Loving The Lone Wolf. Ingrid WeaverЧитать онлайн книгу.
few minutes later, the marble in the hall clattered with a set of heavy footsteps, along with a scuffing, thudding noise. The tall, blond Dimitri Petrovich, Stephan’s lieutenant, entered the room with a burly, middle-aged man in tow.
It was Alex Almari, a veteran guard who also served as one of Stephan’s enforcers. Kelly barely recognized him. His lower lip had been split open, the skin on his cheeks was raw from abrasions and his eyes were reduced to slits behind pulpy, purple swelling. He staggered a few steps sideways when Dimitri released his arm, then locked his knees and managed to stay on his feet.
Kelly pressed her fingers to her mouth. “Oh, my God. What happened to—”
“This is the imbecile who endangered the boy,” Stephan said.
Kelly swallowed hard. When she had seen the weapon in Jamie’s hands, she had been so shaken that if the person responsible for leaving the gun had been standing in front of her then, she probably would have struck him herself. She would do anything to protect her child.
But these injuries weren’t the result of a parent’s impulsive blow, they were from a methodical beating. Even though Alex Almari had probably inflicted far worse on others over the years, the sight of his face left Kelly sickened.
Stephan walked to the man and grabbed his chin to turn his face toward her. Fresh blood welled from Alex’s lip and trickled onto Stephan’s hand. “Do you not approve of my punishment, Kelly?”
“There shouldn’t be any guns allowed near Jamie,” she said. “That’s the only sure way to prevent it from happening again.”
“I prefer my way,” Stephan said. He stepped back, taking a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit to wipe the smears of blood from his fingers. “Dimitri?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Take Alex outside and shoot him. Use his own gun.”
“Stephan, no!” Kelly cried.
The gaze Stephan turned toward her froze her where she stood. “I value what’s mine, Kelly. Anyone who threatens my son deserves no mercy.”
“Please,” Alex said. The burly enforcer’s voice was distorted by his swollen face, his accent thick. Through the purpled slits over his eyes, his gaze was pleading. “It was…mistake. Didn’t mean…no harm.”
“He’s right, Stephan,” Kelly said. “Jamie’s fine. It was a mistake.”
Stephan glanced at Dimitri and held up his palm, then focused on Kelly once more. “If I spare Alex for you, what will you do for me, Kelly?”
Too late, she recognized the trap. Stephan knew her too well. Pride and paranoia might be his weaknesses, but sentiment was hers.
Damn! She was using her heart again instead of her head. She really hadn’t learned anything, had she? “What do you want, Stephan?”
“You think we shouldn’t trust Nathan Rand. To ensure we can, I want him here where we can keep track of his movements until the shipment is safely in our hands. And since you presented the deal, I believe it would be best if you continue to be my liaison with him.”
“I had only agreed to negotiate. That’s all I’ve ever done in the past. My part in this is over. I won’t participate in—”
“You have no reason to pretend squeamishness now.” Stephan’s gaze sharpened. “Or is there something you’re not telling me about this deal?”
Kelly jammed her tongue to her teeth hard enough to stop her breath. This complication was the last thing she needed.
“Kelly?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve told you everything.”
“Excellent, then we shall proceed.” Stephan flicked his hand toward Alex. “Take him back to the basement, Dimitri. Don’t shoot him. Cut off his trigger finger instead.”
Kelly gagged, fighting to keep her revulsion inside as the men moved away.
“I seldom give second chances, Kelly,” Stephan said. He folded his handkerchief, tucked it back in his pocket and returned to sit behind his desk. “You would be wise to remember that.”
Chapter 3
Kelly was good, Nathan thought, but tonight she wasn’t great. Tension stiffened her shoulders and clouded her face. It was as if a curtain had come down, or a light had dimmed inside her. Although her voice was on key and her timing was perfect, she was keeping her emotions under tight control. The passion that had suffused her performance the night before was missing.
Oh, she was still sexy as hell. She couldn’t help that. Just the sight of her standing in the spotlight, her eyes half-closed and her fingers wrapped around the shaft of the microphone was making Nathan’s palms sweat. The dress she wore tonight was black and covered her in front to the base of her throat, but in the back it plunged enticingly to the gentle rise of her buttocks.
It was all part of the act, he suspected. This was what Volski and the customers at his club would expect to see. Her appearance would please the crowd just as her voice would entertain them without making them uncomfortable. She packaged sex with class.
She sure had come a long way from singing in her church choir in Maple Ridge, Ohio.
He folded his arms over his chest, leaning one shoulder against the wall as he paused near the bar to watch her. He’d asked his personnel department to make some discreet inquiries into her background when he’d gone into the office this morning. What he’d learned had answered some questions, but had led to dozens more.
Kelly Elizabeth Jennings had been born twenty-six years ago, the only child of James and Cynthia Jennings. She had no criminal record and had never been arrested. How did a small-town girl, whose father ran a grocery store and whose mother gave piano lessons, get mixed up with Stephan Volski?
On the other hand, where a person started in life didn’t guarantee where they would end up. Nathan was a living example of that.
The set ended to a round of applause. Kelly flashed a smile to the audience and left the stage.
Nathan pushed away from the wall and followed her through a swinging door at the rear of the club. Before he had taken three steps into the corridor, a pair of men converged on either side of him and grasped his arms.
He tensed, automatically assessing his chances. The men were probably armed like the muscle who patrolled the main room of Volski’s club, but the narrow corridor would work in his favor. Their bulk was a disadvantage in close quarters. Too bad he’d given up his habit of carrying a switchblade in his boot. That would have been the easiest way to get out of this.
Had Kelly set him up? She had asked him to meet her here. If Volski hadn’t agreed to their deal, he might have ordered Nathan eliminated as a security precaution.
Damn, he had no logical reason to trust Kelly, and he probably shouldn’t have. After her performance the night before, both onstage and off, the only thing he was sure of was that she wasn’t what she seemed. Yes, she was an enigma, an intriguing woman, but she was Volski’s woman and Nathan should be cautious around her. The stakes were too high to allow room for sentiment.
Had living as Beliveau for ten years made him lose his edge?
It might be time to remind himself—and Volski’s people—where he’d come from. He hadn’t survived this long by being soft. Nathan flexed his arms and shifted his weight to the balls of his feet just as Kelly glanced behind her.
She stopped where she was and scowled at the men who held him. “Let him go,” she said. “That’s Rand. I’m expecting him.”
The men were too slow to respond for Nathan’s liking. He took a step forward and twisted to jerk his arms free, then gave each man a sharp nudge in the solar plexus with his elbows to discourage them from grabbing him again. He dusted