Russian Killer's Baby (11 page)

Choosing a few items that he would need, Feliks tried not to think of the possibility for failure. He remembered Oksana and Annika. He focused on those two people and the tiny life within Annika’s body that would eventually be his very own child.

“I should come with you,” Pyotr said dully.

Feliks snorted. “I hardly think you would be of any use.”

“I can still hold a gun.”

“Then choose one and be done.”

Pyotr struggled to gain his feet. Walking unsteadily, he made his way over to retrieve his personal sidearm.

“I’m going to take Oksana with me as soon as this is over,” Feliks told Pyotr. “I thought you should know.”

“My housekeeper will be glad of that.” Pyotr put his suit jacket on over his weapon, straightening his lapels as though he were truly getting ready for any old council meeting. “She complains nonstop about the nuisance of a child in the house.”

That only decided Feliks more firmly. He and Annika
had
to live through this ordeal. If for no other reason than fate seemed determined to make them parents.

ANNIKA TOOK DEEP breaths, trying to stay focused on the concept of escape. It was a possibility. It had to be. She refused to just give up. So as the dark car hurtled through the approaching dawn, she racked her brain for anything that might be leverage against Yuri Orlov.

“It really is too bad about your papa.” Yuri’s casual tone was almost an insult to Vadir’s memory. “He was good for money. I think of him as a man who knew what was important.”

Annika couldn’t help it. She had to say
something
. “In other words, you appreciated his selfish nature because you feel like it validates
your
equally selfish nature.”

He belted out a laugh so loud it hurt her ears within the close confines of the car. “
Da!
Exactly! It is good that you can see the practical side of things. That will make today much easier for you.”

“Oh, you mean when you kill me?” It hurt to say the words, but she wasn’t about to back down. She wanted this asshole to acknowledge that he was taking her life. She wanted him to see her as a person before he attempted it.

Yuri steered the car between two narrow brownstones, heading into a tiny parking area located in what had probably once been a carriage yard. He parked and then shut off the engine. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. There was something so frankly assessing about his gaze that it gave her the creeps.

“You are not what you seem, you know that?” There was nothing flippant in his tone now. “You think that by making yourself real to me as a person, I will have trouble killing you.”

“Unless you’re a sociopath,” she told him flatly. “So I’m going to guess that’s pretty much what you are.”

“I prefer to call myself driven.” He shrugged. “But I suppose a weakling like you might see it in another light.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Time to get out.” Yuri flung open his door and stepped out of the car. “You run, I shoot. Simple. Understand?”

Annika gingerly got out of the passenger door. If this jerk kept up his jerk routine, she was going to shoot him herself. “Since I’m not a sociopath and I’m not retarded, yes. I understand.”

She followed Yuri’s lead into the house. The narrow structure looked sleepy. There was only one light on in the kitchen, and Annika could see a portly woman working away at the counter. She wondered if Yuri’s father knew his son’s plans, and hoped none of the staff would get caught in the crossfire.

“Mister Yuri!” the woman said with surprise when they walked into the kitchen through the back door. “Mr. Orlov did not tell me you were coming for breakfast.”

“I wasn’t expected.” He waved carelessly at the woman. “Go and wake him for me. We need to talk.”

“Mr. Orlov doesn’t appreciate being woken before seven, Mister Yuri,” she admonished in a firm tone.

It was obvious that the housekeeper had some experience dealing with her employer’s spoiled son. Annika held her breath, waiting to see how this would pan out. Yuri had gone so far down the path toward crazy that he wasn’t likely to appreciate any obstacles.

Sure enough, Yuri pulled out a gun and stuck it right in the older woman’s face. Her expression froze, her mouth open in a round O of surprise. Yuri waved the weapon, presumably jerking the barrel in the direction of his father’s bedroom.

The lady scurried off, apparently convinced she’d better do as “Mister Yuri” said or risk death. Annika wouldn’t blame her if she quit her post and never came back.

“You really have a way with people,” Annika quipped.

“And you really have a death wish to be questioning me all the time.”

“Do I really have anything to lose? You’ve already said you’re going to kill me.”

He shrugged, snagged two pastries off the counter and shoved them into his mouth.

He struck her as oddly juvenile in his behavior. “Did no one ever set boundaries for you as a child? You’re like some spoiled teenager with a gun and entirely too much license to make his own choices.”

“Shut. Up,” he snarled.

Interesting. Of all the things she’d said, that was the first that seemed to really get to him. Annika filed that away and followed Yuri’s lead into the next room. The space was crammed full of antique furniture and couches. It looked like an ancient sitting room decorated in dark masculine colors and rich fabrics. When Yuri took a seat near the middle of the room, Annika decided this must be where he intended to stage the bogus council meeting.

“Yuri!” An elderly gentleman with a generous girth toddled down the staircase. “Olga tells me you pointed a gun at her! What is wrong with you?”

The man Annika took to be Motya Orlov was wearing silk pajamas and a robe. His feet were shoved into slippers and all six or seven strands of gray hair on his head were standing on end. Obviously he’d been asleep.

Then Motya Orlov noticed Annika standing behind his son. His beady dark eyes opened wide with alarm. “What is
she
doing here? You kidnapped Vadir’s daughter? Are you insane?”

“I thought that was the game, Papa,” Yuri taunted. “Force Feliks Koslov to make a choice whether he killed her or not. When he failed, he would look weak. Then I would be voted onto the council and Feliks would be disgraced as a coward.”

“Nothing was said about kidnapping her.” Motya looked sick. “Vadir gives me enough trouble without this.”

“Vadir is dead.” Yuri carelessly wiggled the barrel of his gun from side to side as though shrugging off the entire incident. “He will cause trouble no more.”

“Trouble? Vadir was worth a lot of money, Yuri.” Orlov looked at his son in consternation. “What have you done?”

Annika began sidestepping toward the kitchen door. This was about to get ugly. If she were lucky, she would be able to slip out before it all went to hell.

“Don’t you move, bitch!” Yuri snarled.

Annika froze where she was. Every inch put her closer to escape.

Yuri turned back to his father. “Call the other members of the council. We’re going to have a little meeting.”

Chapter Fourteen

Annika gazed around the room, wondering if this would literally be the last sight she saw before dying. If so, she was going to be pissed. This bogus council meeting was a round table discussion between selfish old men who looked as if they hadn’t lifted a finger in years to do anything but eat.

“Why should we appoint you to the council?” a paunchy man with faded red hair demanded. “We already have one Orlov. That might give your family too much power. What if I want to put my nephew in Vasily’s place?”

“Your nephew is a bumbling idiot who doesn’t know one end of a gun from the other,” Yuri said impatiently. “If the council appoints
me
to take Vasily’s place, things will be better. I have great plans for this syndicate!”

“What plans?” someone else asked. “I hear rumors that you killed Vadir Polzin.” The man waved at Annika. “And you’re dragging his daughter around like baggage. That says nothing for you as a man.”

Yuri’s hand shook, and Annika watched in fascination as he very carefully reined in his temper. It was obvious he didn’t want the council dead. Yet.

The front door swung open so suddenly that everyone present save Yuri and Annika jumped in surprise. Pyotr strode into the room with Feliks hot on his heels. Annika’s heart jumped a little when Feliks’s gaze swept the assembled company until it landed on her. He seemed to be assessing her general health. She gave him a tiny nod to show that she was fine. So far.

“Don’t believe this little bastard,” Pyotr told his comrades. “He’s the one who killed Vasily to begin with. He and Motya arranged for Vasily to be there that night. Yuri was the one who shot him. Not Vadir.”

“How do you know this?” the redheaded man demanded.

Pyotr looked ashamed. “Because I was taking bribes from Vadir. I thought we were going to convince Vasily to stop fighting against the practice. I did not know he was going to be killed.”

“Liar!” Motya Orlov shouted. “You knew!” His gaze shifted around the circle, obviously trying to see who believed what. At this point they were all on shaky ground.

“I’m telling the truth,” Pyotr insisted. “What do I have to lose now? Yuri murdered Vasily, and Vadir Polzin, and even Vasily’s widow.” He pointed accusingly at Yuri. “Do you understand? This man murdered a mother in cold blood with her child in the house!”

The low hum of voices grew louder as the men bandied their opinions back and forth. Annika could see Yuri growing more and more agitated. Any minute now he was going to blow. Then people would die.

“What about Vasily’s son?” Annika shouted into the din. “Don’t you want to know what Vasily’s son has to say? If anyone deserves to take Vasily’s place on the council, isn’t it his own blood?”

Feliks was staring at her as though she’d lost her mind. But her comment had the desired affect. The entire room was focused on Feliks now, even Yuri. Feliks drew himself up and gave every man in the room a pointed stare.

When he spoke, his voice was only loud enough to travel around the room, but the tone was certain. “Yuri Orlov has been manipulating this council and the syndicate since his father put him in charge of their family’s operations. The bottom line is that we cannot trust him. He will put his own interests above those of the syndicate every time.”

Yuri snarled something unintelligble in Russian, obviously outraged. Then he jumped up from his seat, waving his gun in the air. “How dare you?
You!
You were the man who was too weak to accomplish the task this council set for you.”

There was a murmur from the other members. The redheaded man spoke up first. “Yuri makes a point, Feliks. Why did you not complete the task?”

“Because only a coward makes war on women and children,” Feliks said firmly.

“Yet you said you would complete this task we set for you,” the redhead argued. “Can you complete it? Or does the woman mean more than the syndicate to you?”

Annika’s stomach cramped. Of all the possible outcomes, she hadn’t really believed this one would happen. Feliks’s expression was stone cold. Yet she could see in every line of his body that he could not complete this task. She had thrown the word ‘love’ at him in play, but the truth was she really believed his emotions were that strong toward her.

As for herself, Annika
knew
she loved Feliks. So stepping into the center of the room, she knelt at his feet. She gazed up at him and willed him to see what she felt in the look she was giving him.

“What’s this?” Motya Orlov laughed nervously. “The bitch wants to die?”

“No,” Annika corrected. “I love Feliks. I won’t force him to make this choice. I would rather give my life willingly than have anyone believe him a coward.”

Feliks’s gun hand twitched at his side, but he did not move to draw his weapon. Annika could see that he would never harm her. She would never see him harmed either, which gave her an interesting idea.

“Can you not see that there is a different way to neutralize a threat?” Annika asked in her loudest voice. “You wanted Feliks to kill me in order to assure yourselves that my father would no longer be a threat to your syndicate. But hasn’t Feliks accomplished that goal? He has my loyalty. I am no longer a threat to him. I’m an ally.” Annika gave Yuri a sideways glance. “And now that Yuri Orlov has murdered my father, Vadir, I’m in charge of his holdings. That means Feliks is in charge of them and is therefore a very powerful man in his own right.”

FELIKS COULD SEE that the entire room full of men was reeling with the force of Annika’s announcement. It was a game changer. Although truthfully Annika was the game changer. She had neatly boxed the council into a corner. And she had done it by twisting their own ideals and forcing them to face their own lack of courage.

Pyotr’s low laugh seemed to break the tension that had fallen over the room. “I cannot imagine how we might argue with that logic, gentlemen.”

The redheaded Yurovich gave a grudging nod. “Vasily would have approved, I think. The righteous bastard was always a little on the soft side.”

Someone else yawned. “It is much too early to be up and about. I would like to go home and rest if we’re done dealing with this issue.”

“That’s it?” Yuri said. “You’re all satisfied by
that
? Feliks can just waltz in here and get what he wants because he’s the bastard son of a dead man who was too weak to do what needed to be done?”

“
Da
.” Yurovich shrugged. “Seats on the council are hereditary, Yuri. You know this. Whether Vasily was able to acknowledge it or not, Feliks was his son and therefore his successor.”

Feliks’s gut clenched as he realized the can of worms that had just been opened. He reached down and snatched Annika off the floor. Pulling her into the curve of his body, he dropped and rolled toward cover just as Yuri squeezed off his first shot.

Shouts of anger and cries of pain rang throughout the room as Yuri peppered his father’s house with bullets. From his place behind a heavy sofa, Feliks kept himself between Annika and Yuri.