Page 2 of Exacting Vengeance

“No, I really don’t care for these…gatherings.”

He respected her blunt honesty and privately agreed with her. This wasn’t a party at all. It was a blatantly ostentatious business meeting disguised as a birthday party for a twelve-year old girl, and it sickened him.

While he couldn’t see her eyes behind those big sunglasses, her gaze remained on the children. “Are one of them yours?” Not according to Yuri’s file.

“No.” She looked down at her hands, adding softly, “I’m afraid I don’t have any children.”

“I’m sorry.” Unwittingly, he’d struck a nerve. Even behind the glasses, she couldn’t hide how much his question had bothered her. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was trying to be glibly charming and entertain you until your husband comes back.” He hoped to get a smile out of her. It bugged him when he didn’t.

“It’s not your fault, and you don’t have to entertain me. I’m just part of the furniture.” She gave him another forced smile, leaving him wondering at her last comment.

A shadow landed on the table, and she gasped. More like jumped out of the chair.

Yuri slapped Alex on the back. “Semyon’s pleased with your contribution. Try one of these.” He handed Alex a Cuban Maduro. “Once you go Cuban, you’ll never go back.”

“Vika,” Yuri said, and when he rested a hand on her shoulder, she flinched. “You are looking so thin. Go. Eat something.”

“I will,” Viktoria said. “Excuse me.”

As Alex accepted the cigar, he discreetly followed her graceful, willowy figure as she made a hasty departure into the house. Thoughts of how her hand had felt in his lingered dangerously.

How and why had someone like her hooked up with Yuri Petrov in the first place, let alone married him? The answer to those questions hadn’t been in the file. But she wasn’t his concern. He was there to do a job and nothing more.

And yet, he wondered how she’d gotten that shiner.

“Light up.” Yuri held out a silver butane lighter.

Reluctantly, Alex lit up. He enjoyed an occasional cigar, but these Maduros had a distinctly strong odor he didn’t care for.

Just as he didn’t care for Yuri Petrov.

It would take a while, but Yuri’s time would come.

Alex would make sure of it.

Chapter Two

It was finally here—the University of Illinois course guide.

Viktoria pushed the steaming bowl of borscht aside and flipped to the psychology section, circling the half dozen or so courses she planned on taking in the upcoming semester. She’d always wanted to help people and was naturally good at it.

Yuri ripped the course guide out of her hands and threw it into the kitchen garbage can.

“Hey!” She widened her eyes and stood to retrieve the precious booklet. It was the golden gateway to her professional future. “Why did you do that?”

“Sit.” He gripped her shoulder and shoved her back into the chair. Those pills he’d been taking lately—anabolic steroids—were not only making him stronger but more aggressive. His upper lip curled into a nasty sneer. The leaping stag tattoo covering most of his forearm rippled and flexed, as if it wanted to jump right off his skin and attack her. “All summer you’ve done nothing but babble like an idiot about going back to school.” He poked his finger at her chest. “You neglect me. You need to concentrate on being my wife.”

“I haven’t neglected you.” How could he even think that? Never once had she complained when he dragged her to parties she hadn’t wanted to attend. Not once had she failed to prepare one of his favorite Russian home cooked-meals on those rare evenings when they stayed in. “I’m excited about going to grad school. You know how much I want to get my doctorate.” He’d known since before they were married.

“That will take fucking years,” he yelled at the top of his lungs, his accent thickening. He heaved his coffee cup across the small apartment kitchen, shattering it against the wall behind her.

Pieces of the mug flew everywhere, and she winced when one of them hit the back of her head. If she hadn’t been so frightened by his violent outburst, she would have commented that the coffee splatter reminded her of a Rorschach inkblot, or that people in some cities paid laughably hefty prices for coffee art. Instead, she could only keep wondering where this unpleasant aspect of Yuri’s personality had been hiding when they’d been dating. The outbursts were becoming more frequent. At least he hadn’t hit her this time.

His nostrils flared, and a tic jumped in his cheek. Brown eyes she’d once thought beautiful were now hard and cold. Yuri frowned so fiercely his dark eyebrows nearly touched over his nose. He tugged out a Java cigarette from a pack on the table and lit up. After taking a long drag and holding it in his lungs for a few seconds, he blew out the smoke. He knew how much she hated him smoking inside. Over the last month, he’d been doing it anyway.

A moment later, his features softened. “I’m sorry, my love. My beautiful Vika.” Lately, she’d also begun to detest when he used the nickname her mother called her by. It was part of the special bond between them, and Yuri knew it. He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You look like a peasant. Get dressed. We’re going out.”

Wrinkling her nose at the pungent smell of the Java’s smoke, she went into the bedroom and opened her closet. Dressed? She was dressed but understood what he meant.