Prisoner (Russian Tattoos Book 2) (18 page)

The priest raised his cross and gave our marriage his blessing. The ceremony concluded and we were officially Mr. and Mrs. Ivanov. Vladimir flipped the veil over my head and we shared our first kiss as husband and wife. The crowd applauded and the musicians played, creating an energizing soundtrack to our passionate make-out session.

I cried tears of joy as my husband whisked me away to an armored SUV. We had survived the ceremony, but the real danger was lurking at our reception. This was the plan we had created and put into motion. In order to catch a killer, we had to set the trap.

Chapter 25

Shade Of Blue

Boris drove us to our reception, and Vladimir and I rode in the back seat. Our SUV was flanked by a dozen or so identical vehicles, and the fleet parked at the back entrance of the nightclub. The guys never let me in on the actual game plan, but they both assured me not to worry and that it would all work out. I took a deep, cleansing breath when an army of bodyguards swarmed the limo.

There were guys with assault rifles on the roof of the club and an adjacent building, and the SUVs had surrounded our vehicle and blocked the entrance and exit points. As long as there wasn’t a traitor among the squad, it would’ve been impossible for anyone to penetrate our security.

It was a terrifying thought that Boris had to go to this extreme to protect Vladimir, but it was also comforting to know he had control over the situation. Vladimir pulled out a water bottle from the minibar and downed it. He must’ve been as nervous as I was.

Boris adjusted the rearview mirror, locked his gaze on me, and issued a warning. “Keep a safe distance from your husband. Vladimir is the prime target, and if someone does penetrate our security, you want to be as far away from him as possible, understand?”

My hands got sweaty and I felt a rush of panic wash over me when Boris referred to my husband as the
target
. “Got it.”

He shifted his focus to Vladimir and spoke to him in Russian. Vladimir’s expression turned serious as he listened and acknowledged Boris’s instructions. Boris was an expert in security, but I felt ill as I imagined the conversation was about what to do in case our wedding reception turned into a bloody massacre.

Thank goodness Anya, Babushka, and the girls were not joining us here for the reception. Dmitri was watching over them at home, and if all went as planned, meaning we survived and Maksim was no longer a threat, we were going to have a nice farewell dinner together before we left for our honeymoon.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Ivanov,” Boris said. “Enjoy your party.”

The limo door opened and a brawny guard yanked me out of the back seat and shielded me with his body as he escorted me inside. Vladimir was right behind me and got the same rough VIP treatment. Inside, orchestral music played and beautiful women dressed in formal dresses served appetizers and champagne to the upscale crowd.

The nightclub was elegantly decorated with fresh floral arrangements, and glowing paper lanterns swayed above the dance floor, creating a romantic ambiance for our wedding guests. Our bodyguards took a few steps back and allowed us to become the center of attention. I supposed all that fuss in the parking lot was to get us in the door without being taken out by snipers. The security team stayed close, but we were free to move about and mingle with our guests.

The rough-looking guy with the patch who manned the security at our wedding was the first to greet the boss. Vladimir embraced him and introduced him to me, adding that he was his number two guy and had known Boris and his papa since they were boys. The guy, Petr, flagged a photographer and the three of us posed for a picture. Although his face was hardened from his life of crime, he seemed genuinely happy for Vladimir.

Petr waved over a cocktail server and picked up two shot glasses of vodka off her tray for a congratulatory toast to his boss. There was no way Vladimir could refuse that drink. It would’ve been a major insult to his senior guy and he would look like a pussy in front a roomful of his most trusted men. He had to down that shot, and there was nothing either one of us could do to stop it.

Petr raised the glass and initiated the toast.

Vladimir repeated the sentiment, clinked, and the guys threw back their drinks.

They placed their empty glasses on the server’s tray, and Petr stepped away and went back to his business of supervising the men. Vladimir didn’t say anything to me about the drink, and I kept my mouth shut too. I would’ve done the same thing if our roles were reversed.

The musicians stopped playing, the lights dimmed, and a spotlight searched the room. The DJ addressed the crowd and then the spotlight landed on us. An upbeat Russian song thumped through the speakers, and Vladimir led me to the dance floor for our first dance as husband and wife.

As the intro music played, Vladimir spun me around and admired my curves. I had ditched the train of my dress and my stylists had removed a detachable layer of ruffles, turning my floor-length wedding gown into a flirty above the knee cocktail dress.

“I hope you’re ready for me tonight, angel.” He pulled me close. “I’m not going to let you out of bed the entire honeymoon.”

My cheeks warmed and I dropped my gaze to the floor to hide my embarrassment. The truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about our first time together either. We had a lot of fun fooling around and making each other feel good, but the thought of having all of him inside me made me melt with desire.

“I know what you’re thinking, Mrs. Ivanov. You have a dirty little mind.”

I twisted my lips and tried to blink away my embarrassment. “If you knew what I was thinking, you’d take me right here on the dance floor, Mr. Ivanov.”

Vladimir’s breath caught in his throat. I glanced up at him, turned on by the effect my naughty admission had on him, but—
something was wrong
. His mouth was open. His eyes wide with panic. He clutched his chest and struggled to breathe.

“Vladimir, say something. Tell me what’s wrong.
Help!
”

He gasped for air, but he couldn’t catch his breath. His lips turned blue and he dropped to his knees. I went down with him, grabbed the lapels of his tux, and lowered him to the ground so he wouldn’t bang his head on the floor. “Help!” I yelled. “He’s having a heart attack.” I shot my gaze around the room, searching for Boris. I didn’t see him, but I did see Petr. “Get a doctor. Hurry!”

Petr craned his neck to get a good look at Vladimir, and then rushed out the door. The crowd murmured and formed a circle around us, unable to turn away from the sight of my husband struggling to breathe under the spotlight. The DJ cut the music. The house lights came up. Vladimir’s eyes rolled back in his head. As he lay on the floor fighting for his life, his body went limp, the light left his eyes, and his plight to stay alive ended.

“Vladimir, come back.” I tapped his cheeks. “Please don’t leave me. You can’t die. Vladimir.
Vladimir!
”

The warm, healthy glow left his cheeks and his skin turned a sickening shade of blue. His head tipped to the side and his soul slipped away.

“Someone call a doctor!”

A team of bodyguards swooped in and dragged me off in one direction and carried Vladimir’s body out the back door. “He needs CPR!” I screamed. “He’s not breathing. Don’t let him die. Please!”

The men shrouded me with their big bodies and dumped me in the back seat of an SUV. Before I could sit up, the car peeled out of the parking lot and raced down the busy city street. Everything was happening so fast, I couldn’t think straight. Were these men on our team, or had I been abducted by Maksim’s goons? Were they taking me to the hospital to be with Vladimir or off to the Ovechkin lair?

I tried to ask questions, but I was so freaked out I couldn’t form any Russian words. I took a deep breath and eked out, “I want Vladimir.
Ya khochu
Vladimir
.”

One of the bodyguards responded, but I didn’t understand him. The guy in the passenger seat had his cell to his ear, then turned it around and pointed it at me.

“Carter, it’s me.” Boris’s voice came through the speaker. “Did you have anything to eat or drink at the reception?”

“How’s Vladimir? Is he breathing? Are you taking him to the hospital?” Tears streamed down my cheeks.
This can’t be happening. He’s going to okay. We worked too hard to make our forever happen.

“Calm down, Carter. Take a deep breath. I need you to focus and answer my question. Did you put anything in your mouth at the party?”

“No.”

“Did you kiss Vladimir after he drank a toast with Petr?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Think. I need you to be absolutely sure.”

“No. I didn’t kiss him.”

“Good girl.” Boris yelled out something in Russian. The driver slammed on the brakes and did a U-turn in the middle of the road. He sped off in the opposite direction and headed back toward the family estate. I pounded on the seat and yelled at the guys to tell me what was going on, but they didn’t answer.

Why did Boris want to know if I’d had anything to eat or drink? What did that have to do with Vladimir’s condition? My skin got clammy and my body went limp when the realization hit me that Vladimir hadn’t collapsed from natural causes.

Petr had poisoned him with the vodka toast.

When the guards got me back to the house, Dmitri pulled me out of the car. “Carter okay?” Dmitri’s complexion was ghostly white, eyes bloodshot.

“Where’s Vladimir? Did they bring him here? Take me to him.”

Dmitri eyed me with pity and he shook his head. “
Nyet
, Carter.”

I couldn’t handle his pessimistic expression. Vladimir was a fighter, but Dmitri had already given up on him. I ran inside, and from the kitchen, the mournful cries of a grieving mother reverberated off the walls. Anya was inconsolable as Pasha held her in his embrace. Babushka was reclining on the couch in the living room, clutching her cross with her hand over her heart, uttering a prayer.

This can’t be happening.
“No, no, no. Take me to him now. Tell the doctors not to give up.” I didn’t know if they had brought him here or if he was at the hospital, so I paced frantically not sure which direction to run.

Dmitri caught me and held me captive in his arms. “
Izvinite
, Carter. Vladimir didn’t survive. He’s gone.”

I wailed in agony and screamed out for Boris. Dmitri didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. Boris would never let Vladimir die under his protection. “Get your hands off me. Vladimir needs me. I have to get to the hospital. Get the car keys. Let me go. Boris!” My legs gave out and Dmitri caught me before I fell.

This is all a mistake. Vladimir would never leave me. Someone at the hospital is lying about Vladimir’s condition, but Boris is there and he’ll make everything right. He’s too busy protecting Vladimir and can’t leave him to call us and tell us he’s okay, but he’ll send someone to let us know…

Dmitri carried me to the living room where the family was gathered and held me as I wept. I scanned the faces of my family and trembled as the harsh reality began to settle in that I was a widow. I sobbed as a future without him flashed before my eyes. The plan to serve Vladimir up for bait was my idea. If I hadn’t interfered in their business and convinced Vladimir it was a good idea, Boris would’ve never gone along with the plan, and my husband would still be alive.

How could God be so cruel? Vladimir had lived through the most horrific tragedies only to be assassinated by one of his most trusted men. I lifted my eyes to Pasha. “Why did he do it? How could you let a member of your own
Bratva
kill Vladimir?”

Anya snapped to attention and glared at me like a mother bear that had just gotten jabbed with red hot poker. “What are you talking about? Boris said he had a heart attack.”

“Carter’s in shock, Mama. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

“Anya doesn’t know the truth?”

“You need rest, Carter.” Dmitri covered my mouth to silence me and dragged me off to the bedroom. Pasha pulled a syringe out of his shirt pocket and followed behind.

What the hell was going on? How could they keep this secret from Anya? Were they going to drug me to keep me quiet? I screamed the truth that Petr was the one who murdered Vladimir, but Dmitri muffled my words with his hand. He held me down on the bed while Pasha popped the cap off the syringe. As he was about to plunge the needle in my vein, Anya burst through the door.

“Take your hands off her.”

“
Izvinite
, Mama. Papa’s orders.” Pasha jabbed the needle into my arm and instantly I felt woozy. The room started spinning. Anya was yelling and pounding on Pasha’s back. My eyelids felt heavy and my muscles weak. Dmitri lowered his hand from my mouth and everything went black.

Chapter 26

Shattered

Someone tapped on my cheeks and Dmitri repeated my name over and over and over. I blinked as I regained consciousness and found myself sprawled out on Vladimir’s bed still wearing my wedding dress. I sat up and darted my gaze around the room, praying for a sign that I had dreamed Vladimir’s death and all the horrors of my wedding day were nothing but a nightmare.

Dmitri’s tortured face served as a testament that my husband had in fact been murdered and died in my arms. The pain in my chest was so intense, I felt like I’d been bucked by a mule repeatedly the entire time I was out. I curled into a ball and sobbed as the image of Vladimir’s lifeless body consumed my thoughts.

Boris entered the bedroom, dismissed Dmitri, and sat beside me on the bed. He laid his hand on my back. “The doctors did everything they could. They tried to bring him back, but it was too late. He never regained consciousness. I’m sorry, Carter.”

I sat up and hugged Vladimir’s pillow. The scent of his cologne lingered on the fabric. “What time is it? How long have I been out?”

“You’ve been asleep for nearly a day. I’ve made all of Vladimir’s final arrangements. The funeral begins in an hour,” he said. “After that, you’re going home. There’s no reason for you to remain here anymore. You will stay in St. Petersburg while I finalize your travel and arrange for your return to America. Once I get you safely on the plane, you will never hear from me again.” Boris guided me to my feet and motioned to a black dress that had been set out for me at the edge of the bed.

“I’m not taking off this dress. Vladimir is—” I couldn’t finish my sentence. I barely had enough strength to stand upright. “Why did Petr murder him?”

Boris clutched my shoulders and stared into my eyes. “Do not mention Petr’s name again. Not to me, not to anyone.” He slid his hands down my back and unzipped my gown. I didn’t have the strength to fight him as my dress slipped down my body and crumpled at my feet, leaving me exposed in a frilly, virgin white teddy and a matching garter belt Vladimir had given me to wear under my gown. Boris slid the black mourning dress over my head and wrapped the belt attached to it around my waist and tied it into a bow.

“Vladimir’s death is hard enough on the family. Natural causes, murder—the details of his passing are irrelevant. He’s gone. That’s all they need to know. I don’t want them to suffer any more trauma than necessary, understand?”

“Are you going to kill Petr?”

“In a few days, your time with our family will be nothing but a memory. Do yourself a favor and forget everything that happened here.”

***

The family took two limos to Vladimir’s funeral. Boris rode with Babushka, Anya, and Pasha, and I rode with Dmitri and the girls. On the drive to the cemetery, my sadness and frustration took a hairpin turn and my grief skidded over to rage. I kept my gaze out the window and breathed short, heavy breaths like a pissed off bull trapped inside a starting gate. I was chomping at the bit, ready to be set loose so I could buck and kick the shit out of any assholes who dared to tangle with this formidable beast.

Dmitri sat across from me and tapped my foot to get my attention. “Want drink?” He motioned to the mini fridge beside him.

I snorted.
Yeah, I would like a light refreshment before my husband’s body is lowered into the ground.

Ruslana hugged me and tried to crawl on my lap, but I kept my arm stiff to block her out. I was too angry at myself, God, the world, to find the strength to be compassionate and nurturing to a child. She thought I was her mama and no one told her the truth—myself included.

I was disgusted by the lies and deceit commonplace in their family. It made me sick to think about all the heaping helpings of bullshit they fed those girls and how screwed up they were going to be when the men in their lives got picked off one by one. Were the girls going to get a new
Bratva
-issued papa assigned to them after Vladimir’s corpse was lowered six feet under?

When I failed to let her into my arms, Dmitri picked her up and coddled her as Mari clung to his arm. She hadn’t said a word the entire ride and her eyes were vacant like she had taken her mind elsewhere to escape the grief. Dmitri clicked his tongue at me, admonishing my insensitive and selfish behavior. I shot him a death ray laced with enough venom to poison a small village.

He had nerve to chastise me, considering he had held me down while Pasha jabbed a needle in my arm and drugged me to keep the truth from Anya. I didn’t give a damn what he thought of me. Dmitri wasn’t
moy droog
. He was a self-serving thug.

The limo pulled into the cemetery and parked next to a white tent. We proceeded to an obscenely flashy celebrity-like section of the graveyard that had to be reserved for the deceased members of Ekaterinburg’s
Bratva
elite. Larger than life tombstones with laser etched images of the departed loomed over the grounds as if they were still commanding respect, instilling fear, and ruling with authority from beyond the grave.

One memorial had an image of a man in a three-piece suit smoking a cigarette and standing beside a Mercedes. The intention, it seemed, was to depict a genre scene of the late gangster and showcase his high status within the family. Another one memorialized a robust man sitting at a table with a bounty of food before him.

Vladimir’s casket was just ahead. I dragged my body toward a section of white chairs lined up before a podium. There were hundreds, maybe over a thousand, people there to pay their last respects to the
pakhan
. Did any of these people know him the way I had, or were they flocking to his gravesite simply to pay homage to a powerful man?

Pasha came up behind me and draped his arm around my shoulders. “I’m here for you, Carter.”

I shrugged him off. “Don’t touch me.” I hadn’t forgiven him for his role in shutting me up and knocking me out last night either.

“You know I can’t refuse an order from Papa. Please, forgive me.” His eyes were swollen and red. He had lost someone he loved too, but I didn’t give a shit about what anyone else was feeling. The second Vladimir’s heart stopped beating, his family had turned on me. I was of no use to them anymore.

“What if Papa ordered you to put a bullet in my brain? Would you have followed that order too?”

His expression tanked. “How could you say something so terrible?”

I quickened my pace and clip-clopped away from him in my ridiculously high heels. Boris led the family to our reserved seating section in the front row. Before I took my place, I stepped up to the black casket that held Vladimir’s body. There was a spray of his beloved roses cascading over the top and more fresh flower arrangements adorning his memorial than had been at our wedding.

I laid my hand on the casket and lowered my head. I had to find the strength to make it through the ceremony—for Vladimir—but I was going to lose it. I couldn’t handle the cruel reality that I would never hear his voice again or gaze into his beautiful, bright blue eyes.

Boris rested his hand on my shoulder. “Take a seat.”

Vladimir would never wrap his strong arms around my body. I would never inhale his heavenly scent and feel the warmth of his skin. Our honeymoon would never happen. “Why is the casket closed? I want to see him one last time.” Overcome with grief, my legs wobbled and my body crumbled. Boris caught me and guided me to a chair, ignoring my request to see my husband’s body.

I stared straight ahead at a row of life-sized tombstones that memorialized an entire family. A mama, papa, two sons—
Vladimir’s family
. Irina sat on an ornate throne embellished with real gemstones. Her image was adorned with a royal crown and a full length fur coat. Victor was depicted as a king, and his striking good looks and piercing eyes were immortalized on the granite tombstone. The images of Mischa and Alexei captured their youth and innocence and portrayed the ugly truth that they were murdered to atone for the sins of their father.

The priest—the same one who had married us the day before—took his place at the podium and led the mourners in prayer. Even though I was surrounded by swarms of grievers, I felt completely alone. I tuned everyone out and channeled my energy at Vladimir. If there was any way for his spirit to be with me, I knew he would make it happen. I choked back tears as I told him how much I loved him and how sorry I was that we would never grow old together.

From across the street, horns started honking and music blasted from a car stereo. I craned my neck to see what the commotion was all about. It sounded like an impromptu street party.

Boris clutched my arm. “Ignore it.”

Really?
I thought he would be the first one to shut that bullshit down. I stood to get a better look at the scene.
Holy shit.
The music was blaring from Maksim’s Ferrari.

Boris yanked me back down in my seat. “They want to get a rise out of us. Don’t give them the satisfaction,” Boris said through clenched teeth.

“He’s right there. Pull out your gun and go commando on that little shit.”

“Maksim is untouchable, remember? Retaliation means we’ll have Moscow to deal with. Our territories are divided by this cemetery. This side of the street is our turf. The other side of the street is theirs. If any member of our family crosses that line, it will be considered an act of war. Do not get up from this seat, understand?”

I nodded and Boris loosened his grip on my arm. The music and raucous laughter intensified from across the street. As far as I was concerned, the
Bratva
rules no longer applied to me. The Ivanovs had kicked me out of the family. If I retaliated against that little prick, the only person to blame would be
me
. The statistical probability of beating Maksim to death with my fists and making it back across the street alive were about zilch to never-fucking-going-to-happen. Acceptable odds in my state of grief.

Maksim was spitting on Vladimir’s grave and disrespecting his family and guests. I didn’t have a death wish, but as pissed off as I was, I wanted Maksim dead more than I wanted to be alive. I didn’t give a damn about the consequences. I was going to make a run for it, charge across the street, and go straight for Maksim’s throat—but I had to be smart and wait for the right moment. If Boris thwarted my plan, I would never get another opportunity.

Boris stood and went up to the podium to do a reading from the Bible.
This might be the only chance I get.
While Boris was looking down, I kicked off my heels and bolted for the street. I may have been weak from all the trauma, but I could outrun every single chain-smoking member of their family if I got a head start and broke into a sprint.

I pumped my arms and booked it through the lawn and past the tombstones, kicking up muddy water from the soggy grass as I ran. Dmitri called out for me to stop, but my thirst for Maksim’s blood pumped some seriously bad ideas into my brain.

The music blaring from the Ovechkin entourage served as my soundtrack for vengeance. I was close enough to the street that a member of Maksim’s squad spotted me and flagged his cohorts
as I flew toward my target.

Maksim cheered, stood on the hood of his Ferrari, and egged me on. “Come to me, sweet pea.
Run!”
His minions whistled and waved me over to their side of the street as I bolted toward them in my mourning dress. Dmitri was gaining on me, but if I got to the street before him, he wouldn’t follow. I was about twenty feet from the asphalt when Dmitri caught the back of my dress and whirled me to a stop like a helicopter that had been shot out of the air. I crash-landed in the squishy grass and Dmitri dove on top of me and pinned me on the ground.

The Ovechkins booed me for failing and cursed at Dmitri for ruining their fun. I gasped for air while Dmitri dragged me to my feet and away from the enemy line of demarcation. Men were lined up on our side and their side, itching to go into battle if either side crossed the imaginary line that divided their turfs.

I cried in frustration as Dmitri clutched my arms and dragged me away. My entire body was shaking from the take-down. My black dress was covered in mud and bits of grass and my pantyhose were ripped at the knees. “You’re a dead man, Maksim. I’m going to hunt you down and kill you.”

“You’re beautiful when you’re homicidal, Carter. Cross the street and I’ll give you what Vladimir never did.” He tugged on his crotch and flashed me a dirty smile. “Dmitri, be a good
droog
and hand her over to me. I haven’t lifted the bounty on her pretty head yet. Give her to me now and the money is yours.”

Dmitri stopped and turned around to face Maksim. Guns were raised and at the ready on both sides of the street. Alexander was there among Maksim’s entourage and bared his creepy canine grill.

Dmitri pulled me to the edge of the boundary and yelled to Maksim in Russian. Men on both sides of the street traded insults. Whatever Dmitri had said riled the troops.
Is he negotiating terms with Maksim?