"Good luck," she said uneasily. "That's going to go down as the most awkward conversation ever."
"Probably," I agreed.
"So—how is it staying there in his house?"
"Um…it's different. I'm surrounded by his guys all day long so I don't really have a feel for what it would be like if it were only the two of us."
"Well, hopefully this shit with your dad and whoever tried to kidnap you will be cleared up soon and you can get a new apartment and shed the bodyguards."
Realizing the moment had arrived, I gulped. "Well…the thing is…"
"Vivian." Lena said my name in that warning tone. "What's going on?"
"Don't be mad at me." We'd been friends so long I didn't know what I'd do if she truly disapproved of my decision or tried to stop me.
"Vivi!"
"Nikolai asked me to marry him—and I said yes." The words rushed out on one breath. I didn't even know if she'd been able to decipher them because a long, tense silence stretched between us. Dread filled me. "Lena?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to be honest."
"Do you?"
"Of course."
"Then, honestly, I think you'll never be happy with anyone else but him. For whatever reason, you two are tangled up in each other. Hell, maybe you're soul mates. I don't know. But," she emphasized, "I will say this. If you're thinking that you can save him or change him or whatever, you need to stop it right now. You can't, Vivian. Nikolai is who he is. He is what he is. You have to be okay with that from the moment his ring goes on your finger and not expect anything else from him."
She wasn't saying anything I hadn't already considered. "I don’t want to change him, but I have to try to help him get out."
Lena muttered a string of curse words. "Vivian, that's dangerous. It's probably not even possible. Look, Yuri told me what they did to Ivan when he wanted to get out. They nearly beat him to death—and that was after they took every penny from him that he hadn't squirreled away with Yuri. Ivan wasn't even close to Nikolai's level in that organization. What do you think they'll do to him if he tries to walk away?"
My gut twisted. "They'll try to kill him."
"Exactly, baby girl." With a resigned sigh, she counseled, "You have to be okay with him staying in that life, Vivian. If you're intent on having him, you have to accept that you're taking on a package deal—and all that crazy mob shit comes with him."
Laid out in black and white it was a daunting thing to consider, but I wouldn't be swayed. "I've made my decision."
"And I support you."
"Thank you."
"So—when are we doing this? Do I need a dress? Are we going to the courthouse?"
"Actually, we're going to get married in the church."
Lena sputtered and choked. Coughing to clear her throat, she cried, "The next time you're going to drop a bomb like that warn me not to take a drink of the water bottle sitting next to me, okay? You nearly killed me!"
"Sorry."
"Jesus." She sounded stunned. "Nikolai actually went into a church with you—and it didn't spontaneously combust?"
I glared at my phone. "Oh, haha. Very funny."
She snickered. "Come on, Vivi! You have to admit it's kind of wild, right? I mean, Nikolai in a church."
"I'm hanging up now…"
"Quit being such a baby! I'm just teasing. But—hey! If you're getting married in the church, does that mean I don't get to be your maid of honor?"
I could hear her pouting. "You can be my maid of honor but you can't be the sponsor of our marriage." I used terms she'd understand. "Unless you want to convert?"
"Uh—no thanks. I really just want to stand by you and look pretty."
I snorted with amusement. "I'm shocked."
"So what's the date?"
"We're doing it in 3 weeks. I'll send you all of the information later in an email."
"You better go see Bianca! If anyone can get you a dress in that amount of time, it's her."
"I planned to call her later, after I talked to Erin and Benny."
"Ooh," Lena drew out the word. "You think Erin is going to get upset about you stealing her wedding thunder?"
"Are you kidding? She's going to want to plan everything."
"Let her. You saw what a fabulous job she did with Benny and Dimitri's shindig. It'll be good practice for her wedding in the summer."
"As if I'll have a choice!" I giggled. "Ten bucks says she's ringing the doorbell tomorrow morning with an armload of magazines."
Lena laughed. "That’s so Erin."
"Kitten?" Yuri called softly to Lena. His sweet pet name for her always made me smile. "The car will be ready in ten minutes."
"Okay. Hey, Vivi? I have to cut this short. We're headed out for dinner."
"It's fine. Go have fun."
"Oh, we will." The way she said it had be convinced they would be ringing in the new year with a very big, ahem, bang. "Congratulations, Vivi. I really mean that. I hope you'll be very happy."
"Thank you."
"All right. Send me the info and I'll call you sometime tomorrow."
"I will. Happy New Year, Lena."
"Happy New Year, Vivi."
After saying our goodbyes, I ended the call. Instead of dialing Erin, I sat back and stared out the bay window overlooking the front corner of the yard. I envied Lena's white Christmas and New Year's Eve in Russia and Amsterdam. I imagined how beautiful it must be, everything pristine and white.
Winter in Houston rarely included snow. This year it had been bitterly cold—to us, at least—but precipitation had consisted of little more than drizzle and sleet. Today a fine icy mist made it nearly impossible to see beyond the wraparound porch.
There wasn’t much traffic on Nikolai's quiet street so the blue truck coming down the road garnered my attention as it emerged from the misty fog. Nothing about it aroused my suspicion until it slowed to a crawl. When the window began to roll down, I panicked and nearly dove out of my chair. Was it a drive-by?
My heart jumped to my throat when a hand appeared in the open window. The cold fog was too dense for me to make out the man sitting in the passenger seat but there was something so dreadfully familiar about that dark-skinned four-fingered hand.
I started to scream for Sergei but something told me to be quiet. The truck window closed and the vehicle disappeared from my view. I got up and moved to the window, craning my neck for a better look, but it was too late. The truck was too far away now.
Was that…? No. It couldn't be. He wouldn't come here. He wouldn't dare. He was being held by the Marshals.
Unless…
"Sergei?"
The door opened a moment later, confirming my suspicion that the behemoth had been keeping very close. He stepped inside the library. His huge shoulders and uncommon height made the spacious room seem suddenly small. "What's wrong?"
"When will Nikolai be home?"
"It will be late. He's on business."
I understood what he was saying without actually saying it. "Okay."
"I can get you whatever you need. Anything," he added. "You ask, and I'll bring it to you."
While I appreciated his offer, the one thing I wanted right now was Nikolai. Not wanting Sergei to worry, I pasted on a smile. "It's fine. It can wait. I'm going to call Erin and Benny." I gestured to my phone. "After that, we should do something about dinner. It's New Year's Eve, after all."
"Nikolai made arrangements for us. There's a delivery coming in a couple of hours."
"Oh."
"He wanted you to rest this afternoon. I'm supposed to make sure you relax."
Putting Sergei at ease, I promised, "After I'm finished with my phone calls, I'll be a good girl and watch TV and sketch."
But I wasn't sure how I was going to relax with the specter of my father's return haunting me.
Chapter Thirteen
"That went better than I'd expected," Nikolai remarked as he reached for his seatbelt.
>
"I'm sure you had the bar set rather low," Liam replied dryly. He stretched out his legs as the SUV driven by Kostya pulled away from the carwash. It was one of the legitimate businesses Nikolai's crew owned and a place where he occasionally conducted sensitive meetings like the one they'd just had with Lorenzo Guzman.
"His hardware needs seemed fairly easy to meet."
"Most of them," Liam agreed. With a smile, he added, "It will be a fair little earner for you."
Nikolai made a humming sound in acknowledgement. For brokering the deal, Liam would kick twenty percent his way for every successful shipment. Nikolai would split ten percent between his captains and pocket the remainder. For doing little more than matchmaking, it was a nice income.
"But what are we going to do about the shipments?" Liam reached into his jacket and retrieved a package of gum. As he peeled away the paper wrapper, he continued, "I don't have a supply route established here. When I run a quick shipment to you every now and then, it's one thing. This calls for something different. I need to be assured a certain level of protection."
"Let me handle it. I've got something in the works. It'll be large shipment containers aboard ships. It shouldn't be a problem." He didn't add that the man he had in mind was used to bringing in much riskier cargo.
"I trust you to get it under control, but you'd better move fast. He wants that first shipment in two weeks and I intend to get it to him."
"Relax. It will get done."
Liam tucked the empty gum wrapper into his pocket. "So—is it true?"
Not fond of guessing games, Nikolai asked, "Is what true?"
"The word on the street is that you were seen going into church earlier today and that you're marrying that sweet little ward of yours."
Nikolai's cheek twitched. He hated being the subject of wagging tongues but this tale was salacious enough to keep the gossips busy for weeks. "I am marrying Vivian."
Liam whistled. "That's a hell of a mess to marry into, Nikolai. As fathers-in-law go, Romero Valero must rank among the very worst."
"It won't be a problem for long."
Liam laughed harshly. "Oh, that will be a hell of a conversation starter at the holidays."
Nikolai didn't answer him.
"You'd better be careful. A man like Romero doesn't snitch on his outfit. Knowing that wily bastard, he's probably playing the government against the motorcycle club against the cartel. He's found a better angle—and he'll come out on top."
"No doubt," he agreed quietly.
After dropping Liam a few blocks from his hotel, Kostya drove to the Vietnamese restaurant tucked away in a rundown shopping center so Nikolai could make his meeting with Mr. Lu. He went in alone and was directed to a table in the rear where the older man waited. Understanding Nikolai's paranoid nature, Mr. Lu had left the seat facing the front entrance for him.
"Lu," Nikolai greeted.
"Russian," the white-haired man returned. "I've already ordered. You like Muc Rang Muoi?"
"Squid isn't a favorite of mine."
"Then you'll eat the Bo Nuong Xa."
Nikolai decided it was a damn good thing he liked the lemony beef dish because he clearly wasn't going to have a choice in his dinner. "You know why I am here."
"Of course." He sipped his warm beer. "And you know what I want."
"A way out of that rather nasty little sideline you've gotten mixed up in, I expect."
Mr. Lu smiled. "I'm listening."
Nikolai sat back as the waitress delivered their tray of food. He waited for her to leave before addressing the old man. "You first."
"A man calling himself J.P. came to see me about a year ago. He wanted to arrange cargo shipments between Cyprus and here. He had the money ready, and I wasn't particularly concerned about the cargo until…"
"Until what," Nikolai prompted.
"In July, a couple of my workers called me to the warehouse. They were all in a panic. The moment I stepped close to the container, I knew what it was. The smell…" Mr. Lu's voice grew tense. "Once you've smelled decomposition, you never forget it."
Nikolai's stomach knotted. "The heat?"
Mr. Lu nodded. "They had those girls packed in those containers like cattle. There wasn't enough ventilation or water for them. They cooked to death."
Whatever appetite he'd had fled. Nikolai pushed his plate forward to escape the citrusy scent of the beef. "Why didn't you stop it then?"
"This wasn't the type of agreement a man could just end." He hesitated. "The money and main contacts came from a nice-looking guy. That J.P. was clean cut. The crew who picked up the shipments? Not so much." He shook his head. "They're the type who like to cover themselves in lightning bolts and runes…"
Nikolai blinked. "You got into bed with the white supremacists?"
"As I said, it wasn't done deliberately."
Drumming his fingers on the table, Nikolai wondered aloud, "But how are they getting women from Cyprus? The skinheads around here are locally based. They have few connections to anything international."
"Oh, they have a connection to someone very powerful." The older man smiled wryly. "Someone from your past."
Nikolai's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
Mr. Lu shrugged. "I don’t know his name. I can't even tell you what he looks like. All I know is that J.P. was working with a Russian from the Moscow syndicate. He gathered up the girls from Eastern Europe and Southeast Asia and had them funneled into Cyprus where my contacts picked up the containers and brought them here to Houston. The skinheads took the shipments and that's all I know."
Reeling from Mr. Lu's revelation, Nikolai began to form a better picture of the situation. Vivian's kidnapping and the attack on him wasn't about her father at all. It was about him. It was about someone from Moscow trying to push him out of the way. They'd taken Vivian and tried to kill him to show his weakness, to make his men doubt him.
And this trafficking mess was an inroad. The man trying to usurp his position was laying the foundation for his takeover by setting up sidelines of earning, including killing Afrim Barisha and taking that heavy loan sharking action.
"Where can I find this J.P.?"
"A cemetery."
"He's dead?"
Mr. Lu looked rather amused. "Got himself shot. I was dealing with a man named John—but from what I hear, he got himself shot too. Seems to be a risky business."
Nikolai held Mr. Lu's gaze. "I want you to stop the shipments."
Mr. Lu raised one thin eyebrow. "It's a lot of money."
"It's a lot of risk. Too much risk for a man like you," Nikolai added.
"And you?" Mr. Lu jabbed the air with his chopsticks. "You've become rather risk averse during the last few years. When I first met you, there wasn't a job you wouldn't take if the money was right. Now I hear you're giving action away to the Hermanos and Albanians to smooth over the Afrim Barisha hit."
Nikolai ran his finger along the edge of the table. "A man has to reevaluate his strategy every now and then."
"And your new strategy is?"
"Less risk, more money," Nikolai said, thinking of Vivian and the life he wanted with her. It was a life that didn't include another stint in prison or worse.
Mr. Lu gestured to Nikolai's plate. "Eat. Talk. Let's do business…"
It was nearly eleven by the time Nikolai left Mr. Lu and the Vietnamese restaurant. His belly full, he slid into the front seat with Kostya. As they drove across Houston, Nikolai stared out his window. He wanted to ask Kostya if he'd heard about someone from back home trying to muscle in on their territory but he kept his questions to himself. There was nothing to be gained by revealing his hand this early in the game.
When he stepped inside his home a quarter of an hour later, Nikolai consciously pushed all the dirty business dealings he'd accomplished today into a mental box and shoved them to the very back of his mind. He didn’t want any of that to touch Vivian. Though their relationship was far from typical, he hoped to give her some sense of normalcy.
/>
Not surprisingly, he found Sergei eating in the kitchen. The spread he'd arranged from Samovar had been neatly laid out upon the island. From the looks of it, the food had been very much enjoyed. Of course, Sergei had probably vacuumed up half of the delivery himself.
"You keep eating like that and we're going to have to put you on a diet before your next fight," Kostya warned and swiped the heaping plate from Sergei's hands.
"When you can survive one of Ivan's workouts, I'll let you tell me when to stop eating." Sergei stabbed another piroshky with a fork and transferred it to the plate he'd tugged out of Kostya's grip. "She's in the media room, Boss."
Nikolai grabbed a bottle of beer from the ice-filled sink and popped the top. He flicked it in the trash and left behind the two bickering men. When he entered the media room, he discovered Vivian on the sectional watching one of those of New Year's Eve countdown shows. It was the second time in as many nights that he'd arrived home to find her dressed for bed and looking relaxed. He had to admit that he rather liked it.
He wrinkled his nose at the biting scent of toenail polish remover. She had a dozen bottles of toenail polish in different colors lined up on the coffee table along with a handful of manicuring tools. When he came into the room, she smiled up at him and motioned toward her beauty shop. "I hope you don't mind."
"I don't." He peeled out of his jacket, unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his shirt sleeves before kicking off his shoes.
She patted the space next to her. "Sit with me?"
"Where else would I sit?" Amusement colored his voice as he settled onto the cushion next to her. Relieved to finally be able to act on his desires, he leaned over and kissed her long and deep and hard. Her shuddery breaths tickled his cheek when he pulled back enough to gaze into her pale eyes. "I like coming home to you."
"I was really sad to be away from you all day—but if you're going to kiss me like that every evening, I think I'll learn to deal."
Her mischievous grin warmed him down to the very core. He took a sip of his beer before setting it aside. Staring at the paint colors, he asked, "Which one?"
She wiggled her bare toes. "I'm torn between the purple and the pink."