The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2) (15 page)

Gabriel chuckled. “He should be here any day now. And I don’t know about love, V. But it’s something. Something more than just your need to save her, like you couldn’t save Sophia. That’s what the boys think this is all about.” He patted the wolf’s tooth around his neck in an affectionate gesture. Sophia had given each of them one, inscribed with her favorite passage on forgiveness from the Bible. Vincente had yet to master the ability. How could anyone possibly forgive a man like Kevin Nollan and the things he’d done to Nika?

And forgiving himself for Sophia?

Impossible.

Vincente looked at Gabriel. If anyone else had referred to his sister’s death so casually, he’d have leveled them. But not him. No. G knew, more than any of the others, what Vincente had gone through during that dark time. Knew about the guilt. The failed responsibility. The rage. The loss. The helplessness. The grief. Knew it all.

Because he’d been the one to pick him up off the floor every morning when he’d finally crashed into a drunken heap, still mumbling incoherently about how he should have been there, what he should have done, how he’d fucked up, how it was his fault for not having found her in time, for having allowed her abduction to happen at all.

“It’s part of it,” Vincente admitted gruffly.

“But not all?”

He barked out a rough laugh. “Fuck, no. Ah, fuck me, but no.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling a strange heat in his cheeks at what he was about to admit. “I want her. Her. Not just the satisfaction of knowing I’ve helped a woman out of a shit situation. But her, damage and all. She’s . . . yeah. Just . . . yeah.”

Fuck.

“That’s what I thought.” Gabriel knocked the table like a judge with a gavel and changed the subject. “So, what’d you find? Any sightings? Maks said he gave you a photo of the cocksucker. Any areas we shouldn’t bother canvassing anymore?”

The guy deserved a hug.

The French doors opened and Maks came out, big coffee mug in hand, wearing a pair of unbuttoned jeans and nothing else.

“Samnang doing your laundry?” Gabriel asked dryly as the guy sauntered over. “I doubt my wife wants an eyeful of all that history.”

The Russian’s body was inked with stories. Damn, Ghost was one talented artist, Vincente thought of their go-to for ink as he eyeballed Maksim’s front. A stunning Virgin Mary draped in robes held baby Jesus. The coming dawn cast divine rays from behind as two angelic messengers of God stood proudly on guard on either side. Even though Ghost hadn’t used a speck of color—the entire portrait was done in shades of the darkest black to the lightest of gray—one would swear the golden glow of a new beginning could be seen. And felt.

“Eva’ll love it. Promise,” Maks replied around a yawn. “Paynne was targeted,” he added, his voice muffled as he buried his nose in his mug. The late evening was his morning.

Vincente straightened. “What?”

Maks sat. “Seems Nollan once worked at the salvage yard where Paynne took out that rapist. Yeah, I looked into him, too. Also a friend of our target. My guess is Nollan set Paynne up so he’d have the juice to bind the redhead to his side. Not sure if Nollan went so far as to set up the assault of that kid, just to give Paynne incentive to ice the pedophile, but if he did? Goddamn, there’s gonna be an even bigger lineup to take that bitch out.”

Silence descended, the gentle hum of the pool’s filtration system the only sound other than the odd bird on its way in for the night.

That lineup? Vincente—even though he knew Caleb had more right than he did—had better be at the fucking head of it. Because if Nollan didn’t die by his hand, whoever did kill him was going to be very sorry he’d taken Vincente’s desperate need for closure away from him.

No one hurt his redhead and got away with it. Even if she was off-limits.

“We got another one, Detective.”

Lorenzo lifted his tired eyes from his laptop screen. He was transferring the notes—there wasn’t much typing going on—he’d taken today while interviewing residents in the area where three redheads had been found murdered in separate incidents during the past two weeks. He’d thought the trio highly suspicious and too much of a coincidence.

This made four. They had a serial killer on their hands.

He looked into the uncommunicative face of one of their female officers. Pretty and tough, Jayne had a potty mouth that put him to shame. She tossed a folder onto his desk and stood, her legs braced. He tried not to smirk at the display.
Testy.
Guess he shouldn’t have turned down her offer of drinks after work—which had been made two freaking months ago! He refrained from shaking his head. Never had understood the point in holding a grudge, but because he liked her and understood hurt pride, he ignored it.

He flipped open the file and didn’t even feel the need to bite back a groan the way he used to. Seeing the dead body of a young girl had become commonplace. Nothing to feel shocked over. Fuck, he needed a vacation. Or a new vocation.

“Deets?” he asked, even though he knew they would be no different from the ones he already had. Except for the number. Which meant the FBI would be swooping in to take over.

“Jane Doe, prostitute, found in the Crown Heights area, young redhead, strangled, violated same as the others—unless they somehow allowed their last johns to do some painful altering of their private parts,” she added, unable to hide her disgust. “This one was killed last night.”

Lore slammed his fist down on his desk and rushed to his feet, his boots thudding as he paced the small area behind his chair. “What the fuck is with these guys? I swear to God, I’m fucking damaged in the head because I keep thinking things can’t get any worse. Until they do.” He jammed his hand through his hair and cursed like hell because he knew what he was about to do. And he didn’t want to fucking do it.

“If you need to relax, I’ll be at Benji’s,” Jayne said, delivering offer number two. She gave him a sympathetic—hungry—look before leaving. Lore barely noticed.

For these poor daughters of someone somewhere, before another one had to go through what this most recent one had, Lore would conspire with the enemy. Because not one law enforcement official in any precinct in or around New York knew what went down in the dark corners of even the roughest of neighborhoods like these guys did.

Lorenzo’s former crew.

Jesus Christ, his supervisor would kick his ass all the way to Newark if she knew what he was about to do. But he was going to do it anyway and could only hope he found something before the suits showed, flashing their badges around like the trumped-up assholes most of them were.

He snagged his cell off his desk and headed out for a visit with a few local members of the Russian and Italian mafias.

CHAPTER 10

The look on the faces of the patrons eating their sandwiches was typically wary when Caleb entered the deli wearing his colors. Though, Nika noted, nothing but approval showed in the pretty waitress’s eyes as her admiring gaze took in his visible tattoos and tight body. His heavy boots thudded on the floor, and Nika stood at the table for two she’d snagged in the corner to give her brother a hug and kiss—in case he didn’t give her the chance after she’d said her piece. The waitress looked crushed and then angry.

“Hey. You shouldn’t have left the clubhouse alone.”

Caleb’s you-silly-girl tone irked her, and Nika gave him a look as they sat. “For all we know, Kevin is long gone. He’s such a coward, he’s probably in Detroit or Chicago by now.”

“Or he could be outside waiting to get you by yourself.”

She blanched and couldn’t help but look out the front windows to search the late afternoon shadows. TP, one of Caleb’s MC brothers, was at the curb, leaning on his bike, smoking a cigarette.

“I’m sorry.” Caleb covered her hand. “I just want you safe, which means you shouldn’t be taking any chances.”

That sounded like her intro. “Listen, about that.”

“Can I get you anything?”

They both looked up at the icy offer to see the waitress looking down her nose at Caleb. She gave Nika a sympathetic smile before coldly raising her brow at Caleb again. Just like yesterday. Random strangers had glared at him all day, measuring his fist against the fading bruise on Nika’s face. So unfair.

“My brother
loves
coffee,” she gushed suddenly. “And I think he could really use one now that he knows about my . . . situation.” She inconspicuously touched the bruise on her cheek as the girl’s eyes widened. “Can you bring him some blueberry pie as well? I don’t think he’s going to want to go kick my boyfriend’s very deserving ass on an empty stomach.”

“Oh . . . gosh. I’m so sorry,” the girl whispered to Caleb. “I just thought—Shit. My brother would kill me for jumping to conclusions like that without proper facts. My other brother would kill me more for thinking the worst of people. Um, yes, pie. Absolutely.” She nodded enthusiastically, the stars once more glittering in her caramel-colored eyes as she stared at Caleb, who was staring back with a small smile on his face. Clearly, she’d just found a new hero. “My dad made it just this morning. Would you like some ice cream with it, bunny?”

Caleb looked as if she’d just slapped him. “Sure. Thanks,” he said slowly.

“Gotcha. Be right back.”

Off she went, already shaking her head at another girl sitting at the counter. Obviously her friend. They whispered up a storm as she plated the dessert.

“Thanks for the rescue. Did she seriously call me that?”

Nika nodded, trying not to laugh. “She did,
bunny
.”

He shook his head. “Great body on her, but she needs work on her nicknames.”

That she did. “And you don’t have to thank me for setting someone straight. I’d like to wear a sign on my back with Kevin’s name and photo so people are clear on who did this to me. Those looks almost ruined my day with you yesterday.”

“Here you go.” The pie, ice cream, and coffee were placed on the table, and Nika was pretty sure the girl wanted to start spooning it down Caleb’s throat.

“Thanks, kitten,” he offered, but Nika couldn’t tell if it was tongue in cheek.

The waitress obviously didn’t think so because her smile was a knockout. “No problem. If you guys need anything else, like a hammer for the guy who did that to you,” she said to Nika, “just wave.”

“You should marry her,” Nika said jokingly after she walked away.

Caleb grinned. “Can’t blame people for thinking what they do,” he said, getting back to their conversation. He ate half the slice in one huge bite. “I’d be the same. I mean, look at you.”

“Ca-leb. And don’t eat like that. Smaller bites.”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and winked at her. “Sorry, Nik. The bruise isn’t as bad as it was, but you still look like you’ve been . . . hurt by a guy’s fist. That fucking—”

“Listen,” she interrupted, shaking her head and smiling as the waitress raised the coffeepot in her direction. “I asked you to meet me because I wanted to talk to you about, er . . . I know you want me safe, and, uh . . . I got my own place today,” she finally blurted, and she could have sworn the temperature in the room plummeted twenty degrees.

“Say again?”

She forced herself not to shrink back at the change in his expression and rushed out her announcement. “Gabriel offered me the use of an apartment down the street. I moved in this afternoon.”

After lightly placing his fork on the table, he moved his plate to the side, looking relatively calm. But when he spoke, his voice was hard as nails. “I’ll take you over now to get your stuff. I’ll drop the keys off at Kirov’s club later tonight, and he can give them back to Moretti.”

Nika’s mouth fell open. Just like that? There was no room for discussion? Or argument? The latter being more accurate for what was about to happen.

She closed her jaw and inhaled slowly—not wanting to come across as unbalanced—and tried to remind herself that he only wanted what was best for her.

“Caleb. I can’t live in the club—”

“Then we’ll get a place of our own,” he interrupted with a shrug.

“No. I’m not going to take you away from your—”

“You won’t be,” he cut in again, his tone dismissive. He took a sip of coffee and leaned back. “You’re not going to live in a place owned by a fucking mobster, Nika.”

Her temper flared at that, and she leaned over. “Gabriel is much more than ‘a mobster,’ ” she said fiercely. “He’s a wonderful person. He saved Eva’s life, for God’s sake.”

“Her life wouldn’t have been in jeopardy if he’d kept his fucking hands off her.”

Nika gasped. “Caleb! He makes her happier than she’s ever been.”

Her brother looked away, a tic working in his jaw. Did he harbor ill feelings toward Gabriel for what Stefano and Furio had done to Eva? She hadn’t realized that.

“I’m so sorry for what happened to you, Nik,” he said suddenly, his unfocused gaze somewhere over by the counter. “That’s why you’re leaving, isn’t it? Because of me. Fuck. I should’ve seen this coming.”

Her eyes bugged. “Wait, wait, wait. I am not leaving the clubhouse because I’m angry or upset with you.” She scooted to the edge of her seat, wishing she could climb into his lap and hug him until he believed her. “I don’t blame you, Caleb. Please hear me. I don’t. Not even a little. If I did, I’d tell you. I’d tell you, ‘I kind of blame you just a little,’ but I don’t! Honest!”

He covered her hands where she was gripping the sides of the table. “Okay, okay. Calm down. I believe you. Just calm down, okay?”

She narrowed her eyes at his uh-oh-she’s-gonna-lose-it expression. He was still treating her as if she were no longer tough enough to have a heated discussion. She pulled her hands back and crossed her arms over her chest. But then she realized that was a defensive position and leaned forward to rest her forearms on the table.

“Listen—don’t interrupt me again!” she snapped when he opened his mouth. He closed it and raised a brow at her, regally waving his hand for her to continue. “I couldn’t spend another day being watched by everyone. At the first sign of conflict—the other night over a freaking TV show—you guys look at me like you expect me to crawl into a corner and rock back and forth, making funny noises. Believe me; I’m not that fragile.”

She’d had her breakdown, and she certainly wasn’t planning on going through that experience again. Cathartic, her ass. More like exhausting and depressing. God, the things that had gone through her head. It was as if she’d remembered every single brutal thing Kevin had ever done to her.

She went on, attempting to explain things in a way she hoped got through to him. “I won’t take you away from your life while I try to find mine. Don’t you see? I can’t let what Kevin did to me make me afraid to go out and interact with people out of some irrational fear that they’re out to get me. I have to push past that paranoia. Staying with you, wrapped in the cocoon you’re creating—even though I love you for it and appreciate why you’re doing it—just isn’t what I need. You know this isn’t who I am. I’m not a weak person in need of saving. Yet you’re treating me like that. I know it’s only been two weeks, and I know you’re struggling with what Kevin did, but I’m suffocating, Caleb.”

She could see by the obstinate angle of his chin that she wasn’t getting through, but she kept trying. “I will never again let anyone,
anyone
,” she stressed, “tell me how I’m going to live my life. Not even you. This will be done my way. Not that it’s ideal, having to move forward on the coattail of someone else, but right now I’ll take it. And I’ll be appreciative of the breaks Gabriel is giving me in the form of my own place and a possible job that will allow me a chance to prove I’m not as worthless as Kevin told me I am.” She held up a hand and swallowed the ball of shame that floated into her throat for no reason in particular. “That asshole did something to me, Caleb, to the way I see myself, and I want that gone. I want me back, and I can’t get me back if I wallow in self-pity. So, like you and Daddy taught me, I’m heading back out there. I’m going to work hard, say thanks to those who helped, and eventually be strong enough again to return the favor to those who need it once I don’t anymore.”

The tension went out of her shoulders. She was doing the right thing. She knew it. “And like I said, for all we know, Kevin is gone. He most likely ran off because he was too afraid of you and Vincente to hang around on the off chance that he might get me alone somewhere. He’d never have left that memory stick behind if he hadn’t been scared shitless. And now that you know the full story of how he blackmailed me, he’s going to be even more afraid.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think he’s going to risk showing back up here.”

Caleb crossed his arms over his chest, nodding as if he’d just gotten it. “You hoping if you hang out in their world that you might have a chance with V? Was that where you were earlier? Were you with him?”

The questions slammed into her with the force of a dozen punches, bringing with them an embarrassment so thick it tightened the skin on her body until she felt actual pain. Her interest in Vincente had been noted. Who else had seen it? Had Vincente? Was that why he hadn’t come anywhere near her since that night? Had she done something to make him uncomfortable?

Mortification nearly choked her . . . until anger overshadowed it.

No.
She would
not
allow this. No longer.

She straightened her spine and met her brother’s eyes without wavering. She
would not
feel ashamed.
Would not
be embarrassed. She
would not
be self-conscious about her wants and needs as a woman.

That’s what she
was
!
A woman!
And she was damned relieved she still had these needs, even though she had no intention of acting on them.

If she wanted to want Vincente Romani, then that was no one’s business but
hers
.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said,” she accused.

“He’s not the kind of guy you need, Nik,” Caleb muttered gruffly as he dragged his fork through the melting ice cream on his plate. “What the hell were you doing with him?”

“I wasn’t with him. I haven’t seen him since I left Eva’s. But forget Vincente and listen to me, please. I’m doing this because I want to be independent. I
need
to be independent. I’m going to go on with my life, meet normal people who don’t carry guns and knives like the rest of us carry our cell phones.” She held her brother’s eye and kept her voice low. “You’re free to live without answering to anyone. If you wanted to take that girl home right now”—she motioned to the waitress, who was clearing a table by the front window—“I’d tell you to treat her well and then I’d make my discreet exit. I will now demand the same respect from you. If I want to bring home twenty men like Vincente, then that’s
my
business and that’s what I’ll do. You won’t judge me.”

She stood and pulled a twenty out of her pocket and threw it on the table. “If you can do that for me, then let’s go. I’ll bring you to the apartment and show you around. If not”—she coughed around the tremble she could feel entering her voice—“call me when you’ve come to your senses.”

Caleb grabbed her wrist and stood when she tried to walk by, and without a word, pulled Nika into a tight hug. “I love you too much to lose you just because I don’t understand what you need. Explain it to me again along the way. Just . . . don’t shut me out, Nik.”

She put her arms around his broad shoulders and hugged him back right where they stood in the small deli, and Nika was pretty sure she heard a sniffle and a rattle of dishes from a few feet away.

“Order up, Ashlyn!” came the call from the kitchen.

Vincente coasted down the dark alley on his custom V-Rod. He’d killed the engine already and now rolled to a stop. After leaving the house, he’d traveled the Grand Central Parkway, exiting around Cunningham Park, telling himself he was just coming out this way because he wanted to grab a Danish at the best bakery in the city—too bad the place wasn’t open this time of night. Also too bad that he’d already stuffed himself on Samnang’s perfectly grilled steaks and melt-in-your-mouth potato salad.