Wicked Mafia Prince (A Dangerous Royals Romance, #2)(56)

It did something to me to hear this nun say it.

I got her drunk and seduced her and acted like a savage, and she held me. I want to lie back down with her.

I straighten. No, I don’t. This is the nun, not Tanechka. The very thought makes me feel as though I’ve betrayed Tanechka.

I scrub my face and grab my Glock from the floor. Then I rip the covers from the bed and tuck them around her. She always liked warmth, a heat-seeking creature.

I set a fresh pair of socks by the fire. She loved her socks to be warmed by the fire most of all. I sit on the end of the bed and check my phone to see who called, trying not to think of the night.

The call was from Yuri. I call back. It is not good news. Some of Bloody Lazarus’s guys ambushed some of our American Russian friends. We have to help them avenge it.

It will be dangerous and bloody, but they’re important allies, and to have an ally, you must be an ally. And Aleksio is gone investigating a Kiro lead.

It’s up to me.

“I’ll be outside my door, brat.”

I button up my shirt, wincing at the pain in my hand, which is caked with dried blood. Nothing broken, I think. I move it, and it begins to bleed again.

Tanechka sleeps.

She never did anything in the regular way, never like a regular woman. My Tanechka, like a warrior nun. I buckle my holster and put on my suit jacket. I kneel over her and smooth a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

She rouses sleepily and smiles up at me. My heart leaps to think she’s back, but then the smile fades, and she pulls the blanket to her breast.

I stand up and fasten my cufflinks, looking down, affecting a cold demeanor. “I’m going out. To kill some men. You will pray for me?” I say it mockingly.

“Viktor,” she says sadly.

“You’ll pray for me, Tanechka?”

“I’ll always pray for you.”

Downstairs I bandage my hand and swallow pain relievers with a swig of vodka. Two minutes later I’m outside with my case. Yuri roars up in his black Mustang. I swing in.

He greets me with, “What the f*ck?” The car screams around a corner.

“What?”

“You hand. What did you do?”

I flex it. “Nothing broken.” The pain relievers should kick in soon. I would’ve taken something stronger if I didn’t need my aim.

“Tell me.”

“I punched a wall.”

“You can shoot still, right?”

I work my trigger finger. Steady enough. I change the subject, ask about the ambush. Yuri and some of the American Russians have identified the man as one of Lazarus’s. “They want a full-scale war on Lazarus—now,” Yuri says.

“A full-scale war is a poor use of our resources.”

“You sound like old Konstantin.”

“Konstantin is smart.”

“They don’t want to wait,” Yuri says. “They’re scared.”

“So impatient. A full war puts Bloody Lazarus’s organization into the shell of battle mode. It makes them hard to hurt in the deep way we need to hurt them. We’ll take out the hitters. That should satisfy them until we attack Lazarus’s money-laundering op. When they see the cash they get from that, they’ll be very happy we waited.”

Yuri doesn’t like it. “That would go over better if Aleksio hadn’t missed that meeting.”

“They’re our brothers. They’ll understand.”

“They’re more American than Russian,” he says. “They make tacos out of shuba, Viktor. Shuba.”

I wrinkle my nose, trying to imagine salted herring and vegetables in a taco shell.

“Your hand. Tell me.”

I look down at my bandaged hand. “I thought it was her,” I say. “I thought for a moment that I had Tanechka back.” My heart pounds, remembering how it felt when I thought she was back. Until she told me that God would forgive me.

“Still thinks she’s a nun, huh.”

“Nun trainee. But yes. And I seduced her. I got her off with my hand. Then she had my gun, and I thought she was going to shoot me—”

“You gave her a piece? You angered Tanechka and then gave her a gun to shoot you with?”

“I didn’t give it to her.”

“Who did it then?” Yuri demands. “Did the nocnitsa float through the wall and give it to her?”

He has a certain point. How could I not think Tanechka could find a way to get at that gun, even across the room? I think about what Aleksio said. The death wish. “Just drive.”



Pityr’s in the kitchen when I return. “You do them?” Did we kill Lazarus’s men who killed the two Russians, he means.

“They were already done,” I say. “Last night, apparently. Their bodies were found in Bobolink Meadow. Hands and feet gone.”

He narrows his eyes, confused. A Bloody Lazarus trademark. “Why would Bloody Lazarus kill his own men like that?”

“I don’t know. We went to see ourselves, and it’s true. Then, going back to the car, we f*cking ran into a guy from Valhalla,” I tell him. “It looked like he recognized me from my Peter the German visit. We had to kill him. We’re making such f*cking progress and now all this.”

I loosen my tie. An unscheduled kill. I always hate to do it. “I had to. We’re almost up on four pipelines. We’re going to take down every player. Once we’re done, nobody rebuilds that f*cking place.”