Page 14 of Lord of Passion

"Hey, I'm Caroline," I offer my hand and she takes it in a death grip.

"Vasilisa," she replies with a smile. She's reeking of that same chemical and smoke smell.

"Busy evening for theSovietnik'sgroup, or is this a regular Thursday night for you folks?" I ask.

Her black gaze darts to an irritable-looking Nikandr and back to me. "Well, we must all have our hobbies."

"Fair enough," I shrug.

There's a thud from behind us, in the cargo compartment, then another, hard enough to feel in my back. I arch a brow at Nikandr and he shrugs, texting someone.

Another thud and something muffled that could be a voice.

"What the hell is that?" I ask Nikandr.

"We hit a deer," he says, never taking his gaze from his phone. "It's injured. We're taking it to the vet."

I look at Vasilisa, who is at least willing to meet my eyes. "You… hit a deer. In Manhattan. A deer."

She's going with the whole Mona Lisa enigmatic smile, so I look at the window, ignoring their unfortunate cargo. Whoever's back there, they most likely deserve it.

I sigh in relief as the Maserati pulls up to the front of the hotel. "Goodnight, thanks for the attempted mugging,Sovietnik.Lovely to meet you, Vasilisa. Feel free to drop by the hotel bar for a drink. Don't bring your boss."

"Goodnight, Caroline Basha," she says. She bursts into laughter as Nikandr gives a low growl. I wave goodbye as Reginald the doorman escorts me inside with a polite expression of confusion.

Chapter Six

In which there is nothing better than quality family time.

Nikandr…

Two hours earlier…

"Now, see? This is quality family time. We build memories, it brings us all together."

Roman puts his arm over my shoulders, and I tolerate it for two seconds before I shrug it off again.

"Nothing brings a family together like arson," I agree.

The safe house is between two much taller buildings. One is essentially abandoned, and the other is the kind of residence where the neighbors won't argue about the building next door going up in flames.

Roman and I have finished wiring the C4 in our sections of the house and after taking out the two guards, we helped ourselves to a stolen ammunition stockpile we'd found in the updated cement basement. If a basement in New York has freshly poured concrete and reinforced walls, the owner is not using it for storing Christmas ornaments.

"Oh, look!" Roman holds up a huge heavy case. "Armor piercing ammunition, I love this stuff."

The last one in the building is Alexsey, finishing up his special detonation-based touches. He's fussy about it, like a designer might straighten a pillow, my cousin likes his C4 blocks wired just so.

A big, shiny Lincoln Continental pulls up and a man steps out, hitching up his pants. It's one of Ricci's mid-level Capos, he should be useful for a quick conversation in a more quiet (a.k.a. soundproofed) location. I shoot his bodyguard in the back of the head and the Capo yelps as his face is splashed with blood.

Bozhe moy,this guy is soft.

Vasilisa handcuffs the man, slapping duct tape over his mouth and shoves him into the cargo compartment in my car. The interior of the cargo hold is extremely tight so it is a bit of a challenge to wedge his ass in there, but she makes it work by hog-tying him, and then knocking him out with the butt of her gun.

"We'll take him to Gordi's for a chat," I say.

She nods, and turns back to the trucks to make sure the stolen weapons are packed away.

"I'm surprised there wasn't more manpower here," I look at Roman. "That was some pretty valuable cargo to be stored here with just two guards."