Craving Dahlia

27. Alek

27

ALEK

I tell Dahlia to pack, while I wait for Dimitri to let me know that he’s found men to keep an eye on her. I don’t say anything to him about the safe house—he made it clear to me how he felt about that, but what I said to her was the truth. I have just as much right to use the family’s resources as he does, and as the time ticks past, I feel more and more that I’ve made the right decision. I don’t want my problems coming down on my brother’s family—on my family. This is a part of my past, a part that I want exorcised and gone, and I’ll deal with it myself. Then I can start fresh, on my own terms.

Dimitri calls me a little while later, telling me to meet him out front. Vik has five men assembled to keep an eye on Dahlia, and I wait until Dimitri and Vik are done telling me their names and qualifications before they leave, and I turn to face Derek, the one in charge of the five.

“I need you to get about ten more men,” I tell him. “I’m taking my wife to one of the safe houses tonight. I’ll need additional security to help keep it guarded.”

Derek frowns. “Mr. Yashkov said?—”

“I’m the heir,” I snap at him, pulling rank for what I’m pretty sure is the first time in my life. “This is my decision. Ten more men, Derek. Have them here in two hours, and cars ready to leave.”

I’d told Dahlia to excuse herself from dinner earlier, and we’d slip away. I know she’s uncomfortable with the subterfuge of it, but telling her that it would keep Evelyn safe as well was the right way to approach it. And it will . Everyone will be safer by keeping Gregoriy on his toes, rather than leaving Dahlia and Evelyn both in the mansion as targets. He won’t bother Evelyn if Dahlia isn’t there, and if Dahlia is hidden, I won’t need to worry about her.

I remind myself of that reasoning, again and again until Dahlia meets me at the back entrance with her bags. I take them from her immediately, handing them over to Derek, who loads them in the back of the SUV. In a matter of minutes, we’re off, and Dahlia tightens her fingers together in her lap, feeling nervous.

“I texted Evelyn while you were loading up and told her what we were doing,” she says. “That’s fine, right?”

“Yeah. As long as we’re headed there before she gets it, which we are.” I wasn’t going to be able to hide the situation from Dimitri for long. And I’m not really trying to keep anything from my brother, just put it all in motion before he can jump in and change or stop my plans. He’ll be pissed at me for going over his head, but I’ll deal with that when I get back to the estate. And he’ll understand, surely. It’s not as if he’s never done anything rash while trying to protect Evelyn.

Dahlia is quiet on the ride up to the safehouse. At one point, she reaches for my hand, threading her fingers through mine, and it shocks me how much I like it. Only a few days ago, I would have pulled away from a gesture like that. But something has changed between us, and I’m glad that it has.

I never thought I would have this again, but now that I do, I’m going to do whatever I have to in order to make sure I don’t lose it.

The safe house is a small cabin-like structure in a wooded area some distance from the estate. It looks like it could be a rustic AirB&B, with trees scattered around it and some of the property cleared, the woods thick on three sides. The SUVs pull up in front, and I turn to Dahlia as she looks out of the window.

“It’s nice inside. I’ve seen this one before. You’ll be comfortable here, I promise.”

She swallows hard, but nods, sliding out of the car with me. “Derek will get your bags,” I tell her. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

The safe house is small, but large enough that Dahlia shouldn’t feel too crowded with the security coming in and out. It’s decorated cozily, with a fireplace in the front room that she’ll probably enjoy, since the nights are still cool. I show her the living room and downstairs bedrooms and bathroom, and then the kitchen with its small dining nook.

“It’s fully stocked with food. The guards can go out and get anything that needs to be replaced. You need to stay near the cabin,” I warn her. “You can go out for walks, things like that, but don’t venture too far away and make sure the security is with you.”

I half expect her to argue with me, but she just nods. “Alright,” she says softly. “I’ll make sure I don’t go out alone.”

Relief washes over me at that. “I’ll show you upstairs,” I tell her, gesturing as I lead her to the second floor, and desire stirs through me at the thought of taking her up to the bedroom.

Upstairs is just the main bedroom, and a bathroom. “This is your space,” I tell her, as we walk into the bedroom. “The security should mostly leave you alone up here, unless something is an emergency, so you should be able to feel like you can get some privacy and room away from them.”

Dahlia nods, looking around. “How long can you stay?” she asks softly, and I hesitate.

“I don’t want to leave you, zhena . But I need to get back to the estate. Dimitri has Vik looking for where Gregoriy might be. As soon as there’s any concrete information, I want to act on it. I want this done, Dahlia.” I reach up, brushing my knuckles over her cheekbone. “I want this to be over, so we can put it behind us.”

“Are you ever really going to be able to do that?” She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. “Put it behind you? I would understand if you couldn’t. I think it would be hard for anyone to put that behind them.”

“I’m going to do my best. For both of us.” I run my fingers into her hair, my hand cupping her cheek, and Dahlia’s lips part as she looks up at me.

I shouldn’t kiss her. If I do, I’m only going to stay here longer. But I can’t resist her, especially not now, when we’re no longer fighting each other.

The moment I kiss her, she moans against my lips. I push the door closed, backing her up to the bed, and she gasps as she feels my hips press against hers.

“It’ll have to be quick, zhena ,” I murmur, spinning her around so that she’s bent over the bed. I flick open the button of her jeans with one hand as I undo mine, tugging them down her hips as I free my cock, and Dahlia moans again as I push against her already wet entrance.

“It never takes you long to get me there,” she gasps. “But if it’ll keep you here longer, I’ll try to hold out.”

“Oh, zhena .” I chuckle darkly as I thrust into her, groaning at the sensation of her tight heat wrapped around me. “That’s a challenge I’m happy to take.”

—

The good mood that I’m left in after I leave Dahlia lasts only until I get back to the estate and walk into the mansion to find Dimitri waiting for me, his expression thunderous.

“So you ignored everything I said?” He bites off every word, clearly pissed beyond all reason. But that’s never stopped me from retorting before.

“I have the right to decide how to best protect my wife.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You’d do the same if you felt strongly about how to protect Evelyn?—”

“Don’t change the subject,” Dimitri snaps. “I clearly told you what I, as your pakhan , wanted. How I wanted this trouble handled. And you went over my head.”

“You don’t get to decide how to handle my trouble!” The old resentment, the old feeling of being trapped, starts to rear its head again. “It’s my problem. She’s my wife. I’ll decide how to put an end to this. Your help is appreciated, but I don’t need?—”

“Vik has found some hints of where he might be hiding out,” Dimitri interrupts. “We think we have a path to finding this man.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know he had ties to the KGB. A former operative, apparently. Alek, that’s something you should have told me.”

“I was focused on rescuing my wife.” It’s my turn to run my hands through my own hair, tugging at the roots. “And now I’m focused on keeping her safe.”

“Alek. Slow down. We’ll find him. But I can help you better if we talk about all of it.”

“I want to know what Vik found.” I’m already striding towards the office, and Dimitri lets out a heavy sigh from behind me, his footsteps quick and sharp as he follows me all the way back to his office.

Vik is inside, scrolling over a street map on a laptop. “We think he’s at this hotel.” He points to a pin on the map, and I lean in, noting the address that pops up. “Traffic cams on the street show some suspicious figures coming in and out of the back entrances. And we saw a man fitting the description come out earlier today, and get into a dark-tinted vehicle.”

He zooms in on the video, on the blurry clip of the man’s face, but it’s all I need. I could recognize Gregoriy Volnov in the dark, after all the time we spent together. My stomach clenches, a dark, vengeful anger rippling through me, and I realize I’ve curled my hands into fists.

“That’s him.”

“Well, then we take out the head of the snake.” Dimitri looks at Vik. “We’ll need all of our best men that didn’t go with Dahlia on this. Get them together, and we’ll come up with a plan of attack. Soon,” he promises me, seeing the look on my face. “We need to be smart about this. Vik, quick as you can.”

“Yes, boss.” Vik nods, picking up the laptop and walking out. Dimitri looks at me, and his gaze is suspicious.

“Wait for us to make a plan, Alek,” he says firmly. “Until then, Dahlia is safe, the way you wanted her to be. We go in force, and this man will be wiped off the map. Anyone left will fade back into the shadows. You can put this behind you for good.”

I nod, saying nothing. Once again, I have no intention of lying to my brother.

But I also have no intention of waiting…or of taking my only remaining blood family into the nest of snakes that I plan to burn to the ground.

I won’t bring Dimitri into this any further than he already is. I’ll put an end to Gregoriy and anyone who might be close enough to him to pick up his mantle, and then this will be done. And it will be done tonight .

It’s the early hours of the morning when I leave the estate. I take more than just my usual gun with me—I have it tucked into my waistband, two more in holsters beneath my jacket, and enough ammo to make sure that I can take out a fucking army of Russian operatives. I know the way to the hotel that Gregoriy is at, and I know which floor that Vik saw them coming and going from. As far as I’m concerned, that’s all I need.

Gregoriy Volnov is going to die tonight. And he’s going to know who did it, and why.

It won’t be quick, either.

I cling to that as I ride into the city, that vengeful anger burning through me like a wildfire. I couldn’t have waited another night, another fucking hour to finish this. Gregoriy ruined my life. He ruined me . And then he tried to hurt my wife.

I can’t wait to fucking kill him.

I leave the bike a block from the hotel, close enough that I can get to it with only a short run, but far enough that I can slip through the shadows and not be seen.

There’s a few people out on the streets—it’s Manhattan, so of course there are—but I keep my hood up and my eyes down, heading around to the back hotel entrance. I can feel the weight of the guns under my jacket, more firepower than I’ve ever brought to a job before, but I don’t plan on letting a single one of Gregoriy’s men live if I can help it.

I sneak up the back stairwell, cautious of any sounds that I hear. But the hotel is silent, full of that eerie stillness that comes with it being the wee hours of the morning. I slip down the hall to the edge of the floor that has the room that Gregoriy is staying in, and I lean against the wall, my hand at my gun as I listen.

I can hear the low hum of voices. Two men, it sounds like—probably outside the room. If it’s a suite, which it probably is, there will be more men inside.

When I lean slightly around the edge of the wall, I see I miscalculated. There are two men just outside the room, but there’s more on the floor itself, leaning at various intervals and keeping an eye out. They all look bored, as if nothing particularly interesting has happened all night, and my jaw tightens.

I’ll give them something fucking interesting.

There’s seven men just outside the room. I have no way of knowing how many more are inside with Gregoriy. I can’t take down seven men without alerting them—even if I’m fast enough to drop all of them before one of them manages to shoot me, they’ll get a chance to sound the alarm.

The smart thing would be to leave, go back to the estate and admit to Dimitri that I did a little scouting, and then wait for him to give the go-ahead to make a move. With Dimitri and his men at my back, we can take out whatever Gregoriy has here. It wouldn’t be a problem. And I know Dimitri will let me do what I please with Gregoriy.

I should leave. I know in my gut that I should, but my feet won’t move. He’s there , behind that door where the two guards are standing, and I can’t walk away. Not when my vengeance is so close.

I can’t.

I’ve got enough ammo to take out his men, if there aren’t too many more inside. The problem comes with how quickly I can do it. I have the element of surprise, but that won’t do me much good if one of them lands their target, and I’m as good as dead.

Although I’d be better off dying quickly, if that’s the case. The last thing in the world I want is for Gregoriy to get his hands on me again.

That’s not going to happen. My jaw tightens, and I hesitate for the smallest moment. There’s still time to go back to Dimitri.

No. He’s here, and if I leave, I might lose him. He might move locations, he might slip away, and I might lose my chance for revenge.

My blood beats hard through my veins, my heartbeat palpable in my throat, and I know I’m not turning back now. He dies or I will—but someone isn’t surviving the night.

Taking a slow breath, I slide the guns free of their holsters. I’m going to need both if I’m going to get through the seven men, and I’ll have seconds, if that, to reload before more come out.

I wait for another heartbeat, calculate where they’re all standing, and burst out into the hallway.

The floor of the hotel erupts in gunfire. I’ll have a matter of minutes to clear through them and finish Gregoriy before security arrives, before cops are called, before I’ll need to get the fuck out without getting caught. Those thoughts all race through my head as I open fire, dropping three of the men before they even realize what’s happening.

And then they start to fire on me.

I dodge, dropping to a knee, rolling to one side as I keep shooting. A fourth, a fifth goes down, and there’s only two of them left. I hear footsteps and shouting from inside the hotel suite, and I feel the hot slice of a bullet grazing my thigh before I fire again, and the last two men drop.

I fling myself against the wall, moving towards the door just as it opens. Three guards burst out, one of them firing dangerously close to my head as I kill two more of them. The third fires again, and I hear the sharp whizz of a bullet next to me as I aim at his head and pull the trigger.

More are coming. I reload, moving with the memory of someone who has done this for most of his life, but they keep coming, spilling out of the hotel room. I drop three more men, zig-zagging and crossing to the other side of the hall, trying to keep them guessing as to where to shoot. But they keep coming, and I hear footsteps coming up the back stairwell.

I’m outnumbered. I know it, and a cold, sick feeling creeps through my stomach. Someone grabs me from behind, wrestling me backwards, and I whip one of the guns around, firing into his gut just as another of the guards aims at me—and a bullet hole opens in his head from behind.

Dimitri comes up the stairs, Vik on his heels, more of his men fanning out around him as they emerge onto the floor. “Get in the suite!” he shouts at me over the rattle of gunfire, dropping two more of the men. “Get to Gregoriy. I’ve got your back.”

I don’t hesitate. I bolt for the suite door, firing at whoever is in my way, the scent of blood and heated metal and the sound of shouts and bodies hitting the floor with that hard thud of dead weight filling my senses. I don’t stop until I’m inside, and I hear Dimitri’s men behind me, helping me clear a path towards the suite’s living room.

Gregoriy is there, flanked by guards, standing near a large floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the street. They open fire at the same moment that Dimitri’s men and I do, and I hear Dimitri behind me, shouting. The sound of glass shattering joins the ripple of gunshots as the window behind Gregoriy is hit in a dozen places, and he leaps forward, darting for cover just as I intercept him.

“No you fucking don’t, svoloch ,” I snarl, my hand twisting in the front of his collar as I grab him. The hot metal of the gun presses against his throat, and he lets out a yowl of pain as I drag him back towards the shattered window, ignoring everything else. Dimitri and Vik and his other men are still holding off the security Gregoriy has left, but I can’t see or hear anything beyond him.

I drag him up to the edge of the shattered glass, the crunch of it impossibly loud in my ears. “I’ve thought every night for five years of how I’d kill you, you piece of shit,” I snarl, tossing the gun to one side as I grip his shirt. He shoves at me, cursing in Russian, and I raise the gun in my other hand to the side of his head, pressing the hot metal to his temple. “Your men are dead. It’s just you and me now, you fucking bastard.”

The gunfire has gone quiet behind me. The room smells like blood and sweat. Behind me, I hear Dimitri speak.

“If you want to take this slow, brother, we need to go,” he says quietly. “By now they’ve called the cops. If you want to take your time, let’s take him with us and go.”

I consider it, looking at Gregoriy’s defiant face, hearing him still spitting curses at me. It would feel good to take my time, to recreate every slice and burn, to peel the flesh from his skin while he begged for mercy. I’ve dreamed of it the way a person dreams of a good meal after years of poverty, the way a man dreams of fucking a woman he’s wanted above all else. But what I want in this moment, more than anything else, is for this to be fucking finished.

“You won’t get away with this, Yashkov,” Gregoriy spits. “Your bitch will suffer. You’ll suffer. I’ll fucking punish you from the grave, you?—”

I hit him hard in the mouth with the butt of the pistol, sending blood spilling from his mouth. “Shut the fuck up,” I snarl. “I want you dead. I want you dead now . And that’s the only reason that we’re not going to find out if you can survive every torture you inflicted on me for as long as I did.”

I shove him backwards, towards the shattered window. Gregoriy’s eyes go wide, and for the first time, I see real fear painted across his features.

“Wait!” He shakes his head. “Wait! We can discuss this—Dimitri! You’re the pakhan , not your brother. We can come to terms. We can?—”

“There are no terms ,” Dimitri snarls. “If I’d known my brother was alive, I’d have ripped out every branch in your family tree years ago. I’d have murdered everyone connected to you and salted the earth with their blood. The only thing you can do now, Volnov, is fucking die. However my brother chooses.”

I swallow hard, enjoying the look of terror on his face, the moment when he realizes that it’s finished. “I choose now,” I say simply, and I shove him hard.

He tries to catch himself, the human instinct for survival kicking in even in the face of a death much less painful than the one he’d get if he lived a little longer. He fails, the momentum carrying him backwards, and he crashes through the remainder of the broken window, eighteen stories above the street below.

I watch just long enough to see him fall to the street below. And then I turn to where Dimitri is standing.

“We need to go,” Dimitri says urgently. In the distance, I can hear the wail of sirens, and I know he’s right. I nod sharply, fighting back the dizzying wave of emotion that threatens to pull me under.

He’s dead. He’s fucking dead. I’m relieved that it’s over and disappointed that it didn’t take longer, and now that it’s done I feel oddly cut adrift, as if I’m not sure what my purpose is any longer.

Dahlia. She’s what’s left when this is all done. Get back to her.

That focuses me. I follow Dimitri out, reloading my guns in case of trouble, and we all rush out the back way, out into the dark alley behind the hotel.

“Split up,” Dimitri snaps. “Vik, go get Alek’s bike. Alek, you’re coming with me. Let’s go!” he snarls, and the men scatter, headed for where the cars would have been left. For once, I don’t argue with him, even though I don’t love the idea of Vik riding my motorcycle. Instead, I follow my brother through the dark alleys to where his car has been left, the sounds of sirens louder and louder with every passing second.

“Let’s go.” Dimitri flings open the driver’s side, jumping in as I leap into the passenger’s side. “We’ll lose them. Some of our other men will be watching, draw them off if we have any trouble.”

He lays down his foot on the gas, peeling out of the alley, and we pull out into traffic. Almost immediately, Dimitri is careful to blend in, looking around for any sign that we’ve been spotted by the police as someone of interest.

The car is silent as he weaves through traffic, the lack of sound inside almost oppressive compared to the chaos of the city outside. And then, Dimtri’s voice cuts through it.

“I thought you were dead.” His tone is heavy, full of remembered grief. “I would have come for you if I’d known, Alek. Whether our father wanted me to or not. I thought?—”

“Did you even look for me?” The hurt in my voice is raw as the question that I’ve been holding back for years comes out at last. “Did you even fucking try?”

“Of course I fucking tried!” Dimitri’s voice rises, and he twists to look at me. “We sent out men. I went to fucking Moscow with them. We had every connection we had looking for you. Looking into Elia’s family. They pretended to cooperate. They acted as if they didn’t know what happened to you. We talked to Elia and she seemed heartbroken. And then—” His voice cracks. “They covered their tracks, Alek. There was a body in a hotel room that our connections led us to. It had your clothes on. The face was a mess, the body was a mess, full of so many bullet holes it was basically meat, fingerprints burned away, all the teeth pulled out. I thought for sure it was a trick of some kind, but your things were in the hotel room. The body had your tattoos. Otets was convinced it was you, that you’d pissed off the wrong people. And he was furious with you for leaving with Elia. He convinced me, too. I thought—I swear I thought you were fucking dead, Alek. I would never have stopped otherwise.”

A part of me wants to stay angry. It’s so much easier than forgiving him is, than putting five years of pain and suffering behind me…or starting to try, anyway. But I can hear the grief in his voice, raw and bleeding, and I know he’s telling me the truth.

I’ve been betrayed terribly in the past. But not by Dimitri. Not by Dahlia. Not by the people I really love.

Who love me.

I need to tell her.

I’m about to tell Dimitri to take me to the safe house, that I need to see Dahlia now, when his phone starts to ring. He taps the screen in the dash, and Vik’s voice fills the car.

“Boss. We need to head up to the safe house, now. They’re being attacked.”