Sergei (24 page)

"Forever, huh?" His words touched me in ways I could not even express.

"I worry about you, Bianca. Your mother nearly died because of high blood pressure and diabetes. You've been lucky, and you're still very young. There's time to make changes now that will help us enjoy a long life together."

"If you'll help me, I'll try really hard." I doubted I would ever be truly thin but healthier? That seemed like a goal I could attain with some dedication and my very own personal trainer.

"I'll help you. I'll do anything for you."

I swallowed nervously. "Anything?"

He suddenly had a wary look but nodded. "Yes. Anything."

"You want me to make changes that will make me healthier so we can be together forever. Well—you need to make changes, too." I gulped again as I realized what I was asking of him. "I'm not saying that you have to choose
them
over me, okay? I know that's a battle I can't win for myriad reasons. No, I'm just—I'm asking you to think about exit strategies."

Sergei picked up the knife and started slashing at mushrooms. "I already am thinking of exit strategies, Bianca."

"You are?" His admission caught me by surprise.

"I have been thinking of how to get out ever since I was forced into this life. Now, with you, I want out much sooner. I'm trying, Bianca." He gazed at me with such yearning. "I'm doing everything I can. I'm laying the groundwork—but it's going to take some time."

"How much time?"

He shook his head. "I don't know." He hesitated. "It could be a few years, two or three." Sadness rounded his shoulders, and he returned to his chopping. "If you can't wait that long, I—"

"I can wait." I reached across the island and held out my hand. He stared at it in disbelief but finally placed his palm atop mine. "I will wait for you."

"I don’t deserve you, Bianca. You are so fucking far out of my league. You're the woman every man dreams of finding, that one woman who makes him better by simply allowing him into her life." Squeezing my fingers, he said, "Nikolai calls Vivian his sun. I never really understood why he chose that pet name for her, but I understand now. It's melodramatic, I know, but she brings light into his dark life." Lifting my hand, he leaned forward to kiss it. "You're my light, Bianca."

My lower lip wobbled, and my eyes stung as his incredibly romantic confession washed over me like the warmth of sunshine. "Thank you."

He winked at me and went back to making us breakfast. Clearing his throat, he said, "So, while you're at work today, I'm going to tackle some projects around the house. I have some plumbers coming over to switch out the water heater and give me an estimate on the pipes. I'm going to measure the bathroom and sketch out some ideas for you about the renovations in there…"

Listening to him rattle on about the ways he planned to tackle all the problems around my house, I couldn't stop smiling. I didn't know how we were going to make this work, but I had faith that we would figure it out somehow. Replaying the sweet things he had said to me, I decided that Sergei was worth it. He was worth fighting for.

* * *

Sorting through tile samples the next morning, Sergei felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Bianca had wandered off to look at faucets and antique-style tubs so he assumed it was her trying to find him in the massive home improvement store. He dug the phone out of his pocket, glanced at the screen and sighed. It wasn't Bianca. It was Nikolai.

"Yes?"

"Sergei, we have a problem, and I could use your help."

He wanted to point out that this was the second Sunday in a row that he had been called in to deal with a problem, but he didn't. "I'm picking out bathroom tile with Bianca. It will be at least an hour unless—"

"That's fine. There's no rush. Kostya is just getting started. Come to the ice house."

The phone call ended, and Sergei grimaced with distaste. Of all the ways he wanted to spend his Sunday afternoon, this wasn't one of them. After spending the morning at the gym with Paco, he had been planning to rip out some tile, make love to Bianca—probably twice—and then grill some steaks. Whatever awaited him at the ice house was going to ruin his entire day.

"Boo!" Bianca poked him in the side and laughed.

Pushing away thoughts of the phone call, he grinned down at her and kissed the top of her head. "Did you find the tub you want?"

"I found a few I like. They gave me some brochures. I figured you would be able to help me figure out which ones would fit best…"

They finished picking out tile samples that complemented some of the paint colors she liked and left the store. He waited until they were headed to her house to tell her. "Look, Bianca, I need to go see Nikolai."

She sighed softly. "I won't ask why."

He hated himself for putting her in this position. "I don't know when I'll be home. It might be late."

"Okay."

"I'm sorry, Bianca. I truly am. I didn't want our day to end like this."

She clasped his hand and dragged it onto her lap. "I said I would wait for you to get out. So this is me waiting and believing that all this crap will end someday."

"It will, Bianca." He wished he could give her a date, but he refused to break a promise to her.

When they reached the house, he was surprised to find Arty, one of Nikolai's most-trusted captains, sitting across the street with some of his crew. At first, he thought they were there for him, but then Arty lifted two of the three fingers on his right hand to his eyes and gestured toward the house. Sergei understood the silent message. Nikolai had arranged for Bianca to be watched.

On one hand, Sergei was relieved to have someone like Arty, a man who had survived some horrible gang wars, taking care of Bianca. On the other, Sergei knew what this meant. Whatever he had been called away to help with involved the Night Wolves. Nikolai expected blowback, and he expected it to land here.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Sergei leaned across Bianca and popped open his glove box. The sight of his handgun made her gasp. When he reached for her hand, she tugged it back. "No freaking way, Sergei!"

"Bianca," he said firmly. "I would feel better knowing you had this."

"And I would feel better knowing my boyfriend isn't tangled up with the Russian mob, but you know what they say about wishes and horses and poor folks."

He didn't actually, but he let it slide. "Have you ever fired a gun?"

"No."

"We should fix that."

"Like hell!"

"Bianca—"

"No, Sergei."

Exhaling roughly, he pointed the weapon away from them. "This is the safety. This is how you flick it on and off. It's loaded. You have ten rounds so use them wisely."

"You are crazy if you think I'm taking that thing into my house."

"Then you'd better call for a straightjacket because it's happening." Sergei tucked the pistol into her purse. "Let's go."

She didn't get out of the SUV immediately. For a moment, he wondered if he was going to have to toss her over his shoulder and carrying her back inside. With a dramatic huff and slam of the door, she exited the vehicle and stomped her way up the front door. He followed her inside, checked the house and handed back her purse.

"I'll be back later. Don't let anyone inside the house that you don't know. Those men outside? The ones in the car? They're watching the house so they might get out and sit on the porch or walk around the yard, especially if I'm not back by dark."

She made an annoyed sound. "What are my neighbors going to think?"

"Probably that you have very bad taste in men," he answered honestly. Certain she was pissed at him, he kissed her cheek and left the house. He had only gotten as far as the porch before she called out to stop him.

Gripping the front of his shirt, she hauled him down for a deep, passionate kiss. "You had better be careful doing whatever the hell it is you're about to do."

Touching his lips to her forehead, he promised, "I'll be back."

The long drive to the ice house did little to dissipate his anger and frustration with his situation. This wasn't going to get any easier. Soon, Bianca would begin to resent Nikolai for calling him away. What was that going to do to her friendship with Vivian? It wouldn't be good.

By the time he reached the ice house, he still hadn't figured out a way to speed up his exit plan. The old building located between two small towns had once been exactly what its name said it was—a house that sold ice. Later, the building had housed a bar and grill. Now, it was a shadow of its former self, all rotten boards and overgrown weeds.

No one ever drove out the lone private road that led to it. Nikolai had seen to that by snapping up all the land around the ice house for his private use. Sergei shuddered to think what secrets Kostya had buried out here.

He wasn't all that surprised to see some of Besian's men loitering around outside, smoking and bullshitting with one another. He nodded at them as he entered the ramshackle building, ducking his head to avoid an injury from the low-hanging beams and short doorways. He crossed the dusty floor to the back room that had once housed the freezers and stopped cold at the sight of Kostya peeling out of his black leather apron.

The cleaner had a reputation around Houston—hell, probably around the fucking world—for his work. Sergei didn’t think the man enjoyed hurting other people. In fact, Kostya seemed to be able to wholly divorce himself from the reality of it to avoid the moral complications of his work. Sergei had suffered the misfortune of watching the man use his skills on too many occasions to count, but he had never seen Kostya take it nearly as far as his black, soulless reputation would have him expect.

Sometimes Sergei suspected Kostya's theatrics got him more cooperation than any amount of bloodletting. The black leather apron, the gloves, the shoe covers, the kits filled with torture gear—it made for a convincing show. Most of the time, a couple of pulled teeth, a cut here or there and a good beating got a man to spill his secrets.

The plastic covering the floor crinkled beneath Sergei's boots. He quickly surveyed the scene before him. Nikolai and Besian stood nearly shoulder to shoulder and stared at some poor, naked bastard strapped to a chair. He had been worked over a bit but there was hardly any blood to be seen. Some spatter from a few punches but nothing outrageously violent.

In the back of his mind, Sergei recognized that thought was more than enough evidence that it was time to get out of this life.

The swastika tattooed on the younger man's chest held his attention. So. He was one of
them
. At the same time Sergei spotted the ugly tattoos, the man became aware of him and looked like he was going to piss himself. Whether it was his size or his reputation around the underworld for being a brutal fighter in the cage, he couldn't say.

Glancing at Nikolai, he said, "Boss."

"Ah, Sergei, come here. I want you to meet our new friend. His name is James, and he's got some photos I think you'll find very interesting." Nikolai waved a cell phone.

"No," the man said nervously. "Look, please. I'm just the guy they gave the recon mission. That's it. I never meant to hurt her."

At the mention of
her
, Sergei went rigid. He crossed the floor in four quick strides and snatched the phone from his boss' hand. Running his thumb across the screen, he nearly puked as images of Bianca appeared. Swipe after swipe filled the screen with her beautiful face. In a few of them, Vivian was even present.

Slapping the phone back into Nikolai's hand, Sergei stormed toward the other man and kicked the chair right off the ground. The man grunted loudly as the chair slammed his bound wrists to the floor. Putting his boot against that ugly fucking tattoo on the man's chest, Sergei pressed down with some of his weight. "Why are you following my woman?"

The man coughed and wheezed so Sergei let up enough for him to draw in a breath. He moved the toe of his boot to the man's throat. "What do you want with Bianca?"

"Darren," he coughed the name. "Darren says she's the key. She has to pay."

He pushed down harder. "The key? To pay for what?"

Eyes bulging, Darren gagged, and Sergei let up. The younger man inhaled a shaky breath and started sobbing. "She should never have tried to kill Adam!"

Sergei's entire body went ice cold at the realization those white power freaks actually believed Bianca was behind the attack on Adam Blake.

"She didn't," Besian cut in loudly. "I know it and that devious fucking prick Darren Blake knows it, too."

James started to choke as Sergei's weight crushed his neck.

"Don't kill him yet, Sergei. He's still useful to us." Nikolai waved his hand in that imperious way of his.

Sergei removed his boot from James' throat and hefted the chair and the man tied to it back into position. He stood behind him and waited to see what the two bosses wanted.

"See, Sergei," Besian pulled a lighter and cigarettes from his pocket, "what young James there doesn't know, is that I've had a rat inside their gang since January. After they killed Afrim, my loan shark," he added. "The thing is, James, I know for a fact that Darren hired a man who used to run with my crew to kill his own brother. He was hoping the blowback would catch my outfit."