Free An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) by Nancy Haviland Page B

shrugged and shoved a couple of pens off to the side of a newly drawn-up liquor order Micha must have left behind. “I won’t know until I talk to her tomorrow.”
    “You know this puts a crimp in your other plans for her, don’t you, son?”
    Slowly he raised his eyes to the man standing before him. He took his time because he didn’t want the resentment he was feeling to show through in his stare. “I don’t see that one has anything to do with the other.” He was about to get shut down. He knew it.
    “There’s business, and there’s pleasure, and never the two shall meet,” Vasily reiterated when he didn’t have to. “But you know that.” He settled back on his heels and crossed his arms over his wide chest, his casual outfit of black slacks and indigo dress shirt looking smart even without a jacket. “It might be best if we assign this to someone else.”
    The axe fell, and everything inside Maksim protested it. He shoved to his feet. “Absolutely not.” He leaned his closed fists on the desk and came in, but not too close. He wanted to be taken seriously but didn’t want to appear aggressive. “I will handle this for her. No one else. I will do so by the book and with the same amount of professionalism you’d show. I won’t make it personal. I swear. I won’t fuck her even if she begs me. Don’t take me off this one, Vasily.”
    The WTF on Vincente’s and his Pakhan’s faces should have been amusing. It wasn’t, because Maks was in the same place. What the fuck was he doing?
    He pictured his Aussie coming up against Morales, tiny form on the defensive as she tried to hide the fear in her normally unflappable expression. What had Morales done to her earlier to make her so afraid that she’d called him? Had he threatened her? Touched her? Done worse?
    “Do not take this one from me,” he ground out again.
    “I think I should because you’re already too involved to think clearly—otherwise you’d have already come to the same conclusion I have. Do you know what will save her if she has indeed screwed with this dealer’s business?”
    Feeling tangled, Maks tried to keep up and was embarrassed when Vincente made it there first.
    “They have to think she belongs to one of you.”
    Vasily nodded. “Exactly. Is she worth that? Is this relative stranger worth the time and effort required to convince Morales she’s untouchable? We don’t know Sydney Martin well and really don’t owe her anything.”
    “I do,” Vincente said. He’d picked up the miniature globe on Maks’s desk and was spinning the pewter-colored earth in a lazy circle. “When we went to her club looking for info on Nollan, Sydney didn’t hesitate to share what she knew. Had Maks not already found out about the cousin in New York, Sydney supplying that asshole’s name would have given us one hell of a lead. I’d say she deserves a boon.”
    “From you,” Vasily pointed out.
    V looked as surprised by that division as Maks felt. As close as they all were, and despite the two distinct families—Tarasov and Moretti—Vasily normally didn’t split hairs like that.
    Vincente was officially part of Gabriel’s crew. Not Vasily’s.
    “Your daughter would probably say ‘from us ,’ ” Vincente pointed out. “Considering what Nika is to her.”
    Vasily’s daughter, Eva, was Nika’s best friend, had known her since childhood. It was no secret Vasily would do almost anything for his grown daughter, who was now married to Gabriel, head of the Moretti family.
    Vasily smiled. “Yes, she would. Okay then. It seems Ms. Martin earned herself an IOU and is now calling it in. Now we just have to decide who she will belong to, so to speak.”
    Wondering if he was being punked or some shit, Maksim went around his desk, not sure whether to pace, sit, stand, or wave. Christ. When was the last time he’d had to prove he was the man for the job?
    “I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but Morales doesn’t have the balls to come at