From Russia With Claws Read online

  The pops of what sounded like fire crackers broke them apart. Andrey almost dropped her, steadying her before she could fall. Galina’s heels hit the floor unsteadily, and she hastily pulled her skirt down. She knew what those sounds were: gunshots. From outside.

  Andrey quickly buttoned up his shirt and tucked it back into his pants. Galina tried to fix her hair, tucking what she could behind her ears. She spritzed herself with some of the wolfsbane perfume she always carried. The herbal concoction would mask the scent of Andrey all over her. When she looked at him, she saw her red lipstick smeared across his mouth. She pulled him closer so she could wipe it off with her fingers. He placed a kiss on each of her fingertips.

  The sounds of feet running and growing chaos carried to them as people in the main ballroom streamed to the outer doors. They only had a few more moments before someone would inevitably burst into the kitchen. Galina straightened Andrey’s tie, then rested her hands against his chest before pushing away.

  “How do I look?” she asked, sliding her hands down her dress in effort to look less mussed.

  “Like someone who needs me to drag her against the wall and make her sob with how good I make her feel.” Andrey’s teeth flashed white against the darkness of the kitchen.

  Galina took a deep breath, suddenly feeling like all of the air had been sucked from the room. By looking at her like that, Andrey was making it nearly impossible to leave. But now shouting and screams filtered in to where they stood. She had to go.

  “Some other time,” she said, before turning on her heel and hurrying to the swinging doors.

  “Count on it,” he said, grabbing her hand to prevent her from leaving. “You should stay here, where it’s safe.”

  “Like hell,” she shot back. “I’m a Sudenko. I can take care of myself.” She jerked her arm free and burst through the kitchen doors.

  3

  Party’s Over

  GALINA NABBED HER PURSE from the table and spritzed herself again with her wolfsbane perfume to blot out whatever remained of the scent of Andrey all over her. Then she ran through the ballroom, following the sounds of screaming. A crowd filled the front of the hotel, blocking the entrance. It was chaos. Galina pushed her way through the screaming women and the mass of people. She finally managed to shove her way through to the entrance only to be blocked by her father.

  “Galina,” he said, grabbing her arm as she tried to pass. “Where were you?”

  “The ladies room,” she answered quickly. “What happened?”

  Her eyes scanned the parking lot and the stairs that led up to where they all stood. She caught sight of her sister being held down by Viktor. “Irina!” she screamed, breaking away from her father to plunge down the stairs to her.

  She didn’t get far. The man Andrey had been talking to before he’d followed her into the kitchen grabbed her around the waist and hauled her out of the way. Galina found herself pressed against the rough brick of the wall, shielded by a body in a dark suit. She shoved backward, but it was like trying to move granite.

  “What the hell do you think you are doing?” she seethed. “That’s my sister down there!”

  “I have my orders,” the young man said.

  Galina glared at him. He had dark hair and eyes, a chiseled face, and a no-nonsense manner about him. “Fuck your orders,” she snapped, ignoring Andrey as he walked over to them. She pushed against him. She had to get to Irina.

  “Konstantin,” Andrey called, gesturing for his man to release her. His eyes were scanning the parking lot, alert for signs of further danger, but it seemed that the threat had passed.

  Galina ran down the steps, dropping to her knees beside her sister who was being held by her father’s bodyguard. Sergei lay bleeding on the ground, four bullet holes in his chest. Black blood—a sign of silver poisoning—was slowly seeping into the red already staining his shirt. Her brother-in-law’s eyes stared into the night sky above them. Even now he wore a mean little smile, but he was barely breathing. This couldn’t have happened to someone who deserved it more. Galina dismissed the thought—she had to see to Irina.

  Her sister’s hands were red from having pressed them against her husband’s chest wounds. Irina’s eyes were closed, shutting out the sight of her dead husband. There was blood on her chin, but she didn’t seem to be harmed. Viktor held Irina carefully in the circle of his arms. When Galina reached for her, he pulled away. “Was she hit?” she demanded of the man.

  “No, I made sure of that.” Viktor’s voice was low. “I know my job.”

  “Thank you.”

  Galina relaxed a bit, taking a moment to look around her. Uncle Petyr was holding back Papa, while another bodyguard corralled their aunts. A number of Papa’s retinue handled the crowd. Sirens sounded in the distance. As her eyes swept the gathered crowd, she spotted Andrey, standing with Konstantin by the back door that led to the kitchen. He would have taken a different way out just in case anyone could have seen them exit together. Smart.

  That didn’t mean she wasn’t still furious with both of them.

  Galina took Irina’s hands in hers, not caring about the blood. If she was going to be picky about blood, she’d been born into the wrong family. “Irina, talk to me.”

  Biting her lip, Galina asked Victor, “Are you sure she’s okay?”

  He shook his head. “Her husband was just wasted in front of her. She’s in shock.”

  “Take care of her,” Galina ordered, meeting Viktor’s blue bombardier’s gaze. She slipped her hands out of Irina’s limp ones, brushing the back of her hand over her sister’s cheek.

  She got up and stalked over to Petyr and her father. “What the hell happened?” she snapped. “Who shot Sergei?”

  “We didn’t see, we were inside,” her father began. “One minute they were both inside, the next Sergei was dragging Irina outside. I am glad that Viktor followed them. He’s the one who’d know anything.” He looked her up and down suspiciously, and Galina was glad she’d had to push through all of those people. It explained her mussed hair and dress. Her perfume should take care of the rest. “How is Irina?” He grabbed her arm in a bruising grip, fear making him harsh.

  She hid a wince. “I don’t know, Papa. She’s fainted. Viktor thinks she’s in shock,” she explained, gently breaking his hold and pulling her arm from his grasp. “I would have gotten to her sooner but I had to get through the moron brigade all crying at the door.”

  “Nikolai should be here,” Petyr said softly.

  Galina nodded. Unfortunately for all of them, he’d been dispatched to mop up the latest mess Alexei had made with one of his girlfriends. Her eldest brother made Tony Montana look like a model of calm and restraint. Of course, if Alexei had been present, the shootout probably would have resulted in a much higher body count.

  An ambulance came roaring up to the traffic circle at the front of the inn. “Go with your sister,” her father told her, giving Galina a push in that direction. “Make sure she is taken care of.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  The quiet after the ambulance drove away was devastating. Irina was revived when the paramedics plied her with smelling salts. She was still in shock, but at least she was awake. Galina had handed Irina off to the EMTs and they had bundled her sister up into a blanket and then put her in the ambulance with Sergei. Galina had wanted to ride with her, but Irina insisted she take care of Papa.

  Galina went to the bathroom to clean the blood from her hands, then collected their things from the inn, keeping an eye on Papa, Maksim, and Petyr. She took the time to observe Viktor. New to the stable of muscle that usually surrounded her family, Viktor was lean, with a strength evident in the way he moved and stood. His blond hair was shorn close to his head, and his blue eyes blazed with vitality. His features were sharp and his skin tan, the polar opposite of Sergei, who had been dark in both manner and appearance.

  Feeling her eyes on him, Viktor turned his head and met her gaze. There was nothing cowed or submissive in his
eyes when he looked at her, rare considering who Galina was. She nodded, hiding her surprise.

  “I’m going to the hospital,” she said as she walked to the small group of men.

  Uncle Petyr put his arm around her, pulling her close. “Hell of a welcome home, Galya.” He kept his voice soft so that only the two of them could hear.

  “I shouldn’t have expected anything else,” she whispered back. Her family worked with criminals, was made up of criminals. To expect something different was to live in fantasy land.

  The sound of footsteps approaching made Galina pull away from her uncle. Her heart stuttered as Andrey walked over to them, looking as cool and nonchalant as if he’d never had her legs wrapped around him back in the kitchen. She gritted her teeth at the memory that sent heat racing through her core and forced a placid, absent look on her face as he approached.

  Andrey first approached her father and shook Papa’s hand. He was careful not to exert too much pressure, but his grasp was firm. Andrey knew the civilities he had to maintain when dealing with the Sudenko family, Galina observed. But that wasn’t the same thing as knowing his place.

  Just one of the things she found fascinating about him.

  Andrey introduced himself to Maksim when Papa hadn’t bothered. Galina stared at the two men, unable to resist comparing them. Maksim did not stack up well beside the older, more accomplished Rom. From everything she’d heard of the Federovs, Maksim would inherit his fortune, having to fight for none of it. Andrey was a self-made man.

  Galina still recalled the boy from the garden who had taken Alexei’s abuse with a kind of pride that her brother could never hope to understand. Andrey was the quiet, smiling threat, not the open aggression that was her older brother.

  And so was she. Perhaps it was what had drawn her to Andrey in the first place.

  Galina knew she’d been sent away to learn, but mostly to keep her out of the way of the family business. Women were still thought of as ornaments, pretty dolls kept high up in pretty boxes, trotted out when their owners wished to show them off or trade them away for an alliance. But Galina had used the opportunity away from the rules and expectations of her family to learn everything she could that might one day be of use in the family business. She’d majored in art history—something her father thought a useless, if societally impressive pursuit—but she’d also graduated with another degree: one in business. She planned to be more than just an accessory on some man’s arm. She had brains, ambition, and the breeding to take a leading role in her family’s business, and nothing would stop her.

  “If there is anything I can do to help,” Andrey was saying as he gripped Papa’s hand once more, “call me. My people will be at your disposal.”

  “Thank you, Andreyev,” Papa said, his eyes clear and sober. He must not have been hitting the vodka as hard as she’d thought. Either that or seeing his adopted daughter covered in her husband’s blood had sobered him up real quick. “Have you met my daughter, Galina?”

  She kept her face neutral as all eyes turned to her. Andrey released her father’s hand with a smile. “We haven’t been formally introduced.”

  “Not true,” she replied, skating a glance at the men—loyal to Alexei—who flexed in frustration behind her father’s shoulder. Alexei despised Andrey, not that it came as a shock. Andrey had Alpha written all over him. The best label Alexei could hope for was “Psycho.”

  Galina stepped forward, extending her hand. “We met when you were still a boy and your father was visiting mine.”

  “Ah, I remember now.” A small smile played around the corner of his lips and Galina ached to smack it off of him. He was still playing games. “The garden, wasn’t it?” He glanced at Ilya. “You’ve grown up since then.” He took her hand in both of his.

  A condescending little comment. Well, she could play too. “Nice of you to notice,” she answered, her gaze sweeping over him. “As have you.” She smiled coldly when she felt his fingers tighten around hers.

  She dared him with her eyes to say something else, knowing that he couldn’t risk it. Still, it disappointed her when he merely said, “A pleasure to meet you. Again.” He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand, then ran his tongue quickly over her knuckle.

  “Likewise.” Galina felt herself flush at the feel of his tongue on her skin and hoped that her high color would be attributed to the events of the evening and not the fact that Andrey made her insides twist and jump. She removed her hand from his, staring at him, daring him to look away first.

  His brief smile was the barest flash of sharp, white teeth. “If you’ll excuse me?” Galina inclined her head, a queen giving a courtier leave to go. He returned his attention to her father and she used that distraction to leave. She needed to get to the hospital and her sister. It wasn’t right that Irina should be there alone with only Sergei’s family for company.

  Nobody should be subjected to Sergei’s family. They were worse than he was.

  4

  You Make Bathtime So Much Fun

  GALINA LET HERSELF INTO HER CONDO, disabling the alarm system. She was in a secure building with a doorman, but she didn’t believe in taking chances. The first thing she’d done when she knew she was moving back to Seattle was search out separate living quarters from the rest of her family. Her father practically had an aneurysm, but she’d made him see sense. Spreading the family among different locations meant more targets to hit if someone wanted to take them all out. If they all lived together, it would be ridiculously easy to wipe them all off the map in one fell swoop.

  Besides, her brothers had their own places and Irina had her house with Sergei. Why shouldn’t she have a place of her own, pack or no pack? Galina needed both privacy and space, and living under her father’s roof would afford her neither.

  Shucking off her coat in the foyer, Galina kicked out of her heels. She nearly cried with relief when her swollen feet hit the cool travertine stone of the floor. God, she wanted to burn the dress she was wearing; it reeked of hospital. Those places terrified her—her childhood fear of being hooked to machines, kept alive and studied like a bug in a jar had never left her. She shuddered. The only reason she had gone was to support Irina. She didn’t give a damn about Sergei and she hoped he was now boiling in the fiery pits of Hell or wherever douchebags like him went when they died.

  Galina had gone because her sister had needed her. Even if the werewolf side of her cringed at all of the gleaming white surfaces and cold overhead lights and the chance of exposure and experimentation, Galina’s human sister needed someone to hold her hand and run interference with Sergei’s mother. Plus, Galina would have to bribe the medical staff to “forget” about the strange nature of Sergei’s reaction to the silver bullets…and the fact that the bullets were silver. She’d already arranged for a morgue attendant to switch normal spent ammo with the bullets taken from Sergei’s body.

  Surprisingly, Maksim had insisted on accompanying her. He and his bodyguard had followed her to the hospital, sitting with her as she supported Irina through the nurse’s, and then the police’s, questions. While her sister had answered questions in a dull voice, he’d looked bored, making her wonder why Maksim had even bothered to come. Most of the time he’d wandered around, looking for a decent cup of coffee. Had Papa told him to go with her?

  When Anya Volkov, Sergei’s mother, arrived, Maksim took the opportunity to flee. Anya had gone into hysterics when the doctor emerged from surgery to give them the news that Sergei hadn’t made it. The old she-wolf had verbally attacked Irina, only stopping when Galina had threatened her with the Gauntlet, the werewolf equivalent of a trial by combat, for nearly exposing them to humans.

  Galina had never been happier to leave a place in her entire life. At least Sergei had shuffled off this mortal coil before he could hurt Irina any further. That was some small comfort.

  Her phone buzzed at her from inside the pocket of her discarded coat. Galina fished it out, saw that it was her brother and sighed. Her
bath would have to wait. “Hi, Nikolai.”

  “Pop just wanted to make sure you got home okay.” His voice was the best thing she’d heard in hours.

  “Yeah, I’m in and I’ll set my alarm after I get off the phone with you.” She walked down the hall to her bedroom, holding the phone to her ear. “So you heard? When are you getting in?”

  She could hear loud voices speaking in Russian on Nikolai’s end but it was too muffled to make out exactly what they were saying. “We’re on our way back as quick as we can. Should be in by morning.”

  “Anything else?” She passed through the sitting room and her bedroom to get to her bathroom. Her feet slapped against the marble tile.

  “Nothing yet. Pop did say he’s sending a detail over to your place. And Irina’s.”

  “Why do I need one? I’m not the one being shot at!” But Galina knew why. Papa was scared. Someone had killed a man—his man—on his turf. He was going to be in lockdown mode now. He was going to protect his own. “Are we in a war that nobody told me about?”

  “No!” Nikolai exploded. He lowered his voice. “Pop’s just being careful.”

  “How did everything go with Alexei?” She turned on the taps to her massive clawfoot bathtub, filling it with steaming water.

  Nik lowered his voice. “It’s a mess. Again.” He sighed. “I can’t keep doing this—we can’t keep hiding dead girlfriends.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, putting the phone on speaker so she could shimmy out of her dress. “I wish I could help.”

  “It’s fine. You were there for Irina.” Nikolai sounded concerned. “How is she holding up?”

  “Okay, all things considered.” Irina had been quiet when Galina walked with her and Viktor to his car. The bodyguard had practically been carrying Irina, she was so exhausted from the night’s events. “I’m glad Papa’s got someone watching out for her. I’m going to head over in the morning.” She looked at the clock and saw it was nearly three o’clock. “Well, later in the morning anyway. To help her with arrangements and things.”