Sergei

  His shoulders bounced nonchalantly. "You're one of Vee's best friends. She cares about you, and it's important to me that the people she cares for are safe."

  "Oh. Well…thanks."

  He tilted his head in acknowledgment and rapped his knuckles against a glass pane before opening the door. "Vee? Bianca is here."

  She appeared with paint-stained fingers and a smock smudged with old, dried paint. Twirling a palette knife, she waved me inside. "Hey! I'm just finishing up. You want to help me clean brushes?"

  I issued a little laugh. "Sure."

  "Vee," Nikolai cut in carefully, "I'll take care of that for you later." He gestured around the studio. "The fumes, solnyshko moyo."

  So he was worried about the fumes from paint thinner? I ticked another box on my running list of pregnancy symptoms. Now I was all but certain Vivi had a little Nikolai bun in that oven of hers.

  Vivian placed her paint-splattered hand atop her husband's on the door knob in a loving gesture. "All right, Kolya. I'll leave the brushes for you."

  He bent down, kissed her cheek and then brushed his lips along the curve of her throat in a sensual, intimate way. Smiling at us, Nikolai backed away from the door. "Bianca, will you be staying for dinner?"

  "Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude."

  "You're not," he assured me. "I'll set a third place for dinner."

  "What about Sergei?" Vivian asked. "Is he free tonight?"

  "No, he's staying late at the gym. He told me he was going to grab a bite with some of the guys from the warehouse."

  "Would you like a glass of wine, Bianca? I'd be happy to bring one to you," Nikolai offered.

  "No, but I'll have one with dinner." I held up a finger. "It's my one glass limit when I'm driving."

  "Smart girl," he said and left us.

  Vivian looped her arm through mine and brought me into the studio. "I'm trying to finish up a few new pieces for my London show."

  "Oh! Right!" After her spectacularly successful show in January, Vivi had networked her little backside off and snagged a major benefactor in the international art world. Niels Mikkelsen, the Danish billionaire art collector and magnate, had fallen in love with her art and had massaged his contacts abroad to get her an invitation to show her pieces in one of London's best galleries. It was a huge accomplishment for her, and I couldn't be prouder.

  "Are you going to come?"

  "To London?"

  "Yes."

  "Um…"

  "Come on! You know you want to go."

  "Well…"

  "You and Sergei could make it a romantic getaway." She suggestively waggled her eyebrows. "You both need a vacation."

  The idea tempted me enough that I didn't immediately shoot it down. "We'll see."

  Smirking triumphantly, she dropped her dirty paint brushes into a plastic bin and put the lids back onto the tubes of opened paint. I examined the canvases propped up on easels. Upon closer inspection, I realized she was reviving old techniques I hadn't seen her use since high school. "You're doing mixed media with this collection?"

  "I'm building off the tattoo histories for this collection and doing my interpretation of all this." She whirled a palette knife around her head. "You know, this bizarre life of mine and the juxtaposition of nice Houston with, well, the darker side of the city. It felt right to go back to something grittier, more textured." She studied her works. "Layers, you know? In art and life."

  "I get it. I like it."

  "I knew you would." She smiled at me. "So…tell me about Sergei."

  I leaned against her worktable and fiddled with a paper towel. "It's really good."

  "I hear he kicked in your door." She started to giggle. "I would have loved to have seen your face when you saw that door hanging off its hinges."

  I couldn't help but laugh with her. "He made it all right by replacing the door."

  "And running off your prowler last night?"

  "Yes. Did he tell you about getting sort of arrested?"

  "No! What happened?" She peeled out of her smock. "Should I be worried?"

  "No. It was a stupid thing with Kevan. Sergei was chasing the prowler, and I called 9-1-1. Kevan was the closest police officer so they ran into each other. Kevan didn't buy his story so he cuffed Sergei and drove him to my house to prove that he was a liar. Honestly, I think he probably recognized Sergei as one of Nikolai's, um, employees. Kevan knows that I'm friends with you so I think he was trying to make a point about Sergei being the wrong type of guy."

  She gave me a look. "Well that's awkward."

  "You have no idea." I decided not to tell her about Sergei stripping me of the gifted clothing and making love to me until I thought I was going to pass out. I figured she wouldn't appreciate the details of Sergei's skills as a lover, especially since she considered him almost a brother. "Whatever Kevan was trying to do, it didn't work on me."

  Vivian came to me and took my hand. She didn't say anything at first and seemed to be choosing her words carefully. "I know it's really hard for you to break your rule. I understand, and I respect your reasons for it."

  Wondering where this was coming from, I frowned. "I know you do."

  "So I'm not going to stand here and tell you that Nikolai's men are different than the men who took your brother away from you. I'm just going to say that Sergei is hands-down one of the finest men I've ever known." She held up her hand. "Okay. Yes, so he sort of crosses the line every now and then, but I know that he's never crossed those lines."

  "But he's done so many illegal things." I voiced my fears. "How do I overlook that?"

  She swallowed hard. "I accept Nikolai for what he is—and what he isn't. I love him, and I'm willing to take this walk with him, wherever it leads us."

  "You sound like Sergei," I said softly. "He says we have to start our journey here, where we are now."

  "And where is the journey going?"

  "I don't know, Vivi."

  "That's okay." She squeezed my shoulder. "You're still feeling out the parameters. It's a very new relationship."

  "Is it?" I spoke aloud a thought I had been having all day. "Sergei and I have been dancing around this for months. Let's be real here. I've been in lust with that man since the first moment I saw him. What I feel for him now? It scares me. It's that strong."

  "You say that like it's a bad thing."

  "It's unsettling for me."

  "So talk to Sergei," she suggested. "He's a good listener. I chat his ear off all day long. He always gives good advice when I need it."

  "Really?"

  "Yep." She squeezed my hand. "I know Sergei looks tough and scary, but he's a gentle soul. If you want him, let him know that you need some time. He'll wait for you."

  "I already made him wait five months for a single kiss, Vivi."

  "And he was happy to do it," she insisted. "Listen to me. Guys like Sergei and Nikolai? You know what they want? They just want a strong, sexy, smart woman they can love, spoil and pamper. If you think that's something you might want…"

  "It is. Just…not yet."

  "So tell him."

  "I will."

  Nikolai knocked at the door and popped his head inside the sunroom-slash-studio. "Dinner is ready."

  Sitting down with the couple for dinner was a pleasant experience. I had no idea Nikolai cooked so well. Perhaps I should have suspected as much considering he owned one of the finest and most popular restaurants in the city. I noticed the way he poured a half glass of wine for Vivian and the way she didn't touch it. I so wanted to indulge my curiosity but held my tongue and comment on their ruse.

  While enjoying my dessert and a cup of coffee, I caught her yawning and wound up my visit. They both walked me to the door, but Nikolai actually came out onto the sidewalk, almost as if he wanted to make sure I got to my car all right. I found it slightly strange but chalked it up to his overprotective streak.

  When I got to my car, I glanced up and down the street—and saw that damned maroon car sitting farther
down the street. Frustration welled inside me. What the hell?

  Hiking my purse higher on my shoulder, I abandoned my car and marched across the street. I had had just about enough of weirdos trying to scare me this week. Whoever this creep was, he was about to get an earful from me.

  "Bianca!" Nikolai called out my name. "Stop! Come back!"

  But I was already at the passenger side door. Pissed off, I knocked hard on the darkly tinted glass. "Hey! Jackass! Lower this window right now!"

  Instead of lowering the window, the driver's side door opened, and the very last person in the world I had ever expected stepped out. It was Eric Santos, Vivian's cousin and a detective who specialized in Houston's gangs.

  "Eric?" I sputtered his name with surprise.

  He offered a boyish, lighthearted grin. "I prefer that to jackass."

  Thrown for a loop by his appearance, I asked, "What are you doing here?"

  Eric's gaze slid to Nikolai who had finally reached us. "I'm on business."

  I glanced at Nikolai and immediately recognized that taut expression. There was some very old, very complicated history between these two, and I really didn't want to step in the middle of it.

  "Santos."

  "Nikolai."

  With an aggravated sigh, Nikolai said, "Santos, I've made it abundantly clear that you are welcome in my home."

  "Your home, huh?"

  Nikolai's mouth settled into a tight line. "Our home."

  "Uh-huh."

  "You don't have to skulk on my street every time you want to visit Vee."

  "Your street?" Eric looked up and down the road. "I was under the impression these streets belong to the city of Houston."

  Nikolai didn't touch that one. Instead, he said, "Vee would like to see you. It's been a few weeks since the two of you have had lunch. You should come in and say hello."

  Eric looked like he wanted to say yes, but he shook his head. "I can't. I'm on the clock."

  "Outside my house?"

  "No. I'm not sitting on your house."

  If he wasn't sitting on Nikolai's house that meant…

  Nikolai's gaze snapped to me, and a cold chill crept up my neck. Mouth dry, I asked the obvious question of Eric. "Why are you following me?"

  Eric seemed to be weighing his words very carefully. "I have some concerns about your safety."

  My stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

  "You've had multiple prowler reports in the last few weeks. The ten year anniversary of your brother's death is coming up very quickly. After Adam Blake's attack—"

  Hearing the name of my brother's killer sent icy shivers down my spine. "What attack?"

  Now it was Eric who looked shocked. "Kevan didn't tell you? I thought for sure—"

  "He didn't say anything." Betrayal twisted in my chest. Why hadn't Kevan mentioned something like this to me? It was important, and I needed to know!

  "Adam Blake was attacked in a prison yard fight. They got to him with a shiv that nearly gutted him. He's in bad shape. They're saying he won't walk again, and he's going to be attached to a colostomy bag for the rest of his miserable life."

  If it had been anyone else, I might have felt some sympathy. Instead I felt the oddest sensation of justice. Maybe it was vengeance. Either way, it felt good to imagine that monster suffering for what he had done to my brother and what he had taken from my family. Deep down inside, I knew it was wrong to feel that way, that I should show some mercy and forgiveness, but I just couldn't do it.

  "So what? You think some of his friends are trying to scare me?" It didn't make sense to me. Narrowing my eyes with suspicion, I pushed for more information. "What aren't you telling me, Eric?"

  His pointed gaze fixed on Nikolai. "The prisoner they fingered as the main attacker is tied in with the Albanian crew."

  "So? I don't know any of those people."

  "No, you don't, but the man spending time in your bed sure as hell does."

  My teeth instantly clenched as Eric's nasty insinuation. "Are you seriously going to stand there and accuse me of hiring a hitman?"

  "Adam Blake shot your brother in cold blood right in front of you when you were fourteen years old, Bianca. People have arranged prison hits for a hell of a lot less."

  A righteous anger burned through me. "Eric, you better be glad there's a friggin' car between us. Otherwise, I'd be knocking you upside the head with my purse for saying something so ugly to me."

  A glimmer of regret crossed his face. "For what it's worth, I don't think you had anything to do with it, but the Night Wolves? They won't be so forgiving." He glanced at Nikolai again before focusing fully on me. "You probably don't want my advice, but I'm going to give it anyway. Get yourself a big ass dog, a really big gun and a security system. Hell, spring for a bodyguard if you can afford it. But most importantly, Bianca? Stay away from Sergei Sakharov."

  "You're right, Eric. I don't want your advice." Pivoting on my heel and still pissed off at him for accusing me of arranging a murder, I snarled over my shoulder, "And stop wasting taxpayer dollars following me around. Go look for some real criminals."

  "Like the one walking you back to your car?"

  I couldn't believe he had the balls to lob that parting shot. To his credit, Nikolai didn't take the bait. He matched my steps and kept his gaze fixed forward. When we reached my car, I unlocked the door but didn't slide onto the driver's seat. Hand on the door, I turned to my best friend's husband and tried to get a read on him. He was impossible to decipher.

  "Did you know?"

  "About the attack on Adam Blake? Yes."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I assumed your lawyer or that ex-boyfriend cop of yours would tell you. It seemed unlikely that you wouldn't hear about it through your own personal network."

  "Well, I didn't."

  "I am sorry, Bianca. I can tell how shaken you are."

  He seemed sincerely upset for me. "Is that why you asked me how long I'd had the prowler?"

  "Yes. I was concerned that nochniye volki—sorry—the Night Wolves would try to hurt you."

  "And Sergei? Did he know about Adam Blake?" The thought of Sergei keeping something like that from me made my stomach knot.

  "No. In fact, he didn't even know you had ties with that skinhead crew until yesterday. He was very surprised and troubled by it."

  The knot in my stomach loosened a bit. At least Sergei wasn't lying to me. "Troubled? Why?"

  Nikolai drummed his fingers on the roof of my car. "It's a complicated situation, Bianca, and one that, frankly, I'm uncomfortable explaining in detail with you. All I will say is that it ties back into Vee's kidnapping last year. They're making things difficult for some of my business partners—"

  "You mean those dancers that Sergei had to help?"

  Nikolai didn't look pleased by my interruption. "In a way, yes."

  I was pushing my luck asking for more information, but I decided to throw caution to the wind and be nosy. "What about the Albanians? Were they really behind Adam's attack?"

  "No." There was an air of finality to his answer. Shifting his upper body, Nikolai lifted his hand. On cue, a pair of headlights popped on in the direction he faced. I gasped as I recognized the shape of the vehicle as the grayish blue truck that had been following me.

  "Yes," he said gently. "Sergei worried that the skinheads would learn that one of my most trusted men was dating a girl like you."

  "Like me? Oh." I motioned toward my face. "You mean a nice brown-skinned girl, huh?"

  A twitch in his cheek told me I had hit the nail right on the head. "That sort of thing doesn't matter to anyone in my family, you understand? That's those people. Not us. But, yes, your race makes this a tricky situation. You're the perfect target for retaliation because of your skin color and because of your history with Adam Blake."

  I glanced at the bright headlights. "So what? Sergei put a tail on me?"

  "You mean everything to him, Bianca. He wants to protect you and ensure your s
afety. He can't be with you during the day because he's taking care of the most precious thing in the world to me so he chose men he trusted to look after you."

  I didn't know whether to be touched that he was so concerned for my welfare or pissed off that he hadn't said anything to me about any of this. "He should have told me. I spotted them following me. Both vehicles," I added and looked back toward Santos' sedan. "It freaked me out."

  "It's better to be freaked out than hurt, Bianca."

  "I guess you have a point."

  "After what I went through almost losing Vee?" He vehemently shook his head. "I'd rather my men risk the wrath of their women than leave them vulnerable."

  Thinking of what Vivian had survived and what my brother had not, I grudgingly admitted to myself that Nikolai was right.

  "Listen, Nikolai, um, let's not tell Vivian about this, okay?" Glancing back toward the house, I said, "I have a feeling she didn't see me running across the street like a crazy lady. If she had, I'm sure she would have come out here to investigate."

  "Why don't you want me to tell Vee about this?"

  "I don't want her worrying about me, especially in her condition."

  His eyes widened slightly. "Her condition? Did she tell you?"

  "No. I guessed. After she asked me to let out her bridesmaid dress, I had my suspicions." Daring to touch his arm, I promised, "I won't tell anyone. I figure you two have a reason for keeping it quiet."

  "We do. I appreciate your discretion, Bianca."

  I made a zipping motion across my lips. Then, with a teasing grin, I added, "I'll even practice my surprised face for when you two make your announcement."

  "I'm sure you will." He gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Thank you, Bianca. You should get home. Be safe, please."

  "I will."

  Nikolai walked around my car and stepped onto the sidewalk where he stood until I turned the corner and he disappeared from my rearview mirror. The truck driven by my babysitter followed close behind me. No doubt Santos inched along behind the truck.

  My brain worked overtime to untangle the mess I had created for myself. The retaliation from Adam Blake's family and the racist Night Wolves gang couldn't be prevented but Sergei? Oh, that was all my own doing.

  If I wanted to keep Sergei in my life, these types of episodes would probably be more frequent. Could I deal with that? Did I want to accept it? Those were the real questions I needed to answer.