An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) (40 page)
Read An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) Online
Authors: Nancy Haviland
“Me?” she whispered hopefully.
He nodded.
Silly girl.
“And . . . the kids?”
He nodded again. If he was responsible for them, they could be used against him.
She cupped his cheeks. “Please, Maksim, don’t look like that,” she implored. He obviously appeared as reticent as he felt. She smiled suddenly and gave him a playful look from beneath her lashes. “Trust me. I have it on good authority that this”—she motioned between them with a finger—“will be very, very good.”
He’d said that exact thing to her in this very spot the night she’d come to him for help. That zapped some of his tension, and, rolling his eyes, he came in and kissed the beautiful mouth he wasn’t sure he could live without. Very slowly, very carefully, he lowered his guard and allowed his love for her to live. He loved her. Couldn’t deny it any longer. “I’ve been telling you that for how long now?” he whispered against her lips.
“Sorry, I’ve been too distracted to take in much of what you’ve said to me. We’ve had a lot of sex in my head, though.”
He laughed around his trepidation. Knew he’d had her. Even back then. “Brat.”
Her next kiss was a little more passionate. He tried to pull back, but she refused. “Let me,” she demanded against his lips. And just like that, any lightness that had been in the air disappeared. He growled low in his throat, and his monsters took over. Only this time they were bent on nothing more than pleasing, protecting, and honoring this woman that now controlled them.
Maksim dominated the kiss, and when he knew Sydney had become oblivious to everything but them, he pulled back. “I’m going to say this one time; so listen well. You make me lose control, only you, only
ever
you. Of my body and my emotions. No matter what I’ve said or say in the future,
you
control
me
. You own me.” He cursed at the excitement that entered her eyes and took her face between his palms. “You love me?” She nodded. “Then I’m keeping you forever. You and those kids belong to me now, belong with me, as I belong to you. I vow to love you, to fight for you, to protect all of you, and to always be grateful that you accept me despite me being me.” He lowered his voice and held her close, aware they were going to be interrupted soon. Though public displays of affection would be the norm, so everyone better get used to it now. “I know you’ll always have the right, but please don’t change your mind, princess. Christ, I thought you were going to leave me,” he admitted hoarsely.
“I couldn’t. I can’t. Not even when you try to push me away,” she said with a smile in her voice. “I will love you, always, even at your darkest.”
As vows went, that was the most incredible he’d ever heard. And it might take him a while, but he hoped to eventually trust it.
“Mom?”
Sydney’s head went back so fast she bumped it into the bricks. She clearly hadn’t noticed their company approaching. “Hey, sorry. We’re just . . .”
Maksim went to release her, but she wouldn’t let him.
Good girl.
She kept her arm snug around his waist and smiled at her son while she rubbed at the back of her head and then at the tears on her cheeks. Eleanor trailed close behind Andy.
The boy looked at Sydney and then Maks. “Everything cool?” he asked hesitantly.
Maksim took a moment to take in the three of them.
Is this my new family?
A new branch he was sure would be welcomed and drawn into the fold of his current one with no issues.
Doing what felt right, he reached out and pulled the boy in with a hand on the back of his head. Eleanor came, too, and was snuggled protectively against Sydney’s breast. With a kiss pressed to Andrew’s head, Maks whispered the truth.
“We’re good, kid. This is really, really good.”
EPILOGUE
Amid Christmas decorations and colorful Chinese lanterns, Alek sat back in his chair at the long table and looked around at his celebrating friends. Three of them were wrapped protectively around their women, their contentment making everyone in close proximity want to kill themselves.
Or maybe that was just him.
He drained his third brandy and caught the sparkle of one spectacular rock taking up space on Sydney’s ring finger. Maks had given it to her last week after a loud and boisterous Thanksgiving dinner at the house. Actually, he’d had Andrew and Eleanor do the honors by—of all things—pretending to see a spider.
“Holy crap, Mom!” Andrew had burst out, waving Sydney over to the foosball table a few of them had gathered around in the basement, doing their best to stave off a tryptophan-induced coma. “I know you hate them, but look at this thing. Swear to God it has three eyes. Look.”
Eleanor had peered into the shallow depths of the table, freckled nose wrinkled, but otherwise calm. Eva had stood there, too, eyes wide, Gabriel next to her, his attention on his phone. Skeptical, because Samnang was usually more diligent, Alek had left his squat on the stairs. When he’d gotten close enough to see the little blue box with the amethyst stone glittering on what looked to be a platinum band, he’d cursed out loud, but for reasons other than the apparent carat size. Happiness was blooming everywhere while he withered and died inside.
“Kill it!” Sydney had screeched, stumbling back until she fell into the corner of the sofa. “Please!”
“Not till you see it, Mom,” Andrew had insisted. “They’re really not as bad as you make them out to be.”
“Come here, Auntie. You’ll like this one,” Eleanor had offered in her soft, please-don’t-pay-attention-to-me voice.
It had taken another minute of cajoling before Sydney, shaking like a leaf by then, had inched over. She’d craned her neck, ready to bolt . . . and had gasped, hands flying to her mouth, gaze panning and stilling when she found Maks leaning against the doorjamb of computer central.
“Wanna be mine?” he’d inquired with a crooked smirk. Fucking guy didn’t have a traditional bone in his body, Alek had thought, shaking his head.
Sydney had flown to him, practically hovering inches off the ground—without bothering to get the ring first. Maks had been smothered with yeses and kisses and so much love Alek had been unable to do anything but watch with a sickening envy until they disappeared into the room behind them with Maks calling out, “You’re on babysitting duty,
dyadya
.”
The “uncle” in Russian had given Alek a good feeling, and he, Eva, and a still-distracted Gabriel had ushered the kids—who were old enough not to need a sitter—upstairs so the newly engaged couple could celebrate in private.
And now in public, he thought, wondering at their choice of venue. A small Chinese restaurant in lower Manhattan. Great food, but Alek would have expected something bigger from Maks.
Wind chimes tinkled, signifying the door was being used, and Alek glanced over. It was ingrained to always be conscious of who was coming and going—
The sound of rushing water filled his head. Or was that blood? Because every time this happened lately and he snapped back to reality to find himself staring at a stranger, he bled. How often had he seen her across a busy restaurant? On the street? In a passing vehicle? In his fucking dreams? Too many times to count.
Are you really seeing this?
his brain asked calmly, forcing him to blink his burning eyes.
Or have you manifested her because you need the visual so damned badly?
It would be you manifesting, you bastard
, Alek silently replied, his heart beating faster and faster.
Doing this to me again. Why the fuck do you keep doing this to me? You’re only driving yourself crazy.
His head was silent for a few seconds.
And then the positive identification came, his mind whispering two beautiful words. Reverently. In a stunning relief.
It’s her.
Sacha. His angel.
Please be real.
He’d been searching for more than a year for this one he’d pushed away so callously. Would have searched until the end of time. Because it had been proven that he simply could not live without her.
Even though he could barely grasp what this meant, everything in him once again centered, focusing on the woman he was meant to share his life with—
The woman who’d just turned her head, as if in slow motion, to face a man who’d come up behind her.
A man who placed his hands on her upper arms.
A man who then bent forward to drop an intimate kiss to her temple.
The roar that sounded off in Alek’s head was tortured and enraged. Without even being aware of it, he surged to his feet, his hand already closing around the 9 mm under his jacket. A chair scraped, falling back to land on the tile, and before he could aim and take out the dreaded competition, his uncle was in front of him, blocking him from view of the other patrons eating their dim sum.
“Put that goddamn gun away!” Vasily whispered furiously in Russian.
But Alek wasn’t listening. Because Sacha had glanced over at the commotion and was now staring right into his eyes with an expression of such shock, such fear and horror, all Alek could do was try to deny that he was seeing it. It should be love and tenderness in those gold eyes. This was wrong. All wrong.
She turned and rushed by the man at her back, who quickly and wordlessly followed her out with a concerned expression on his soon-to-be inanimate face.
Alek immediately went to follow, his heart feeling as if it were tearing in half, but he was stopped by a python wrapping his neck in a tight hold and jerking him back around the corner into a narrow hallway that led to the restrooms. He struggled like a madman for who knew how long until a solid fist to the gut had him doubling over. His pride was all that kept him from vomiting on his own shoes.
Maksim’s face came front and center. “Sorry for that, brother,” he said, clearly meaning it. Then he held up his phone.
Alek pulled in some air and was unable to understand what significance the phone had. He was just about to clock Maks when he pressed a button to light up the screen.
Staring out was the face of the man who’d just left with Sacha.
“Facial recognition software is fun,” Maks drawled, releasing him but still blocking him from leaving. Vasily was there, too, and Alek could hear Gabriel cursing on the other side of the wall. “I’ll tell you who he is and where we can find them in five minutes,” Maks added. “Then we’ll go get her together. Okay?”
Five minutes? On top of the sixteen months I’ve already waited to reclaim what’s mine?
Alek roared in his head, incredulous.
Fuck no!
He nodded and waited for them to stand down, which they did because they trusted him.
Then he was gone. He ducked slightly and shoved roughly through the barrier Maks and Vasily presented, and easily streaked by an unsuspecting Gabriel. A round of
Jesus Christ
s followed him as he left the restaurant, the sound of heavy footsteps following. But nothing short of a bullet in the back was going to stop him from reaching his target, who’d just made it to a sleek Mercedes parked at the curb.
His panic subsiding because she was still within his reach, Alek slowed his approach. “Sacha.” She stilled with her fingers gripping the handle. “Do not open the door.”
And she didn’t.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, on a personal note, I have to thank George, Angela, and Niko for graciously sharing me with my characters. You three are my purpose, and I couldn’t possibly love you more.
To the wonderful family that resides within Grantski’s Beach House, thank you guys for your friendship, easy acceptance, and most of all your beautiful support. Sylvia, you are one of a kind, and I’m blessed to have you in my life. Love ya, Sista!
To my mother, thank you for talking me down. I love you.
Professionally speaking, the list is longer. I’ll start with Shannon Godwin, my developmental editor. If not for this wonderful woman with her endearing accent, my books wouldn’t be what they are. Shannon, I offer you a hand-over-my-heart thank-you for your valued expertise.
To my fellow Montlake authors, thank you for your generous support, advice, shares, and RTs. As I’ve seen others say so often on the loop:
you guys rock!
I also need to send a special thanks to my agent, Nalini Akolekar of Spencerhill Associates. I can’t thank you enough, Nalini, for all you do on my behalf.
A large and widespread thank-you is reserved for
everyone
at Montlake Romance for all your hard work and that 110 percent you guys put into your authors’ journeys. I’d love to list individual names as I’ve done before but am loath to miss anyone at this point, so I’ll keep it on the whole and shout out to the entire team.
Thank you so much!
And last but certainly not least, I must thank the amazing bloggers and reviewers who have given their time and attention to my Wanted Men. Again, I’d love to list individuals but would be horrified if I missed anyone. So a large thanks to you all!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2014 G. V. Spigos
A proud and privileged stay-at-home mom, Nancy Haviland writes from her home near Toronto, Ontario, where she lives with her three children and one arrogant kitty named Talbot.
Despite being an admitted INFJ, she is a member of Romance Writers of America, and will sometimes find the courage to add her two measly cents to discussions that interest her on her favorite online writers groups.
When she’s not writing or reading, she can be found loitering around any body of water larger than a puddle, soaking up the peace.
http://www.facebook.com/nancyhavilandauthor
http://twitter.com/nancy_haviland