An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) (6 page)

“We all know about your visits to her club, so I’m assuming you’re feeling a little territorial here.”

“What
the fuck
does he want with her?” The words exploded from him.

Vasily’s lip quirked as he brought his hands up to rub at his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He’d just gotten into town from a hush-hush job and looked tired. “We’ll know soon enough.”

Yes. They would. Maks pulled over a keyboard and typed in the Mexican’s name, pointing to a monitor so Vasily would know which he was using. They spent some time reading a shit-ton of information that touted Morales as being one of the most successful drug and arms dealers in the world today. Stupid government officials. Didn’t they know yet that the most successful were the ones they had no clue existed?

Settling back, Maks withdrew his phone and debated. Should he call Sydney now? Or wait until he had some facts he could use to lure her into talking to him? He slid the cell back into his pocket. He’d wait. And rather than call, he’d head over to her place.

She couldn’t hang up on him if he was standing in front of her.

Having had enough of climbing the walls of her office, Sydney was now trolling the club. She stopped to chat with a few of her staff members. Played the role of gracious hostess with a couple of celebrities in town for a big comedy show at Madison Square Garden. Declined the offer of a drink and excused herself when one of them got
that
look in his eye. Then she stood off to the side in an area that overlooked the dance floor and the raised, spotlit DJ booth beyond.

The guest DJ she’d brought in was in his element. Sydney watched and listened as he spun and mixed, bringing his audience up . . . up . . . up; then he dropped the beat, and the crowd as a whole began to bounce, arms raised as each person jumped in unison to the pounding bass. So cool how one man held the strings to hundreds of puppets with a simple sound system, she thought, smiling.

She turned to go in search of her next distraction and felt her stomach land with a splat on her Manolos.

Luiz Morales came right up to her, invading her personal space as though he had every right to it. He nodded a greeting as she stepped back against the railing behind her. He wasn’t a tall man, but neither was he short. Wasn’t handsome but not ugly. He was average. Dark hair, dark eyes, bronzed skin. He must shop at the same place Maksim did, she thought, eyeing his suit. She looked beyond him and saw his spooky brother whom she’d just left a couple of hours ago. Three other men, clearly armed and dangerous, were spaced evenly behind Eberto in a protective half circle.

Fuck.

“Ms. Martin.” Luiz smiled. She put her hand in his offered palm and held her smile by sheer force of will while he brought it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “Forgive me for not making an appointment, but I had some time and thought we might talk.”

Her throat feeling swollen, Sydney played her role and did her best to appear as unaffected by his appearance as she could. “Of course, Luiz. How are you? I wasn’t expecting to meet with you for a couple of weeks yet.”

His smile grew until a chipped fang—er, tooth—flashed, making him look sharkish. “As I said, I had some time.”

She nodded and withdrew her hand so she could beckon him to follow. She led the way to an empty corner that was roped off. The sprawling booth would be used by other high-profile guests if any showed, but for now she’d take advantage of the privacy it afforded without having her completely cut off from help if she needed it.

“Please, sit,” she offered, taking one of the singles so she wouldn’t have to sit hip-to-hip with any of them. The three goons stayed a respectable distance behind her while Luiz and his brother relaxed on the gray leather. “Can I get either of you a drink?”

Luiz shook his head. “Thank you, but we can’t stay long. I have an important meeting to get to.” He sat forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. He leaned to the side and caught her eye, holding it as he said, “I wanted to feel you out. Ask you how our arrangement has been working for you.”

“It’s been fine,” she said, sticking with short decisive answers. “I’ve had no problems.”

“And will we continue as-is for another year?”

Oh, fuck.
She forced herself not to jump to her feet and run. Right
now
? Here? They were going to do this
here
? She took an inconspicuous breath to combat the dizziness swirling through her head and leaned forward to copy his stance, hoping to appear as at ease as he did.

“As much as I appreciate the professionalism your organization has shown, Luiz, I’ve decided not to renew our deal.” She pretended not to see how his expression cooled and went on with what she’d practiced. “Not for any other reason than I’ve simply found having to satisfying my customers’ extended needs much too time-consuming.” And she zipped it.

His stare didn’t waver, and she made sure hers didn’t either. “That’s very disappointing, Ms. Martin,” he said after what had to have been a full minute that caused a bead of sweat to trickle between her breasts. “A foolish decision on your part. One I’d hoped you wouldn’t make.” He stood.

She did the same, mainly so her face wouldn’t be at crotch level when he stepped into her, which he did. His hand clamped onto her ribs in a surprisingly strong hold that made her gasp, and he drew her against him. Loath to make a scene unless it was completely necessary, she allowed it and prayed he couldn’t feel the deep tremble spreading through her body.
He has too much to lose by killing me in front of all these people
, she assured herself.

“There was no need for you to stand for me, Sydney,” he said into her ear, using her first name for the first time. “In fact, on your knees—or your back—is where you’ll be spending most of your time while in my presence over the next while, so you should get used to it.”

Anger surged inside her, joining the terror. She tried to jerk away from him, but he held fast, bringing his other arm around to pull her tight against the length of his body. She looked up and wanted to shrink back from the malevolence staring down at her. She didn’t. Instead she injected every ounce of loathing she felt for bullies like him into her expression and opened it up for him to see.

“Let me go, Luiz,” she demanded. “You have no right to touch me without—”

“I have every right,
chica
,” he interrupted. His next words made the hair on her nape stand straight up. “And you know why. After I iron out a few details, you’ll be mine for the foreseeable future. I want smiles and lenience the next time we’re together. If I don’t get that, you’ll be very regretful come morning.”

Fuck him. She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

“Boss? You need a hand?”

She looked behind her to see her most trusted bouncers ready to intercede, their tightly muscled bodies straining, hard faces wearing identical expressions of give-us-the-word.

“Do I, Luiz?” she said, turning back, hoping to shame a man she wasn’t sure had much of a conscience. “Do I really need my staff involved in this?”
Please say no.
She didn’t want either of her boys hurt. She couldn’t see Eberto and the three bodyguards playing fair, not with those bulges in their jackets. Again, were they brave enough to draw a weapon in an arena so public, where hundreds of witnesses were milling with their hundreds of cell phones?

“No. Not this time.” She was released. But not before having to suffer a firm caress down her ribs and over her hip. “I’ll be in touch,
chica
,” Luiz promised before tipping his head at Eberto, who gave her a slick wink before following his brother out.

Her bouncers came to her side as she watched the group leave, the dread she’d been living with for weeks now realized. The only saving grace was that Luiz hadn’t mentioned Andrew as Eberto had earlier. But maybe he was saving that for when she really put up a fight.

“You okay, Sydney? Why didn’t you call us?”

She sank down on the stool and blinked when a dark gaze nestled within a smooth cocoa complexion came down with her. Jerome, the chattier of the pair and one of her only key-holders, squatted in front of her. She forced herself to nod. Would she ever be okay again?

“Is there anyone I can call for you?”

She ran her hands down her arms to ward off the chill stealing over her. The tattoo on the inside of her wrist caught her eye. It was a baby elephant with eyes the color of hers and Andrew’s. He was sitting on his hind legs as a puppy would, his trunk raised with an offering: his heart. She’d had it done as soon as she’d stopped breast-feeding, when Andrew was almost a year old. She had others, but they weren’t visible unless she was in a bathing suit.

Reminded of what she had to protect, she brought to mind an image of her would-be savior and she nodded at the question. “Yes, Jerome.” She patted his shoulder and rose on shaky legs. “I do have someone to call.” She went to walk away but paused to look between the two of them. “Thank you, guys, for—”

“Doing our job,” Jerome finished for her as he straightened to his full intimidating height. “No thanks necessary. We’ll keep an eye and let you know if they come back tonight. Should we expect them?”

“I hope not. Actually, after I make my call I’m going upstairs. But I’ll leave my cell on. You guys are okay to close up?”

They both nodded around insulted looks, and that made her smile a little. Grateful she had them at her back, she gave each a hug before aiming for the exposed grated staircase that led up to her office. Once closed into the secure room, she found she was able to breathe a little easier. She pulled her cell out and went over to sit on the edge of the sofa as she scrolled through her contacts. Maksim had left his card behind on his every visit in the past weeks, and she’d finally caved and entered the number he’d scrawled on the back into her phone. Now she was glad she had.

Too jittery to sit, she got up again and began pacing as she pressed “Send.” The ringing in her ear was similar to what she thought a death knell might sound like, because she truly didn’t know if she was stepping out of the frying pan and into the fire.

CHAPTER 3

Having prepared for their visitor as best they could, Maks stood next to the booth they’d altered and surveyed the club. He wasn’t sure whether to be glad the place was packed with witnesses or not.

He looked at his Breitling as his cell went off and wondered what was keeping Morales. His tardiness was bordering on disrespectful, he thought as he checked the screen to see a private number displayed.

“Yeah.”

The feminine clearing of a throat had him pressing his phone harder against his ear.

“Russia?”

A ripple of awareness passed over his scalp and traveled down his entire body, leaving the hair on his arms and legs tingling.
Seriously?
He shook his head to clear it of the disbelief the reaction caused. “Australia?”

“I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time . . . ?”

His radar didn’t beep at the uncharacteristic tension in her voice. The fucker screamed long and loud, as though a tsunami had just been spotted on the horizon and was closing in fast. He moved around Vasily, who gave him a curious look, and traveled through the club and into the back hallway so he could hear better. “You’re not. Though I will admit I’m surprised to hear from you.” Somehow, coming back with a snide comment about missing him already didn’t seem fitting.

“I’m sure.” She cleared her throat again.

Almost every time they spoke, even though she placed herself on the defensive, she always deflected his come-ons with ease, and most times with a witty humor he couldn’t help but appreciate. Right then she sounded serious. Hesitant and uneasy, even. Vulnerable. And didn’t that draw out his monsters. The fuckers roared to the surface, ready to do battle on her behalf without so much as an explanation.

“What’s happened, Sydney? Are you okay?”

“No, actually, I’m not,” she said, astounding him with her honesty. “I’d like to see you, if you can make the time. Not now,” she said quickly, “because I’m taking the rest of the night off, but maybe tomorrow? Would you meet with me?”

She hadn’t taken a night off in all the weeks he’d known her. And she sure as fuck had never requested a meet. “Time and place.” What was that clicking in the background? Was she pacing? If so, she’d changed into her requisite heels . . .

“Er, how about . . . the beach? Do you mind meeting me at Coney Island?”

“Coney Island?”

“Yes. I usually go there when I need some space,” she said, sounding defensive. “If you’d rather not make the drive—or have something against the sand and sea—I’d be happy to come to you.”

Seems you already have.
“I have nothing against the beach,” he assured her, taking the slight snark in her tone as a good thing. She was still in enough of a good place to give him attitude. “Can you tell me what this is about?”

She sighed quietly. “I’d rather explain when I see you.”

“Okay. Are you in danger? Do you need me to send a couple of my boys over? Because it wouldn’t be a problem.”

The silence in his ear stretched. Even the sound of her pacing ceased.

“Sydney?”

“Yes?”

He frowned. “Do you need them?”

“No. Thank you, though. Sorry.” She laughed tightly. “That offer was . . . surprising, and very generous. But I think we’ll be okay tonight.”

“Fine,” he said, opening the door to the club and waving in a couple of the boys. “Are you finishing up now?”

“Yes. So you’ll meet me?”

“Hang on.” He pressed the phone to his thigh and instructed the boys to go hang out at Pant. “Keep your eyes and ears open for anything unusual.” He brought the phone back up as they left. “Sorry. I’ll meet you. At your odd choice of place for November. Are you a water baby?” he teased lightly, hoping to hear the strain leave her voice.

“Hmm.” The sound told him nothing, but then she added, “I suppose that’s only natural having grown up on the coast. You’ll be up later than I will tonight, so what time would work for you tomorrow?”

He stored another tidbit—she’d been raised in a coastal town—and impatiently wished the sun was rising as they spoke. But it was barely midnight. “I could get used to this accommodating side of you. I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

“And you won’t often, so I hope you enjoy it.”

He laughed and leaned his back into the wall. “Ah, there you are. I knew you had to be in there somewhere.” He nodded at two of his girls as they teetered by on their stillies. “I’m not much of a sleeper, so how about we say midafternoon? On the boardwalk at the end of the concessions?”

“You know the place well,” she said, sounding surprised.

“My best friend is an MD in the emergency department of the hospital over there. I stop in to feel the sand between my toes when I can.”

“Really. Somehow I can’t picture it.”

“It’s true. And better yet, why don’t I swing by your place to pick you up, and we can drive out together?”

“That won’t work. I think it would be best if I meet you there.”

“You knew I’d try.”

Her wry laugh had him smiling. “Yes, I did.”

After a slight hesitation, her voice filtered so softly into his ear he barely heard her. Yet the words—no, the
hope
in her words—touched him deeper than anything had in a long time.

“Thank you, Maksim. I know I haven’t been very nice to you, so I appreciate even more that you’re willing to see me.”

Normally he’d have found himself shoving past the warm and fuzzies and bringing things back to where he was most comfortable. He might have mentioned a favorite sex position she could allow for their first time to show her gratitude. But, again, for some reason, he couldn’t go there. She’d stepped off that high horse of hers and reached out to him. That alone was cause for concern. The fact that she sounded so off and he now knew it had something to do with Morales, well, let’s just say he was chomping at the bit to get the story.

“Go upstairs and get some sleep, lover.” He pictured the enormous loft Sydney lived in above her club—one he knew by blueprint alone because, of course, he’d yet to be invited up. “You’ll see come morning that nothing is ever as bad as it seems when the dark of night is closing around you.”

“Right,” she all but whispered. “See you tomorrow, Russia.”

Maks ended the call and let his arm fall to his side.
What the fuck?
He was pretty sure he’d never been more curious about anything in his life. Was she requesting this meeting . . . ?

His head jerked up. Speaking of meetings.
Shit.

He went back into the club and hid a cringe when he saw Luiz Morales already settled at the large corner booth—the table of which had been removed so no weapons could be drawn without being seen. Tucking his and Sydney’s conversation away to dissect later, Maks came on the scene with a nod to the Mexican and settled next to Vasily. Micha stood behind them, an arm’s length away, and Alekzander Tarasov had shown while he’d been gone and was now at his uncle’s right. Vincente materialized, then, like the Reaper he was named after, and settled into a ready prop against the mirrored wall a few feet over.
Shit.
Maks had forgotten V had said he was stopping by because he had a meeting in the area with his NYPD contact. Good timing, though. Having the Reaper around was always beneficial when one wanted to make an impression. Vincente glanced at the Tag wrapped around his thick tattooed wrist, his long black hair skimming the cuff of his leather duster. He looked relaxed, almost bored, but that was bullshit and they all knew it.

Focusing, Maks observed Luiz lazily checking out the waitress handing him his drink.

“Thank you,
chica
,” he drawled, tucking a bill up the leg of her fitted black boy-shorts rather than handing it to her. Such disrespect.

Asshole.
Maks relaxed his curling fists. He might make a healthy living running a club many considered offensive—though why they would he had no idea. He didn’t run whores. Not one bared pussy had ever been flashed. No one had sex on the premises—other than him. And his girls were treated well. Everyone had their reasons for doing what they did in life, and the women who worked for him were no different. Hell, most of them had a child or two they were attempting to raise in situations not ideal, and he respected the fuck out of them for that. Sure, he’d sampled one or twenty over the years, but only when that green light flashed to let him know the interest was there. He’d never treated them as nothing more than pieces of ass, even the ones who saw themselves as such.

Needless to say, he wasn’t fond of watching men like Morales degrade his female employees.

“So, Luiz,” Vasily began, getting right to the point of the visit. “What can I do for you?”

“As I mentioned on the phone, I’d like to discuss the owner of Pant.”

“Sydney Martin,” Vasily clarified.

Luiz nodded. “I’m looking for permission to engage Ms. Martin regarding a business deal we’re involved in. She has . . . been lax in her agreed-upon duties, and I’d like to address that without your organization getting involved on her behalf.”

Vasily swirled his glass. “As you know, the practice of having surrounding businesses under our thumb isn’t what it used to be. But Sydney and her club are most definitely under our protection. For me to grant you this permission, your reasons would have to be considered valid.”

“I understand,” Luiz said, his expression not as amiable as it had been only seconds ago. “Ms. Martin and I have been in business for a year. It was a satisfactory relationship, until not long ago when one of my associates went into her club and requested product.” He paused to flip his phone up when it lit up around the edges. It was resting facedown on the top of his thigh.

Maks wanted to reach across the open space between them and smash his fist into the guy’s face for making them wait even seconds for more details. “Your buddy hit a snag?” he couldn’t help but prod, too impatient to be cordial.

Luiz replaced the phone and looked up. “More like a roadblock. He was told there was no product to be bought and he’d have to go elsewhere.”

“She’d sold out?” Vasily questioned.

The Mexican pursed his lips and shook his head. “A new delivery had been made two days prior. There was no possible way she’d unloaded all I sent her within forty-eight hours. Even my people would struggle to pull that off.”

A sinking feeling played in Maks’s gut and he was relieved when Vasily gave him a subtle nod to join in. He did. “Why do you think she refused to sell to him? Maybe he was already tanked, and she was attempting to avoid trouble in her club.”

“Oh, she didn’t just refuse to sell to him.” Luiz’s tone was still mildly pleasant, but an edge had crept in to show he was more bothered by the situation than he was letting on. And Maks understood why. If Sydney had played him and Luiz had fallen for it . . .
Shit.
What the hell was she thinking? “She’s refused to sell to every other buyer I’ve sent in over the past weeks. And I’ve sent in the gamut—men, women, black, white, Asian. She’s no racist, since none have come out happy. She just isn’t selling at all.” Another pause. “This is why I don’t normally go into deals such as this. But my brother had a personal interest in Ms. Martin’s request, so I acquiesced as a favor to him.” He indicated the goon staring around the club through stringy black hair. Was the guy aware that by standing so close to Luiz he was impeding any quick exit the drug lord might need to make? Three other men stood a few yards away; one of them was paying more attention to the way one of Maksim’s dancers bent at the waist at that perfect angle than to the meeting that could go horribly wrong at any moment.

“And you’re assuming
what
in this situation, Luiz?” Vasily asked, coming back into the conversation. “You think she’s been buying large amounts of product from you and . . . destroying it? Why not selling it elsewhere?”

“Nothing has shown up on the streets in or around her neighborhood. And even if that’s what she’s doing, that wasn’t the deal we made.”

Doing his best to hide the fact that the size of Sydney’s balls impressed him, Maks tried again. “Maybe she’s exporting.”

Vasily nodded at the suggestion. It was a possibility. Morales seemed to think so, too. “I hadn’t thought of that,” the dealer said, clearly thinking it now. After a few tense seconds, he shrugged. “But, again, that wasn’t our deal. In which case you must see a punishment for her gall is warranted. Do I have clearance to proceed?”

Maks had been rubbing hard at the worn metal key he’d carried around with him since he was fourteen, but the motion stopped with that question. Punish Sydney?
His
tiny Aussie?
That
had better be met with a resounding not-on-your-fucking-life.

“I’m sure you understand why I can’t give you an answer immediately. I’ll need a day or two to look into this.” Vasily got to his feet, signifying the end of the meeting. “I’ll get back to you before the weekend with a solution I’m sure we can all live with.”

Luiz stood, as well. “I don’t see the point in you doing a separate investigation, Vasily. I’ve been quite thorough—believe me. When it comes to business, I don’t do things halfway. Regardless what she is doing with my product, this woman reneged on our very magnanimous deal, and I feel I have every right to show her the error of her ways.”

Feeling brutally impotent, Maksim looked to his Pakhan and waited for another negative to be handed off. No fucking way would Vasily allow this degenerate drug peddler anywhere near Sydney. Jesus Christ, all he could think was what if Morales hadn’t approached them before going after her? What if they’d simply snatched her? Maksim never would have seen her again. Even in his mind he couldn’t go anywhere near what might have been done to her before they eventually killed her.

“Who initiated between the two of you?” he asked, needing as many facts as he could get directly from the source.

Luiz looked to him, his expression clearing somewhat, as though sensing an ally.
Idiot.

“She did. She traveled the proper channels—went through a trapper, was put onto one of my managers. He talked to Eberto, who in turn came to me personally. When I heard how much product would move through her club, I eventually met with her myself. Have you had the pleasure?”