Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

VAR

" S o I heard you got bitch slapped by ceiling girl today." Vaska entered the Red Star sauna and took a seat in the wooden bleachers near the top where the heat would be the most intense.

Swiping the terrycloth from my face, I glared at Anton. "Really?"

Anton adjusted his wool felt hat before leaning back. "Don't blame me. I only told Brynn."

Vaska leaned his elbows on the wood seat behind him. "And since my amazing wife practically lives at your wife's salon, she told Mary, who told me."

I put the cloth back over my eyes. "All of you suck. I didn't get bitch slapped. And her name is Vivian."

Maxim stretched his legs out along one of the wooden benches and lay down. "Don't listen to them, Var. A slap led to the best sex of my life." Suddenly, he rose up on his elbows. "If any of you chatty bastards go gossiping to your girls, you better say that I said the love of my life, or Carinna will have my balls."

Maxim talked shit, but we all knew he'd go absolutely nuclear if anyone so much as looked at his girl funny. Carinna's bakery had received a one-star review on that stupid yuppie site and the man had tracked the idiot down and held a gun to the man's head until he changed it to a glowing five-star review.

Ivan chuckled. "Yes, all good love stories start with Prince Charming calling the princess a whore and getting the stupid slapped out of him."

Maxim threw a cloth at Ivan's head. "Yeah, as opposed to stalking the princess across the country."

Ivan spread his arms. "It's not stalking if you're rescuing her from a kidnapping. I'm a goddamn hero."

Vaska swatted a bannyy venik of eucalyptus against his back. "And the part that came after she was safe?"

Ivan nodded and smiled. "Oh, that was full on stalking."

Anton looked over at me. "So let me get this straight. The woman who can put us at the scene of a crime we went to great lengths and expense to cover up is now your new fuck buddy?"

I knew he meant nothing by it. And under normal circumstances, I probably would not have even noticed, but it didn't sit well with me, hearing Vivian referred to in that manner.

There was something so transient and casual about the term. As if she were nothing more than a warm body for a few nights' amusement.

The idea of letting Vivian go her own way after a few more fucks made me want to throw hands. It was worse if I thought about her moving on to another man. As it was, I wanted to track down every male name in her phone contact list and beat them senseless.

It wasn't rational. I accepted that.

Nothing about how I'd handled the Vivian situation was rational or even smart.

I should never have gotten involved with her. She was a dangerous loose end. The worst kind. A witness. While I believed her when she said she didn't see the actual killings, that didn't make her less of a liability.

She could identify us all as being on the scene.

That alone was enough to cause problems.

On top of that, I was certain she had not told me all she knew.

I suspected she had information on the identity of the forger.

Maybe he came by the office with the paintings. She might not know his full name, but I'd bet money she knew his face.

And while that information would be useful, it was only a matter of time before I learned the art forger's identity through the usual black-market channels. That sort of thing didn't stay hidden for long, especially not after I'd spread the word I was interested in a commission and would pay top dollar.

I should have given her the bribe money, threatened the crap out of her, and put her on a plane. She should have been so frightened of ever crossing me she never returned to US soil.

And yet… the damn woman had never even gotten on the plane.

Worse, she turned up bold-as-brass to threaten me with the police.

If she'd been a man, she never would have finished the threat before a bullet pierced her brain.

Problem solved.

Except she wasn't a man. Far fucking from it.

Vivian was all gorgeous curves, fiery emerald green eyes, and full lips that made a man want to get down on his knees and beg for a taste.

But it was more than that.

She was smart and feisty with the mouth of a sailor. I didn't know many women, outside of my friends' wives, who'd have the balls to stroll into an infamous gambling den, demanding a job.

The fact was she gave as good as she got, and holy hell, was the giving good.

The two times I'd been with her had been the best sex of my life.

All that fire, defiance, and anger. She truly was a wild filly who needed taming, but not too much.

Unfortunately, all those qualities that were drawing me to her like a moth to a flame were also what made her a terrible liability. My friends would be within their rights to demand something be done about her.

I rubbed my hand over my jaw. "It's complicated."

Vaska leaned his forearms on his thighs as he wiped the sweat from his face. "What's complicated? I thought we agreed we couldn't have her in Chicago."

I nodded. "We did."

"So, is there a reason you were playing slap and tickle with her yesterday at the Four Monks?"

This will not be pretty.

I covered my mouth with my hand as I muttered, "She didn't get on the plane."

Anton raised an eyebrow as Ivan leaned forward. "What was that?"

"She didn't get on the plane, alright? I dropped her off at O'Hare with the money, and she didn't get on the freaking plane."

Maxim sat up. "Let me get this straight. You went to her apartment to scare the crap out of her so she'd leave the US. Instead, you fucked her brains out. And she's not only still in the US but in Chicago? That's one magic dick, my friend."

I flipped him the bird.

Besides, it was the other way around.

I couldn't get enough of Vivian. Her pussy was so tight and sweet. Her breasts were what men's wet dreams were made of, and that mouth… my cock hardened at just the idea of slipping inside its wet warmth.

I was entranced in a way I'd never experienced with any other woman. I didn't just want to fuck her.

I wanted to know everything about her.

I wanted to be around her every minute, so I didn't miss a single snarky bit of sass that fell from those crimson lips. I wanted to know what her favorite food was so I could feed it to her naked in bed. I wanted to see what she was like drunk and how beautiful she looked in the morning with no makeup on. I wanted to see her face when I bought her a designer purse for her obvious, unhealthy addiction.

I wanted it all from her.

Vaska stretched out his arm and pointed. "Don't forget inside the Four Monks today. Are you sure she wasn't wired?"

My lips twisted. "I'm sure."

"You checked."

"Thoroughly."

Ivan leaned back. "Is she at least giving us intel? Have you found the forger fucking up our money laundering streams?"

"No and no," I responded with certainty.

Maxim swiped a towel over his chest. "Well, we have the Mona Lisas. If they had gotten into the black market, that would have been a clusterfuck."

I nodded. "Exactly. They are secure at the Four Monks. Serg is trying to track down who owns the original, so we can tell them to call off the scheme."

In the meantime, a few more forgeries that I was certain were from the same artist had raised eyebrows at another international auction with their final price tag. Usually, the art was only just good enough to maybe be an unknown masterpiece, which kept the bidding muted. Then a pre-arranged buyer would bid with filthy money, and the fraudulent seller would return the squeaky-clean money.

The issues with the latest ones were that they were not only done too well, but there were also too many of them.

If any more surprise-find masterpieces miraculously turned up after being tucked in the back of a fictitious grandmother's attic for decades, the entire scheme could collapse from too much scrutiny.

And I heard from Serg that we weren't the only ones who'd noticed the issue.

There were several other high-profile mafia organizations in China, South America, and Eastern Europe who'd started asking questions.

It was only a matter of time before their inquiries led them to Chicago, which would only lead to even more scrutiny. Members of the mafia were not exactly subtle. If they started rolling into town, the US Feds would start asking some tough questions. Questions our usual bribes would not cover.

I wiped the sweat out of my eyes. "I need a drink."

After changing into white robes in the men's lounge, we slipped on slides and headed upstairs to the restaurant. Sitting in the back where it was decorated to resemble a train car, complete with small windows with curtains and a scrolling video of the Russian countryside, we ordered a bottle of vodka and several trays of caviar.

After Anton poured the shots, we each raised our glass. " Za nashu druzhbu! "

Vaska shook his head. "You are all wasting your money on this expensive shit."

Shaking my head, I reached for a crepe. Vaska's infamous taste in vodka was legendary.

Placing a small dollop of sour cream and crumbled hard-boiled egg on the crepe, I folded it, topped it with caviar, and ate it in one bite.

Anton placed some diced pickle on his. "Explain no and no."

"Vivian hasn't told me much, but that doesn't mean she knows nothing. Now that we know the Southside gang will not be a nuisance, I've decided to keep her close so I can learn more."

Maxim picked up the shell spoon and scooped caviar onto a crepe. "There are faster ways to get information."

I caught the inference.

Although there was no way any of us would condone killing a woman, that didn't preclude certain extreme scare tactics.

"She'll talk. Soon."

He then poured us all another round of vodka shots. "And if she doesn't?"

Without waiting for them to toast, I swallowed mine back. Slamming the glass on the table, I curled my fist around it. "I'll handle it."

"A difficult decision might have to be made here."

"I said I'll handle it."

Anton raised his palms and leaned back.

The table went silent.

I met each of their gazes as I tapped the table with my forefinger. "I want to make it very clear. No one touches her. Understood? You have my personal guarantee she will not cause us any more problems. I've hired her as my assistant. I'll be able to keep a close watch on her."

Vaska's eyebrows rose. "You hired an assistant? I don't believe it."

Maxim winked. "Well, this one does have fringe benefits."

"Enough," I said with more force than I'd intended.

Several heads in the restaurant swirled in our direction.

My friends and partners exchanged looks.

Anton's lips rose in the corner. "So, it's like that?"

I wasn't prepared to say yes, but deep down, I already knew my answer. "Maybe."

Vaska laughed as he reached for the vodka bottle to pour us another toast. "You know the rule, brother. You better introduce her to the girls sooner rather than later for their approval before shit gets too real."

"You're not honestly suggesting that I get your women's approval on the woman I'm with?"

The table was silent for a moment. Then they all burst out laughing.

Maxim slammed his open palm on the table as his head tipped back. "Holy shit, that's funny."

Vaska wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he continued to laugh.

Anton slapped him on the shoulder as he held his middle. "Aw, our little boy is about to get his first lesson in women."

My brow furrowed. "Shut the hell up. I know all I need to know about women."

They lifted their shot glasses. "To famous last words."

"Fuck all of you," I growled, before downing my shot and rising to go change.

They were wrong.

This was a solid plan.

I would keep Vivian close and keep the deeply satisfying pressure on her until she broke.

Then, once I handled the current entanglement, Vivian would be so far under my control, there would be no more worry about her being a liability.

Problem solved.

And we'd continue to have kinky, mind-blowing sex.

Fuck, yeah. This was a good plan.