dancing closely
with her date. She'd chosen a doctor as her plus-one and I could tell it was grating on
Sergei.

Not wanting to delve into Sergei's unrequited attraction toward Bianca, I said, "I can't

believe Nikolai is making him babysit those gifts."

"Considering the gifts being dropped on those tables, it's an important job."
Judging by the sizes of those stacks, I was going to be writing thank you notes for a

month. The sight of envelopes piled in baskets made feel uncomfortable. Nikolai wasn't
as wealthy as Yuri but he was doing very well. The going rate for my artwork would
likely increase over the next few years so we definitely didn't need the money we'd been
given by our guests.

"It's about respect."
I glanced at Ivan. "You can read minds now?"
"I can read people very well. I can see it in your face when you look at the gifts. You're

thinking that you don't need the money, but that's not why people gave it to you. They
gave it to you because they want to show Nikolai they respect him."

"I don't like it."
Ivan shrugged and sipped his beer. "These are the rules of Nikolai's world." He eyed

me carefully. "They're the rules of your new world. You have to learn how to play by
them before you can change them."

As Ivan's advice rattled round and round in my head, Nikolai finally made it upstairs

to retrieve me. Ivan crossed his arms and blocked the way. I saw him hold out his hand.
Nikolai made a production out of withdrawing his wallet and slapping some cash against
Ivan's palm.

The ransom paid, Nikolai triumphantly retrieved me. The catcalls began and Nikolai

grinned down at me. He slid his arms around my waist and claimed my mouth in a
passionate kiss that left me trembling with excitement. Our guests whooped and hollered
and clapped.

Nikolai dragged me away from the balcony to a more private area. He brushed his

knuckles across my cheek. "You're blushing."

"You just kissed me in front of hundreds of people."
He traced my still buzzing lower lip. "I'm your husband. I get to do so much more

than kiss you now."

I gulped and tried to ignore the throbbing heat between my thighs. "Nikolai…"
He silenced my protest with another sensual kiss, nibbling my lower lip and sucking

gently on the very tip of my tongue. "One more dance," he said, "and then I'm taking you
home."

Hand in hand, we made our way downstairs to the dance floor. The live band Erin

had arranged started a slower song that allowed us to sway together. It felt so good to be
held so closely in his arms and to feel his body heat radiating through me. Sometime
during the night he'd lost his jacket and tie. Now his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows,
displaying the many tattoos curling around his muscular forearms.

Nikolai's fingers sifted through my hair as we danced. I pressed my cheek to his chest

and reveled in his strength. As we moved around the dance floor, I noticed our friends all
around us. Ivan held Erin close while Dimitri kept his hand on Benny's noticeable bump.
Lena sat on Yuri's lap and giggled while he whispered in her ear.

It was amazing to me how things had changed so much since that day Erin had

bravely walked into Ivan's gym in a desperate bid to find her sister. Now Erin was
engaged to Ivan. Benny and Dimitri were married and expecting their first child. Lena
and Yuri were madly in love—and I was a married woman.

When the song ended, Lena popped off Yuri's lap. Seconds later, he swooped in to

grab me right out Nikolai's arms. With Lena, Benny, Bianca and Erin flanking him, he
carted me off to the restroom. My friends dragged me inside and Yuri blocked the door.
Once inside, Lena unfurled the white napkin she'd been clutching in her hand. "Kisses,
girls!"

I giggled as my friends pressed their lipstick covered pouts to the linen. My lips were

last. Lena opened the door just enough to give the napkin to Yuri and point out which
pair of lipstick lips were mine. Apparently picking out my lips would be the last riddle
Nikolai would have to solve.

With the door firmly closed, Lena leaned back against it and smiled. "So—we thought

you might want some pointers before you rush off to knock those married boots of yours
together."

My jaw dropped with shock. "Are you serious? Guys—come on!"
Erin hopped up onto the counter. "Look, my sister might be a hot mess but she gave

me some really good advice before my first time."

I had a hard time believing that but didn't tell Erin. "And what was that?"
"She told me to keep my expectations low."
Benny whacked Erin's arm. "Don't say that! How totally unromantic! It's her wedding

night."

Erin poked Benny's side. "It's good advice. Believe me. If I'd been expecting my first

time to blow my mind, I probably never would have had sex again."

"Oh, right," Lena said knowingly. "Mr. Two Strokes, right?"
"Oh, yeah. He barely had that condom on before he was chanting to Jesus."
"Okay," Bianca interjected loudly. "Forget about low expectations. Baby girl, listen, just

relax. Let your man take the lead."

"I'm with Bianca on this one," Lena agreed. "Relax. Let Nikolai run the show the first

time. I'm sure he has plenty of experience."

"Lena!" Benny's eyes were wide.
"What?" Lena replied with confusion.
"You basically just called Nikolai a man whore—in front of his new wife."
"I did not!"

"Yeah," Erin said with a giggle. "You kinda did."
"Wow." I shook my head and tried not to laugh. "Maybe next time you guys can get

together first and come up with a game plan."

Benny snorted. "Told you."
Lena rolled her eyes. "Okay. So maybe we didn't think this through but it's the

thought that counts, right?"

"I guess," I replied, unconvinced. "I appreciate what you're doing. Really. And don't

worry. I don't have any crazy romance novel ideas of how it will be."

"It might be amazing," Bianca hurriedly said. "You never know. My first time was

pretty damn hot."

"Mine was really nice, too," Benny added. "Like very sweet and tender. It was a nice

introduction to lovemaking."

"Do you want any pointers?" Lena grinned mischievously. "Because there's a certain

spot on a man's—"

"Okay." I held up my hands as my face flooded with the heat of embarrassment.

"We're done here."

As the girls laughed, Nikolai knocked on the door. "Yelena, may I collect my wife

now?"

Lena cracked the door and peeked outside. "One more minute."
Benny was the first to hug me. "Congratulations, sweetheart. It was a beautiful

wedding."

Erin grabbed me next. She had tears in her eyes as she squeezed the air right out of my

lungs. "I'm so happy for you. Good luck."

"You were hands-down the prettiest bride I've had since I took over the boutique."

Bianca patted my back as she hugged me. "Have fun tonight."

Lena was misty-eyed as she pulled me into a tight embrace. "You call me if you need

anything. I'll have my phone with me all night. Anything."

Visions of me holed up in the master bathroom and calling Lena for moral support

flashed before me. "I might have to take you up on that."

"It'll be fine." She smiled encouragingly. "Don't overthink it. Just let it happen."
A ball of nerves wiggled in my belly. Before I was ready, Lena pulled open the door.

With his hand resting on the door frame, Nikolai loomed over me. He'd put on his coat
and tie but had that disheveled, sexy thing going for him. Lips twitching with
amusement, he pinned me in place with a look that made my thighs clench together. He
lifted his hand and crooked one finger in a come-hither motion. Powerless to deny him, I
joined him in the doorway.

Nikolai slid his arm around my waist and tugged me close for a kiss. "Let's get out

here before these three friends of mine bankrupt me with these ransoms."

My eyes closed briefly as his mouth brushed mine. Peering into his dark gaze, I

whispered, "I'm ready."

Nikolai grasped my hand and led me back onto the dance floor where our guests

waited to see us off. Lena brought me my bouquet while dozens of our single friends
crammed into a small space for the chance to catch it. One of the weekend waitresses

from Samovar launched herself above the shoving crowd to triumphantly snatch the
bouquet.

In a whirlwind of hugs and kisses and well wishes, we were ushered out of Faze and

into a waiting limousine. Not surprisingly, I spotted Sergei and Kostya climbing into two
idling SUVs surrounding the limo. The sight of them guarding us reminded me how
much my life had changed since that fateful December night.

Though he'd been playful during the reception, Nikolai seemed to tense up as we

pulled away from the club. I stroked his hand but didn't question him. I sensed he was
concerned about our safety. If anyone wanted to make a move on him, this would be the
night to do it.

Nikolai brought my hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. I appreciated his

reassuring smile but his worried eyes kept me on edge. As if wanting to put me at ease,
he leaned over and kissed me tenderly. His fingertips grazed my cheek as he gazed down
at me with such love burning in his eyes. "Was it everything you wanted?"

"Yes." I touched his jaw. "Thank you. It was a perfect wedding." Feeling a bit guilty, I

added, "I can only imagine what it cost to do all of that on such short notice."

"I'd pay it again in a heartbeat to see you smile the way you have all day." His sweet

reply made me grin. Touching my chin, he whispered, "Just like that."

Emboldened by the wedding band now resting on my right hand, I dragged Nikolai

down for a seeking kiss. He made a happy sound and wrapped his arms around me.
Feeling braver than ever, I flicked my tongue against the seam of his lips. He let loose a
needy growl before granting me access.

As our tongues started to duel, I lost control of the kiss. Nikolai's masterful hands

roamed my back and cupped my neck. His ravenous attack left me dizzy. I clutched at
the lapels of his jacket as the passion burning between us raged like a wildfire. When he
palmed my breast, I nearly fainted. It was the first time he'd ever dared to touch me in
that way—and I wanted more.

I slid my hands under his jacket and held tight to his powerful body. Turned as far as I

could manage with my safety belt in place, I arched into his punishing kisses. His hand
skimmed my back and finally settled right on my bottom. When he squeezed my plump
flesh, I gasped against his mouth.

If it hadn't been for our seatbelts and his constant concern for my safety, I felt sure he

would have pushed me onto my back and hiked up my skirt to take me right there. His
heavy breathing proved his legendary control was about to snap. As if desperate to
maintain the tenuous hold on his raging lust, Nikolai inhaled deeply and put a little
space between us.

By the time we arrived at his house, he'd managed to cool down some but the promise

of what this night would bring left me shaking and hot. Nikolai stepped out of limo first
and came around to my side to help me out. Even though I'm sure it hurt his still healing
body, Nikolai swept me up into his arms to carry me up the sidewalk and into the house.

I noticed the way Sergei, Kostya and the others didn't follow us inside. Tonight, at

least, it seemed Nikolai had regained the privacy of his home. He set me down to close
the door but he didn't lock it. Instead, he dragged me close for a loving kiss. He spoke

Russian to me as he murmured, "Welcome home, Mrs. Kalasnikova."

I pressed my cheek to his chest. "It doesn’t seem real. It's like a dream."
"A good dream?" he asked hopefully.
"The very best," I whispered.
"Turn around," he ordered softly.
Swallowing hard, I presented my back to him. Nikolai gathered the long waves of my

hair in one hand and pushed them over my left shoulder. His nimble fingers flicked
through the delicate pearl buttons now bared to him. He unhooked the dress and
lowered the zipper. I trembled inside when he pressed feather-light kisses to my
shoulder.

"I'll be upstairs in a short while. There are things I must attend first."
I assumed he meant giving Kostya and Sergei their orders for the night. "All right."
Nikolai peppered noisy kisses along the curve of my neck. He gave my dress a little

tug. "Take this off." He ran his finger along the band of my bra. "And this too."

My voice left me as excitement and anxiety took hold. All I could do was nod as I

gathered the bustled skirt of my dress in one hand and began the slow walk toward the
staircase. When I reached the second floor, I turned to gaze at Nikolai. He hadn't moved a
muscle. He simply watched me, his eyes blazing with desire and love.

I waited until I was safely inside the guest bedroom to start panicking and rushing.

Even though my friends had warned me not worry about making everything go
perfectly, I still wanted to try. After I wiggled out of my dress and draped it over the
reading chair, I scurried into the bathroom and stripped out of my undies to prepare
myself.

As I removed my makeup and brushed my teeth, I tried to get a grip. Maybe Lena and

Erin were right about keeping my expectations low for this first time. I hoped Benny and
Bianca's first times would mirror my own experience. I could live with tender and sweet
this first time. I didn't doubt that Nikolai would be patient with me or that he would
show me pleasure. I only hoped I could figure out how to make him feel good too.

When I finished primping, I stared at the ridiculously expensive set of lingerie the

girls had given me. I held up the skimpy lacy pieces but didn't feel the urge to wear them.
Something told me Nikolai would rather find me naked and waiting.

I slipped into the pale pink silk dressing gown that matched the lingerie and tied the

belt around my waist. Gulping down my nervousness, I finally managed to leave the
guest room and cross the hall to Nikolai's—our—bedroom.

When I opened the door, I found him sitting on the edge of his bed, removing his

shoes and socks. He'd already discarded his jacket, tie and shirt. His heavily tattooed
chest and back made him look so dangerous and terrifying. I wasn't so blinded by love
that I didn't recognize what his myriad tattoos meant but I didn't find him scary or
intimidating in the least.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, I crossed the room to stand in front of him. Spreading

his thighs, Nikolai tugged me between his legs. The stiff fabric of his trousers felt strange
against my bare skin. Wordlessly, Nikolai pulled on one end of the robe's belt, loosening
the knot until both sides of the robe fell open. For the longest time, he simply gazed at

my naked flesh.

"You are so damn beautiful. You're beautiful every day," he added with a smile, "but

today you are exceptionally perfect."

Goose bumps blossomed on my naked skin as his fingertips trailed a straight line from

my collarbone to my breast. My toes curled against the hardwood planks as he slowly
circled my nipple. The dusky peak reacted to his touch by puckering tightly. Nikolai slid
his other hand along my waist to the small of my back, holding me firmly in place as his
mouth lowered to my breast.

"Oh!" The shocked gasp left my throat the moment his soft lips closed around my

aching flesh. He suckled me gently, each pull of his lips around my nipple transferring
the wicked tugging sensations straight to my throbbing clitoris. Overheated and
trembling, I gripped his shoulder and prayed my knees wouldn't give out. "Nikolai…"

When his mouth began to sensually torment my other breast, he tweaked my wet

nipple between his fingertips. The bright arcs of sensation raced through my chest and
down into my core. My thighs flexed as I tried to assuage the dull ache building between
them. I'd been excited before but this was a whole new level of arousal.

Without a word of warning, Nikolai picked me up and dropped me in the middle of

his bed. In an instant, he was crawling over me. With one knee between my legs, he
pinned me to the mattress and crashed his mouth to mine. I relished the feel of his hot
skin against mine.

We kissed frantically while we clutched and caressed. I could feel myself growing

wetter as Nikolai's hands glided along my curves. I desperately wanted him to touch me
there

but he kept his hands above my waist for now.

Nikolai shifted until both of his legs were between mine. The rigid length of him

tented the front of his pants. Wanting to feel the weight of his steely heat in my hand, I
reached between us to unbuckle his belt. My coordination wasn't good enough to kiss
and unbuckle at the same time so Nikolai rescued me from my fumbling attempts.

Brushing aside my hands, he quickly took care of his belt and zipper. Taking my

smaller hand in his, he dragged it down between our entwined bodied. When my fingers
encountered the blistering heat of his cock, I experienced a desperate need to caress and
stroke him.

Nikolai groaned as my small hand closed around him. His tongue thrust into my

mouth in a way that mimicked what he intended to do to me very soon. I couldn't
breathe now. I shuddered with anticipation and excitement. Red-hot currents raced up
and down my body.

When the blunt tip of his cock stabbed against my sex, I moaned and tore away from

his mouth. "Wait," I begged breathlessly.

The sound of my voice seemed to startle him. Nikolai went perfectly still above me.

Before I could explain that I didn't want him to stop, only to slow down, he lifted his hips
and pushed up onto one knee. He broke all contact with me—and it hurt.

Breathing hard, he ran his fingers through his hair. When he looked at me, that old

mask of indifference had returned to his face. The icy wall he'd used to keep me at arm's
length for so long slammed down between us, leaving me utterly confounded.

He bent down to brush a tender kiss to my forehead. "It's been a long day. You should

rest."

"But—" I didn't even get a chance to ask him what I'd done wrong. He fled the room

without even zipping his pants. Alone in our bed, I stared at the closed door now
between us. Embarrassment twisted my gut.

What the hell had just happened?

Chapter Nineteen

Fuck. Fuck.
Safe in the hallway, Nikolai zipped his pants and pressed his forehead to the wall.

Shame gripped him. He'd nearly lost control with Vivian. He'd promised himself that
he'd take his time with her and show her real pleasure, but instead he'd let his dick take
control. He'd been seconds away from taking her virginity like a fucking ogre.

The way she'd practically begged him to stop made his stomach churn. He could only

imagine what she thought of him right now. She'd trusted him to be gentle and he'd
frightened her.

As he rubbed his hand down his face, he heard the front door open. Irritated, he

pushed off the wall and stormed to the stairs. Kostya stood just inside the entryway and
glanced toward the second floor. The look in Kostya's eyes chilled Nikolai's raging lust.

Expecting the very worst, he asked, "What's happened?"
"Someone left you a wedding gift at Samovar."
The ominous statement left him uneasy. Unwilling to face Vivian so soon after he'd

fucked everything up between them, he headed downstairs to the laundry room. He
found a pair of jeans and a shirt in the clean stacks the housekeeper had left on the
folding counter and pulled on clean socks and his boots. Once on the porch, he gave
Sergei and Danny strict orders for keeping Vivian safe.

Certain she was in safe hands, he slid into the front seat of Kostya's SUV. During the

drive, images of Vivian's gorgeous body bombarded him. He could still feel the silky heat
of her skin beneath his fingertips. Her soft moans and excited whimpers echoed in his
ears. He thought of all the ways he could apologize for scaring her and of the ways he
might earn her trust.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Nikolai noticed the grim faces of the men who

waited outside. No one would meet his eye. His chest tightened as he entered the
restaurant through the employee entrance, crossed through the kitchen and stepped
inside the dining room. The lights had been dimmed to their lowest setting and the
shades were pulled to prevent anyone from getting a look through the front windows.

At first, he thought the men were playing a trick on him. He spotted the shapes of

customers sitting at tables. It took him a full ten seconds to finally grasp what he was
seeing.

Bodies. Dead bodies. Frozen stiff. Sitting at his tables.
"Jesus Christ." Nikolai had seen some crazy things in his many years living in the

underworld but this topped them all. He approached the nearest body and held out his
hand. The wispy curls of vapor as the icy cold body defrosted wafted against his palm.
"How long have they been here?"

"An hour?" Kostya guessed.
Nikolai glared at his right-hand man. "Who the fuck was supposed to be watching the

restaurant tonight?"

A young kid, maybe nineteen, was shoved forward to face his wrath. He didn’t know

the boy personally but he'd been vouched for by one of the captains. No doubt the kid
was going to get a good smack later.

He visibly gulped before stammering, "B-boss, I-I'm sorry. I didn't think that—"
Nikolai raised his hand to put a stop to the sniveling apology. "What happened?"
"Well…um…I was outside doing a walk-around like Arty told me and…um…this van

pulled up. This guy got out and he asked me for directions, said he was taking his girls to
a party."

"A guy?"
"Yeah. He had some tats on his neck. Not like ours though. They were, like, skulls and

lightning bolts."

Skinheads. "What happened next?"
"I took a look at his map and got him situated, you know, and…uh…he sort of offered

me a reward."

Nikolai crossed his arms. He knew exactly where this story was going. "A reward?"
"Right," the kid said nervously. "And, you know, the girl was really hot and then he

threw in another girl and so it sort of lasted longer than I'd expected."

Snickers erupted as the men found humor in the kid's story and unintentional double

entendre. Nikolai's hands clenched. The urge to smack the irresponsible little shit nearly
got the better of him but he held it in check.

"How old were those girls?"
The kid blinked. "Well—I don’t know. They looked legal."
"They looked legal," he repeated dryly. "Do you want to know what the inside of a

prison cell looks like? Because that's what happens to stupid little punks who shove their
dicks into underage prostitutes."

"I didn't think—"
"I'm not surprised. It sounds as if the only head you ever use is the one tucked

between your legs." Aggravated, Nikolai growled his next question. "What happened
when you were finished with those girls?"

"So-so when I was done and the van pulled away I came inside and I found them." He

gestured to the frozen bodies. "I called Arty and I guess he called Kostya and…well…you
now the rest."

"Do you know what today was, Genya?" He'd finally remembered the skinny kid's

name.

"Your wedding day, sir."
"And do you think I wanted to spend my wedding night here, in this fucking

makeshift morgue?"

Genya shook his head. "No, sir. I've seen your wife. I'd want to spend the night in her.

With

her," he hastily corrected. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Arty." Nikolai cut off the kid before he dug his hole any deeper.
Artyom stepped forward. "Yeah, Boss?"
"Get him out of my sight. Find out what he remembers about the van and the driver

and those girls."

Arty gripped his nephew by the back of the neck and walked him out of sight and into

the kitchen. Nikolai crouched down in front of one of the bodies to study it. The man
wore all black and it spurred the memories of that terrible night Vivian had been taken.
A single gunshot wound to the middle of the head had ended this man's life but he had
marks of torture on his belly and chest.

Judging by the positioning and stiffness of his body, he'd been shot while tied to a

chair and left there to freeze. There were walk-in meat freezers big enough to hold this
many bodies on ice. It wouldn’t have been too difficult to keep the bodies hidden.

"Now we know why we couldn't find any of the men," Nikolai addressed Kostya as he

stood. "It looks like someone tied up all the loose ends before I was even out of the
hospital."

"Da." Kostya poked the stiff's cheek. "The girls who kept Genya busy were probably

some of the ones who were held with Vivian."

Nikolai's stomach soured at the memory of finding Vivian tied up in that dog cage.

"That means they're keeping them in town. We can still find them."

"And do what with them?"
"Hand them over to Santos and his police friends." Nikolai generally liked to keep the

police as far out of his business as possible but they were the only ones who could get
those girls the type of help they needed.

"Before we save the rest of the world, what the hell are we going to do with these

guys?" Kostya nudged another body with the toe of his boot. "I had a couple of the boys
drive down to Fresh Start to pick up one of the produce trucks. It's cold enough to haul
them out of here without them defrosting and getting messy. I can get rid of a few of
them but this high-level disposal here."

"We aren't going to dispose of them." Nikolai extended his hand. "Give me your

phone."

Kostya didn't question the order. He slapped his phone into Nikolai's hand and

continued to move around the restaurant to examine the bodies. Nikolai found the
number he wanted and waited for an answer.

"Kostya!" Besian answered with a laugh. "You're missing a hell of a party."
The last time he'd seen the Albanian mob boss he'd been dancing on a table at Faze.

"Besian."

"Nikolai?"
"Get your crew together and meet me at Samovar."
"Now?"
"Now."
Besian didn't hesitate. "Half an hour."
When he handed Kostya his phone, his cleaner arched his brow. "Well?"
"Besian wanted to make those skinheads pay for killing Afrim. Here's his chance."
"Frame them?" Kostya's smile told Nikolai he liked the idea.
"They were involved in these deaths in some way or another. We'll let Besian get his

vengeance and settle that mess once and for all."

"And us?" Kostya scanned the morbid scene. "This is one hell of a message, Boss."

It was coming through loud and clear. The longer Nikolai stared at the ghoulish set

before him, the more familiar it seemed. He was transported back to a night so many
years ago. He'd been a teenager then and living hand to mouth with Ivan on the streets of
Moscow. They'd been involved with the family for a little less than a year but were
slowly climbing the soldier ranks by proving themselves willing to do any job.

That was the night he'd first met Maksim, the boss of Moscow. The gray-haired and

immaculately dressed boss had pulled up in one of those gleaming black cars he favored
and stepped onto the sidewalk.

The boss had come to check out the club that Grisha ran. At the time, Nikolai and Ivan

had been employed there as bouncers. Back then, Grisha's clubs had been some of the
highest earning businesses under the organization's umbrella. In his mid-twenties, Grisha
had clawed his way into the winner's circle by flooding the streets of Moscow with
designer drugs and making them readily available in his clubs.

Nikolai still remembered how nervous he'd been to meet Maksim. He'd recognized

that first impressions and reputation were everything in the life he'd chosen. He'd
wanted to prove himself as a useful member of the crew. It was the only way to climb
higher up that earning ladder.

He remembered the way Maksim had stopped to speak with them after Grisha made

the introductions. It was a brief conversation and mostly a thanks for pulling off a
pharmaceutical heist without a single injury or death. Even back then, Nikolai had
recognized that the best way to do business was to keep things quiet and safe. The less
police presence, the better.

Maksim had dropped a lighter into Nikolai's palm. It was the same lucky lighter he

carried everywhere today. Though it was a small, insignificant gift, Nikolai had treasured
it. To him, it had been better than an award trophy.

But it was the thing Maksim had given Ivan that Nikolai remembered so clearly now.

The boss had presented Ivan with a handful of American comic books. Grisha was always
teasing Ivan about his reading habits so it was well known that Ivan would do anything
to get his hands on a new comic.

Though the childish habit had annoyed the shit out Nikolai, he'd hidden his irritation

that night and allowed Ivan to show him all the colorful panels in that first issue he'd
excitedly thumbed through. One panel in particular had caught Nikolai's eye. It was the
scene of a villain eating his dinner surrounded by the corpses of his enemies.

Nikolai remembered thinking it so gruesome and cold. And now, all these years later,

he was looking at it—in the flesh, so to speak.

This was no coincidence. This was a message—from Maksim.
After the botched hit by Romero, Nikolai had assumed it was one of the local crews

trying to take him out before he could build up the Russian presence in Houston. Now he
had to wonder if Maksim hadn't sent him here to get him out of the way.

Back in Russian, Nikolai had climbed as high as he could in the family. There had been

whispers of him striking out on his own to form his own organization. They were rumors
that he'd stridently denied because they weren't true. He'd never wanted his own family
of thieves and criminals.

But then Maksim had given him orders to move to Houston and grow the syndicate

here. Nikolai had wanted a fresh start as badly as Ivan had so they'd jumped in with both
feet, bringing Kostya and a few others with them. At the time, he'd considered the
opportunity to start a new branch of the family in Houston a reward.

But now? Now he wondered if Maksim hadn't been trying to quietly remove a

problem. If Romero had succeeded in killing him, no one would have ever suspected
Maksim of being behind the hit. Everyone would have assumed it was a territorial issue
and let it go.

Was that why this mess had all blown up since Romero's unexpected release from

prison? Was Maksim trying to flush out Vivian's father so he could snuff him out before
the truth reached Nikolai? Had Maksim been the one to kidnap Vivian and threaten to
sell her in a sex slave auction? Was he the one bringing trafficked girls into Houston and
making a play for Nikolai's territory?

He was powerful enough to do all that and more. Suddenly, Nikolai mistrusted

everyone around him, even Kostya. With all the power Maksim wielded, he could turn
any man against him.

Dread slithered along Nikolai's neck and down his spine, leaving a chilly trail that

made his stomach flip-flop. Nothing about this situation was simple anymore. He had to
make a move but it had to be the right move at the exact right moment.

"Boss?" Kostya quietly prompted him. "What's the plan?"
"Get these bodies loaded up into truck before Besian gets here. As to the rest—you let

me handle that."

* * *

A text alert woke me the next morning. Pulled from a fitful sleep, I sat up and rubbed

my face between my hands. My head ached and the grogginess clouding my thoughts
refused to fade.

I stared at the empty side of the bed where Nikolai should have been. The memories

of my absolute failure as a wife knifed at my heart. I didn't know how the hell I was
going to look him in the eye this morning. I still didn't understand what I'd done wrong
or why he'd run out of here like his backside was on fire.

My cell phone chirped again. I glanced at the bedside table with some surprise. I

didn't remember bringing my phone in here. A quick survey of the room told me that
Nikolai had returned at some point. The cup and saucer on to the low square ottoman
and the smashed cushion on his chair were evidence of that.

Had he simply sat there all night watching me? Before I'd cried myself to sleep, I'd

heard the front door open and close a few times. I'd assumed it was Kostya or Sergei but
now I wondered if Nikolai had left. Where had he gone? What in the world was more
important than our first night as husband and wife?

A terrifying thought struck. What if someone had been hurt? One of my friends or

Eric?

I clambered across the mattress to pick up my phone. The text message from Lena

seemed so ominous until I opened it.

So?! How did it go?
Relief swamped me. If something terrible had happened, Lena would have been the

first to tell me. I started to set aside my phone but I needed to talk to her. I needed
someone to tell me I wasn't totally undesirable.

Instead of texting, I called her. When she answered two rings later, a loud snore

blasted my ear. Even in my depressed state, I couldn't stop laughing. "Oh my God! What
is that?"

Lena giggled softly. "Hang on. Let me get out of bed. Yuri is hungover like no one's

business and he's snoring like a damn bear."

"Are you sure he's okay? Maybe you should roll him onto his side or something."
"He'll be fine." Bedcovers rustled and the snore grew softer and softer. "Okay. How's

this?"

"Much better."
"I'll be lucky if I get him out of bed before noon. After you two left, he really cut loose.

I guess he decided that his duties as best man had been successfully discharged so it was
time to party like a college kid."

I had a hard time imagining Yuri partying. Like Nikolai, he always seemed so

conservative and in control.

"So…?"
A sob I hadn't wanted to unleash escaped my lips. "It was awful."
Lena inhaled a sharp breath. "Are you okay? Did he—are you hurt?"
"No. No. Nothing like that," I hurriedly clarified, lest she think the absolute worst of

Nikolai. "He didn't—I mean—well…he left."

Lena didn't say anything for a few seconds. "What do you mean he left?"
"We were making out and I was naked and it was really hot and everything was going

so well—and then he, like, freaked out and left."

"Left? Left where?"
I sniffled loudly. "I don't know. He ran out of the bedroom without even zipping his

pants. I heard the front door open and close a few times but I guess he came back while I
was sleeping."

"God, Vivi," Lena said on a noisy breath. "I don't even know what to say. Did…did

something happen while you were kissing? Maybe he couldn't…you know?"

"That wasn't the problem." I remembered the feel of his hard cock in my hand. "He

was ready to go. I was ready to go. It got a little intense and I wanted to slow it down."

"What did you say when you wanted to slow it down?"
"Wait."
"Oh. Well…maybe he thought you meant stop?"
"Maybe," I said uncertainly. "But why didn't he just ask me?"
"If I understood men, I'd be richer than Yuri by writing how-to books for us girls.

Look, Nikolai isn't the most expressive of men. Maybe he didn't know how to ask you or
maybe he wanted to cool things down to make sure you were absolutely ready."

"I married him, Lena. How much more ready does he need me to be?"

"That's a question you have to ask him. He's your husband now. Hell—maybe this is a

better question for Benny. She's got a few weeks of married woman experience. She
might have better advice."

"I guess."
Lena seemed to hesitate before asking, "What if he reacted that way last night because

of that thing that happened to him when he was a little boy?"

My heart skipped a few beats. Suddenly, I felt so damn selfish. "I hadn't even

considered that he might have issues with intimacy because of what they did to him."

"I feel like such an asshole even asking this but did he date a lot before you? I mean,

do you know if he was having regular sex with anyone?"

My stomach pitched painfully at the idea of Nikolai in another woman's arms. "I saw

him date a little when I first started working at Samovar but it's been a long, long time
since I've seen him with anyone."

"So maybe he can have sex—"
"But just not with me?" My lower lip wobbled. "What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing!" Lena passionately replied. "You're perfect and beautiful and sweet and

desirable. There's nothing wrong with you. Even if it turns out that he can't be with you
for whatever reason, it's not your fault. Okay? Whatever this is—it's not your fault."

Though Lena desperately tried to reassure me, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was

the reason our wedding night had gone so badly. As I showered and dressed, I tried to
ignore the anxiety building within me. I didn't know what the hell I was going to say or
do when I saw Nikolai downstairs. He'd probably be sweet and gentle with me and
pretend nothing had happened.

But I didn't want to pretend. I wanted to figure out what the hell had gone wrong so

we could fix the problem. I loved him and I wanted him—all of him.

I descended the stairs slowly and quietly. My heart raced and my mouth went dry.

Rather than draw out the inevitable, I decided to seek him out now. I stopped by the
library and his home office but both came up empty.

Eventually, I circled through the entire house before reaching the kitchen where I

discovered Sergei seated on a barstool at the island enjoying a cup of coffee and the
paper. He glanced up at me and smiled. "Good morning."

"Morning." I skipped the coffee and headed for the refrigerator for a can of soda. This

morning I had a craving for something fizzy and sweet.

"There's fruit and pastries." He gestured to a spread on the other end of the counter. "I

can make you some eggs or bacon, if you'd like."

"Thank you, but no." I didn't add that the only man making me breakfast the morning

after my wedding should have been my husband. Sergei obviously didn't want to be in
this uncomfortable position. I sensed he wanted to be anywhere but here this morning.
"Where is Nikolai?"

Sergei's gaze dropped to his cup of coffee. "He had to leave on business."
"Business," I repeated with disbelief.
"Yeah." Sergei nervously cleared his throat. "I'm supposed to make sure you're looked

after today. If you need to go anywhere, just ask."

"Take me to Nikolai."
"You know I can't do that."
Irritation burned me right up. "Then take me to my studio."
"But you haven't eaten," Sergei interjected.
"I'm not hungry."
"Nikolai isn't going to like hearing that I let you leave without breakfast."
"If he doesn't like it, he can take it up with me." I stormed out of the kitchen and into

the mud room where I grabbed my coat and messenger bag. As I got dressed, I started to
cry. It made me feel so weak and silly but I couldn't stop the hot tears streaming down
my cheeks.

"Sweetheart," Sergei said gently from the doorway. "Don't cry. Okay? I can't handle

the sight of a pretty girl like you crying."

I wiped at my face and refused to face him. "You'd better get used to it. I have a

feeling you're going to be seeing it a lot."

He chuckled at my melodramatic reply. "Here."
I glanced back to see him extending a napkin. "Thanks."
"Listen," he said carefully as I dabbed at my face, "if Nikolai could be here right now

he would be. Do you think he wanted to spend last night away from you?" Sergei shook
his head. "Something happened last night and he's doing what a good boss does. He's
taking care of it."

"And what about a good husband? Isn't a husband supposed to take care of his wife?"
"He's not any old husband, Vivian. He's Nikolai."
And there it was. The absolute unvarnished truth. In the hierarchy of Nikolai's world,

I ranked somewhere near the top but a few pegs lower than his loyalty to the family.

My heart ached with such bitter disappointment. Turning my back on Sergei, I

ordered, "Get your jacket. I'm ready to go."

He didn't answer immediately. When he did, it was in a voice tinged with sadness.

"Yes, ma'am."

Chapter Twenty

Nikolai recognized the dark expression on Sergei's face when he arrived at the studio

that evening. He checked his watch and grimaced. It was nearly seven. He could only
imagine how infuriated Vivian was by now. Every time he'd wanted to call her, he'd been
interrupted with something more pressing. Sorting out this mess and shoring up support
for the possible war that loomed on the horizon had taken much longer than he'd
anticipated.

"You might want to keep a table between you," Sergei suggested as he neared the

door. The loud pulsing thud of the electronic music she preferred made the walls shake.
"She's got all sorts of sharp objects within arm's reach. Chisels, knives—I'd stand back if I
were you."

Nikolai took the warning to heart. Gathering his courage, he stepped inside the studio

and locked the door behind him. This was an argument he didn't want interrupted.

"I said to stay out, Sergei!" She didn't even bother looking to see who had come in the

door. He took advantage of her turned back to scope out the surroundings. She'd spread
out drop cloths on the floor. Two canvases sat on easels. Both were in various stages of
completion. Four other painted but destroyed canvases had been haphazardly tossed
against a wall.

He walked over to the sound system and turned down the music a few notches. "Vee."
She went rigid at the sound of his voice. When she turned around, she had one of

those oddly-shaped palette knives in one hand and a paint-smeared palette in the other.
The palette could give him a good whack but it was the knife that made him worry. He'd
seen shivs less gnarly than that thing.

Glaring at him, she remarked harshly, "Well, you're braver than Sergei."
"I wouldn't go that far," he said while carefully closing the distance between them.

"I'm clearly stupider."

"Don't expect me to argue that one."
"I don't." He was certain she had a number of choice words she'd like to toss his way.

Glancing at the ruined canvases, he asked jokingly, "Is that a new technique?"

Vivian narrowed her eyes. "No, it's my latest series. I call it Stupid Girl Who Married a

Mob Boss and Expected to Matter.

" She gestured to the two canvases on her easels. "I think

I'm going to call these Bitter Disappointment and The Joys of a Wedding Breakfast Mob
Enforcer Style

."

Nikolai winced. "Point taken, Vee."
She tossed the palette and knife onto the nearest work table. She put her hands on her

hips and smeared paint on her sandy colored sweater dress. Apparently she was so pissed
off she hadn't even cared to protect her clothing with an apron. "Where the hell have you
been?"

He inhaled a noisy breath and rubbed the back of his neck. He started to question his

decision to forego the smoke he'd wanted so badly. Right now, he could have used the

mellowed out nerves because it was clear she wanted to fight. "It's complicated."

"Then make time to explain it."
"I can't, Vee."
"Bullshit. We're married now." She lifted her hand and touched her wedding band.

"We're supposed to be partners. Do you think Dimitri keeps things from Benny? Do you
think he goes all day without calling her?"

He bristled at the comparison. "We're two different men in two different marriages."
She grabbed a marker and a piece of paper, slammed them down on the table and

shoved them toward him. "You may as well go ahead and write out the rules of our
marriage because I clearly missed that memo."

Part of him wanted to embrace the smartass role and start scribbling away on that

sheet of blank paper. Maybe it would be simpler to put it all on the line right now. The
pain darkening those beautiful blue eyes of hers pushed that thought right out of his
head. Desperate to make things right, he moved around the table to stand in front of her.
"Vee…"

"Don’t." She put her hands on his chest to keep him from kissing her. "You just…you

left me."

The anguish coloring her voice slashed at him. She wasn't simply talking about the

way he'd abruptly ended their wedding night. It occurred to him that all her life the
people she cared for and loved had been walking out on her or leaving her behind. Her
mother committed suicide. Her father went to prison. Her grandparents had both died.

And he'd walked out on their wedding night without even explaining himself. He'd

gone all day without talking to her. He could only imagine how abandoned she felt.

Touching his forehead to hers, he whispered, "I'm sorry. I should have called you or

left you a note or woken you up to talk to you."

"What happened last night?"
He wasn't ready to discuss what had happened in their bed just yet. Voice lowered, he

explained, "Someone dropped the bodies of the men who attacked us at Samovar."

Vivian reeled back with horror. "What?"
He nodded. "I've been trying to deal with that all night and today. There might be a

war."

Her face paled. "No."
"I don't like telling you this. I wanted to keep it from you. I wish I could make it all go

away but I can't. You're right. You need to know."

"Who, Nikolai? Who is trying to hurt you? Who wants to hurt us?"
"I think it might be the boss."
"Maksim?"
He wasn't surprised she knew his name. As much as she snooped around Samovar,

she probably knew so much more than he'd ever imagined. "Yes."

"Oh, God." She touched his jaw. "What do we do?"
We

. Even faced with such horror, she wanted to stand by and support him. She was

right. They were married now and truly partners. To navigate these tricky waters, he
could use a sounding board. Vee didn't understand all the subtle nuances of his world,

but she was a quick learner and she had a keen awareness when it came to relationships
between people.

"Sit up here." He patted the worktable's surface. Vivian backed up to it, placed her

palms on the stainless steel top and hopped up onto it. He pulled one of the stools over
and sat.

With her legs draped around his waist, she rested her hands on his shoulders. "Tell

me."

"I'm making plans, shifting some alliances. Lorenzo Guzman got his first shipment

from the Irishman a few nights ago. It went well so he needs me alive. He knows the
Irishman won't trade with him if I'm not in the picture. He doesn't want someone like
Maksim running in this area anyway. They're both too big and it would never work."

"What if Maksim offers the smaller players in town a better deal? Like the Albanians

and the Hermanos or those crazy white guys who hate on everyone?"

Maybe she wasn't as uneducated in the nuances of his world as he'd imagined. "If he

makes a move, it will fail. People don't like change and that's especially true in this line of
work. We all trade on trust and reputation. The Moscow syndicate has a reputation for
being greedy and violent. No one wants that shit here."

His eyes lowered as her soft fingers moved down his cheek and along his jaw. "What

do I need to do?"

"I need you to be safe. Stick with Sergei and Danny. Keep your eyes open. If anything

seems strange, you run."

"I promise I'll be really careful."
"I know you will." He hated scaring her and tried to lessen the ugliness of all that he'd

just unloaded on her by clasping her face and claiming her sweet mouth. Judging by the
sugary chocolate hints clinging to her lips, she'd been eating junk food all afternoon.
When their kiss ended, he glanced around the room and found her stash of empty
wrappers on the other worktable. "How much sugar have you eaten today?"

"Well…" She toyed with one of his shirt buttons. "I was upset and Sergei kept pushing

those boxes through the door. I sort of lost track around my fourth cupcake."

Nikolai frowned at the closed door. When they were done here, he was going to have

a talk with Sergei. He didn't mind his men spoiling Vivian—God only knew that he did—
but giving her Type II Diabetes by twenty-five wasn't in anyone's best interests. "You
need to eat a real meal."

"Later," she said and gripped his waist with her legs. She dropped her gaze to her lap

with embarrassment and shame. "You're not leaving until you tell me what I did wrong
last night."

Nikolai ducked his head and tilted her chin until their gazes met. Peering into her

eyes, he asked, "What you did wrong? Vivian, you didn’t do anything wrong. I'm the one
who fucked it all up."

"What do you mean?"
"I scared you. I got too intense. You asked me to stop."
"I didn't ask you to stop. I asked you to wait. I just…I wanted to take a little more time

to enjoy it all."

Nikolai blinked. Had he misread her that badly? "Shit. Vee—I thought I'd broken your

trust in me or terrified you by behaving like an animal."

"Well, I thought maybe you were having problems because of…" She hesitated and

nervously chewed her lip. "Because of what happened to you when you were little."

The shock of hearing her mention his molestation nearly knocked him off the stool.

He'd suspected that Lena might have let her read that threatening letter that had been
left on the yacht but this was the first time he'd had it confirmed. The next time he saw
Yuri he was going to kick him right in the fucking balls for not warning him and allowing
him to be blindsided.

Unable to bear her curious stare, Nikolai pushed aside her legs and slid off the stool.

He turned his back toward her and tried to get a grip on his wildly vacillating emotions.
Shame and humiliation soured his gut while the strangest sense of freedom invaded his
chest. It was one less secret between them.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
Not wanting her to feel guilty, he turned to face her. Already two shiny rivers dripped

down her cheeks. He shoved aside the stool and wrapped his arms around her. "Vee, it's
fine. I'm glad it's out."

She burrowed closer. "I wanted to tell you so many times but I didn't know how to

bring it up. Lena sent me a picture of that letter. I read it, and I told her to destroy the
photo and the letter. I knew you wouldn't want anyone to know."

As he caressed her back, he realized that she'd known for months. Not once had she

treated him any differently. "It doesn't disgust you?"

She pulled back and stared up at him with disbelief. "Why would you ask me that? I

fucking love you. All of you. What someone did to you when you were little doesn't
make you less worthy of being loved, and it sure as hell doesn't give people the right to
ridicule or ostracize you."

He didn't know if she'd ever declared her love for him so stridently. Swallowing the

knot clogging his throat, he admitted, "I find it difficult to be touched by most people. I
don't mind when Yuri, Ivan or Dimitri do it."

"And me?"
He kissed the tip of her nose. "I crave your touch."
"If you need time, I'm really good at waiting."
He chortled with amusement. "Vee, I think we've waited long enough." He brushed

the long strands of hair framing her face behind her ear and wiped the tears from her
face. "Don't cry for me. Not over this. I survived—and I refused to let those monsters have
any power over me."

"So last night…"
"Last night was all me. I had it all so perfectly planned, but you came in there and you

were so fucking sexy. Once I had my hands on you, my brain short-circuited. I had to
have you. I couldn't wait." His jaw clenched at the memory of her hands stroking his
cock. "I wanted to make love to you—but I'm not sure I know how."

Vivian's eyes widened with confusion. "But you've had sex—"
"I've had plenty of sex," he interrupted. "It's not the same. I've only ever fucked a

woman. That's not what I want with you. Before you, it was always about the quickest
way to find release. It was rough and dirty and hard. I don't want that with you. I want it
to mean something."

She gulped and licked her lips. "Well, you know, maybe someday we could try it that

way? Because that actually sounds really hot."

Nikolai laughed and was glad for the moment of levity. "I'm sure we will."
She gripped his hands. "Look, I guess, in a way, we're both virgins."
His lips twitched with amusement at the very thought of being considered pure or

inexperienced. "You might say that."

"So we just…we take it slow." With a mischievous grin, she added, "And even if you

totally screw it up, I won't know right? What else do I have to compare it to, Kolya?"

He snorted with amusement. "You really know how to encourage a man."
She brushed her silken pout against his mouth. "Just shut up and kiss me already."
As he captured her mouth, Nikolai doubted this was going to end with one simple

kiss.

*

There was no way this was ending with one kiss. I might be the inexperienced one in

our marriage but I knew what I wanted—and I was getting it. Right now. Right here.

When his tongue delved between my lips, I pushed his jacket off his shoulders. He

shrugged out of it and tossed it aside, narrowly missing the wet paint on the palette. I
had a feeling he didn’t care if he ruined it.

"Wait," Nikolai said with a surprised laugh as I started yanking on his tie. "Here?"
"Here." I jerked his tie free and let it fall to the floor. "Who knows when we'll get

another chance?"

My question seemed to win him over. While he claimed me with a demanding kiss,

Nikolai toed off his shoes and started unbuttoning his shirt. I ran my hands along his
exposed chest, careful of the still healing wound in his shoulder, and shoved the shirt off
his body. As it fluttered to the floor, Nikolai grasped the bottom of my dress and tugged
it toward my waist. "Lift your bottom."

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I hurriedly complied with his order and soon sat in

just my undies and the tights I'd worn to keep my legs warm. They didn't stand much of
a chance with Nikolai. In four quick jerks, he divested me of the dark tights. My bra took
him all of five seconds to remove. Only my panties remained.

Nikolai glanced around the room. I could tell he was looking for a suitable place to

ravish me. Finally, he settled on the drop cloth. Picking me up, he said, "It won't be the
most comfortable spot."

"I don't care." I really didn't. I was on fire now. My whole body burned with desire.

"The door?"

Nikolai took me down to the floor and kneeled at my feet. "It's locked. We're safe."
From prying eyes maybe but from the shadowy threats against us? Never.
Refusing to think about the nightmare that awaited us, I grasped his belt. "Take this

off. I want to feel you again. All of you."

His sexy grin made me shiver with anticipation. Nikolai stood up just long enough to

unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants before shoving them down his legs. He stepped out
of them and discarded them in the growing pile of clothing on the edge of the drop cloth.

Leaning back on my hands, I watched him strip out of his black boxer briefs. I couldn't

believe he had even more tattoos hidden beneath the dark cotton. His thighs were
marked with prison symbols and the ink trophies of robberies done right.

But it was his stiff cock that really held my attention. I didn't have anything to

compare it to other than the few dirty movies Lena and Erin had dared me to watch over
the years. Straight off, I could tell that he was uncut and different than most of the guys
I'd seen in those porn flicks. Long and thick, his erection promised to be a difficult
obstacle for this first time.

As if sensing my fear, he promised, "We'll go slowly. Very, very slowly."
Like a sleek jungle cat, he lowered himself to the drop cloth and crawled toward me. I

giggled like crazy as he peppered ticklish kisses up my thighs and across my hips. When
he encountered the first scar from the night he'd shot me, he faltered. I lifted my head to
watch him. There was no mistaking the guilt marring his handsome face.

He reverently kissed the three puckered scars dotting my belly and chest. In between

each kiss, he whispered sweetly to me in Russian, calling me his love, his sweetheart, his
sun. I closed my eyes and relished the feel of his mouth on my naked skin.

Though this was nothing like the way I'd imagined my first time, I knew this was the

way it was always supposed to be. There weren't any candles or rose petals or fluffy
white bedding but I didn’t need any of that. I just needed Nikolai.

As he made love to my mouth, I sifted my fingers through his thick hair. He palmed

my breasts and masterfully played with my nipples. Each tweak and tug made me gasp
and arch into him. My breasts felt so heavy, and the ruddy, swollen peaks practically
buzzed. Nikolai soothed the rawness of his slightly rough play with his wicked tongue.

"Kolya…" His name left my lips on a pleasured sigh.
The hand that had been sensually tormenting my breasts slowly glided down the front

of my body, riding the sloping curve of my belly to the vee between my thighs. His
smoky gaze held mine as he lightly petted my bare sex. My heart beat so hard and fast I
could hardly hear anything but the whoosh of blood against my eardrums.

Overcome with heat and the slightest panic of embarrassment, I buried my face

against his neck as Nikolai gently explored my secret place. He was so incredibly careful
as he parted the delicate folds to reveal my clit. Already that tiny pink pearl throbbed
incessantly.

"Can you tell me what feels good?"
I squeaked nervously. The thought of voicing the way his fingers felt as they circled

my clit was too much.

"Look at me," he ordered gruffly. He softened the harsh edge of his voice with a

tender kiss. "If you can't tell me, then show me. Let me see your face."

When he spoke so commandingly to me, there was no refusing him. I clutched his

sides but didn't break our intense gaze. Surrendering to my husband, I lost myself in the

strength of his embrace and the love reflected in his eyes. His fingertips swirled around
my clitoris, massaging the bud with the lightest pressure.

As he nibbled my lower lip and touched his tongue to mine, Nikolai slid his fingers a

bit lower. He gathered some of the slick nectar seeping from my core and used his slicked
fingers to change up the sensation. I whimpered and gripped him tighter. My core
wobbled violently as bright white frissons unfurled deep inside me. My thighs flexed as I
chased the wicked sensations he evoked just by rubbing my clitoris and kissing me dizzy.

Our mouths were separated by mere millimeters. We shared each other's breaths. His

were relaxed and calm but mine had grown shuddery and almost panicked. He gazed
down at me with such wonder and affection. It was if I was the most beautiful and
precious thing he'd ever seen.

His fingertips circled with more pressure and at a faster speed. Even if I'd wanted to

hold back, there was no way to stop my impending climax. Blissful bursts rocked my
core. Head thrown back, I rode the rapturous waves. "Nikolai!"

"Vee." He bent down to lock his lips along the curved and exposed edge of my throat. I

cried out with surprise as he bit down slightly, marking me as his. The sharp pinch
accentuated the delicious trembling emanating from deep within me.

As my climax began to fade, Nikolai shifted until he was on top of me. He drove me

crazy with punishing kisses, the kind that left my lips swollen and my toes curling with
delight. The fingers that had been massaging me into heaven slid lower and penetrated
me ever so carefully.

"Is this all right?" Nikolai gazed down at me with such concern in his eyes. "Tell me if

it's too much."

"Don't stop," I begged, loving every second of his two fingers spearing me. He worked

them into me so gently, just an inch or so before retreating. As he prepared me for his
hard cock, Nikolai savored my mouth. When his thumb started to rub my clit, I nearly
died. "Oh God!"

He chuckled. "Not quite."
I laughed but his hand felt so damn good that it turned into a low moan. "Nikolai,

please…"

"Tell me what you want, Vee."
"I…I don't know what I want."
"I know what I want." He suckled my nipple while his fingers penetrated me again

and again. Breathing heavily, he admitted, "You're even wetter and tighter than I'd
imagined. I've dreamed about this, about burying my cock in your pussy. I imagined the
way it would feel to sink into you again and again, to feel you gripping me like a fist and
milking my cum."

My pussy fluttered around his thrusting fingers as he described all the dirty things he

wanted to do to me. "Ah!"

He nipped at my breast. "Do you want me to take you now?"
"Yes." I was ready. I wanted him inside me so badly I could taste it. "Yes."
Nikolai planted a hand next to my head before widening my thighs by moving

between them. I shook now that the moment was upon me. In a few short moments, I'd

know all the secrets of womanhood. In a few short moments, I'd discover what it meant
to share something so incredibly intimate with the man I loved.

The evidence of my excitement left his fingers shiny as he removed them from me.

Gripping the base of his erection, Nikolai lined up our bodies. Without his digits deep
inside me, I felt so empty and ached for him to fill me again. I wrapped my legs around
his hips and caressed his chest. "I need you."

Covering me with his bigger, leaner body, Nikolai captured my mouth and thrust

forward. There was nothing easy or gentle about the thrust that impaled me. I cried out
as he pierced me and sank deep inside my virgin passage. My body protested the sudden
invasion of his long, thick shaft but Nikolai pushed forward until he was fully sheathed
inside me.

"Forgive me," he murmured, his voice pained. Kissing me lovingly, Nikolai didn't

move. He held perfectly still so I could acclimate to the strange sensation of being
stretched around his thick cock. Sweetly and softly, he whispered to me in Russian and
told me how much he loved me.

When his tongue tangled with mine, I began to relax. The throbbing down there

started to lessen. I concentrated on the way his rough palms felt gliding over my breasts
and stroking my arms.

As our kisses grew more heated and sensual, Nikolai moved experimentally. I hissed

the first time, the burning stretch still too much for me to enjoy, but Nikolai tried again
and again. He trailed his fingertips down my face as he pulled back until just the very tip
of him remained buried inside me. When he pushed forward again, I gasped and clawed
at his back.

"Soon," he promised. "It will feel good soon."
With each slow, gentle stroke, he gathered more of my wetness on his cock and eased

the sliding thrusts. I moaned as the wicked sensation of his cock gliding in and out of me
left me trembling. "Yes."

Nikolai moved deliberately, his strokes long and deep and unhurried. He slipped his

fingers between our bodies and found my clit. He touched the super-sensitive pearl, and I
gasped and twisted away from him. Gripping his wrist, I panted, "No, it's too much."

"Sh," he hushed gently. "Let me."
I held tight to his wrist but didn't stop him as he framed my swollen clitoris between

his fingers and began to gently rub it. The intense, nearly overwhelming feeling began to
fade. Suddenly, it felt really, really good. "Kolya!" I arched into him thrusts. "Don't stop.
Please. Please."

I wanted to come again so badly. I wanted to experience a climax with him inside me,

stroking all the right places. My body began to rhythmically clench him, squeezing his
rock-hard shaft to wring every last ounce of pleasure from his thrusting cock. "Oh. Oh!"

"Da." He swallowed my passionate cries with ravenous kisses. "Da."
He seemed impossibly harder and longer now as his thrusts grew faster and rougher. I

scratched at his back and chased the promise of ecstasy that was just beyond my reach.
Nikolai shifted the angle of penetration—and I shot off like a rocket.

"Kolya!" His name echoed off the ceiling and walls but neither one of us cared. We

were lost in the wondrous ecstasy of our first coupling. Rocking together and clutching,
we enjoyed the wickedly sinful sensations of a shared climax.

A few seconds after I exploded with pure bliss, Nikolai followed me over the edge. He

slammed deep inside me and jerked roughly as his blazing seed seared me. "Vee," he
whispered with such awe. "Vee."

For a long time, neither of us dared to move. We shuddered in each other's embrace,

content to share the rippling aftershocks. With a loud, satisfied groan, Nikolai fell off me
and rolled onto his back. He dragged me into his arms and cradled me tightly to his chest.
"God, Vee, that was good. So good." He caressed my back. "Are you all right? Did I hurt
you badly?"

"You didn't hurt me—and it was amazing." I had tears in my eyes as the wonder of it

all consumed me. That was so incredibly worth the wait.

"Thank you," he whispered.
"For what?"
"Sharing this with me." He sifted his fingers through my hair but stopped abruptly.

"You have paint in your hair," Nikolai said with a laugh.

"Do I?" I reached up to touch the area he played with and encountered the tacky

wetness. "Great."

Nikolai kissed my forehead. "Purple streaks are a good look on you."
"Uh-huh."
"Better you than me."
"You've probably got paint all over your back by now."
He grunted. "As if you could tell with all the ink covering me."
"That's a good point."
He slid down a little and rolled onto his side so he could peer into my eyes. "I truly am

sorry about last night. Can we start over? Wipe the slate clean?"

I pushed up onto my elbow and traced one of the prison tattoos on his neck. "Yes."
"I don't know that we can ever be partners in the way Dimitri and Benny are but I can

try to let you in more. There are some things I can't—shouldn't—tell you."

"I understand that. Frankly, there are probably things I don't want to know. Just don't

shut me out like you did today."

Nikolai ran his finger over my lower lip. "I won't. I need you now." He kissed me

lovingly. "More than ever."

Chapter Twenty-One

A few hours later, Nikolai made his final tour of the house before heading upstairs to

join Vivian in bed. He deliberately took his time because he wanted to draw out the
anticipation of making love to her again. He hadn't been able to wipe the smile off his
face since they'd emerged from her studio. Their first day as a married couple might have
started off on the wrong foot but it was ending on the right one.

He ducked into the library to survey the piles of wedding gifts. They'd been arriving

for days preceding the wedding and this afternoon he'd had his men bring the remainder
over from Faze. He ran his hands over the colorfully wrapped boxes and thick envelopes.
He didn't much care for the custom of giving such ostentatious gifts to men in his
position but he understood it was a matter of respect.

A bulky wrapped object in the far corner caught his eye. Even from this distance, he

could tell it was a painting. He assumed it was a gift from Yuri because he shared Vivian's
love for art but one glance at the card attached to the gift disabused him of that notion.
His jaw clenched at the sight of boldly scrawled message from Niels Mikkelsen.

Bright stars for the next bright star ~ Niels
He didn't even want to know what obscenely expensive painting the billionaire Dane

had given Vivian as a wedding gift. As he debated whether or not to tear the wrapping
paper for a peek, his cell phone began to ring. He fished it out of his pocket and
answered. "Yes?"

"I'm not interrupting the newlyweds?" Yuri's amusement carried through loud and

clear.

"Not yet," Nikolai replied. "Listen, you need to tell that Danish bastard you hang

around to watch his step."

"Niels?" Yuri sighed loudly. "What has he done now?"
"He sent Vivian a painting as a wedding gift."
"Which painting?"
"I haven't opened it yet."
"He hasn’t stopped talking about Vivian's talent since he met her. Knowing his

collection, it's probably a very rare piece." Yuri hesitated. "Don't do anything stupid with
it."

Nikolai glowered at his reflection in the mirror. "I'm not that petty. I don't trust his

motives but that doesn't mean Vivian shouldn't keep and enjoy the painting."

"You're going to need insurance on it. Once Vivian takes a look, have her call me and

I'll send her the name of the agent I use. But, listen, I didn't call to talk business. I've been
thinking about those papers the deacon gave you yesterday."

Nikolai's gut clenched. "What about them?"
"Do you remember the night someone tried to kill Lena by shooting at her in my

backyard?"

It was a phone call he would never forget. "Of course."

"We always assumed it was Jake. We figured that somehow he'd managed to set up a

remotely fired weapon. The shots taken at Lena were too close for comfort but they
weren't the types of shots you'd expect from an expert marksman."

Nikolai remembered Dimitri's theories that they'd all dismissed as something that

belonged in the pages of Ivan's favorite thriller novels. "Where would Jake have gotten a
gun like that?"

"I've been asking myself that same question. There was so much more about that case

that didn’t make sense. There were too many holes in the story for me so I hired a private
investigator back in Moscow."

"And?"
"And he called me earlier to tell me was dropping the case and to never contact him

again. He sounded like he was about to disappear one me."

"Why?"
"Well, I asked him to email me everything he'd compiled on Katya and Jake so far. He

agreed but only if I wired him more money." Yuri sighed. "I'm looking at the file and
there's one name that keeps popping up again and again."

"Maksim?"
"Grisha."
Nikolai blinked. "Grisha?"
"Yes. He was meeting with her for years. They had an apartment and everything. I

don’t know if they were lovers but they were definitely digging around in our pasts.
There are files here for Ivan and Dimitri and you. She even had dossiers on Erin, Lena,
Benny and Vivian in that apartment. They're extensive. He was making huge payments
to Jake but I don't think Jake was pocketing the cash. It looks like he was withdrawing it
and paying it to someone else. There are notations about consulting fees…"

"Consulting fees?" A suspicion formed. "What was Jake's last name?"
"Peterson."
And suddenly everything became clear. "The girls. My contact told me that a man

who called himself J.P. made the payments and arrangements."

Yuri made a gasping sound. "No. It's not possible. Jake was a lot of things but he

wasn’t cruel enough to traffic young girls."

"He probably didn’t know. I'm sure Katya or Grisha convinced him that he was paying

freight for something less sinister." Nikolai scratched the top of his head as his mind
raced. "My contact told me that the payment and the handling changed a few months ago
when J.P. was shot. That would have been around the time Jake died."

Yuri swore nastily. "I can't believe this. I can't." He exhaled roughly. "Grisha's level of

obsession with us is insane. These files are frightening. And my investigator made
notations of Grisha's increasing dependence on drugs. I'm very concerned."

"You should be." As a Moscow captain, Grisha wielded immense power. For some

reason Nikolai didn't quite understand, Grisha had decided that he wanted to put him six
feet underground. None of it made sense. Grisha was the heir apparent to the family.
There was nothing Nikolai had that Grisha could possibly want badly enough to kill him
and hurt his friends.

Unless…
Nikolai thought of the birth certificate the priest back in Russia had unearthed and

sent to Houston. Was that the reason for all of this?

"There's something else you should know," Yuri said. "I called in some pretty big

favors and had Grisha's travel movements for the last year compiled. He was in the States
when Vivian was taken and you were attacked."

Nikolai's stomach churned. Was Grisha the man who had held a gun to her temple

and then set the building on fire to burn her alive?

"And he's here now."
Nikolai went rigid as that piece of information registered. He gripped the drapes and

quickly pulled them closed. The night of Vivian's rescue came to mind. Grisha had known
Vivian was in his bed. At the time, he'd assumed Kostya had let it slip but now he
wondered if he was under surveillance.

"You should take Lena and get out of town. Call Ivan and Dimitri. Tell them to get out

for a while or be very careful. No one can be trusted."

"What are you going to do?" Fear edged into Yuri's voice.
"I'm going to protect my family."

* * *

I'd already showered and slipped into a nightgown by the time Nikolai finally made it

upstairs. He wore an intense expression and my belly trembled at the very sight of it. I
had a feeling he'd gotten some bad news. "Is everything okay?"

He dragged me into his arms and kissed the top of my head. "Let me shower. Then

we'll talk."

"Okay." I reluctantly allowed him to slip from my embrace. Once the bathroom door

was closed, I glanced around the room for something to do. My gaze settled on Nikolai's
jacket and shirt. A frosting stain on the elbow of his jacket made me smile. No doubt he'd
bumped into someone at the reception while talking or taking a picture.

I grabbed one of the sturdy wooden hangers from Nikolai's closet and draped his

jacket and shirt over it. As I brushed some lint from the front of the jacket, I heard
crinkling papers. Curious, I stuck my hand into the pocket hidden along the front panel
and retrieved a stack of folded documents. I quickly recognized them as our church
paperwork.

The sight of Nikolai's birth certificate surprised me. We'd been certain it would be

impossible to locate but apparently that priest Ivan had kept in touch with had been able
to find it. I scanned the Russian document for the relevant details. His mother's name had
been Marina—and she was only sixteen when he was born.

But it was the name of his father that made my knees weak. I flopped down on the

bed and stared at the name in shock and disbelief. Maksim Nikolayevich Prokhorov—the
boss of Moscow—was Nikolai's father.

Before I could even finish processing my discovery, Nikolai emerged from the

bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He froze the moment he spotted

me reading the birth certificate. I expected him to be upset but a look of utter relief
flashed across his face.

"How long have you known?"
Nikolai sighed and crossed the room to sit beside me. "I found out right before the

wedding."

I grabbed his hand. "That's terrible. Why would Father Semyon blindside you like

that?"

"It wasn't the priest. It was his deacon."
I rolled my eyes. "Of course."
"I don't think Maksim knows that I know."
"He's never said anything to you? Not once?"
Nikolai shook his head. "It's not as if he treated me any differently than the other men.

Maybe he doesn't even know."

"I doubt that very much." I gave the papers a shake. "Do you think a man as powerful

as Maksim would allow a sixteen-year-old girl to put his name on a birth certificate
without his knowledge? Things might have been different over there when you were
born but they weren't that different. Besides, you have your grandfather's name."

He ran his finger over the faded type. "I don't think he knew about me when I was

little. If he'd known, he wouldn't have ever abandoned me to an orphanage. Even a mob
boss' illegitimate children are looked after properly."

I thought of all the things he'd suffered and it made me sick. "I'm so sorry, Kolya."
He kissed my cheek. "It's done. I can't go back and change anything. I can only move

forward."

"Earlier, you said you thought Maksim was trying to move against you. He's your

father, Nikolai. Would he really do that?"

"I was wrong," Nikolai admitted. "Yuri called with some information that's changed

everything. I don't think it's Maksim. I think it's Grisha."

Grisha. Gregori Vostrikova, a notorious captain of the Moscow syndicate. I'd heard his

name whispered in hushed tones. The tales of his violent outbursts were the stuff of
legends.

Bile rose in my throat as I remembered my time in that dog cage. "Nikolai, does Grisha

smell like cloves?"

Nikolai went ramrod straight. He grasped my shoulders and turned me to face him.

Searching my face, he asked, "Why? When did you smell cloves?"

"The man who would come into the room and poked at my cage smelled like cloves.

He was the one who shot the guards and put that gun to my head." I rubbed my temple.

"You didn't say anything before this. Why?"
"I didn't think it mattered. It was just a smell."
Nikolai's eyes briefly closed. "He's smoked clove cigarettes as long as I've known him.

It's a scent that follows him everywhere."

"I'm sorry. I should have mentioned it."
"Don't," he whispered and pulled me into his strong arms. "You were traumatized. It's

normal to forget small details."

"What does Grisha have against you, Nikolai?"
"He was always jealous of me." Nikolai threaded his fingers through my hair. "Ivan

and I were sponsored in the family by him. He always expected us to be his happy little
soldiers, but after a few years working directly under him, I knew I couldn't handle it
much longer. He was too violent, too grisly. He was constantly dipping into the product
he moved on the streets. It made him erratic. Eventually, Maksim broke me out into my
own crew. I took Kostya and Ivan with me. We had a successful run in Moscow."

"But?"
"But then the rumors started," he said with some frustration. "People began to ask me

if I was really intending to make a go of my own organization. I couldn't believe it. I'd
never wanted to break away from the family. I was happy with my small crew and our
small but profitable jobs."

"Do you think it was Grisha?" It sounded like a sneaky thing he would do.
"I never would have suspected him at the time. He was always such a good friend."

Nikolai laughed harshly. "Now, I realize he was trying to keep me close so he could
watch me better."

"What happened after the rumors started?"
"Maksim called me in for a private meeting. He asked me not to go against him and I

swore I had no intention of doing that. Then he offered me Houston. He wanted to
expand the family, and he wanted me to come here and see if I could make any inroads.
Now I'm wondering if he wasn't trying to save my life by getting me out of Grisha's
crosshairs."

"But Grisha hired my dad to kill you." The awful truth struck me finally. "And I went

with him."

Nikolai's embrace tightened. "You didn’t know. You were so young."
"Now my dad is out and I bet you he's rattling Grisha's chain."
"I'm sure of it," Nikolai agreed. "Grisha is trying to clean up loose ends before the old

man finds out what he's been up to around here, trafficking those girls and trying to kill
me and taking you."

"What are you going to do?" I had a bad feeling that things were about to get very

violent, very fast.

"What am I going to do?" The grim line of his mouth curved to a devilishly sexy grin.

He playfully walked his finger up my thigh to the hem of my short nightgown. "I'm
going to make love to my gorgeous wife. How does that sound?"

He was trying to shield me from the ugly details of what was probably going to

happen. I shouldn't have given in so easily but the ticklish sensation of his hand inching
along my inner thigh made it impossible for me to stand my ground—and he knew it.

Giggling, I fell back to the bed. In an instant, Nikolai was on top of me. He kissed

away my worries, stabbing his tongue between my lips and twirling it around mine. His
hand snaked under my night dress to cup my breast. I ran my hands down his back and
enjoyed his rippling, lean physique.

The towel he wore fell open. Not breaking away from my mouth, Nikolai gave it a

jerk to free it from the spot where it was trapped between our hips and threw it to the

floor. My nightgown quickly followed the towel.

Naked beneath him, I gazed up into his eyes. The all-consuming love for me burning

there made me tremble. Desperate for him to know I felt the same way, I rose up to press
my mouth to his. "I love you so much. Whatever happens—"

"We'll figure it out…together." He sealed his vow with a kiss. "You and me, Vee.

Forever."

I swore then and there I'd do whatever it took to make sure that happened. I wasn't as

well-connected or street smart at Nikolai but I wasn't going to let that stop me. Just as
he'd do anything for me, I would do anything for him.

Nikolai's hand swept down my belly and dragged me from my troubled thoughts. He

pushed my thighs open and petted my pussy. He dotted my breasts with noisy kisses.
"Are you sore?"

The question made my face flame with embarrassment but I answered honestly. "A

little."

He lifted his head and smiled at me. "Let me try something."
I expected him to slide out of bed and offer me some ibuprofen but instead he nibbled

and kissed his way down my body and slid to the floor. When he dragged my bottom to
the very edge of the bed and shoved my thighs apart, I gasped and tried to close them but
his strong hands held me in place. "What are you doing?"

He chuckled and shot me an amused smile. "I'm going to kiss it and make it better."
"You're what? No, I don't think—Oh God!" I cried out with delighted shock as he

placed a tender kiss right on top of my clitoris. He gently parted my delicate folds and
swiped the pointed tip of his tongue along both sides of me. "Oh!"

"Hold still," he urged with a laugh. "You're about to wiggle right off the bed."
"I don’t think I can." I moaned loudly as his tongue fluttered over the swollen kernel

hidden there. "Oh, Nikolai. Nikolai…wait…I can't…"

"You can." He ended my protests by suckling my clit with long, slow tugs. My hips

shot off the bed but his tight grip on my thighs prevented me from getting very far. He
licked and lapped at my pussy like a starving man.

I clawed at the bed as his tongue circled and fluttered and dipped inside me. I'd never

imagined anything could feel like this. When my friends had described the techniques
their men used, I'd always been uncertain whether I'd want to have a man do this to me
—but now? Oh God. I never wanted Nikolai to stop.

"Please. Please…" I begged him without even knowing what I really wanted. He

seemed to understand. That skilled tongue of his drove me straight to orgasm. I bucked
wildly as he suckled and flicked my clit and elicited the most wondrous explosions in my
lower belly. "Nikolai!"

He made an excited sound as he continued to drive me crazy with that wicked mouth

of his. It seemed one climax wasn't enough for him—and I wasn’t about to ask him to
stop. It felt so good. I surrendered then, giving him total control as he went wild between
my thighs and made me come again and again and again.

When he finally had mercy on me, I threw my arm over my eyes and tried to regain

my breath. My head pounded and my belly trembled. My clit vibrated and I didn't know

if I'd ever come down from the euphoric high he'd given me.

Nikolai kissed his way back up my body. He spent a few minutes just enjoying my

breasts before he dragged my arm out of the way to gaze down at me. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." I'm sure I wore the dopiest, sappiest smile ever. "That was amazing."
He grinned before dropping a slow, easy kiss on my mouth. The intimacy of smelling

my arousal on him shook me to the very core. "I though you would enjoy it."

"Enjoy it?" I brushed my knuckles against his jaw. "You nearly killed me."
"That's probably why the French call orgasms the little death." He slid down beside me

and hooked his leg over mine.

"Probably," I agreed and rolled on my side to face him. The throbbing between my

thighs had eased some but I was still so sensitive that the slightest movements sent
delicious ripples right through my belly.

Curious, I explored his body. My fingers traced his tattoos and scars. The feel of his

warm skin beneath my palms emboldened me to kiss his jaw and neck. Wondering if
men were as sensitive as women, I flicked my tongue against his nipple. His hiss of
surprise spurred me on in my little experiment. I swirled my tongue over the dark disc
before grazing my teeth over it.

His cock jumped against my thigh. Apparently, he enjoyed that as much as I did.

Glancing down at his rigid shaft, I noticed the glistening drops leaking from the very tip.
Unable to stop myself, I gathered the slick wetness with my fingertips and brought it to
my mouth.

Nikolai swore harshly as he watched me lick his pre-cum from my fingers. He gently

clasped my wrist. "You don't have to do that, Vee. I don't expect—"

"I want to," I said, dying to try it. "I want to make you feel good."
"This makes me feel good." He gestured to our tangled position. "Don't ever feel like

you have to do things for me. You don't."

His willingness to put his satisfaction and pleasure last filled me with such love.

Pushing him onto his back, I straddled his thighs and bent down to kiss him. "And what
if I told you that I used to fantasize about this?"

His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. "Tell me."
Despite my embarrassment, I found the courage to confess, "I used to fantasize about

you calling me into your office at Samovar so you could give me an award for being the
highest-rated and most requested waitress."

He chuckled. "Go on."
I wrapped my fingers around his erection and stroked him slowly. "When I'd come

into the room, you'd close and lock the door and tell me to wait by your desk. Then you'd
tell me that you wanted to see if I really was committed to the being the best server in the
house."

He breathed heavier. "And then what would happen?"
"And then you'd tell me to kneel while you unzipped your pants." My tummy

clenched with excitement and my heart raced as I told him all about the dirty stories I'd
imagined with us in the starring roles. "You would tell me that it was time for my first
test and that if I was really good I'd get a gold star."

Nikolai's eyes flashed with lust. "I'd be a lying bastard if I said I never entertained

similar ideas. It was one of the reasons I rarely called you into my office and why I always
kept the door wide open. You tempted me so much. I didn’t trust myself."

I ran my fingers up and down the length of him. "I trust you."
Nikolai wrapped his hand around mine and guided it up and down his steely shaft.

"Tell me what you want, Vee."

I licked my lips. "I want to suck you."
His mouth slanted with a sensual grin. "Then I guess it's time for your first lesson…"

Chapter Twenty-Two

Nikolai woke to the ticklish sensation of Vivian's soft hand gliding along his ribs. She

nestled her face against the crook of his neck while she explored his chest. He inhaled a
slow breath and stretched his arms overhead.

"Morning," she said sweetly.
"Good morning." He didn't know that he'd ever been happier than in that moment of

waking with Vivian—his wife—in his arms. Content to let her caress his body, he flexed
his calves and toes and enjoyed the way her delicate fingers moved across his skin. When
her hand dipped below the sheet, he grinned. She seemed to be shedding some of her
shyness. Wanting to encourage her boldness, he reached down to guide her hand right to
his cock.

She giggled softly but followed his silent order. He bit back a groan as she stroked his

cock. "Are you always hard like this in the morning?"

He found her question amusing. "Da."
"Oh." She sounded rather excited. "Does that mean we get to make love every

morning?"

Her playful remark reminded him of their age difference. Her joke about him trying

to kill her with pleasure last when he'd been savoring that sweet pussy of hers seemed a
more likely outcome for him. He'd be forty soon—with a young, delectable, insatiable
wife. Giving up the cigarettes and getting into the gym sounded like a damn good idea if
he wanted to keep up with her.

"Can you think of a better way to start the day?"
"No." Her hand slid lower to cup his sac. Her cool hand felt so fucking good palming

his heated flesh. Last night, they'd found satisfaction using their hands and mouths on
each other but this morning he needed more than that. He craved the feel of her slick,
tight pussy gripping his cock.

Rolling her onto her back, Nikolai pinned Vivian beneath him. He grasped her wrists

in one hand and tugged them above her head. Rendered helpless, she breathed excitedly
and licked her lips. He captured her mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. "Who do you belong
to, Vee?"

"You." Her eyes flashed with such need. "Only you."
Nikolai nipped at her breast and made a small mark with his teeth. She groaned and

arched her back, pushing her breast to his mouth and silently begging for more. He gave
her exactly what she wanted. He sucked her dusky nipple between his lips and twirled
his tongue around the fleshy peak.

When he moved to her other breast, she mewled like a kitten and wrapped her leg

around his waist. Wanting to make sure she was ready, Nikolai let his hand fall from her
wrists to glide between her thighs. Her breath noisily hitched in her throat when he
rubbed his fingertip over her clit.

Last night, he'd nearly come while licking and suckling that juicy little berry. She

responded so beautifully to him. Even now, with just his fingertip tracing circles around
her clit, she was hovering on the edge. Wanting to see how excited she'd become, he slid
his fingers through her pink folds and carefully penetrated her. The slick, musky honey
already flowed from her core.

Desperate to taste her, he jerked back the sheet and moved down her body. He shoved

her thighs open and attacked that sweet little cunt of hers. She cried out and clawed at
the bedding as he nibbled her clit and swiped his tongue side-to-side over the inflamed
bud.

When he dipped his tongue inside her, she swore in Russian, the dirty words falling

from her lips like a litany. He loved the sound of her losing control and continued to
torment her with his oral assault. His tongue fluttered around her clit while he
penetrated her with a curved finger. He located that spongy spot in her passage—and her
hips shot off the bed.

"Nikolai!"
Yes

, he thought excitedly. Lashing her clit with his tongue, he fucked her with his

finger. She fluttered around his digit, growing tighter and wetter until she finally came.
His cock throbbed mercilessly as he listened to her going wild with ecstasy.

She was still panting and shaking when he moved up beside her. Grasping her by the

waist, he hauled her onto him and pushed her into a straddling position. She gazed down
at him with confusion. Holding the base of his rock-hard dick, he gave her bottom a swat.
"Lift up."

She braced her hands on his chest and did as commanded. Dazed and panting from

her climax, she bit her lower lip as he guided her wet sheath down onto his cock. "Oh!"

His eyes closed as he relished the wicked sensation of tight pussy squeezing him. "Da."
Looking uncertain, she whispered, "I don't know how."
Her desperate desire to please him filled him with such love. He'd never betray her

trust in him or her willingness to make him happy. Never.

Cupping her bottom, he pulled her toward him and then pushed her back. She gasped

when he thrust up inside her welcoming heat. "You'll learn."

There was something so incredibly beguiling about her first awkward movements. His

possessive hands roamed her lush curves. He palmed her breasts and encouraged her
with gentle words. Watching her sexuality blossom right in front of him proved to be a
heady experience.

As she gained more confidence, Vivian rode him a bit faster and harder. Her hips

swayed and her breasts bounced. He played a little rougher with her nipples, eliciting
sharp gasps and moans as he tweaked and tugged on the rosy peaks.

He pushed his thumb against her mouth. "Get me wet."
She sucked his digit between her lips and laved it with her tongue. He pulled his slick

thumb free and pressed it against her clitoris. Head thrown back, she cried out with
excitement and pleasure. It wouldn't be long for her now.

"That's it, Vee." He rubbed her clit while she rode him like a wild thing. "Ride my

cock."

Her scandalized expression was quickly overtaken by one of pure desire. Her nails

scratched at his lower belly as she drew closer and closer to climax. He groaned as her
pussy rhythmically squeezed him. Any second now she would go over the edge.

When she shrieked as her orgasm hit, he was sure the whole damn neighborhood

heard. Clutching her waist, he pounded up into her until the muscles of his abdomen
burned. Still shuddering, she fell forward against him and panted against his chest.

But he wasn't done yet.
Gently, he rolled her onto her back and sank balls-deep in her slick cunt. She

whimpered and gripped his upper arms. "Nikolai…"

He muscled down the frantic urge to fuck her roughly. He wanted nothing more than

to shove her knees toward her shoulders and jackhammer her pussy until he came—but
there would be plenty of time for that sort of feral coupling later. Today, he wanted to
make love to her.

Tangling his hand in her hair, he tilted her mouth back and kissed her. She moaned

against his lips and bucked beneath him. He took her with long, slow strokes, thrusting
into her again and again. His climax came up on him gradually. The buzzing built in his
belly and spread through his chest. He tried to hold off as long as possible, to enjoy every
single second of being so deeply buried inside his wife, but the inevitable came upon him
finally.

As the first burst of cum rocketed through his cock, he pressed his face to her neck and

growled, "I love you, Vee."

She whimpered again and embraced him so tightly. His thrusts grew jerky and

shallow as he filled her with his hot seed. In that moment, a possessive, territorial need
overwhelmed him. He imagined his seed striking fertile ground and creating life. The
thought of Vivian carrying his child brought tears to his eyes, tears that he hid by keeping
his face averted.

"I love you, Nikolai." She lovingly caressed his back while pressing soft kisses along

the side of his neck. He blinked and surreptitiously wiped the wetness from his face
before gazing down at her. He captured her swollen pout and showed her how much he
loved her.

Insistent knocking interrupted their tender exchange of kisses. He ignored the

knocking at first but when it grew louder and faster, he growled and broke away from
her sweet mouth. Reluctant to leave her, he whispered, "I'll be right back."

She whimpered softly as he pulled free of her quivering body. Furious to be forced

away from her, he snatched up the towel he'd discarded last night and wrapped it
around his waist. He jerked open the door and shouted, "What?"

Kostya didn't say a word. He pushed open the door, shoved Nikolai aside and strode

right to the television mounted on the wall across from the bed. Vivian dragged the
covers up around her shoulders and slid down until only her eyes and the top of her head
were visible. Kostya paid her no mind as he turned on the television and changed the
channel to the local news.

"Kostya, what the hell are you—" But he never got the rest of it out. He watched in

horror as the perky brunette morning news anchor recounted the sordid details of a
police chase down I-45 connected to a gruesome hit.

"Sources tell us the law enforcement officer running from police is connected to last

night's violent murder of a government witness in an upcoming trial," she said with
nearly breathless excitement. "The witness in question was to testify against the notorious
Calaveras motorcycle club and their cohorts in the Guzman Cartel."

Nikolai's heart skipped a beat. Was Romero Valero dead? Had one of the Marshals

guarding him clipped the son of a bitch?

On screen, a blue truck weaved in and out of morning traffic while dozens of police

cruisers with flashing lights and sirens raced after it. Nikolai remembered Vivian telling
him about the blue truck that had brought her father down the street in front of his
house.

"Details are sketchy at the moment but here's what we know. The Marshal driving the

blue truck and attempting to evade capture is believed to have provided sensitive
information to this recently paroled convict—the witness he was guarding and who is
believed to have committed last night's brutal murder outside Sugar Land."

Romero's mug shot popped up on the screen and Vivian gasped. Nikolai cringed at the

horror contorting her beautiful face. "Turn it off, Kostya."

"No," Vivian said quietly. "Leave it on. I want to know."
He hated that their wonderful morning had been ruined in this way. Catching

Kostya's gaze, he gestured toward the door. Once out in the hall, he shut the door and
turned to Kostya. "Tell me everything you know."

"Looks like Lorenzo Guzman got Romero popped from the pen to do his dirty work,"

Kostya explained. "Romero blackmailed his guard and got the location of the witness
who was threatening the Calaveras and the cartel. I'm hearing that the Marshal had a sick
kid in the hospital downtown. Romero probably threatened to have someone on the
cartel payroll hurt the kid or the wife. Maybe he offered money for treatment."

"Is that it?"
"If you'd watched a longer, you would have seen the rest of the morning news.

Someone shot up half the Calaveras crew last night."

Nikolai's brow arched. "The half that stood against Romero, I'm sure."
Kostya nodded. "Yeah. And the framing ruse seems to have worked. I heard that they

rousted a dozen of those skinheads early this morning."

"That’s something positive." Nikolai rubbed his face between both hands. "Where is

Romero now?"

Kostya held up his hands. "He's probably gone by now. I'm sure Guzman had a plane

waiting for him."

Nikolai shook his head and glanced at his closed bedroom door. "No. He's still here.

He has unfinished business."

"What do you want me to do, Boss?"
"Find him—but very quietly. You'll have to do it from here." Nikolai pointed toward

the floor. "I'm entrusting Vivian to you. This is too big for Sergei or Danny."

Kostya touched his chest. "My life."
Nikolai didn't doubt that his right-hand man would gladly lay down his life to keep

Vivian safe. "I expect the police will be here soon to question us. Keep them in the living

room."

"Done."
Before Kostya could leave, Nikolai put a warning hand on his chest. "Don't come into

our bedroom like that again. This is Vivian's home now and she has the right to feel safe
in her own bed."

Duly chastised, Kostya dipped his head. "I understand."
Nikolai gave Kostya's shoulder a squeeze before stepping back into their bedroom. He

found Vivian staring at the television in a daze. The blanket and sheet had fallen to her
waist, revealing her breasts. Even from here he could see the reddish burn from the
stubble on his jaw and the purpling mark he'd made when they'd been made love atop
that drop cloth. It seemed like an eternity ago now.

"Solnyshko moyo..."
"I want to say that I can't believe he would do something like this but I'm not even

surprised. I'm disgusted. I'm horrified. But I'm not surprised."

The sadness in her voice clawed at him. "Don't feel guilty about this. You can't change

what your father is. He makes his own decisions."

Not wanting her to get any more depressed or upset, he crossed the room and shut off

the television. "That's enough. You need to get dressed. The police will be here soon. I'm
sure you don't want to deal with them but it's best to get it over with now." He helped
her out of bed and kissed her. "I'll call David. You'll need our lawyer for this."

Resigned, she sighed loudly and disappeared into the bathroom. His hopes for a

steamy shower and the chance to run his greedy paws all over her nubile body were
dashed. Instead he grabbed his phone and called David who had seen the news and was
already on his way over.

He'd just finished up that call when his phone began to vibrate and ring again. He

almost didn't take Ivan's call but something told him to answer. "Vanya?"

"I fucked up." Guilt pervaded Ivan's gruff voice.
Nikolai frowned. "What? How? Did you do something to upset Erin?"
"No. It's about Vivian."
"Vee?" He gripped his phone tighter. "What do you mean?"
"I promised her I would make sure Santos got home from the reception safely. I saw

him leave with those two women and I didn't think anything of it. I was too busy trying
to get Erin home so we could—"

"Vanya," he interrupted and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What are you trying to

tell me?"

"I called Santos yesterday morning to see if he'd gotten home okay but he didn't

answer. I assumed he had a hangover so I let it go, but this morning I started to worry.
I'm at his house right now."

"And?"
"And his door has been busted in. There's blood on the floor. I've already called the

police. They're on their way. I thought you should know." He hesitated. "Is this about us?
About Grisha?"

"You spoke to Yuri."

"Yes."
"Have you seen the news this morning?"
"About Romero? Erin called me. She's worried about Vivian."
Nikolai glanced at the bathroom. "Tell her not to worry. I'll keep her safe."
"What do need me to do?"
Nikolai smiled sadly at Ivan's willingness to help. "I need you to stay out of it. You left

this life behind—and for good reasons. You tell the police the truth and then you go
home and keep Erin close. This is my mess, Vanya."

"If you change your mind…"
"I know. You're with me."
"Always, brother."
Nikolai ended the call and sat on the edge of the bed. He dropped the phone onto the

comforter and held his head in his hands. If Santos was still alive, he probably wished he
wasn't. There was no doubt in Nikolai's mind that Grisha had taken him—and Grisha had
a love for inflicting pain. Why he'd taken the detective remained a mystery to Nikolai.
Not that the reason mattered. Whatever his disagreements with Vivian's cousin, he'd
never leave the man to die.

Vivian stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. She had another wound

tightly around her wet hair. His heartbeat kicked up a few notches as he extended his
hand and prepared to tell her about Eric. "Come here, sweetheart."

She refused to move and gripped the front of her towel. "What's wrong?"
"Come here."
Reluctantly, she forced her feet to move and allowed him to pull her down onto his

lap. He tugged free the towel around her head and let it fall to the floor. After brushing
his fingers through her wet hair, he dragged her close for a passionate kiss. She
whimpered and slid her arms around his neck as their tongues danced.

He eased off the kiss and gazed into her sweet face. There was no other way to say it

but bluntly. "Eric is missing."

Startled by the information, she started to cry. "But I saw him at our reception and

Ivan promised—"

"He saw Eric leave with two women and he followed up the next morning. When he

didn't hear from him, he went by Eric's place this morning. He saw signs of a struggle
and called the police."

"Oh my God." She sobbed even harder. "Is this because of us?"
He wasn’t going to lie to her. "Yes."
She shoved off his lap and turned her back. "Eric warned me. He told me what would

happen if we got married. This is my fault. I did this to my family. I brought this into
Eric's life."

Nikolai flinched at her frantic rambling. He didn't believe for an instant that she

regretted marrying him but it didn't make her words hurt any less. "I'll get him back."

She pivoted to face him. "How?"
"I'll find a way." He stood and headed for the bathroom so he could shower and dress.

It was going to be a long day.

Vivian snatched his hand and stopped him. "I'm sorry for what I just said."
He used his thumbs to brush the wetness from her cheeks before claiming her mouth.

"We'll get through this. We've gotten through worse."

"I'm sort of sick of slogging through the swamp, Nikolai. It has to get easier, right?"
He didn't want to make a promise he couldn't keep. Instead he kissed her forehead. "I

hope so."

She patted his bare chest. "Shower. Get dressed. I'm going to get ready and go

downstairs to fix breakfast."

Nikolai held tightly to her hand. "Don't talk to the police until after we've spoken to

David. If they beat him here, show them to the living room, offer them coffee but nothing
else."

"All right."
His instructions given, Nikolai closed himself in the bathroom and hurried through

his morning shower and shave routine. By the time he came out to dress, she'd already
made the bed and disappeared downstairs. He chose his usual suit and tie. This morning
his wedding band felt more natural on his finger. He began to enjoy the comforting
familiarity of its weight.

Downstairs, Sergei pointed back toward the kitchen to let him know where Vivian

was. He found her wearing an apron and scrambling eggs and held back for a moment to
simply watch the domestic scene. This was what he wanted with her. No missing cousins
or crazy mob captains or murderous fathers on the lam.

Just this. Simple. Easy. Normal.
But he couldn't have that unless he finished this business once and for all. Whatever

the cost, it had to be done.

Before they'd finished their meal, David arrived. He'd already jotted down notes for

Vivian and sat at the island to coach her responses to the questioning. When the two sets
of detectives looking for her father and Eric arrived, he led them into the living room and
then retrieved Vivian from the kitchen. She trembled with anxiety but bravely faced the
cops. She'd do anything to find Eric and started sketching the two women she'd seen him
dancing with at the reception.

The detectives made it clear they had no questions for him so he took advantage of the

opportunity to retrieve the hidden pack of cigarettes in his office. He brushed his fingers
across the lighter he kept on him at all times. His conflicted feelings toward Maksim,
toward his biological father, welled within him.

Out in the backyard, he enjoyed the bracing cold. Walking up and down the paved

paths he'd carefully built, Nikolai lit a cigarette, his first in weeks, and enjoyed the initial
drag. He didn't like disappointing Vivian but he had a feeling she would overlook this
one.

He was halfway through the cigarette when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He

glanced at the text message alert. Not recognizing the number, he opened the text
message and the photo attached. He turned his phone sideways, blowing up the photo,
and nearly choked. The house was a different color now but he'd never forget it. There
was no question as to the identity of the sender.

You know what I want

.

Nikolai had a very good idea what Grisha wanted all right. Me. Dead.
He looked back at the house where Vivian was safely surrounded by Sergei, Kostya,

Danny, police officers and a lawyer. He tapped the touchscreen.

Let's finish this now

.

With a final drag on his cigarette, Nikolai dropped the butt on the brick paver and

crushed it under his shoe. He headed straight for the garage, slid behind the wheel of his
car and flipped down the visor to reveal the pistol he kept tucked up there. After
checking the magazine, he reloaded the pistol and put it nearby.

Someone wasn't walking out of this one alive—and he'd be damned if it was him.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Seated on the couch facing the detectives, I had a perfect view of the picture windows

overlooking the front yard. I couldn't believe it when I spotted Nikolai driving away
from the house. His windows were tinted darkly enough that I couldn't be absolutely
sure he was behind the wheel but I'd never seen anyone else drive his car.

I hid my confusion well and continued to answer the rapid fire questions. As I

recounted the visit I'd had from my father in the storage room of the gallery, I watched
Sergei's silver SUV drive slowly away from the house. No doubt Kostya had sent him
after Nikolai. My anxiety levels started to skyrocket. What the hell is happening?

When the detectives were finished questioning me, I couldn't get them out of our

house fast enough. David was a little harder to get out the front door but he left finally.
When the outsiders were gone, I searched out Kostya and found him in the office barking
orders into his phone. He caught sight of me and frowned.

Holding up a hand, he finished his call and pocketed his phone. "I don't know where

he went."

Panic gripped me. Had he gone after Grisha alone? My brain raced to compute the

options. "His car has GPS."

Kostya shook his head. "He disabled it months ago. Do you have any idea where he

might have gone?"

"He's probably trying to find Grisha."
Kostya's eyes widened. "Grisha? From Moscow?"
I nodded. "Nikolai suspects he's the one masterminding all this." I frowned with

confusion. "Didn't he tell you?"

"No." Kostya's clipped answer showed such displeasure.
"Oh God."
"Calm down." Kostya touched my shoulder. "As they say around here—this isn't his

first rodeo. He wouldn’t have left you without saying goodbye if he didn't intend to
return."

He meant it to be comforting but it only scared me that much more. "Kostya—"
"I'll find him. Sergei was only a short distance behind the boss. It will be all right. He'll

be home soon."

Sensing Kostya wanted to get rid of me so he could get back to finding Nikolai or

Grisha, I spun on my heel. On the verge of hyperventilating, I left the office in a daze and
eventually wandered into the library. Shutting the door behind me, I sank to the floor
and started to cry. First Eric was missing and now Nikolai. I had no doubt that Grisha had
lured him away from the house.

The clove-scented monster of my nightmares wasn't going to agree to a simple

exchange for Eric. He would want blood—my Nikolai's blood. I couldn't let my husband
die. Not now. Not after everything we'd managed to survive all these years.

But what do I do?

Surrounded by the piles and stacks of wedding gifts, I tried to think of something,

anything, that might help me figure out where Nikolai had gone. I'd never felt more out
of my depth in my life. It occurred to me that if I'd stayed on the path my father had
intended for me, I would have been in a much better position to help my husband now.
The irony of that didn't escape me.

My father…
His parting words that night at the gallery hit me again. He'd made a remark about

my wedding registry and giving me a gift.

Suddenly, I was taken back to my ninth birthday. He'd been on parole at the time and

forbidden from seeing me by my grandparents. That hadn't stopped him. I'd gone
upstairs one evening to find a birthday gift sitting on my bed. Inside I'd discovered a
simple cell phone with one phone number programmed into it.

I clambered to my feet and started knocking over the boxes in search of a gift tag with

my father's handwriting. I believed with every fiber of my being that I would find one.
My old man was nothing if not sentimental.

Just as I began to despair and doubt myself, I found it. The silver box wrapped with

white sparkling tulle looked nondescript and generic enough. The oval tag had one letter
scribbled on it—R.

I ripped into the box, shredding the tulle and paper like a cat, and dumped the

contents onto the rug. A brand new burner phone and charger tumbled out with a thunk.
I snatched up the phone and pressed the power button. It had a full battery and one text
message waiting for me.

If you need me…
I'd never needed my father more. Whether or not he would come through for me was

anybody's guess.

But I had to try. For Nikolai's sake, I'd try anything—even if it meant making a deal

with my personal devil.

Fingers trembling, I tapped at the screen and dialed the number he'd sent with his

message. The phone rang twice before he answered. There was no excited greeting.

"If you want to save your husband and your cousin, put on your coat and meet me

outside right now."

"Now?" I walked to the bay window and glanced out at the street. I didn't see

anything.

"We've been waiting for your call. I was about to resort to Plan B."
I doubted I would have liked Plan B very much. "Who is we?"
"You'll see soon enough. We're coming down the street. There won't be much time."
Though my stomach pitched violently and my heart raced so fast I was sure I would

have a heart attack, I turned away from the window and ran across the library to the
door. As I rushed to the front door, I snatched my coat from the hanger in the entryway.
The heavy stained glass door made a yawning noise as I pushed it open.

The squealing alerted Danny and Kostya who came running onto the porch after me. I

ignored their shouts and sprinted down the picturesque sidewalk to the sleek black car
hurrying down the road.

Before it came to a full stop, the back door opened. I didn't think twice. I practically

dove inside. The door slammed shut and the car raced away from Nikolai's house and the
men he'd entrusted to care for me. I was either doing the bravest thing ever—or the
stupidest.

"Put that on that seatbelt. I'd had for the mother of my future grandchildren to end up

dead in a car accident."

The gravelly voice addressing me in Russian momentarily stunned me. My eyes finally

acclimated to the dimness of the car with heavily tinted windows. I realized I wasn’t
sitting next to my father. No, I wasn't sitting next to Nikolai's.

Maksim Prokhorov arched a bushy white eyebrow. Unwilling to question him, I

grabbed my seatbelt and jammed it into place. My father turned around in the front
passenger seat. "We don't have much time. You have to make a choice."

"A choice?" I squeaked nervously. "What choice?"
Maksim leveled an icy glare my way. "You decide, right now and right here. Do you

want to be a mob wife or a mob widow?"

"What?" I clutched my coat tightly to my chest. "I don't understand."
"I know where Grisha is holding your cousin and my son—but my driver isn't going to

take us there until you decide what you want with my Nikolai."

"Are you blackmailing me?"
"I prefer persuading."
"So what? You want me to promise I won't try to get Nikolai to leave your family? Is

that it?"

"Basically," Maksim agreed. "He loves you more than he'll ever love us but I can't let

him go."

There was no time to consider the options or possibilities. "I love him. I want him

alive. Even if that means we're stuck in this life forever."

A cold smile curved Maksim's mouth. "I knew I'd like you."
The driver took a hard left and punched the gas. Avoiding my father-in-law's chilly

stare, I asked, "Where are we going?"

"Where it all began," Maksim said roughly.
My father produced that horrifying machete of his and began to wipe the gleaming

blade. "And where it all ends."

* * *

Though he hadn't driven through this middle class neighborhood since that terrible

April night when he'd nearly killed Vivian, Nikolai didn't have any problem finding the
house in question. He parked in an alley a few blocks over and walked to the rear fence
of the house.

During the housing boom, this area had been prime for real estate flipping. He and his

crew had made a killing in neighborhoods like these. They'd bought cheap, done some
cosmetic upgrades and sold at sky-high prices.

With the fall of the housing market, the neighborhood was suffering like many others.

He spotted a shocking number of foreclosure and for sale signs. If he'd been worried
about being seen or reported, he wasn’t now. The neighborhood was mostly vacant.

His thoughts naturally turned to the day he'd only barely managed to save Yuri and

Lena from Katya and Jake. Lena's old neighborhood looked a fucking war zone but it had
been easy to get in and out without being seen. Knowing that Grisha had been behind
Katya made the similarities between that day and this one so very eerie.

He slipped into the backyard through a side gate and made his way to the door

leading into the kitchen. Even before he stepped inside, the thudding beat of music met
his ears. If Grisha was hurting Eric, he'd want that noise to cover his sins.

The vomit-inducing odor of decomposition punched Nikolai right in the face when he

entered the house. He prayed that it wasn't Eric's dead body he smelled. Vivian would
never forgive herself if she lost him to murder.

He walked across the kitchen as quietly as possible. It looked exactly as it had the last

time he'd been here. The tile, the countertops and the faded paint colors were exactly the
same.

But the two blonde corpses propped up at the dining table were new.
Hadn't Ivan said Eric had left with two blondes? No doubt these were the unfortunate

women Grisha had paid or manipulated into luring Santos away from the reception. He'd
obviously taken them home with him—and then what? Had they attacked him? Had
Grisha been lying in wait?

In that moment, Nikolai realized that Grisha had gone off the fucking deep end. His

ghoulish fascination with posing the dead was pure insanity. This might have started as a
stupid territorial tiff and simple jealousy back in Russia but it had gone to crazy places
Nikolai probably couldn't even comprehend. Grisha was mad and extremely dangerous.

Suddenly the gun tucked into his waistband didn't feel like enough protection. He

questioned his decision to leave without informing Kostya. A little backup would have
been nice right about now.

Thumping upstairs got his attention. Was it the detective? Was he still alive? Injured?

Bleeding to death?

Nikolai gathered his courage and climbed the stairs. The bitter metallic stink of fresh

blood grew stronger as he cautiously ascended to the second floor. Knowing Grisha's love
of twisted sentimentality, he smartly guessed that Santos was in the master bedroom
where Nikolai had shot Vivian.

With his heart beating in this throat, Nikolai pushed open the door. He hesitated

before stepping inside the strangely padded room. Grisha had covered the windows and
walls with sound-dampening paneling. He'd taken a page of out Kostya's playbook and
tacked plastic over the floor. The amount of preparation revealed Grisha had been here
for some time, waiting for his chance to strike.

Suspended by his ankles from a reinforced box mounted to the ceiling, Eric struggled

to free himself. His hands were tied behind his back and he'd been gagged. His naked
body sported so many bruises and tiny nicks. The razor thin cuts covering his belly and
back and chest were similar to the ones Nikolai had seen on those bodies dumped at
Samovar. Blood and sweat pooled on the plastic beneath him.

"Jesus Christ." Nikolai's harsh whisper sounded incredibly loud in the room. Eric's

panicked gaze skipped to his face. He twisted to see better but had to keep blinking
because of the blood rushing down his face.

Nikolai glanced around the room but didn't see Grisha hiding anywhere. No doubt he

was lurking in some other part of the house. Rather than seeking him out, Nikolai rushed
to Santos' aid. The man was wounded but he could still be useful. Two were much better
odds than one-on-one.

Wordlessly, Nikolai jerked the blade out of the boot sheath he wore everywhere. He

tugged the gag out of the detective's mouth before sawing at the ropes binding the other
man's ankles.

"Hurry," Eric hissed. "He's in the bathroom down the hall. I think he keeps his crack

pipe there."

"Crack?" Nikolai managed to get one of Eric's legs free. The added weight jerking on

the detective's still-bound ankle made him grunt. Nikolai tried to hold him up as he
sawed at the second set of thick knots.

"This guy is high as a fucking kite and out of his mind. He's smoking crack and

snorting meth. He's a total psychopath." He shuddered violently. "I think he was making
it with those dead girls. The sounds from down there—"

"Enough." Nikolai cut him off with a hiss. He didn't want to hear all those disgusting

details. He wanted to get Eric free, kill Grisha and get the hell out of here.

"Ah-ah-ah." Appearing in the doorway, Grisha menacingly wagged a sawed-off

shotgun at them. "Are you trying to steal my toy?"

Nikolai couldn't believe the change in the man he'd once considered a friend. Thin

and drawn, Grisha looked as if he'd been on a week-long meth bender. He
absentmindedly scratched at one of the weeping sores on his neck. "You always were a
greedy fucker, Nikolai."

Hoping to shield Santos, Nikolai slowly edged around the poor man who still dangled

from one leg. "I seem to remember you were always the one skimming more than your
fair share and dipping into the product."

"Eh, a man's got to eat." Grisha's eyes narrowed to slits. "We aren't all lucky enough to

be born as Maksim Prokhorov's son."

Nikolai tried to decide if he could grab his pistol fast enough. The spray from that

shotgun would blast them both even if he managed to get off a round. "How long have
you known?"

"About your daddy? Not long," Grisha admitted. "I'd always wondered why he sent

you here when the rumors started."

"Rumors you started," he interjected.
"Of course," Grisha confirmed with an acid laugh. "Drop the gun that's behind your

back. Slowly," he added. "I'd hate to have to kill before I've had my fun."

Nikolai kept his knife hidden behind his back but grasped the pistol from his

waistband and tossed it over as he ordered. He decided to keep Grisha talking. "Why did
you start those rumors?"

"I saw the way you were coming up behind me." Grista kicked aside the weapon. "You

were so hungry to prove yourself. You and that fucking gorilla Ivan. I knew it was only a
matter of time before you two replaced me." Grisha's face contorted with anger. "Maksim
would have killed anyone else over those rumors but not you. No, he gave you this
place."

"And that just pissed you off even more," Nikolai rightly guessed.
"This should have been mine. This whole new world of earning—and what have you

done with it? Huh?" Grisha practically spat the word. "You've pulled your men out of
dirty money—easy money, big money—for this clean shit. It's a disgrace."

"It's a different world here. Big and flashy gets a man sent to prison."
"What do you care? As many times as you've been behind bars, prison must feel like

coming home. Besides, I'm sure you find plenty to keep you busy on the inside. A pretty
boy like you probably enjoys all that attention. You've been taking it in the ass since you
were…what? Eight?"

Grisha's mocking laugh enraged Nikolai. He refused to be goaded by the crazy bastard

and tried to remain calm. Boxed into the room with Santos who remained bound and
helpless, Nikolai's options were few. The knife he had hidden behind his back might buy
him a precious few seconds—but only a few.

"I can't believe you married that little bitch who tried to kill you," Grisha continued to

rant. "I should have known better than to trust that fucking loan shark to contract out
that hit."

Loan shark? Afrim Barisha had been the go-between for Grisha and Romero? Now his

murder made more sense to Nikolai. That had been the first loose end Grisha had
wrapped up when Romero was popped from prison. He'd probably worried that Afrim
would finally confess to Besian who would have run to Nikolai with that news.

"What's so special about her, huh?" Grisha tilted his head as if truly perplexed. "Maybe

I should have tested her out when I had her in that dog cage. She had perkiest little tits
I've ever seen." He started to laugh. "You should have heard the sounds she made when
we hit her with that cattle prod. Squealed like a baby pig!"

His description of Vivian's torment sickened Nikolai. When Grisha pushed his finger

to his nose and started to make squealing sounds, Nikolai welcomed the advantage. He
jerked his hand back and threw the knife right at Grisha. The sharp blade slammed into
Grisha's chest and stabbed deep into his target.

Choking with shock, Grisha yanked the blade from his chest. Blood spurted from the

wound. Shrieking with fury, he raised his shotgun but Nikolai rushed him before he
could fire.

With the shotgun between them, they punched and slapped at each other. This was a

fight to the death—and Nikolai had to be the one who walked out alive. For Vivian, he
had to win this.

Grisha got the upper hand just long enough to slam the butt of the gun into Nikolai's

jaw. The burst of impact rattled his still healing brain. Dazed by the blow, he lost his
balance for a few seconds. It was long enough for Grisha to knock him to the ground.

Refusing to go down alone, Nikolai grasped the front of Grisha's shirt and dragged

him to the floor. Grisha ended up on top of him and pushed the barrel of the weapon

against Nikolai's throat. He seemed intent on strangling him. Nikolai fought back,
shoving the gun away from his neck, but Grisha had the better position and forced it back
down with his full body weight.

Nikolai gouged at Grisha's eyes, clawing at the soft tissues of his once-friend's face.

Grisha screamed as blood trickled down his cheeks but he only pushed harder on the
gun. Out of the corner of his eye, Nikolai could see Eric fighting to get loose. He rocked
his body weight hard enough to dislocate his ankle in a desperate attempt to free himself.

Doubtful Eric would succeed in getting loose, Nikolai focused all his strength on

getting that gun off his throat. His vision began to go spotty as his oxygen-starved lungs
began to fail him and his brain shunted oxygen to more important areas of his body.

He wasn't going to die like this. He refused to leave Vivian a widow.
"Hurry!" Eric's desperate plea tore through the grunting and growling sounds coming

out of Nikolai and Grisha's mouths.

Hurry? Who the hell is he talking to

?

And then, like the goddamned Angel of Death, Romero Valero appeared just over

Grisha's shoulder. He raised his arm, bringing that gleaming blade of his machete high in
the air before swinging it down toward Grisha's neck.

Nikolai closed his eyes at the last second. Grisha made a stunned noise as the blade

thwacked

into neck. Hot blood sprayed Nikolai's face. The weight of Grisha's body

dropped onto him. Another gush of warm liquid poured over him as the machete
finished its chopping motion. A moment later, the body was shifted off him and onto the
floor.

Nikolai rolled to his side and pushed onto his knees. He wiped the blood from his face

and eyes with the hem of his shirt. On his guard, he stared at Romero who stood over
Grisha's quickly exsanguinating body while cleaning his machete blade with a rag he'd
produced from a pocket.

"You're welcome," Romero said finally, his raspy voice tinged with amusement. "I

bought Vivian a nice a set of crystal but you can consider this my wedding gift to you."

Nikolai didn't find that the even the slightest bit funny. "What are you doing here?"
Romero advanced toward Eric but Nikolai stepped between them. His father-in-law

looked rather entertained by the sight of a mob boss protecting a detective. "My daughter
needed me. I decided that maybe it was time for me to finally come through for her."

"Where is Vivian?" He didn't even want to think about what she'd promised her father

in exchange for his help.

"She's having a nice chat with her suegro."
Shock ripped through him. Suegro? Her father-in-law. "Maksim is here."
"Yep." Romero skirted around him and gestured to the rope knots suspending Eric.

Nikolai stepped back just enough to let him cut the detective free. "He and I have a little
understanding. You and Vivian get Houston. I get the Russian gun trade in Mexico."

Nikolai narrowed his eyes. "But Lorenzo—"
"Lorenzo got what he wanted. I took care of two problems for him. The Calaveras

won't step out of line again and get into anything nasty like running underage girls from
third world hellholes, and he doesn't have to worry about having any of his political

connections north of the border exposed. In other words, business as usual."

Romero whacked the knotted ropes and Eric fell to the floor so hard Nikolai winced.

Nikolai crouched down to help him roll onto his back. "Be still. You're too dizzy to move."

Santos didn't fight him. He groaned and clenched his eyes shut as if in pain. He

probably had a headache from hell.

"That was a nice move you made. Getting the Hermanos and Albanians to make

peace," he clarified. "Framing those skinheads was a nice touch. God knows they were
due for their turn in front of a judge."

For a man who had been on the inside for more than a decade, Romero seemed to

have kept all his contacts.

"By the way, I'll let that deal you have between the Irishman and Lorenzo stand but

don't try to push into my territory again." He waved the machete side to side. "Business
and family—they don't mix."

"That goes both ways." Nikolai helped Santos into a sitting position. "Where are your

clothes?"

"I don't know, man. He drugged me. I don’t remember a lot of it."
"The car is out front. You two should hurry. You don't want to be here when I call in

my cleaners."

Nikolai glanced around and finally spotted the pile of clothing in the corner. He

grabbed the pants and shirt but left everything else. There wasn't time to get Eric fully
dressed.

With Santos decent but wobbling on his feet, Nikolai walked him toward the door. He

stooped down to grab his pistol and the bloody knife Grisha had plucked from his chest.
As he helped Eric hobble downstairs on his one good leg—the other ankle was terribly
swollen and likely broken or dislocated—the detective asked with some disbelief, "Are
we really going to let him live?"

Nikolai glanced over his shoulder to find his father-in-law watching them. It wouldn't

have been difficult to finish off the older man. He only had that machete to protect him
and Nikolai had a fully loaded gun—but something stopped Nikolai. Loyalty? Gratitude?
He didn't know what to call it.

"For today," Nikolai said finally. He didn't doubt that someday soon he would regret

letting Romero live, but right now, he was more worried about getting Santos medical
attention and finding Vivian. They'd been given a second chance—and he was taking it in
both hands and never letting go.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Later that evening, under the cover of darkness, Nikolai and I parked one the SUVs

from his fleet high atop a parking garage his organization owned. Using binoculars, we
watched the Houston police department and the Feds raid an old factory the skinheads
and Grisha had been using to hold all those women they'd trafficked.

After dropping Eric on a street corner and calling 9-1-1 to report a drugged, lost man,

we'd waited nearby until EMS and the police had arrived to help him. I sensed he was
still furious about my father walking away alive but he didn't seem to want to hurt
Nikolai.

The truth wasn't much different than the story Eric had offered to tell. He'd left out

only the details concerning Nikolai. As far as the police were concerned, Grisha and my
father had been working together all along to stir up a turf war in the city.

With Eric safe, we'd returned to the house. I'd followed Nikolai upstairs to help him

shower because I didn't believe he wasn't hurt. There had been so much blood. I didn't
think we'd ever get it out of his hair. I hadn't wanted to hear the gruesome details of
Grisha's end, but I'd been able to piece together what had happened once my father
entered that house with his machete.

Entertaining Maksim had been a strange experience. The older man was kind toward

me but rather aloof and cold. Nikolai had been furious that Maksim had blackmailed me
into making that decision to save his life but it was done. There was no going back.

As quickly and unexpectedly as Maksim had come into our lives that morning, he'd

exited that afternoon. Before he'd left, he'd handed me a simple envelope containing all
the evidence the police needed to track down and free these women. Though I still had
an entire room filled with gifts to open, I had no doubt that envelope would be the one I
cherished most.

I had walked the information into the police department myself and given it to

Katrina, that detective friend of Eric's who worked vice and had been tirelessly looking
for these poor girls. She'd been understandably wary but she'd thanked me for my help
and promised to do everything possible to save them.

And now here we were.
"It's a beautiful thing," Nikolai murmured as dozens of young women were led out of

the building and into waiting ambulances. Those disgusting men who had been
trafficking them were lined up and cuffed outside the building. I doubted they would get
all the men responsible or find all the women who needed help—but it was a start.

"Yes, it is."
Nikolai handed me the binoculars for another look. As I continued to watch the raid,

he grasped my hand between both of his and interlaced our fingers. "I wish I could
promise you these will be the last girls who ever get held in cages and sold like livestock
but I can't."

I lowered the binoculars and studied his handsome face in the low moonlight

streaming through the windshield. "I'm not naïve enough to think it stops here—but at
least we managed to help these ones."

"It feels nice to finally do something good."

After all the horror we'd seen and survived in the last month, I shared his sentiment.

"There's always tomorrow, Kolya. We can't let the good end here."

His lips twitched with the hint of a smile. "Is that your way of telling me there has to

be balance?"

"Maybe."
Nikolai's expression grew taut. He gripped my hand even tighter. "I'm sorry that we

can't get out, Vee."

"Out? Of the life?" I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. We're together. You're alive.

I'm alive. That's what's important."

"Maksim made it clear today when we spoke privately that he'll let me run my crew

and Houston as I see fit—but he'll still expect me to do certain things for the family."

"I'm not going to sit here and tell you I'm not disappointed." If I wanted him to be

truthful with me, I had to be truthful with him. "You probably going to think I'm silly
and childish but I've always sort of dreamed that I'd be the one to get you out. How
messed up is it that I'm the one that forced you in even deeper?"

"It's not silly or childish to want the best for someone you love. You saved my life

today." He swallowed hard. "If it was only about loving you, Vee, I'd be out in a
heartbeat."

"I know."
"Please don't ever doubt how much I love you."
"I don't. Never." I rubbed my thumb over the star tattooed on the back of his hand.

"That doesn't mean I'm ever going to stop trying to save you."

"I can't be saved, Vee. I am what I am."
I shifted in my seat and pushed onto my knees. Leaning forward, I cupped his face

and peered down into his haunted eyes. "And I love you. All of you. Just as you are."

"Even if this is our life?"
"We get to choose how we live. If Maksim says you can run Houston the way you see

fit, run it your way."

"I've been pulling us out of risky business. I've been growing our legitimate interests.

We actually earn more through legal means than we do on the wrong side of the law.
Between Samovar, the storage centers, real estate, construction, the car washes, these
parking garages—we're doing extremely well. I think most of us are actually relieved to
be working in gray areas instead of fully in the black."

I couldn't believe he was telling me all about his organization's income streams.

"You've been building those legitimate interests for a long time."

He nodded and glanced toward the windshield. "That night I nearly killed you, I

decided that I had to change. That we had to change. Our business couldn't be built on
death and violence. It had to be smart."

Nikolai turned his attention back to me. He reached out and caressed my face. "Then

you came into my life again. You burst into Samovar like a beam of sunshine and I knew I
had to try to get out. I didn't think it would be as easy as it was for Ivan." His lips settled
into a grim line. "Not that it was easy for him. He fought like hell to get out alive."

Fear stabbed my gut. "Nikolai, please don't try anything risky. Maksim might be your

father but he's not the type of man to let you just walk away from him."

"After today, I'm fully aware of how far he's willing to go to keep me in line." Nikolai's

thumb swiped my lower lip. "I dreamed that someday, maybe, if I was very lucky, you
might become mine. I kept that hope alive by making plans to get out and by moving my
crew farther and farther from the darkest line."

He sifted his fingers through my hair and brushed our mouths together. Guilt radiated

from him in powerful waves. "I wanted to be able to offer you so much more than this
life. I wanted to give you something better than this."

"Nikolai…"
He claimed me with a tender kiss, pushing all the love he felt for me into the mating

of our mouths. Peering intently into my eyes, he whispered with such anguish, "There's
no fairytale ending for us, Vee."

"Kolya." I clasped his face and nuzzled our noses together. "I don't need a fairytale. I

only need you."

"And what if one day you wake up and I'm no longer enough?"
"Do you plan to stop loving me?"
"Never," he vowed stridently.
Smiling, I tapped his mouth, "Then you'll always be enough."
Nikolai caressed my back. "Let's go home. I think we could both use a good night's

sleep."

Feeling playful, I asked, "Just sleep?"
He laughed and gave my backside a swat. "With you in my bed? Never."
Giggling, I kissed him one last time and slipped back into my seat. As we made the

long, circling drive down through the many levels of the parking garage, I held tightly to
Nikolai's hand and thought about our future.

Maksim might have outmaneuvered me today but I was still learning. Someday, his

power would wane and then? Well—then we'd make our move.

Until that day, we'd do things our way. We'd done something very good today—and

that was a start.

Epilogue

Four Months Later

"Vee?" Nikolai came downstairs still adjusting his tie. He glanced at his watch and

frowned. That impromptu lovemaking session in the shower had put them behind
schedule. Refusing to be late for her graduation, he called out for her again. "Vee?"

"I'm in the library."
He followed the sound of her sweet voice and found her wrapping the last of the baby

gifts for Dimitri and Benny. "What are you doing?"

"I got nervous while I was waiting for you so I thought I'd finish wrapping these

things for the shower tomorrow." She waved the card she'd chosen. "Sign this?"

He nodded and took the bright pink card from her. It had a nice message written

inside. He scrawled his signature in the spot she'd indicated before handing it back to
her. Counting the big boxes stacked on the desk, he asked, "Do you think you got them
enough gifts?"

She rolled her eyes. "This baby shower is a big deal. Besides, it's the first baby in our

group."

Nikolai's heart threatened to burst with love as he touched her belly. "But not the last."
Smiling up at him, she covered his hand. "We promised not to say anything yet."
He kissed her tenderly. "My lips are sealed."
They'd only discovered their happy news a few days earlier. Vee had been sure that

her exhaustion and nausea were due to finishing up her finals and preparing her first
international show at one of the galleries Niels owned in London, but he'd suspected it
was something much different.

She'd actually laughed at him when he'd handed her the test but a few minutes later

she'd emerged from their bathroom with a shocked expression. He'd been concerned that
she wasn't ready but then she'd smiled at him. The same love and excitement he felt had
been reflected in her eyes.

"Do you feel all right?" He rubbed her back. "If you get tired and want to leave your

party early, tell me and we'll go."

"I'm fine." She rose on tiptoes to kiss him. "Don't worry so much."
Now that she carried his child, he was more worried about her than ever. He'd

allowed her to shed Sergei's constant guard but had second thoughts. Perhaps Danny
wouldn’t mind taking on the role of her driver and guard…

"What are you thinking about?"
"That we're going to be late for your graduation," he said and tugged the tape from her

hand. "We can finish this tomorrow."

"We still haven't gotten Erin and Ivan a gift. Their wedding is in two weeks."
"I have something in mind for them."
"Oh?" On her way out of the library, she stopped to rub the wooden frame of the

painting Niels had given her as a wedding gift. She considered the café scene under a
starry night her good luck charm. "Wish me luck, Vincent!"

Nikolai shook his head at her silliness and escorted her into the hallway. "The thing I

have in mind for Ivan and Erin isn't quite that expensive."

She shot him a knowing smile as she grabbed her purse. "I asked Niels to have dinner

with us when he's in town in early June."

Nikolai grunted softly but didn't say anything. He still didn't like the billionaire art

collector and investor but he tolerated him. Despite the obscenely expensive wedding
gift, Niels didn't seem the least bit interested in truly trying to seduce Vivian. It was all a
game to him—and one Vivian refused to play.

As they headed down the sidewalk toward Kostya and the idling car waiting for

them, Nikolai enjoyed the relaxed sensation of knowing everything was all right. Since
January, things had quieted down around Houston. There were still the occasional
squabbles and tiffs but nothing like the hell they'd all survived in the winter.

Sliding into the backseat with Vivian, he clutched her hand and dragged it onto his

lap. He toyed with her wedding band as Kostya drove them toward the university. He'd
never shed those old anxieties that arose when things were good but he wasn’t going to
dwell on them.

He had Vivian by his side and his child growing in her womb. Life would never be

normal for them—but it would be filled with laughter and love.

And that was enough for him.

Author's Note

Thank you so much for sticking with me through these first four installments of the

Her Russian Protector

series. I hope you enjoyed Vivian and Nikolai's story as much as I

enjoyed writing it.

I'm often asked if there will be more books in this series—and the answer is yes!

Sergei, Kostya, Danny—they'll have books in the near future. I also write the occasional
short story featuring the couples from the first books and offer them for free at my

website

.

Kelly Connolly, the former Marine and bodyguard/bouncer who made a few

appearances in YURI and NIKOLAI, will be kicking off the Fighting Connollys series in the
fall.

You can find me online at

RoxieRiver.com

or on

Facebook

. I also have a

newsletter

that I use to send out new release information, links to free reads and offers of swag.

Roxie's Backlist

Her Russian Protector Series

IVAN
DIMITRI
YURI
NIKOLAI

Seduced By… Series

Seduced by the Congressman 1
Seduced by the Congressman 2
Seduced by the Loan Shark

Erotica

Chance's Bad, Bad Girl
Halftime With Craig
Tease
Eddie's Cuffs 1
Eddie's Cuffs 2
Eddie's Cuffs 3
Search and Seizure (Cops & Hotties #1)
Disturbing the Peace (Cops & Hotties #2)
Quid Pro Quo (Cops & Hotties #3)