An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) (37 page)

“Kirov, explain. What’s happened? I don’t know what this is about,” Luiz choked out. “What has Eberto done?”

“Where. Is. Her. Kid?”

Luiz shook his head in confusion.

Impatience ripped through Maks, and he wanted to roar in frustration. So he did. Right into Morales’s ear. “Your brother took Sydney’s boy! Where would he be?”

Luiz tried to cough, his face puce. He forced something out in Spanish that had the word
God
in it and then reverted to English. “I don’t know . . .” He tried to cough again and motioned with a wave of his hand to two of his men who’d followed them from the dining room.

Micha stepped in, shaking his head. In his hands were two Glocks that had come out from under his black suit jacket so quickly even Maksim had missed it. The barrels were now pointed at each man’s forehead. “It’ll be over before you twitch.”

Luiz gained Maksim’s attention by shoving at his fists, which were still full of Armani and jammed tight into his neck, cutting off his blood supply with every second that passed. “They’re”—
cough
—“Eberto’s”—
cough
—“men. He’s been with”—
cough
—“my brother for over a decade.” He pointed at the one with the small mustache.

Maks released him instantly and turned away, leaving Vincente, who’d sidled up, to stand guard. More coughing sounded as Maks pulled out his own Glock and jammed it so far under Mustache’s chin he was sure he touched the roof of the guy’s mouth.

“My patience is gone. Where will I find him?”

“They’ve given me all of Eberto’s hideouts already,” Luiz wheezed. “And I’ve given them to you. So that question won’t help.”

“His women. Where does he fuck?”

“Whorehouses,” Mustache gasped, giving him a few addresses. Vincente cursed when two of them just so happened to be the ones where the Koreans had caused the disturbances the other day. No doubt at Eberto’s request.

Maks released him also and felt his monsters thrashing to break free. “We’re wasting time here,” he growled. “The guy doesn’t have one regular pussy he fucks? I can’t believe that.”

Mustache scrambled back, moving closer to Luiz. “I swear he doesn’t. Not since Emily.”

“Then where—” Maks had been in the process of wheeling away so he wouldn’t shoot the fucker, but he stopped and swiveled his head back as if he were an owl. “What did you say?”

Eyes widening, Mustache rambled. “It was a long time ago, but Emily was the only girl I ever saw him spend any time on. He was nice to her for a while. But then she fucked off. Completely disappeared. Eberto lost his head and kept searching for her until he found her working at a club in Hell’s Kitchen last year. By then he hated her. Had one of our guys sell her some bad shit that killed her. Ever since, if he leaves his new place at all, he fucks mainly Vietnamese girls who like it rough.”

By the end of the story, the pieces had fallen into place. “Eleanor is Eberto’s daughter,” he said to Micha in Russian. Then to the guy, “Which address was his new place?”

“None of us have it. He wouldn’t tell us.”

Maks didn’t need to be told. He’d found it himself through Eleanor’s school records. “So he’ll be there on his own?”

Mustache nodded, but Maks was already rushing for the door. He stalled and pointed to two men who carried the title of
boyevik
, or soldier, in the Tarasov organization. Two of their best, actually, which was why they were here.

“You and the others bring these four”—he pointed to Luiz and the men he had with him—“to the club. Put them in the basement.” He looked Luiz in the eyes and went on in English. “If that boy is in any way damaged, I will keep you in that room under my club for months and months. And no matter what I do to you, I will not let you die. Do you hear me?” He met four other pairs of eyes that couldn’t hide the anxiety of the owners. “And believe me—you will wish for death with every breath I allow you.”

Back to Luiz he went, coming right in close. “And if the boy is dead? You will be set aside, and your family will take your place on my wall. Not your son,” he stipulated, “because I’m no monster. But anyone else I parade by you; if anything that even resembles affection flashes in your eyes for them, they will suffer.” Drawing his arm back, he gave the Mexican a right hook that had to have rattled the guy’s brain. “That’s for putting your hands on Sydney before you came to Rapture that night.” Another hit landed, and some blood sprayed. “And that’s for telling her to get used to being on her knees in front of you. You’re lucky I don’t end you for that.”

In minutes, they were back in the two vehicles and speeding through the city streets. Maks programmed their destination into Google Maps on his phone and prayed the NYPD weren’t going to bother them. He kept to a reasonable number on the speedometer just in case.

“Explain the connection you made back there,” Alek said from the back.

“Emily was Sydney’s best friend. She OD’d last year, which is the reason Sydney began doing all of this. She has no clue Eberto is Emily’s ex or the father of her daughter. Sure as fuck has no idea Emily was deliberately killed. Shit. There’s that personal connection between them. Never thought it would be something like this.”

“And you know where we’re going how?” Alek pressed.

Maks shook his head in disbelief at how some shit just worked out. “Sydney said the state had taken Eleanor away the day after her mother died. Wasn’t the state—it was Eberto. Fucking guy didn’t even bring the girl to her mother’s goddamned funeral. There’s a scar for you.”

“Anyway, my Aussie really seemed to miss the girl, so I asked her if she wanted me to try to find her. Last night, thinking Eberto had left town and I had some spare time, I went on a search to see if Eleanor had stayed in New York. Found her listed as a student at a school in Bushwick, home addy and everything.”

“Does Sydney know that?” Alek asked.

“I told her earlier. Before the call about Andy came in.”

“So, we’re, uh, likely to find both kids at this place?”

The hesitation in Alek’s voice had Maksim’s skin shredding. He blocked it. He just couldn’t go there. “I can’t even imagine what a year living with Eberto Morales has done to the young girl. I can’t fucking wait to end this guy.”

For the rest of the drive, aside from asking one of the boys to pass him this so he could slip it in his pocket or hand him that so he could tuck it up his sleeve, Maks was silent. They all were—Micha beside him, Alek in the back.

They slowed around the corner of their destination not long after, and Maks pulled into the driveway of a cemetery, parking behind the main office, which was closed.

They got out and met up behind the Hummer with V, Quan, and Jak. First thing Maks did was designate drivers.

“You and you”—he pointed at Alek and Jak—“might as well get back in the trucks because you don’t need to hear this.”

Alek, whose eyes were smudged with fatigue as it was, thankfully didn’t put up a fight and walked away. The truck shook as he got behind the wheel.

Jak looked to V, his superior when Gabriel wasn’t around.

“Either of you know this area?” Vincente asked him and Quan.

Quan shook his head. Jak, with a resigned twist of his mouth that pulled at the scar on his face, held out his hand. Quan dropped the key into it, and off he went back to the Kombat.

While that was being settled, Maks had pulled up one of his favorite toys that showed the street view of pretty much any street, road, lane, avenue, and so on, in the world. They made their plan and were off. He and Micha wandered slowly down the street, close enough together that people seeing them would get that uncomfortable uh-oh-don’t-look-at-the-gays and avert their eyes.
Fucking idiots.
V and Quan circled the long way and would meet them around back.

“Fucking takedown in broad daylight,” Micha muttered.

“Look at the neighborhood. No one will care.”

“I almost made out with a guy once,” came a casual announcement that shocked the fuck out of Maks. Thank Christ he knew Micha was attempting a distraction and wasn’t considering making things awkward between them. “He was a Hungarian colonel who’d stolen a chip filled with information that could have done some real damage had it made it to those who knew what to do with it. He carried it around with him, in a small locket around his skinny neck. Had to get close enough to snag it without him knowing. Luckily, my dirty talk was distraction enough and I didn’t have to lock lips with him.”

They were twenty yards from the driveway. The blue Lincoln could be seen behind the closed wooden gate. “What was it like being in that type of sitch with another guy?” Maks asked curiously. Again, not much was taboo to him when it came to sex. Certainly not experimenting. He hadn’t ever had the urge, but he sure as fuck didn’t judge anybody who did. Not after some of the stuff he
had
done.

“Bony. And I knew without having to sample that I’d prefer fuller lips. And two sets.”

Maks’s mouth turned up, and then his mind was wiped of everything but what they were doing because they’d arrived. In the next blink, they’d both hopped the fence with sideways leaps and were crouching, Glocks at their thighs as they duck-walked alongside a cube van.

“Cover me,” Maks mouthed, pointing to his eyes and then the first-level windows.

Micha’s lips thinned, and he slipped ahead so that he was the one doing the checking.
What the fuck?
He usually allowed Maks to call the shots.

While Micha peeked into the three windows, two light thumps sounded near the rear of the yard, which was less than twenty feet away. Maks looked over to see V and Quan squatting behind an abandoned torn patio umbrella that was lying on its side, ratty tassels flapping in the cold breeze. V gestured that he had a door in his sights and they were heading toward it. Maks nodded and looked back to Micha, who motioned like a girl pulling her pigtails under her chin and then someone doing dishes.

Eleanor must be in the kitchen.
Fuck.

Unable to wait, Maks went for the door anyway, even though he could tell just by looking that when he entered she’d be able to see him. Unless he lucked out and there was an inside door leading into the kitchen. If it was closed, he’d be hidden. Yanking a mini-can of WD-40 from his pocket, he sprayed the top and bottom hinges, waited a ten-count to make sure it had enough time to seep in, and then opened the screen door—not a squeak to be heard. Checking the handle, he was aware in his periphery of Micha at his right and Quan at his left. He looked to Quan, who nodded, meaning V must be set to enter the house.
Nice.

Taking out his trusty tension wrench—rather than draw attention by smashing one of the small square glass panes—he inserted it into the lock, swiftly set the pins, and torqued the wrench. Voila.
Snick.
The door opened. He nodded to Quan, who nodded to V, and silently entered the small house. Just as he looked up to his left, Eleanor looked down. Her eyes widened, but, possibly used to strange men visiting her father, she didn’t open her mouth to scream.

Until she saw V. Then the poor little peanut widened that yap, took a breath, and her warning was cut off by Vincente’s wide palm. Maks could see V speaking into her ear, and when Eleanor’s gaze went straight to the basement, he moved. There was no door to breach down there, so when he appeared before the small living area, Eberto got a full-on view of him. The ending to what the bastard had been saying into the phone at his ear never made it out.

“I have your kid, you cunt. If you want him—”

Eberto dropped the phone, eyes all spooked horse, as Maks lunged for him. Since no weapon was out, Maks dropped his. “
I
want him,” he snarled as he latched on to the skin of the guy’s jaw and viciously smashed the back of his head into the wall. Plaster cracked and broke, and Eberto had somewhat of a fit.

There was no control or structure to his attack, just pure desperation. So it was a piece of cake for Maksim to do what he had to do. Because he suddenly felt as relaxed as if he were sitting on a sandy beach drinking a margarita.

He started with the legs. Getting Eberto in a reverse headlock, he swiftly jerked Angelina from her sheath to run that glinting blade across the backs of the guy’s knees, severing the tendons so the ability to walk was taken. The sharp scream that filled the room closed up Maks’s ears but he ignored it and kept going. As much as he wanted to linger and cause the guy as much pain as he could withstand, Maksim also just wanted to kill him and get the fuck to wherever he’d stashed Andy. Had the sedative Micha given Sydney worn off yet? he wondered as he felt a weak right connect with his cheek—guy fought like a girl. The burn that came with being cut registered on his ribs, and it took nothing to chop into that forearm and send the blade Eberto had palmed flying. Uncaring that he’d gotten clipped, and tired of the feeble hits, Maks put Angelina to use again on the tendons at the inner elbow, rendering both of the Mexican’s arms useless.

“There. Now you’re as helpless to me as that young boy was to you,” he growled over the agonized howls. Clamping a hand over Eberto’s gaping mouth, he came in close. “So many fatal mistakes were made on your part, Morales. How many was your brother really in on? Will I be going to him when I’m through with you? Or are you going to absolve the man who clearly covered your ass your whole life?”

The memory of Sydney rocking back and forth in the front seat of the Hummer came to mind. Then the scars two twelve-year-old kids would now have to live with. And then came the remembered sound of Tegan’s hoarse voice.

“What did you do to the doctor, you cocksucker?” he demanded.

“Nice . . . tits,” Eberto slurred as he curled his upper lip in the spookiest smile Maks had ever seen.

His fist hammered into the Mexican’s face with a series of punches. The last sent Eberto’s eyes rolling, and with no regret or hesitation, Maks grasped both sides of his head and twisted hard, snapping the Mexican’s neck to end the morbid, one-sided altercation. A gunshot might have made a nosey neighbor suspicious, so he’d chosen the silent alternative.