13. Tmi
13 TMI
Lanie
For the second time in under eighteen hours, we circled around the conference table. This time was no less painful than the first. Emotions were running high and patience was running thin.
“You want to do what?”
That bomb must’ve done more damage to my hearing than I realized, because there’s no way I heard my boss––a special agent with the F-B-fucking-I––say what I thought she just said. It was categorically impossible.
“We’re going to set up a meeting with Zakhar Vlaschenko.”
Clearly, I hadn’t given her enough credit.
“Why?” Noah asked the million-dollar question.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out why she’d want to sit down with the head of the family trying to overturn the current Bratva regime. Information was a game changer. They had it and we needed it. What we didn’t know was her other angle, because there was most assuredly another angle. What could she possibly hope to accomplish? It wasn’t as if the federal government was going to partner with one crime family in order to take another out of commission.
“Before this goes any further,” Waverly started pacing the room, “if anyone has an issue dipping between the lines of the law, you should leave now. No hard feelings. No shame, but you can’t be here.”
Not a single muscle moved. Hell, I think most of us were afraid to breathe. The least we could do was hear her out. This wouldn’t be our first venture into the land of the gray and with the luck we had, it wouldn’t be the last either. And if it turned out our RAC’s moral compass was lacking direction, we’d handle it like we always did.
As a team.
“Umm…” Nelson peeked his head around the corner into the room. “Are you ready for me, ma’am?”
She studied us again, looking for any signs of movement before waving in our tech guru.
“How many times do I have to tell you? My name is Waverly, not ma’am.”
“Sorry, but my mom would skin me alive if I didn’t show respect for my elders.”
“Oh shit,” Koen sputtered.
Duncan barked out a laugh. I bit my lip to hold mine in while Keaton and Noah both turned red in the face. Sometimes I forgot how awkward Nelson could be around Waverly, especially when he was nervous.
“I’m thirty-eight, not eighty-three.” She sighed. “I’ve got a few more years before I collect my pension.”
“Sorry.”
“Now that Nelson’s here, he can fill you in on what he’s found in regards to Vlaschenko.” Waverly gave him a subtle nod, then stood against the wall with her hands clasped in front of her.
After taking a seat at the head of the table and opening his laptop, Nelson launched in. “The Vlaschenko family is known to have their hands in many different pots. Extortion, money laundering, underground fight clubs, to name a few. They own several casinos up and down the Eastern Seaboard, which are the perfect cover for their illegal endeavors. While they’ve never officially been investigated for murder, there have been a few cases where their name was thrown around; all of them vigilante-style killings. The biggest difference between them and the Bolotovs is they don’t stand for crimes against women. As in they have a zero tolerance policy.”
“So these guys are more Robin Hood , and less Godfather style mobsters. Gotcha.” Koen interrupted. “They’re like Bratva-lite.”
“In a sense, yes.” Nelson tapped a key on his laptop, projecting an image onto the wall. “Meet Zakhar Vlaschenko, known to his close friends and family as Zak.”
The guy on the screen looked to be in his mid-thirties and was not at all what I expected. He was gorgeous––in a bad boy sort of way––dressed in a tailored, three-piece navy suit, which highlighted his steel-blue eyes. Thick, jet-black hair fell to the top of his shoulders and his beard was more of a five o’clock shadow.
“You’ve got a bit of drool on your bottom lip, Lanie.”
I flipped Keaton off.
“Vlaschenko was born here in the States. He lived with his mother in Philadelphia and they both traveled back and forth to Russia several times a year to spend time with his father. Twenty years ago, his dad, who was the Pakhan at the time, along with his mom were gunned down on the street near St. Petersburg. From what my sources tell me, Zak believes the Bolotovs are responsible for their murders.”
“Why in the world would a guy with this much power risk it all by meeting with the FBI?”
Noah’s point was valid. Involving the feds when you could simply pick them off one by one didn’t make sense. The Russians have done everything to stay off our radar, yet this guy was essentially putting a big target on his back. For what?
Nelson continued, “Zak doesn’t just want to take over the Bratva. He wants to destroy it from the inside out. What better way than to turn their entire operation legit right under their nose. It’s like a big F you to the family who made him an orphan. Cooperating with us is just a bonus. At least that’s my working theory.”
“Your theory? You don’t know any of this for certain?”
“No, Keaton, I don’t. Not a hundred percent anyway.”
Continuing on with his mini interrogation, Noah posed the question we were all thinking. “Where does the gray part come in?”
Duncan, who’d quietly stood at the back of the room, came forward. “This operation is not sanctioned by the FBI. In fact, Waverly was specifically warned to keep her distance from Vlaschenko.”
“Can we cut to the chase?” I looked between Waverly and Duncan. “You’ve been talking in circles for the last ten minutes. What exactly would we be helping this guy do?”
The hair on my neck stood on end when Waverly joined us at the conference table, focusing all of her attention on me. I had the distinct impression none of us were going to like whatever she was proposing.
“Intel shows that Vlaschenko has requested numerous times for a face-to-face with Machail Bolotov. So far, every one of those have been denied. The reason I was instructed to stay out of Bolotov’s business is because the Department of Justice has issued several warrants for his arrest. The DoJ feels their racketeering charges trump my murder for hire. I disagree. Problem is, no one’s been able to find him. He disappeared from their radar a few weeks ago.” She folded her hands on the table in front of her. “But we believe there’s a way to get him to come out of hiding.”
“How?”
“By dangling a carrot in front of him.”
“What carrot?”
Goosebumps broke out all over my body. From the look she gave me, I had the answer before Duncan voiced it. This wouldn’t go over well.
“You.”
Noah exploded, “No fucking way!”
He flew out of his chair so fast, it collided with the wall behind us. Keaton was instantly in front of him, talking in a low voice, trying to calm him down. I was too stunned to move, or maybe impressed was a better word. Waverly was willing to put her job on the line, her career, in order to keep me safe. Yes, part of keeping me safe involved putting me smack-dab in the middle of danger, but I had to give her props. It was a solid plan of action. Unfortunately, the odds of convincing Noah of the same were slim to none.
“Find another fucking way,” Noah roared.
“You know this is the best solution,” Duncan returned.
Koen dashed across the room, but neither he nor Keaton could stop what happened next. My Cowboy, the love of my life, grabbed the front of Duncan’s shirt with one fist and swung with the other. He was either monumentally foolish or insanely brave. I was leaning toward the former, considering our supervisor had six inches and about thirty pounds on him.
“You only get one, Noah, and that was it.”
“If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure your jaw broke my knuckle.” He opened and closed his fist, flinching with the movement.
“Good.” He shrugged. “Have Lanie teach you how to throw a decent punch and that wouldn’t happen.”
“Better yet.” I finally moved. “Let me make my own decisions instead of flying off the handle like a hormonal teenager.”
“She’s got you there, brother.” Keaton clapped him on the shoulder.
“Nobody asked you.”
Taking a hold of his wrist, I brought his hand toward me to have a look. Sure enough, a bruise was already forming on the back of his middle finger and there was significant swelling. If a car bomb didn’t make him go to the ER, I doubt a possible fractured finger would either.
“We need to put some ice on this or you won’t be able to move it at all tomorrow.” I drew my thumb lightly over the damaged flesh.
“Later. First, tell me what you’re thinking.”
I’d never been bait before. There were a lot of unknowns with what Waverly and Nelson were proposing. For all we knew, Vlaschenko wasn’t interested in anything we were selling. The guy might be looking to wipe Machail and the rest of his family off the map, not send them to prison. All in all, this op had the potential to go upside down and sideways, but we were running out of options.
“We could’ve died tonight if you hadn’t realized what was going on. I’d rather not leave our future up to chance. If it means dealing with the lesser of two evils to avoid a lifetime of looking over our shoulders, then I say bring it on.” Spinning around, I faced Waverly. “How soon will we be able to set this up?”
She sat back in her seat, studying me intently before answering, “Tomorrow.”
“All right. Then we should get busy.”
We were wiped, physically and emotionally, by the time we crawled into bed a little after four in the morning. Keaton left the office a bit before everyone else in order to get the girls and Jett set up in a nearby safe house. It was my one and only demand. No one argued with me. They knew I was right. The Russians could’ve easily tried to go after one of them to get to me, and I’d be damned if I was going to make it easy for them.
Nelson spent hours running through every single thing he knew about Zakhar Vlaschenko, down to the brand and preferred color of boxer briefs the guy wore. I wasn’t certain how that information was relevant to the case, unless it was a crime to have expensive taste in underwear and look damn good in it.
Unlike how I was seventy-five-percent of the time, I woke up slowly and peacefully. One long deep breath, then I’d stretch my arms wide. It was a recent development; only happening this way since the first night we shared a bed. Somehow my body always ended up draped across Noah’s. It was like I was drawn to him, even in sleep. I knew he knew I was awake, which was confirmed after I stretched, then molded myself into his side with my head on his chest .
“It’s too early for you to be up, Darlin’.”
Tilting my head back, I got the perfect view of his sleepy blue eyes. “Such a double standard, Cowboy. We went to bed at the same time, and I’d bet money you’ve been awake for quite a while.”
“I’d never bet against you.” He kissed my temple, then bent one arm behind his head and curled the other around my waist, squeezing me tighter against him. “Are you nervous about later?”
“What’s there to be nervous about? Just an average meet and greet with your friendly neighborhood Russian mobster.”
“You probably shouldn’t call him that to his face.”
“No, definitely not.” I scrunched my nose. “Shower then breakfast?”
If the tenting of the sheet covering us was any indication, his cock was unmistakably on board with my plan. As were my nipples, which pebbled at the thought of a naked, wet Noah. Then again, they were perpetually hard whenever he was around. Even fully clothed, the man made me ache.
“Only if you let me dirty you up first.”
Rolling over, he took me to my back. Sometimes I still couldn’t believe this incredible man was mine. Anytime I imagined my life, he was right there in the mix, yet not long ago, there had been a very real possibility I could lose him forever; lose the beauty of us before it even had a chance to blossom. Looking back now, I can admit that the timing was all wrong. Our past held our future hostage. Neither one of us could commit to a lifetime until we let go of those memories which marked our soul.
“Love you, Alaina Lyn Biggs. I don’t say it enough, but I hope you feel it every second of the day. ”
Without waiting for a reply, he narrowed the gap, licking across the seam of my lips. I opened immediately, angling my head to the side, hoping he’d deepen the kiss. But before anything else could happen, his phone began blaring from the bedside table. He groaned, then lifted up.
“Hold that thought.” Shifting to the side, he nabbed the offending device and frowned. “It’s Keaton.”
A sick feeling churned in my belly.
“What’s wrong?” His frown grew the more he listened. “Shit. We’ll get it and meet you there. It’s going to be okay.”
After hitting the red circle to end the call, he sent a series of texts then tossed the phone on the bed. Every possible scenario blasted through my mind while I waited for Noah to tell me what the hell was going on. Well, almost every scenario. I missed one.
“Henley’s in labor.”
Noah
You’d have thought we were a three-hour drive from Cabell Huntington Hospital rather than ten minutes by the way Lanie scrambled off the bed. I only had seconds to admire her naked body before she hurriedly covered it up. So much for playtime in the shower.
The texts I’d sent had been to Koen. He and Duncan spent the night in our driveway. Despite the odds of the Russians striking twice in one night being low, we weren’t taking any chances. Hence the two bodyguards instead of one. Since they’d already heard the good news from Jade, I asked them to leave us a vehicle––for obvious reasons––then head to Keaton’s to pick up Henley’s baby bag. In all the confusion the night before, no one had thought to grab it .
“Settle down, Darlin’.” I snagged a shirt out of my dresser, realizing my mistake a moment later when a tennis shoe sailed through the air, narrowly missing my head.
“You settle down,” she seethed. “That’s my best friend getting ready to have a baby.”
Mentioning the fact Keaton was my best friend didn’t seem like a solid plan, considering he wasn’t pushing anything out of his nonexistent vagina. I tried backpedaling a bit instead, anything to get me out of hot water.
“What I meant is, they’re just now leaving the safe house.”
Again…wrong thing to say.
“Shit. She’s not due for another couple of weeks.” She started pacing, running her fingers through her long, blond hair. “This is my fault. What if something happens to the baby? I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Enough.” Stepping in her path, I grasped her biceps, holding her at arm's length. “Get all the bullshit outta your head. Henley’s fine. The baby’s gonna be fine. Keaton will most likely pass out, so unless you want to miss the opportunity to tease him mercilessly, we should probably think about hitting the road.”
Mission accomplished. A broad grin spread across her face; it was as frightening as it was beautiful. “You’re on Keaton duty when we get there. If he even looks unsteady, you better get that shit on video.”
I returned her smile, pulling her in for a quick hug. “You’ve got it.”
With the mini meltdown over, we finished getting dressed, even leaving the house in plenty of time to stop for coffee and pastries on the way––my brilliant idea. There was no need to have a waiting room full of hangry, under-caffeinated FBI agents .
“Are they here yet?” Lanie burst through the doors of the maternity ward, earning her a few scathing looks from the nurses at the front desk.
“We’re here.” Jade popped out of a room on our left, Koen was right behind her. “They’re getting her settled, then we can go back to visit. Oh my God, is that coffee?”
She plucked one of the cups out of the carrier without waiting for a reply. If I hadn’t had the forethought to hold on to it with both hands, the whole damn thing would’ve toppled to the floor.
“And donuts.” Lanie held up the white plastic bag by the handles.
“You are an angel. I’m starving.” Koen snatched it, digging through the contents until he found the one he wanted.
“Hey!” Jade elbowed him in the stomach.
“I said an angel. You’re my angel, Angel.”
Those two were a match made in heaven, pun intended. It’s funny how the four of us started in Huntington as young, fresh-out-of-the-academy agents, each with a different chip on our shoulder. Now here we were, building a life with a found family none of us expected or, in some cases, thought we deserved. And within a few hours, we’d be welcoming our newest member.
“She’s five centimeters dilated,” Keaton announced to God and everyone as he swaggered down the hallway.
“What does that even mean?”
I don’t know why the words came out of my mouth. Blame it on my big brain and its thirst for knowledge. Whatever the reason, I was scarred for life. Even worse than meeting Lanie’s naked parents.
“It means her cervix is the size of a mandarin orange.”
Koen made a gagging sound. “Jesus, K. What the fuck? ”
“TMI, dude. Way, way TMI.”
He shrugged. “Don’t ask if you don’t want to know, Noah.”
“Touché.”
Two hellions named Lanie and Jade shoved in between Koen and me, rapid-firing questions neither of them had any business knowing the answer to. Let alone the rest of us.
“How far apart are her contractions?” That was Lanie.
Then Jade. “Did her water break?”
Back and forth they went, only pausing long enough to suck in much-needed oxygen. While Keaton calmly answered all of them, I turned to Koen, just then noticing a few missing members.
“Where’s Duncan?”
“He took Jett to go hang out at the office with Nelson for a bit. We figured the kid would be bored out of his skull hanging out at the hospital. After that, he was going to swing by Waverly’s.”
“Do you think she wants to move forward with the meet today?”
“I’d be surprised if she doesn’t.”
“Fuck. We’re gonna be a man down.”
If five centimeters was a mandarin orange, I really didn’t want to know what constituted ten. What I did know was when the nurse ushered us out of the room, everyone was hoping for that magic number. Koen looked every bit as lost as me, but we followed the girls back down the hallway to the waiting room anyway. Someone would surely let us know what the hell was going on.
They did. Forty-five minutes later to be exact, when we were introduced to Ryder Anderson Clarke. Lanie and Jade circled the bed, where a tired looking Henley held the little bundle of joy. Me? I had a hard time getting any of my limbs to move or my tongue to work once Keaton said his name.
“You named your son after me?”
“It seemed appropriate, since you’re the closest I’ll come to having a brother. You and Koen both.”
Once my feet became unstuck, we moved to the foot of the bed to get a better view. Little Ryder was the picture of innocence, swaddled in a light-green blanket, fast asleep in his mother’s arms. He had ten tiny fingers that I could see and a thick head of black hair, which was an exact replica of the man at my side. The other thing I noticed was the pure adoration spilling across Lanie’s face as the baby held her finger tight in his miniature fist. She had so much love to give, it would be a shame not to share it. My heart thumped faster in my chest as my brain conjured up image after image of her holding our little one someday. When she peered up at me and winked, I knew it was a conversation we’d be having sooner rather than later.
“I get the next one, right?” Koen stepped between us, throwing his arms around our shoulders.
“The next one, what?”
“You’ll name the next kid after me?”
Keaton was spared from answering him by a knock at the door. That’s when reality came crashing back into our celebration like a seismic wave against the shore. Waverly and Duncan stood in the threshold.
“Henley, Keaton, congratulations to both of you,” she said to the happy couple.
She and Duncan spent a few minutes oohing and ahhing over baby Ryder, or as much as either one of them oohed or ahhed. For those few minutes at least, there were no talks of clandestine meetings with the future head of a criminal organization. No car bombs and no hit men trying to take out the woman I loved. But like all good things, eventually there had to be an end.
Duncan tapped a finger against his watch. “Time to go.”