Page 9 of Exacting Vengeance

“Ah, so you were looking.” He grinned as he thought back to that moment on the yacht’s deck. He’d sensed she’d been watching him with more than just curiosity, which presented another problem. The sizzling attraction he had for her was reciprocated.

“I’m serious. Most of Yuri’s people have at least one. Yuri must have a dozen.”

That he does.

Alex had seen them in Yuri’s file. Starting as a twelve-year-old boy, Yuri had done time in a Russian Gulag and later in American prisons. Every time he’d been arrested, his tattoos were photographed as part of the arrest process. The three domed cupolas on his back represented three separate sentences served. The knife wrapped in chains on one of his biceps meant he’d committed a violent assault while incarcerated, and the dagger on his chest indicated a hired killer.

Yuri’s tattoos were a living history of the violent life he’d led. Which was precisely why Novikov wanted someone like Alex working with Yuri.

Over her shoulder, he glimpsed a gray-haired, sixtyish man in a black suit—Mike’s confidential informant—lift his glass in salut and give Alex a meaningful look. With no cold shower available, Mike’s CI would have to do.

He cleared his throat. “Excuse me. I need to go talk to someone.” He felt like a jerk for leaving her standing there with a bewildered expression. It couldn’t be avoided. Professionally, he needed to talk to the guy. Personally, he needed distance. From her.

At the bar, he picked up the Chivas the bartender had probably poured for him twenty minutes ago and made his way to the end of the bar. Alex clinked glasses. “Na zdrovie.”

“Na zdrovie.”

They sipped for a moment in silence, angling their bodies to make sure no one could overhear them or sneak up from behind. “Where you been?” Alex asked, wanting the man to know Mike wasn’t happy about his silence.

The man shrugged. “It is difficult to break free on command. I do what I can, but I must keep my head attached to my neck, yes?”

Alex nodded. He actually did understand. A CI had as many safety concerns as an undercover. The FBI had been careful not to burn Mike’s CI or use him to gain entry into the Bratva. That had been all Alex’s doing, and it had taken him two years to get this close to Yuri Petrov.

The CI took another sip. “Nikolai and Yuri left together last night. Something to do with kidnappings.”

“Where did they go?”

Again, the man shrugged. “Who knows? They took Nikolai’s truck.”

So, whatever they were doing, it was close enough to drive to but not close enough to get back in time for Novikov’s party. “Why is Yuri going to L.A. after that?”

“Something to do with the same thing. Kidnapping.”

Alex narrowed his eyes, concerned about the source of this intel. This wasn’t Yuri’s standard MO. Usually, everyone in his crew knew what their brigadier was doing. Begging the question… “How do you know this?”

The CI held up his glass. “You know how much Yuri drinks. He lets things slip, but with this, he doesn’t slip so much. If he does, Nikolai will cut off his balls. Yuri doesn’t fit in so good with the image Novikov wants. Even Nikolai does not like Yuri so much these days.”

Does anyone? “Assuming Yuri and Lebedev are behind these kidnappings, where’s the money?” For the six missing Russians, over nine million in ransom money had been paid.

“I hear Yuri has an accountant that takes care of everything. Novikov ordered him to keep a ledger.”

“An accountant?” That was the first he’d heard of that. “Do you know who it is?”

“No.” The CI shook his head. “The only thing Yuri said was this accountant hides the money so good, not even the FBI could get to it with a thousand bank subpoenas.”

Alex tipped his glass, swallowing the rest of the Scotch and welcoming the burn as it trickled down his throat. Through the thickening crowd, he glimpsed Viktoria talking with Olga Lebedev again, and his foolish heart did a dangerous flip-flop. He took a deep breath and smacked his empty glass on the bar. He’d have to stay under longer, until the job was done. Which meant he was in deep shit.

Chapter Five

Streetlights blurred into a bright yellow streak as Alex seemed to push the car faster. They’d been driving for five minutes when Viktoria couldn’t take it any longer. “You’re quite a good dancer,” she said, hoping to break the icy silence. It had amazed her how such a large man could move so fluidly. So sexily.

“Thanks,” he all but grunted.

So much for breaking the ice. Since the moment he’d left her so abruptly on the dance floor, his responses had been curt, cold even, as if he no longer wanted to be near her. Whatever magic moment they’d shared while dancing was long gone. Maybe it had only been a figment of her imagination.

She rolled her eyes at the pathetically ludicrous direction her thoughts were taking. But it can’t hurt to dream, can it? She’d wished the night would never end. For a short time, she’d actually felt like Cinderella at the ball, knowing that in just a few short hours, she’d turn back into a pumpkin with no hope of feeling this way again.

Alex’s masculine, subtle aftershave had invaded every pore in her body. He looked so handsome in a black suit and crisp white shirt, and when he smiled at her it was genuine, not the one she’d seen him use on her husband and his colleagues when they were conducting business. His smile was heart-stopping.