Ultimate Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 4)(135)

“No one,” V murmured from his stance by the window. “You’ll learn to live with it the same way we have.” He drew Nika around from his back and wrapped her up against his chest. “And you’ll forgive Lucian for leaving you hanging over the pit, the same way we’ve forgiven Lore.”

Because Lorenzo had been the one to kill Nika’s abusive husband, and in effect, steal from Nika and V the satisfaction of ending the man who’d caused her so much physical and emotional torment. Some of it because of Sergei.

Something passed between the girls when Nika met Eva’s eyes over V’s shoulder. When they turned those determined stares to Sacha and Sydney, and the two held them without faltering, Alek was stunned by what he was seeing. He could practically feel the new bond form. A bond so strong and dangerous it nearly made the air snap around them.

What if the ladies who held the most influential positions within the families were no longer content to linger in the background, oblivious to their partners’ world? Shit. In an operation as big as the Moretti family that would be meaningful. But if the women got organized and pulled in with the Tarasov Bratva while allowing Eva’s new need for vengeance to grow…

Vasily Tarasov’s daughter and company would be unstoppable.





THIRTY-TWO




Striding out of the automatic doors, Vasily squinted against the steady drizzle that forever seemed to be falling when he landed at SeaTac. It didn’t bother him in the least. Made him feel good.

“You know I don’t like this,” Dmitri grumbled.

“I do know that. You tell me so every five weeks, and it does not change anything. Go. I’ll call you shortly.” He didn’t wait for a response but nodded at another of his men and took the key he offered. “Is Olin on duty?”

“Yes. I tried to call, but he didn’t answer. When he gets in touch, I will tell him you’re on your way.”

“Very good.” Vasily ducked into the car he used when in Seattle and drove away, leaving the boys to head to their hotel. He would have felt more comfortable if they were staying at Gabriel and Alek’s place, but if they checked into the Crown Jewel without him, Gabriel would be all over them like a dog with a bone, and there would go Vasily’s privacy.

He smiled, something he did often when he first arrived for these mini-vacations. This was the only time anticipation and a feeling he might consider a form of happiness overtook the hollow ache he lived with. Though calling it happiness might be stretching it because he’d lived with the real feeling for a time, and this wasn’t it.

But it was close. Because he was going to see her in the next few minutes. He’d watch his kitten through the window of her dress shop, and he would yearn for her. He would burn alive for this entire weekend that he set aside to be with her—without her knowledge—yet he would come back in another five weeks, without fail, to go through the agony all over again.

His phone rang as he took his exit off I-5. The Bluetooth picked it up. It was Olin, one of his most trusted.

Within seconds, Vasily was pulling to the side of the road as Olin’s words flew like shrapnel through his brain.

Kathryn. Crying. Driving. Strange car. Accident. Explosion. Fireball.

He sat in his car, his seatbelt strapped across his still chest, what was left of his heart shredding with the screams of a thousand agonies. This visit wouldn’t be like the ones he’d been making to Seattle for the last twenty-three years. He wouldn’t be parking and settling in with his disguise firmly in place. He wouldn’t be moaning in pain at the sight of her slight body and soft blonde hair, his fingers itching to touch as he watched with fascination her smile and laugh as she spoke to a customer. He wouldn’t be struggling to remain in place when she passed by his car on her way to the deli on the corner to buy a salad that would consist of only lettuce and cucumbers. So often, when he’d see she was on the phone, he’d opened the window a crack so he could hear her musical voice, usually tainted with a sad, wistful note that led him to believe she was talking to their daughter.

Instead of experiencing those small joys, Vasily sat there picturing all that Olin had just described. Kathryn had left work early, hunched over as she rushed to her car, openly crying. She’d driven erratically and had been hard to tail. When they’d reached a stretch of road Olin had never seen her travel before, another car had come out of nowhere. The hair-raising tale had ended with both of their vehicles being run off the road. When Olin had regained consciousness, he’d seen that his car had survived; Kathryn’s hadn’t. All that had been left was a charred, smoking shell.