Russian Pride (Russian Love Book 4) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  RUSSIAN

  PRIDE

  By Holly Bargo

  © 2017 Karen M. Chirico

  HEN HOUSE PUBLISHING

  This is a work of fiction. All names, places, and events are fictitious or used fictitiously.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or copies without written permission from the author.

  Chapter 1

  Inessa whimpered, cowered in a corner, and tried to protect her head from the blows raining down on her.

  “Yebanaya suka!” Ruslan shouted as he switched from using his fists to kicking her with his booted feet. He preferred pointy-toed cowboy boots.

  Inessa moaned as she felt another rib give way, the crack inaudible beneath the thud of his boot against her side and his bellowed curses.

  “Cheat on me, will you? You dare to sleep with another man?” he yelled in Russian. “Fucking bitch! No man will want to touch you after I’m through with you!”

  She groaned again, her voice hoarse and no singular pain distinguishable from another among the contusions and broken bones resulting from yet another perceived infraction of Ruslan’s many rules. She should have known better than to smile when thanking the nice young man for helping to carry and then load the groceries into the car. But it had been so nice to have someone do something for her just that once, especially since she hadn’t quite healed from the last beating.

  Inessa felt the blackness of oblivion cloud her mind. She welcomed it and hoped it would stay.

  “It’s your damned fault that I can’t pay my debts!” Ruslan screamed at her, the words landing on the edge of her fading consciousness.

  With an incongruous sound, the doorbell rang. Ruslan set his booted foot back on the floor and muttered, “Stay put.”

  He turned and walked through the house to answer the door. Chest heaving, body sweating, and red-faced with the exertion of pummeling his wife, he flung open the door and gaped. Whipcord lean and sharp-featured, Gennady faced him. The man’s eagle-eyed gaze flickered over him, missing nothing.

  “What are you doing in Seattle, Gennady?” Ruslan demanded as he positioned his body to block the man’s entry.

  “Maksim and Olivia haven’t heard from Inessa lately and they sent me to check up on her.” Gennady caught sight of the swollen and abraded knuckles on the other man’s hands, the dark, shiny liquid splattered on his black, alligator hide boots.

  “She’s fine,” Ruslan answered curtly. “Now go.”

  Gennady raised an eyebrow and managed to look down his nose at the bigger man. “I don’t think so. Step aside, Ruslan.”

  “What? You don’t trust my word?”

  Gennady’s expression turned from skepticism to open contempt. “You’re a worthless shit, Ruslan. You always have been. So, no, I don’t trust your word. Now, step aside.”

  Ruslan puffed himself in an attempt to intimidate his father’s man-of-all-work. Faster than his eye could follow, Gennady pulled out a knife and dug the tip of it into the soft bulge of his belly.

  “Step aside, Ruslan,” Gennady ordered. “I won’t ask again.”

  Ruslan raised his hands, palms open and outward, and stepped back. He pointed in the opposite direction of the kitchen and said, “Inessa’s out.”

  “I’ll just check around,” Gennady said as he stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him with a quiet click. In his peripheral vision, he saw Ruslan gather his courage and coil his body. “Don’t try anything stupid.”

  “You invade my house, you pipsqueak,” Ruslan blustered.

  “Maksim’s house,” Gennady corrected as he walked in the direction of the bedrooms. “He paid for it and he holds the deed.”

  “But I live here.”

  Gennady pushed open a door and peered inside. Gleaming and, he suspected, disused exercise equipment filled the room. He walked to the next room and looked into another spotless room devoid of personality, with just a few knickknacks on the shelves. A guest bedroom, he supposed. He proceeded to the third bedroom and wrinkled his nose at the lingering smell of Ruslan emanating from it. Although the room appeared clean, a miasma of despair hung in the air.

  “See? The bitch is gone,” Ruslan snapped. “Now get out.”

  Losing his patience with the boor, Gennady’s other hand snapped out and struck Ruslan in the throat. With a gasp and a wheeze, the big man dropped to his knees and clutched his throat. Gennady set the razor edge of his knife to Ruslan’s sweaty neck and said, “Shut up.”

  Ruslan nodded as the hot smell of urine filled the air. Gennady nearly smiled at the rapidly spreading stain on the bully’s jeans. Straightening, he walked with purpose toward the other side of the house and peered into the kitchen. Dark, wet spatters caught his notice. Muttering an oath, he rushed into the room and gurgled with horror at the bloody bit of hamburger, hair, and fabric that lay curled up and insensible on the tile floor. He reached out to touch the woman. The skin was still warm. He found her arm and followed its line to her wrist, which was obviously broken. Swallowing a bellow of rage and horror, he extended two fingers and pressed them to what he hoped was the pulse point of her neck. Nothing. He slid his fingers around the bloody mess of her until the sensitive fingertips found the right spot. He sighed. Though her heartbeat was rapid and weak, Inessa still lived.

  Gennady drew back his hand and pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed 911. When assured that an ambulance was on its way, he went back to deal with Ruslan.

  Ruslan had fled.

  Gennady cursed. He returned to squat beside Inessa and found her other hand. He held her limp hand in his, hoping to impart some small measure of warmth and caring to the young woman he’d always regarded as an innocent little sister to be protected from depraved men like himself and bullies like Ruslan. Suddenly, the sight of a woman’s bruised and broken body nauseated him. Releasing Inessa’s hand, he lurched to the scrupulously clean bathroom and vomited. Gennady vowed to be more gentle with his beloved Suzanne when he returned to Cleveland. She’d given him her trust and he would not abuse it.

  Gennady returned to kneel beside Inessa to hold her hand and whisper apologies for not having protected her. Not soon enough for his impatience, paramedics arrived. He welcomed them into the house and endured their questioning as they did what they needed to do to transport Inessa to a hospital.

  The police arrived, too. Gennady let them lead him away with his wrists cuffed behind his back.

  “What’s the nature of your relationship with Mrs. Vasiliev?” an officer inquired, his eyes and voice hard as diamonds, sharp as broken glass.

  “We’re friends,” Gennady answered. “She’s like a sister to me.”

  “You’re not having a sexual relationship with her?”

  Gennady could not help the expression of horror that widened his eyes and dropped his jaw. “What? No. No, of course not!”

  The officer grunted with patented disbelief and peppered Gennady with additional questions which he answered as patiently as he could. Finally, he asked, “Are you going to charge me with anything? If not, I’m leaving.”

  The officer attemp
ted to stall. “We can hold you up to forty-eight hours without charging you.”

  Gennady cast him a disparaging look and said, “Then either lock me up or let me go. I’m finished here.”

  The officer eventually relented.

  “Look for that scabrous goat of a husband, Ruslan Vasiliev,” Gennady suggested. “He’d better hope you find him before her father does.”

  “Are you threatening Mr. Vasiliev?”

  Gennady leveled a cold glare at the officer and asked, “Would you stand meekly by while some cretin beats your daughter?”

  He walked out and hailed a taxi.

  “Where to, mister?” the driver asked.

  “University of Washington Medical Center,” he replied and pulled out his phone.

  “Da?”

  Speaking in Russian for a better chance at a private conversation, Gennady said, “Maksim, it’s Gennady. Inessa needs help.”

  “Tell me,” his boss ordered.

  In succinct and clear terms, Gennady described the situation.

  “Kill him.”

  “I intend to.”

  “Good. Olivia and I will arrive tomorrow.”

  “Good. She needs you.” The corner of Gennady’s mouth quirked upward. The hospital’s staff wouldn’t know what hit them Maksim and Olivia descended upon them. He’d almost forgo the pleasure of killing Ruslan to see that show. Almost.

  “Run, Ruslan, run,” Gennady murmured under his breath. “You can run, but you cannot hide.”

  He turned off the cell phone and returned it to his pocket.

  The taxi rolled to a smooth stop at the hospital’s entrance. Gennady paid the driver and walked inside. Exercising surprising charm for an ugly man, he obtained directions to the waiting room where he then inquired as to the status of Inessa Vasiliev.

  “I can’t tell you anything,” the receptionist said without sympathy, and then explained, “HIPAA regulations.”

  He nodded, displeased, but not willing to make an unnecessary scene. “I’ll wait,” he replied and took a seat where a tilting stack of outdated and tattered magazines awaited perusal. Three hours later, a doctor in green scrubs walked through the swinging doors and asked if anyone waited for Inessa Vasiliev.

  Gennady rose to his feet and lied, “I’m her brother. How is she?”

  The doctor nodded and did not offer to shake the man’s hand. He rolled his shoulders in weariness, and remarked, “Busy evening.”

  Gennady nodded and waited.

  “Thanks for your patience,” the doctor replied. “I won’t try to impress you with medical jargon. Your sister has four broken ribs and a punctured lung among other serious internal injuries. Her left wrist is broken, as is her right ankle. Whoever beat the hell out of her separated her face from the underlying bone structure and crushed both cheekbones and the orbital ridge. She likely has brain damage; we won’t know the extent until she regains consciousness. She’s going to need cosmetic surgery.”

  He took a breath and held up his hands. “I’m good, but I’m not a plastic surgeon. I’m really sorry.”

  Gennady nodded in understanding. “Thank you, Doctor. Her parents will be in tomorrow on the first available flight. They’ll make sure she receives the best of care.”

  The surgeon nodded and commented with vicious anger, “Whoever did this to her ought to suffer the same fate.”

  Gennady offered the man a cold smile that chilled the surgeon’s heart. He looked forward to leveling the same brutal cruelty upon Ruslan that had been meted out to Inessa.

  “You may as well go home for the night,” the surgeon suggested after a moment. He yawned and added, “We’ll be keeping her in a medically induced coma for a few days to let her brain and body heal a little first.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Gennady replied and took his leave. A taxi returned him to the Vasiliev residence where he retrieved his rental car and drove it to his hotel. Surrounded by the bland decor of the room, he pulled out his laptop computer and put his technical skills to work.

  Chapter 2

  Rising with reluctance from the warm comfort of oblivion, Inessa blinked her eyes and saw… nothing but a blur. Muted beeps mixed with low-voiced conversation. A cool hand lifted her right wrist and held it for several seconds. She blinked several more times. The cool hand released her wrist and the end of a straw poked her lips. Inessa opened her mouth just enough for whoever it was to push the straw inside her mouth.

  “Small sips,” a feminine voice cautioned. “I know you’re thirsty, but just a couple of small sips.”

  Inessa sucked in just enough to wet the interior of her parched mouth. She savored the tepid water and took another sip. The straw pulled away from her mouth and she sighed. Blinking again, she took in the flawless café au lait complexion and caramel colored hair of her nurse. The nurse turned brilliant emerald eyes upon her and said, “Welcome back.”

  “Ya vas znayu?” Inessa croaked in a hoarse whisper.

  The nurse smiled at her and replied in English, “No, you don’t know me. We’ve never met.”

  “Kto ty?”

  “I’m Latasha Drakoniv.”

  Inessa absorbed the information, then asked with excruciating slowness, “Kto ya?”

  Latasha patted her patient’s arm. Inessa didn’t feel it.

  “You’re Inessa Andrupov. Your parents are anxious to see you.”

  For some reason, Inessa didn’t feel anxious. She didn’t feel much of anything. She turned her head just a little—that small exertion exhausted her—and saw the bags on the pole connected to plastic tubing that connected to her veins.

  “Morphine drip,” Latasha explained, her eyes kind and her voice still soft.

  “Chto sluchilos?”

  Latasha patted her again. Again, Inessa didn’t feel the touch.

  “I’ll let your family tell you what happened if you don’t remember it on your own.”

  Inessa managed a tiny nod and closed her eyes. She had the sneaking suspicion that whoever dosed her so generously with morphine deserved abject gratitude. Inside her head, she heard darkness beckon and sank gladly into its painless embrace.

  Seeing that her patient slept a more natural sleep than before, Latasha allowed her smile to fade into an expression of deepest sympathy. She finished checking Inessa’s vitals and walked through a house that had become all too familiar in the months following her own wedding. Stopping in front of a six-panel door, she knocked on the solid wood. Upon being bidden to enter, she did so and announced, “She awoke for just a minute.”

  “She’s awake?” Olivia Andrupov exclaimed, her reddened eyes puffy from weeping.

  “She was awake. Not quite a minute. She’s sleeping again, really sleeping this time, not just unconscious,” Latasha explained. She took a deep breath and bit her lip.

  “What is it, Latasha?”

  “She seems to have experienced some memory loss,” Latasha blurted, knowing there was no gentle way to deliver that news.

  “Memory loss?” Olivia echoed faintly.

  “It’s not unexpected,” Latasha reminded her as gently as she could.

  “How bad is it?”

  “I didn’t have a chance to quiz her.” Latasha crossed the room and sat next to Olivia, wrapping an arm around the petite woman who leaned into her for support. “We’ll just have to be patient.”

  The nurse took a breath and paused, then asked, “Did Gennady find her husband?”

  Olivia eased from Latasha’s compassionate embrace and rose to her feet. Pacing, she flung the young woman who was married to Maksim’s assassin a look of icy ferocity. Peeling her lips back from her teeth, she answered, “Gennady found much more than that.”

  “Oh?”

  “I will say nothing more, except that Inessa will no longer need fear that piece of filth.”

  “Good.” Latasha averted her eyes from the terrifying expression in Olivia’s. “It’s a good thing that Giovanni hadn’t yet gotten rid of Mr. Maglione’s medical equipment.” br />
  Olivia nodded, her expression softening. “It is good of him to let Inessa make use of it in his own home.” She glanced around. “Inessa will be safe here.”

  Latasha wondered, And why does Inessa need to be safe now that Ruslan is presumably fish food in Elliott Bay?

  She supposed she ought to be horrified by her ambivalent acceptance of murder, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to regret that the brute who’d beaten a woman to within an inch of her life had suffered the same cruelty, but without surviving. She’d read the medical charts. She knew just how slim the chance was that the surgeon could have saved Inessa’s life. She’d seen the plastic surgeon’s horrified surprise and grim determination to reattach Inessa’s face to her skull and restore her former beauty. Poor Inessa, she knew, would never look the quite the same as she had before.

  Maxsim entered, looking preoccupied and more than a little mean.

  “How is she?” he asked, his normally booming voice subdued.

  “She woke up for a minute,” Latasha answered. “It’s a good sign.”

  “Latasha says Inessa has… memory issues.” Olivia volunteered.

  “Memory issues?” Maksim echoed.

  “She woke up from a coma after a particularly brutal beating,” Latasha explained. “Until Inessa is ready to be examined more thoroughly, we can’t know the extent of the damage.”

  Maksim nodded, still frowning.

  “What have you found out?” Olivia inquired.

  Maksim glanced at Latasha, who rose to excuse herself.

  “No, let her hear this, Maksim,” Olivia said. “Latasha knows how to keep secrets.”

  Yes, I do, Latasha thought, reflecting on all the secrets she’d kept for Mr. Maglione. However, she said, “if it will make you more comfortable, I’ll give you your privacy.”

  “This involves Iosif, Vitaly, Bogdan, and Gennady,” Maksim said with cold determination. “You deserve to know.”

  “Anything that involves Iosif involves me, so, yes, I deserve to know,” Latasha agreed with admirable calm, though inside , her stomach churned and her heart pounded.

  “Ruslan was involved with the Chinese Triad.”