The Russian Bodyguard: A Dark Mafia Romance (Krasnov Brothers Book 3) Page 4

  Maksim growled viciously from low in his throat, and I really thought he was going to hit me that time.

  I’d just seen what he was truly capable of. One blow and he’d demo’d Jimmy through a damn wall. He could inflict way more damage than a mere bruised cheek.

  He slapped me with words instead, fingers almost clawing into my shoulders. “This isn’t just about you!”

  Maksim was still ragey, and I for one was getting damn sick and tired of it.

  Had he forgotten I was the one who’d been taken?

  “Like hell it’s not,” I spat back at him, shrugging free from his hold. “You heard Jimmy.”

  “Jimmy,” he scoffed. “Just before all the shit kicked off at the house, we got a call that The Sickle was under attack.”

  Shock made me reel. “What?”

  “And Jo went into labor, goddammit.”

  “What?” I choked out. “You should’ve gone to the nightclub! What’s happening with Jo? Did anyone get hurt?”

  “Enough questions.” Grasping my wrist, Maksim tugged me out onto the creaky porch and down the sagging steps.

  The tight grouping of trees cast black shadows as night fell and the moon rose.

  He yanked me along past the abandoned van and two more dead bodies. He didn’t stop until we got to his motorcycle.

  He shoved a helmet at me. “Shut up and put this on.”

  As he slung his rifle into the custom-made holster at the side of his bike, his undiminished wrath continued to pour off him in waves.

  I’d never been on the Harley before. When escorting me, Maksim always drove a luxury Merc SUV. This was his personal ride, and he’d never invited me. Not that the way he scowled and ordered me onto the giant motorcycle was anything close to an invitation.

  I straddled the chopper behind him, given no choice but to wrap my arms around his stone-hard middle as he took off. The fast jolt of speed threw me even harder against Maksim’s broad back.

  Somehow, he managed the deep ruts in the dirt track capably and, once we hit the blacktop, he pushed the bike even faster. The roar of the engine made vibrations rumble through my thighs, and the sensation heightened a strange new awareness of this man.

  Having to wrap myself around Maksim’s big hard body wasn’t helping the foreign feelings first awakened much earlier in the day.

  I became uncomfortably aware of his overwhelming masculinity. The way he handled the Harley was just like the way he’d handled my entire kidnapping situation from start to finish.

  I knew he still wanted to strangle me though, or maybe he was trying to get me flung off the back of the motorcycle as he took corners at death defying angles.

  Relief only came when we zoomed down the long drive to the estate, and I knew that any reprieve wouldn’t last long.

  A fact that became abundantly apparent when Maksim throttled down, glaring over his shoulder once we came to a stop.

  As I slid from the bike, my dress drifted too high on my thighs and, though he said nothing, Maksim’s gaze strayed to my legs and stayed there.

  Finally, I removed the helmet, and he dismounted. His thickly muscled legs were so long he towered disturbingly over me, a silent menace. He grabbed my helmet, packing it away. Then he slung his own over the handlebar and grabbed his rifle.

  Not a word passed between us as he prodded me into the mansion, which was my home. He didn’t have to be so heavy-handed. But of course that was his way, always had been.

  Once inside my father’s study, he pinned me with his harshest glare then pushed me forward.

  I ran straight to Baba, so very relieved to see her safe and unharmed.

  She opened her arms, drawing me into her bosom. She patted my back, and I let myself wallow in the scents of my grandmother; spicy aromatics that would always remind me of love, and warmth, and plenty.

  Yet I knew what was coming when she thrust me an arm’s length away.

  Her Russian tumbled out whip fast, calling me a silly girl, always so much trouble, berating me up one side and down the other.

  Then she hugged me again, softly rocking me from side to side.

  I wanted to sniffle in the comfort she provided, but other people were there too, and I felt all eyes combing over me.

  Removed from Baba’s embrace, I turned to Lucia, well aware it was possibly my fault her wedding reception had been ruined.

  “Are you okay?” I asked Arkady’s new wife.

  “You don’t need to worry about me, Sasha. How are you?” She clasped my hands in both of hers, her eyes searching my face and seeing the bruise.

  I swallowed, nodding at her concern. “Maksim came.”

  When I glanced over at him, he cut his cool gaze abruptly away.

  Focusing back on Lucia, I noted her mischievous smile that moved from me to Maksim and back again.

  She beckoned me closer, then her voice dropped to a murmur. “Several of the soldiers and even Arkady volunteered to join him. He made it clear no one was going after you but him.”

  Probably so he could degrade, deride, and manhandle me in private. Still, an unusual frisson settled in my tummy at the mention of Maksim’s possessiveness.

  Ignoring her mischievous remark, I asked, “Where is Arkady? What’s going on with Jo and the baby?”

  All the while, my papa smoked a cigar near the open French doors, and I wondered when he’d welcome me back. And what I would say when I had to fess up about how Jimmy managed to take me in the first place.

  Valeria came over, her soft voice a balm to my jangled nerves. “Miss Sasha. We worried much.”

  She clutched my hand to her breast, her pretty features pinched with anxiousness.

  Again, I sought Maksim out to see if he showed any reaction to the young woman’s presence. That queer jealousy rearing up again, which was really beginning to piss me off.

  He paid no attention anymore. He was heavily engrossed in conversation with Papa, and I knew that wouldn’t bode well for me.

  Then I felt ridiculous for my trivial thoughts regarding Valeria even if Maksim were interested in her. She was always so sincere. Even now, she exclaimed over my swollen cheek before hurrying off to fetch an icepack.

  “She is safe?” I heard Papa ask Maksim.

  “For now.” Maksim’s voice rumbled just like his Harley had.

  I couldn’t look over there now. I’d rather crawl away unnoticed.

  The worst was yet to come.

  Lucia delivered a glass of champagne to me. Valeria came back with the icepack she gently applied to the side of my face. Baba nudged me into a winged chair then set a bowl of her solianka soup on a little round table next to me.

  “Yest. Eat,” my grandmama ordered.

  I took a long drink of champagne first, wishing I could skip the rest of the inquisition. If I could just be alone with these women, I’d be solid, but having to meet Papa’s displeasure and more of Maksim’s ire made my back rigid.

  I spooned up the soup, letting the true taste of home settle on my tongue before swallowing the hearty warmth of the brothy beef concoction.

  Lucia sat next to me. “Kirill took Jo to the hospital. Thankfully, it’s false labor. But you know Jo.” She chuckled. “She was cursing up a storm in the background about getting the damn baby out already.”

  Yeah. That sounded like Jo. Everyone knew she was a firecracker from the first moment we found out she was a Joanna and not the Joe we’d been led to believe.

  I ate more soup, drinking more champagne, astutely avoiding looking in Papa and Maksim’s direction. “What about The Sickle? And Arkady?”

  “It’s all fine.” Lucia sipped from a flute of champagne too. “Arkady went with Grigor and some of the other men to the nightclub. There was an attack—”

  I started to rise from my seat.

  She pushed me back down.

  “The brigadiers had already handled it. Something about a new Russian group, and they were trying to breach the armory in the tunnels.”

  Rus
sians working against us?

  The mystery man called Oleg?

  I didn’t have time to ponder the connections because Maksim grunted something before saying, “Speaking of tunnels . . .”

  I’d been trying to stay under the radar with my papa until Maksim made it impossible.

  My gaze flew to the man who made my life so very difficult, my heart tripping in my chest.

  His eyes looked like cold liquid silver. “Sashenka told that boy about the tunnels here and how to get onto the grounds of the estate.”

  The soup I’d just ingested settled like a hard stone in the pit of my stomach.

  I had no choice then but to stand, rising under the heavy weight of my father’s dark hooded gaze.

  Before he even spoke, my shoulders sagged.

  “Vat do you have to say for yourself, Sashenka?”

  His usual nickname for me—which Maksim used as the diminutive to make fun of me—had never sounded icier.

  Humiliation twisted me up inside.

  “I’m sorry, Papa,” I whispered. “I didn’t realize—”

  “Bah! Nyet.” He slashed one heavily tattooed hand through the air. “To bring shame on the Bratva this way. Disgrace.”

  He stopped scolding me only to shake his head wearily.

  Papa might be strict with me, but he’d always been tolerant too. I knew I’d finally pushed him too far, and tears burned at the back of my eyes.

  I would not cry in front of him though, and especially not in Maksim’s presence.

  Meeting Papa’s severe gaze, I prepared to state my case. If nothing else, being the daughter of a pakhan had taught me to be strong.

  “I think whoever’s behind this would’ve found a way in regardless,” I said.

  “Excuses.” Papa took a seat in his favorite armchair and poured a vodka, which meant even though he disagreed he was willing to listen.

  “Not excuses. You need to hear me out. There’s something bigger at play here.”

  Papa waved one finger for me to carry on.

  “Jimmy knew my birth name, papa.”

  Even Maksim leaned closer at that tidbit.

  “I never told him I’m called Alexandra,” I continued. “He also said someone hired him to approach me in the first place and then to take me. A man named Oleg. Perhaps from the same faction that attacked the nightclub?”

  Papa’s bland expression gave nothing away and he blew smoke rings into the air before turning his regard on Maksim. “She cannot stay here.”

  3

  Sasha Part Two

  “SHE CANNOT STAY HERE.”

  My own father acted like I wasn’t even in the room anymore, his tone so completely unemotional he could’ve been discussing the weather and not my future whereabouts.

  “What?” I asked, my voice warbling.

  He couldn’t hate me so much after one minor infraction that looked like it didn’t even have anything to do with me.

  Or everything to do with me?

  “Take her to new club with you,” he ordered my damn bodyguard. “To the apartment you have set up there.”

  “Papa, is this really necessary?” To be thrown out of my own house felt like a slap in the face.

  After the day I’d endured, I definitely didn’t want to be left to Maksim’s devices. And what did Papa mean? Maksim had carved out his own space at the new nightclub that wasn’t even set to open for a couple of weeks?

  Was he moving away?

  Would I have a new guard?

  Did I want that?

  Papa gestured me to him with two hooked fingers. When I reached him, he brought my forehead to his then kissed both my cheeks. Just like Baba carried her own comforting scents, my father smelled of cigar smoke and old worn leather, and his aroma was of strength and wisdom.

  Large roughened hands cupped my face. “Not safe for you here, my Sashenka. Maksim takes care. Maksim watches. No one knows about his place, da? Not even you.”

  My eyes screwed tighter because I didn’t want to go. No matter how many times I’d slipped away or trespassed one rule or another, I’d always come home, and Papa had always welcomed me.

  “You cannot be located again.” There was a sad swoop to my father’s brow when he patted the pocket of his suit jacket as if he were going for another stogie.

  But he always carried his cigars on the opposite side. So what was it that pained him as he rubbed a small circle over his chest?

  “I don’t understand,” I whispered.

  “Because of your mama. You must be safe.”

  He never talked of my mother, and I scanned his solemn expression more closely for some sort of clue.

  My throat grew thick when I asked, “What is this really about?”

  He shook his head slowly from side to side, saying only, “Idti. Go.”

  Despite my inability to behave like a good little Bratva princess, I’d always wanted Papa to be proud of me. With him basically kicking me to the curb, I felt like I’d lost my last chance to prove myself.

  Tears nearly escaped my eyes when I pulled away.

  I shored myself up, telling myself it would only be a few days at most. And far better at whatever bachelor pad Maksim had created for himself than that horrid cabin in the woods.

  Dismissed by Papa, I turned in hopes of fleeing the den before my emotions ran away with me. Unfortunately, Maksim stood right there, in my way, throwing off more doom and gloom vibes.

  He looked even less thrilled than me at the prospect of being holed up together. And his frown was formidable.

  Ah, well. It looked like his misery was my consolation prize.

  “Could you move please? I need to gather my things.”

  “Your things?”

  “I can’t just go like this with nothing.” Spreading my arms wide, I looked down at my bedraggled dress. “Besides, knowing you, you’ve got nothing but a bare mattress and sweaty pillows to sleep on.”

  I made sure to get that last dig in because . . . well, because.

  “Pack.” His jaw clenched then he stepped aside to let me pass. “You have five minutes.”

  “Ogre!” I spat back at him, willingly risking his anger.

  “Sasha.” As I moved away, his voice reverberated through the room. “Make sure whatever you’re bringing will fit on the bike.”

  Grrrr.

  I was going to make sure whatever I brought fit up his tight ass with my foot on the end of it!

  Wearing my irritation like a suit of armor that could get me through the rest of this night, I stomped upstairs. In my perfectly decorated suite of rooms, I slammed the door.

  Reaching back, I unzipped the dress that had been torn and sullied beyond repair. I hadn’t actually needed Maksim’s help earlier in the day to get into the outfit—I was very flexible. I’d just done it to taunt him.

  Stepping from the pile of fabric, I marched to my bathroom and blasted the shower onto hot.

  He probably washed up with a bowl of cold water and a sliver of soap, and I was not starting this punishment filthy to my bones.

  I showered more quickly than ever, however, imagining Maksim banging down the door and dragging me out dripping wet.

  After squeezing water from my hair and wrapping up in a towel, I grabbed a large leather duffel from my extensive closet.

  Maksim probably dressed out of a box or a plastic bag.

  Ha.

  I enjoyed making fun of the bungling oaf in my head almost as much as in person.

  In my bedroom, I found Valeria.

  She’d already gathered my cosmetics bag, hairbrush, and my favorite silk robe.

  “You don’t need to be here. You’ve had a long day too, V.”

  She was always so industrious. I wondered if Maksim would tolerate me better if I were more like her.

  She hushed me softly, moving efficiently through my rooms as I dressed in much more comfortable sweats, a silky tank top, a hoody.

  I barely had time to brush out my damp hair and bundle some of m
y favorite items into the luggage before I heard Maksim bellowing up from below.

  “Sasha! Time is up!”

  “I am seriously going to kill him one day,” I mumbled.

  Valeria removed my hands from the duffel’s buckle I struggled with and efficiently closed the luggage.

  “Maksim, he cares for you.” She shrugged slim shoulders.

  Ha again!

  “Valeria—” I was about to say I really thought he had intentions toward her when my door flung open.

  And there stood my brooding guard dog.

  Some sense of chivalry commanded him when he nodded silently to Valeria.

  I rolled my damn eyes.

  For me he had nothing but frowns, and he forced his next words between his teeth as if the prospect of spending more time with me pained him. “It is time to go.”

  He did at least pick up my bag without further grumbling and waited for me to walk ahead of him.

  Leaving the house—my home of so many years—I didn’t know why it felt like I’d never return.

  Just a few days. That was my mantra.

  I could definitely survive Maksim’s surliness that long. I’d been doing it for years but never in such close quarters—potentially alone—for an extended period of time.

  Once again, I found myself on the back of his beast of a bike as we zoomed at breakneck speeds toward Boston’s inner city.

  Now it was his scent—familiar yet somehow new—I was forced to endure. Light, spicy musk emanated from him, and I felt trapped between his hard body, the rumbling bike, and things I didn’t want to contemplate.

  I bet he only took the Harley because it meant I’d have to shout at him even to be heard. Again, he maneuvered the motorcycle deftly down the route I knew like the back of my hand. He only deviated in the final few minutes from the direction of The Cat and the Sickle toward the nearby nightclub we hadn’t opened yet.

  Papa had entrusted Lucia with the design since that was her jam, and he’d even allowed me to get my hands on the place. He let me pitch a marketing plan to him, and I’d banged that shit out brilliantly.

  Still, I hadn’t been on the premises in about a month.