Owned by the Russian Mafia Boss: A Mob Romance (22 page)

He’d taken a few bullets and faked the rest. He’d injected himself with a special drug to lower his heart rate, and, after a hefty payout, several hospital volunteers turned their backs while Dmitri left a body double in his place.

Fedor Saiko was dead, and Dmitri was not. It should have been considered a win-win situation, but the following events had left a strange taste in his mouth.

For example, Ivan Bobrov had apparently been a close friend to Fedor Saiko. How had Dmitri missed that? And more important, how far back did their friendship go?

He’d warred with himself for days. Fedor Saiko had killed his father, and now Saiko was dead. Ivan Bobrov thought he was dead. He was free to do whatever he wanted with his life. He was free to be whoever he wanted to be.

Except that things just didn’t add up. Ivan and his father were friends. Why would Ivan befriend the man who had killed his friend? Why would he take over the business?

Any psychiatrist worth their salt would have told Dmitri that he was simply having trouble letting go. After all, his life’s mission was to see Fedor dead. Now, instead of embracing the victory, he was looking for any means to keep holding on.

They were probably right. But Dmitri had only survived this long by trusting his instincts. And his instincts told him something was wrong.

Security was light while Ivan was gone. Dmitry suspected Ivan was probably having trouble gaining the loyalty of Fedor’s followers. Those who refused to work for him were probably already at the bottom of the river, and those who were still alive were no doubt only doing so out of fear for their own lives. It would take time for Ivan to develop enough relationships to strengthen his detail. Because of that, Dmitri could probably get in and out without spilling blood.

The four-story mansion expanded well below the ground surface, and if Dmitri hadn’t spent some time working for Fedor earlier in the year, he would not have known his way around the place. As he shimmied up the tree on the side of the house, he peered into an empty window. With a small smile of satisfaction, he cut a small opening into the glass and reached in to unlock the window, then silently entered the house and quickly crouched in the corner.

No one sounded the alarm. No one came running. Sloppy, but Ivan probably didn’t have any sensitive information in the house. He was still in the process of moving.

Keeping himself in the shadows, Dmitri moved silently across the room. Easing the door opened, he glanced into the hall. Two men shuffled along the carpet. Dmitri quickly pulled his head out of view and waited for them to pass.

“Do you believe the rumors?” one of the men asked the other.

“That Ivan is looking into the death of the assassin? Seems far-fetched. He’s probably throwing a temper tantrum because people won’t cut the same deal with him as they did with Fedor. Ivan was always jealous,” replied the other.

“I think it’s true. I heard Ivan talking on the phone last week. I think he knew the assassin.”

“Doesn’t matter. The assassin is dead. Fedor might be dead, but he was still victorious,’ the second man boasted as they walked by.

Dmitri struggled to keep his breathing even. Ivan was looking into his death? Why the hell would he do that? Ivan had no interest in Dmitri as an assassin. He’d refused all jobs associated with him so that Ivan wouldn’t be suspicious.

He was just about to shrug the men’s conversation off as paranoia when a sudden thought struck him. Three weeks ago, Ivan went to St. Petersburg. Today he was in Kazan.

Before working with Kazimir, Dmitri’s most recent jobs were in St. Petersburg and Kazan. It was too much of a coincidence to ignore.

Ivan knew that he was the assassin. And he obviously didn’t buy his most recent attempt to kill off his identity. He was looking for him. The question was why?

And what would be his next move? None of his clients had ever seen his face. In fact, there were only three people who could possibly identify him.

Kazimir, Veronika, and the pretty American who would have no way of defending herself.

With a curse, Dmitri abandoned his search and quickly left the mansion. He needed to get to Moscow as soon as possible.

***

The afternoon seemed like a complete disaster. Of the six interviews Charley had lined up, only three showed. And of those three, absolutely none of them seemed viable choices.

The first one, Grant, showed up without a shirt on. Charley didn’t even have a chance to drool at his sex-pack before he opened his mouth and ruined her sudden daydream of having a live-in sex god.

“I don’t work, but I’m quite talented in other areas, if you know what I mean,” he said as he wagged his eyebrows.

Charley just stared at him. “Are you telling me that you’re a prostitute?” she asked carefully.

“What? No. I didn’t mean other women. I meant you. I bet you and I could have a lot of fun under this roof,” he said with a wicked smile.

She rolled her eyes. “So you’re suggesting that instead of paying me money for rent, you’re going to pay me in orgasms.”

“Screaming orgasms.”

“Screaming orgasms don’t pay my bills,” she said as she pointed to the door. Paying bills trumped sex. He turned red and scurried out of the room.

The next person to show up was a tall and lanky blonde named Delia. Lanky may not have been the right word to use. Gangly would have been more like it. As soon as the woman entered the room, she walked right into the table in the foyer and knocked the vase of flowers over. As the glass shattered on the hard wood floor, the woman’s eyes welled up with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Delia cried. “I’ll pay for it.”

At first, Charley was stunned. How had the woman missed the table? It was not only way out of the walkway, but it was in plain sight. Delia’s tears made her uneasy, and she quickly moved to clean up the mess. “There is no need to pay for it. I think one of my exes gave me that vase, which means it’s absolutely worthless anyway. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,’ Delia sniffed. She immediately lapsed into silence, and Charley felt like she was pulling teeth to get the woman to talk at all.

“So you go to school here, right?”

Delia nodded.

“What’s your major?”

“Literature,” she whispered.

“Do you have a job?” Charley pressed.

The woman shook her head, and Charley frowned. “I’m sorry. I have to ask how you’re planning on paying rent if you don’t have a job.”

The woman immediately looked frightened. Charley was afraid she’d burst into tears again. “Hey, we can come back to that question. No pressure. Tell me what you like to do for fun?”

But the interview was clearly over. The woman looked like a deer caught in headlights. Finally, Charley told Delia she’d be in touch, and the woman bolted.

Straight into the coffee table, spilling a glass of water. As she burst into tears again, Charley herded the woman out.

“What the hell?” she muttered when she was safely alone.

As she cleaned up the mess, another applicant knocked on the door. Charley opened the door to find a suspiciously beautiful blonde standing on the front porch. “Hi,” she said brightly. “You much be Charley Barns. I’m Kristi Evanovich.”

“You’re Russian,” Charley said stupidly.

“Yes,” the girl said slowly. “This is Russia.”

Damn it, how could she have missed that last name? The woman’s accent was thicker than Veronika’s. Kristi must have sensed her hesitation because she quickly tried to regain control of the situation. “Look, I’m starting my master’s next semester, and I’m trying to find something quiet off campus. I can pay you the full year in advance…”

Alarmed, Charley held up her hand. “A full year in advance? How can you do that?”

“Well my father is a wealthy business owner, and—”

“Hell, no,” Charley said before slamming the door. She immediately locked it and peered out as the girl, dumbfounded, walked away. A beautiful Russian woman with a wealthy business-owning father? Yeah. Charley wasn’t about to tangle with that again.

Feeling dejected, Charley finished cleaning up the mess Delia had made and collapsed on the couch. The provided time period for interviews had long since expired when there was another knock at the door.

Armed with a baseball bat, Charley peered out the window cautiously. A woman her own age stood on the porch with a piece of paper in her hand. Hiding the bat behind her back, Charley cracked the door open. “Can I help you?”

“Hi. I’m Daphne Reynolds. Are you Charlie Barns? I was trying to get here in time to interview for the room in the house, but I got terribly lost. My Russian is still a bit shaky,” the woman said.

Tucking the bat behind the door, Charley swung the door open the rest of the way. “I am Charley. Come on in.”

“Have you already chosen someone? I’m so sorry that I’m late.”

“I found the earlier applicants unsuitable,” Charley said with a small smile. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Oh, no thank you. In fact, I was afraid you’d refuse to see me since I’m so late. I brought you a small bribe.” Daphne reached in to her bag and pulled out a bottle of wine.

Charley’s eyes rounded. “Red Herring Decoy. Oh, that’s my favorite.”

“Really? It’s mine, too. I’m actually not even sure that it’s legal to ship it here, but my sister sends me a couple of bottles every few months.”

Practically drooling, Charley grabbed the bottle of wine. “Forget the list,” she joked as she tossed the clipboard aside. “The room is yours.”

Daphne laughed. “Go ahead and ask your questions. I want to make sure it’s a good fit. I’m looking for more than a roommate. I sort of need a friend. My last roommate didn’t speak much English. It was a lonely semester.”

“What’s your major?”

“Architecture and design.”

“Damn. You must be good if you’re studying here,” Charley muttered. “Job?”

Daphne reached into her bag and pulled out some papers. “Here are my last two paychecks. I work as a waitress at a high-end club. I’ll work more hours this summer to save money, but as you can see, my income during school is still sufficient to cover rent and my portion of the bills. And the last page is a letter of reference from my last roommate. I couldn’t read it very well, but it hopefully says good things about me.”

Charley scanned the letter. The recommendation stated that Daphne was never late with payment, she abided by the rules set aside, and she was clean, quiet, and respectful.

“I think you might be a dream come true. Do you have a boyfriend?”

Daphne looked startled. “Does that matter?”

“My last roommate came with a boyfriend. It was a package deal.”

“I see. I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m not necessarily against one, but I just haven’t had time to date. If I do, I promise that I’ll be respectful,” she said shyly. Charley actually saw embarrassment stain her cheeks.

“Okay. You seem perfect. Here’s a little bit about me. I work hard during the week, but I like to play during the weekend. I’m a stickler for keeping things clean, but I’m not OCD. My bedroom is littered with clothes on the floor. I like things quiet during study time, and I will hog the television. I’m a terrible cook, I sometimes stay up all night, and I sometimes talk to myself. And whether you move in or not, I think I’d like to be friends with you.”

Daphne smiled, and Charley saw the delight in her eyes. “I can pay a deposit right now. When can I move in?”

Chapter Two

His father had been a large and intimidating man, but everyone who knew Max knew that he was gentle-hearted. He abhorred violence. He carried a gun only out of necessity, but it wasn’t enough to save his life.

“You must not be like your father,” Ivan told him. “Your father thought he could live his life through words and logic, but this is not a world of logic. I tried to tell him that it would get him killed. And now I’m telling you that it will get you killed. Harden your heart. Only the cold survive the winters.”

The little boy grew up hearing these words. Ivan chanted them every morning, and every morning, the boy thought less and less of his father. Soon, the man’s face was a blur. A lifeless blur. He carried the idea of his father’s death around, but he soon forgot what kind of man his father was. He forgot the lessons of his father. He began to be the son of Ivan instead.

***

Three weeks in, and Charley was in love. She missed Veronika, but Daphne was the perfect roommate. She cooked for the both of them. She cleaned up for the both of them. And she’d paid her deposit and first month’s rent. Charley was already starting to feel better about the summer.

“I promised myself that I wasn’t going to take any classes, and then Professor Niko offered me an assistantship for the summer, and I just couldn’t turn it down. I thought it would be a dream, but I should have gone with my gut instincts. He’s so cool in the classroom, but he’s a nightmare in his personal life,” Daphne muttered grouchily as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “He actually called me into work last night because he couldn’t find his reading glasses. Are you kidding me?”

“Really? Where were they?”

“On his head. They were on his head. I thought my manager was going to have a stroke, but what could I do? I have him next semester, and I can’t afford for him to fail me.”

Charley drained the rest of the milk from her cereal. “So I guess trying to talk to him about invading your personal time is out of the question?”

Daphne moaned. “He would probably fail me on the spot. By the way, I found this under my bed. It’s not mine.” She pulled out a pair of blue boxers.

Charley grimaced. They no doubt belonged to Kaz. “Sorry, I thought I cleaned everything out.” She took them gingerly and carried them to the trashcan. Daphne watched in amusement.

“I take it you know who they belong to?”

“My previous roommate’s boyfriend. He was…an interesting guy,” Charley said.

“Ah. That explains the boyfriend question. Why didn’t your old roommate stick around? Did you two not get along?”

“Actually, she’s practically my best friend. She moved in with said boyfriend. They’ve got a nice house in the ritzier part of town. Damn, he was sexy. I miss the eye candy.”