She took her time, reaching for Raul’s leopard first. It was agitated, sensing a threat, but Maya’s verve was so low and Raul was in such a state of arousal and flooded with aggression and testosterone, the leopard couldn’t sort through the waves of powerful energy swamping it. She simply rode those waves into the leopard’s mind, absorbed the animal’s memories, became part of him until he was surrounded by her, accepting and at peace. She took him over with care, separating him from Raul, and the shifter didn’t notice. He was too high on his own power.
She viewed Raul with fresh eyes. He had been taught this lesson by Albert Krylov. Albert was a little older than Gorya, perhaps by one or two years. He was one of the boys brought by thepakhanand his men to prey on the women and learn how to properly “use” them. His fatherhad died by Fyodor’s hand in the bloodbath that followed Patva’s attack on his son and nephew, but somehow Albert and Artur had escaped his wrath.
She didn’t know the full story of how Fyodor had, for all intents and purposes, wiped out the Amurov lair before he’d left, but he had killed his father and every one of the high-ranking members of Patva’s organization. She knew the Amurov name had been legendary long before that night. It was even more so after. There were fewbratvawho dared to take on the Amurovs. That was one of the reasons she found the way the lair was opposing Gorya’s leadership so odd.
His leopard had not only defeated every challenger but also ruthlessly killed them—in a matter of minutes. Less. They continued to challenge his authority using men who had no chance, backed by teams of assassins.Do they think your cousins won’t retaliate because you aren’t a sibling? You’re still an Amurov. Their cousin.
Maya tried to puzzle out the reasoning of their opponents as she inched closer to the two men with the weeping girl sandwiched between them. She had to block out the sight of the teenager stripped naked, bruises and swelling marring her body. She couldn’t let the girl’s pleas to Derk influence her. Maya had to stay focused on the ultimate goal—killing the two male shifters, both in their prime, both capable of killing or capturing her if she made one mistake.
You won’t make a mistake,Gorya said, his voice low and intense, whispering into her mind like a caress.You and Wraith have done this too many times and you’re like a machine together.
Why would Braum Malcom think he could defeat you, Gorya? Even if he did, your cousins would come. He would be annihilated. He must know that.
She reached for Derk’s leopard next, confident Raul’s wouldn’t sound the alarm even if he caught sight of her.She had instructed him to accept her, and he had done so. Derk’s leopard wasn’t as aggressive as Raul’s had been but was just as agitated as Raul’s, with the levels of arousal and excitement the shifter experienced listening to his friend’s instructions. The man paid no attention to his leopard. Unlike Raul, Derk had drugs in his system that further confused the leopard and affected its senses. She took this one over with much more ease than she had Raul’s leopard.
Once Maya was certain she had both leopards under her control, she glided closer to her target. Of the two men, Raul was the more dangerous, the more experienced. She would have to kill him first. He was totally concentrating on instructing Derk, acting the big man. Showing off. Enjoying himself. Drunk on his own power. Power over the girl. Over the man he was instructing. He was so high on his supremacy—forcing Alicia’s mouth open, telling Derk to pull her hips to him so they could use her together—he never saw the small figure emerging from the shadows to his left. He never saw the blade that slammed deep into his jugular or the one that severed his spinal cord.
Derk’s eyes widened in a kind of horror as blood sprayed around them in a geyser and Raul seemed to slowly crumple like a rag doll. Before he could react, a blade sank deep into his chest directly over his heart. Another followed, then a third and fourth. Each blade hit a vital spot, and blood erupted as if he were a fountain.
Maya hooked Alicia under her arms and dragged her free of the two falling bodies and spraying blood. “It’s over, honey. You’re free. Your father went to thepakhanand he’s taking your enemies down. You’re free. Let’s get your mother.” She sent up a silent prayer that Yelena was alive. This girl needed her mother and a trauma counselor more than she needed to shower the blood from her body.
Alicia started to turn her head, but Maya stopped her. “Don’t look.”
“I need to see. I need to know they’re dead and can’t ever come after me again,” Alicia whispered hoarsely.
Maya understood completely, because wasn’t she the one still trying to track down and kill every man who had brutally assaulted her as a child? She let Alicia look her fill and then they went to the corner where her mother lay on the floor. She had been assaulted, but she was alive. Maya was calling that awin.
13
BraumMalcom looked around the large conference table at the thirty men he considered trustworthy serving under him. He’d spent a lifetime working up to this moment, and satisfaction always warred with the need to do more. To do better. To seek revenge. To do penance for his sins. He had no desire to bepakhan. The money man and the adviser/enforcer were the true powers. He was always both. Behind the scenes, directing the lair, running the territory. Running thepakhan. If the leader forgot who was really in charge, he simply had him killed and put another in power.
He always faced his weaknesses. He made himself look every day at how he’d failed, what he’d been responsible for. He vowed he’d make up for those weaknesses. Truth was, it was impossible. She was dead. His beloved Celine. She’d been his world. He’d loved her too much. Given her everything she’d wanted. Been too lenient withher. If he’d just been a man and taken charge as he should have, she’d still be alive today. With him. Raising their son. Giving him her brightness and beauty.
He’d failed her by giving in to her. She’d been too kind. Too compassionate. He’d seen the other women, known they were jealous. Petty. They pretended to be her friend, but they weren’t. They came on to him constantly, were upset that he hadn’t chosen them and wouldn’t succumb to their attentions. So they had targeted her.
He despised women.Despisedthem. Greedy, grasping, jealous bitches. Not all, he conceded. He’d watched Gedeon’s woman, Meiling, carefully. She was worthwhile. Devoted to her man. A woman worth having, but then Gedeon was a man who clearly took charge—as he should have done. Braum owned his mistake. Had he taken charge of Celine, put his foot down, dictated to her for her safety, she would still be alive.
He’d made promises to her. Stood over her burning body and made solemn vows to her. He meant every last one of his assurances to her, and he’d carry them out until the day he died. If he could come back from hell, he’d continue. Their son would never make the same mistakes he had. He’d be strong, and when he found the right woman, he would devote himself to her, but he would be able to tell her a firm no when she needed it.
His gaze settled on each of the men. Most of them were weak. Followers. They were needed, and they’d fight for their way of life, but they weren’t leaders. He needed a leader. It was too bad Gorya Amurov didn’t believe in trafficking. That had surprised him. Shocked him even. The Amurovs had been one of the wealthiest families in their homeland and they’d made a good portion of that money from trafficking.
They weren’t weak men, allowing their women to run them. They lived for thebratva. Were loyal to the brotherhood. They knew better than to put anything beforetheir brotherhood. These thirty men—plus Derk, along with his private security, another five members—were the men in the lair he could count on no matter who waspakhan.
Any man in the lair who was not seated at the table was not as committed. Their women influenced them. They’d grown soft. They went along with the order of things, but they had never fully agreed to the one real profit-making deal the lair had started. Their businesses flourished, and he was generous, giving them shares, but those with mates found the idea distasteful. Any who remained alive after this cleansing would be obligated to participate in Albert’s parties. Inside he smirked. So would their wives.
His information on Gorya hadn’t been as good as it should have been. He’d been told he was the weakest of the Amurovs. He hadn’t just been given reports by his best investigators, he’d been told by Albert Krylov. The man had grown up with him. Known him. They’d all said Gorya’s cousins protected him. Fought his battles. It was whispered he might not even be an Amurov. He looked different.
Gorya Amurov had turned out to be a pain in the ass. A real one. His leopard was reputed to be extremely fast. Braum hadn’t seen the bastard in action. He always made certain he had an alibi just in case. Every eyewitness said the leopard killed within a minute, quite viciously. When every challenge had failed, Braum had brought in assassination teams, and somehow, those teams had been slaughtered. Gedeon and his woman, no doubt. The fucking bodyguards. Or just bad luck.
He had a foolproof plan now to rid himself of Gorya Amurov, and at the same time, he was going to either bind the traitors in his community or have them killed as well. Leo Bugrov would be the first to go, and every one of the others would know exactly what had happened to his wife and daughter. The rest of them would know what wouldhappen to their precious families if they crossed him. As it was, he would be taking their businesses and most of their money. Let them see what it was like to cross him.
Albert Krylov was seated to his right at the table, something never done, bringing an outsider in. Braum wished he could make Albertpakhan. Or adviser. The man was honed as sharp as a razor blade, but he still missed things, making him malleable. Braum sat back in his chair, once more looking around at the prospects who were talking in low tones to one another. With Albert, it made thirty-one sitting with him. A good solid number.
None of them, including Krylov, realized he had chosen his son’s college because Raul Escabar Alba was attending that school. He had instructed Derk to cultivate a friendship with the boy, a slow one, not making it seem as if that relationship was his idea. Raul had taken the bait when Derk had talked about his home in the Atchafalaya Swamp.
Krylov did his research. He had a private connection no one knew about that he sometimes used to gather information. That researcher had found a mysterious family located in Panama, one he was certain was the power behind the trafficking. He wanted in. Raul Escabar Alba was his way in. It just had to be their idea. Negotiations were always important.
He pushed down feelings of smugness and pride. He might be a brilliant man now, but he hadn’t been when he was young. There was always more to learn. Always more to do.
