Chapter 14
Kirill
Unexpected.
A single word that came easily to mind.
Murderous anger.
Two words that should have no place in dealing with my beautiful captive.
Hunger for revenge.
Three words that had plagued my entire life but had also served me well.
And in this case, I had the desire to burn down the city in search of her father.
Despite the horror of what she’d gone through, her testimony didn’t necessarily pinpoint that her father was a criminal.
Some of the most righteous people in the world, those supposedly with God in their hearts were truly the worst scum of the earth.
I’d known more unscrupulous CEOs of major corporations than I had of the most violent crime syndicates.
That’s why I honestly didn’t feel any remorse for being a commander in the Bratva.
Maybe for a healer to hear I had scruples seemed outrageous, but without morals I’d be locked in one institution or another. Choices had to be made carefully.
All of them. Including the choice of trust.
However, Vivian’s pain stemmed from years of mental and emotional abuse. While she’d insisted her bastard of a father had never touched her physically, what she’d endured with the young man she’d cared about had obviously shaped her life.
Sadly, playing dime store psychologist or superhero was completely inappropriate for the timing.
Although the ache in my system was only growing stronger with every passing hour.
And yes, there were serious, significant questions that needed answers.
After changing clothes, I slipped the keys into the lock, heading into the communications room not only to check and ensure everything was in order, but also to see what my guest had been up to in my absence.
After she’d slipped into a pair of jeans, she’d quickly made her way to the living room where she’d proceeded to stare out the window. I was quickly given the answer as to why.
My beautiful doctor was locating the whereabouts of my soldiers. She had balls. I’d certainly give her that.
From there, I watched her racing into the kitchen. Good girl. She’d grabbed a knife from the butcher block before heading to the back door. She was hoping that I’d yet to set the system on lockdown, which I hadn’t.
Maybe I’d wanted to see how far she’d go to try to escape. I certainly had another answer as soon as she opened the door and with the way she slumped in taking a deep breath, I was certain I was right.
From there, it took a few seconds before another camera picked up what she was doing.
Attempting to head to the back of the property. The only problem was as soon as she was within a couple of feet of the house, one of the soldiers walked around the corner and she was forced to hide.
I’d need to give the man a raise since he’d obviously detected her. Only when he turned his back did she scamper back to the house. But not before catching sight of one of the cameras. At least now, she was trying to act as if she’d been engaged in searching for food.
Fuck. What in the hell was I to do with this woman? She was a wild child in every way.
As I left the room, ensuring it was locked, I rubbed my jaw. She was as hardheaded as any woman I’d ever dealt with. I had to adjust my cock given how aroused I’d become. No one had ever challenged me with this degree of tenacity.
I jogged downstairs, standing in the doorway for a few seconds until I could control my facial expression. I’d use her escape against her when the time was right.
“Wow,” Vivian said with shocked emphasis as soon as I returned to the kitchen. She’d pressed her fingers across her lips, which she did when she was trying to hide her reaction or unwanted sounds. Her gaze swept over me with heat and fire.
She even gripped the edge of the counter, which pleased me to no end. There would always be something endearing about a woman’s reaction. You bet I was that vain. What man wasn’t?
I wanted her to make the low and husky sound for an entirely different reason. When I was fucking her. When she was calling my name. My cock twitched from the thought.
While I’d yet to take a shower, the change in clothes had been a good idea. For both of us.
Only her jeans were a perfect fit in highlighting her rounded curves.
If she’d wanted to drive me crazy, she’d accomplished her goal. I allowed my gaze to linger for a few seconds, which she noticed.
“Is something wrong?” Her challenge was tempting.
“Should there be?”
“No,” she managed, immediately turning away.
She’d refreshed our glasses of wine, the half-consumed bottle on the kitchen island. With the afternoon waning, she’d turned on a few lights, the effect warming in the sterile area.
In my absence, she’d selected music and I’d be damned if the country crooning wasn’t one of the first surprises. I would think her more a rock and roll girl. She purposely tried to ignore me, moving about the kitchen in quick actions.
“I hope you like pasta. There isn’t very much in the cupboards.”
“Cupboards?”
Huffing, she grabbed her wine, taking a sip, finding it difficult to ignore me.
Now my balls were tight.
“I forgot. I certainly don’t understand Russian culture, although I’d considered taking it as a language in college. My grandmother called them cupboards. Cabinets.”
“Ah. There will be a food delivery tomorrow. Perhaps we could order for delivery.”
“And have your goons check the food after strip searching the delivery driver? That’s not fair.”
When I was around her, laughing was much easier than at almost any other time of my life. “Safety is important.”
“That’s why you selected a house that’s as close to being Fort Knox as possible. You do know that expression. Don’t you? I don’t even know if you get anything other than comrade news in Russia.”
“Comrade news? Fortunately, with the invention of satellite television, we can actually watch almost anything we want. And believe it or not, I do understand American terminology.”
“Do they teach you that in assassin school?”
It was good to see her feisty personality had somewhat returned, although there was more of a cautious edge.
“Yes, they do.”
Her unexpected gasp brought a smile while she grew more disgruntled. She didn’t like being made fun of, which meant one of her father’s methods of punishment had been humiliation.
Whoever the bastard was, I already hated him.
“I think you know I didn’t attend some specialty school.”
“Why is that? They train soldiers to handle jobs the military and the CIA don’t want to do.”
“True, but that’s not how members of the Bratva are trained.”
She lifted the knife she was holding toward me. “So you’re admitting you’re Bratva. I knew it.”
“Then you assumed correctly.”
“Why are you here? And what do you mean I know?”
As she studied me, I knew I needed to handle my answer with caution. “You’re highly intelligent, Vivian. You work in New York. My guess is you’ve experienced your share of criminal activity while working in the hospital.”
Her sense of relief was written on her face. “I have. Too much. Which is why I know you’re dangerous.”
“I never lied to you. I am very dangerous.”
“Why are you here?” she repeated. “I assume you have connections in New York. Or is this personal business?”
A question that deserved an answer. A truthful one. “Maybe a little of both, but yes, I have connections in town. As you so aptly established, the Bratva do exist even in New York.”
“I was honest with you. Why don’t you attempt the same, since you seem to require trust.”
She was right. Why not? “The man I worked for in Moscow was attacked, his wife and two children almost murdered during the newborn baby’s christening.
It had been my responsibility to keep them safe and I almost failed.
That can’t happen. They are like family to me.
Unfortunately, even with the church surrounded, the bastard escaped.
Word on the street was that the man responsible was little more than a ghost. Through our various connections, we discovered the possibility the Ghost had left for New York. I was tasked with hunting him down.”
A range of emotions swirled within the woman I both admired and was jealous of. She had an incredible capacity for rage and hatred, but deep within her soul was a woman who longed to bring joy to the world. A true innocent in a sea of monsters eager to strip away that very innocence.
“Did they… survive?”
“Yes, they did, including the emotional support Golden Retriever my Pakhan’s wife needs.”
“Wow,” she said, glancing away as if something came to mind. “This happened in Moscow?”
“Yes, inside a church.” She was concerned about a connection. Perhaps her family.
“They were lucky.”
“No, Vivian. There is no such thing as luck in our world. There are only truth, lies, and death. In between, games are often played. Ones of power and prowess, the stakes higher than ever before. Empires are made and lost with single decisions, single deaths. And yes, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, your life mirroring mine.
Perhaps there’s a difference, but at the end of the day, the people pulling the strings have the ability to ruin lives with no sense of wrongdoing. ”
She knew exactly what I was saying. That she could never escape from her past and her family. At least not forever. Her eyes were briefly filled with moisture, but I knew the sadness wouldn’t allow it. That’s how determined she was to remain strong no matter the situation around her.
Good for her.
How sad that throughout her life, she would be sorely disappointed in the world around her.
“Who is here in the United States?”
She was pushy. I admired that about her. “Kazimir’s cousin, their organization formidable.”
“Are you thinking about moving here, expanding business?”
“Would you like me to remain?”
Her huff was followed by a roll of her eyes. “For what reason?”
“You tell me.”
“Finding happiness.”
“Rare in my world.” Which was true.
“What a sad way of looking at life.”