From Russia With Claws Read online

  She passed by one of Alexei’s bodyguards on her way to her father’s study. The bruising around his eyes and the swollen top of his nose were consistent with a recently healed broken nose. Galina stopped.

  “Looks like you caught yourself a good one, Timur,” she said by way of greeting. A hollow feeling settled in her gut. Had one of Alexei’s men been the one to jump her last night? She knew he wasn’t happy about her presence during the last meeting, but would he have been able to call off her protection detail?

  With a sinking feeling, she realized he could do exactly that. Papa was the only one who could have countermanded his order, and if Papa hadn’t known…Galina swallowed nervously.

  Timur grinned lasciviously, displaying a gaping hole where one of his front teeth had been. “Got hit with a vodka bottle when I wasn’t looking,” he answered.

  She tried to get a scent read off of him, but without much success. He smelled a little nervous, but the same could be said for many who spoke with her. She continued on down the hall.

  Nikolai, Alexei, and their father were already gathered around a table that would eventually seat the other powerful families within the Organization. “What are you doing here?” Alexei’s voice was just shy of a sneer.

  Galina smiled sweetly at him, and then ignored him completely. She turned to Papa. “Did you call off my security detail last night?” she asked him as he stood to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

  “No,” Ilya replied, his sharp eyes searching her face. “Why do you ask?”

  “I just didn’t see them when I pulled into my garage. They were probably there and I just didn’t notice.” She kept her eyes on her brothers. Nikolai was saying something to their brother. Alexei’s gaze flicked over to her, but otherwise he didn’t react to her news. Galina sniffed the air to see if she could catch a whiff of nervousness or fear, but the room smelled as it usually did.

  Galina took a seat next to her father. He looked confused, but that was nothing compared to Alexei’s response. Breaking off his conversation with Nikolai, he snapped, “What are you doing?”

  “I would think that would be obvious,” Galina said, keeping her voice pleasant and even. “I’m going to sit in on the meeting.”

  “The hell you are,” her brother said, taking a step closer to her. “Women don’t come to meetings.”

  “Well, this one is, so you’d better get right with the idea.” Galina sharpened her tone, a verbal baring of teeth. This was the first step. She had to gain permission to be there.

  “What do you know about the business anyway?” Alexei stood over her, hoping to threaten her physically. It might have been frightening if he hadn’t been doing this for her entire life.

  Oh thank you for such an obvious opening, brother dear, she thought. Containing a grin, she began to list off points on her fingers. “I know our holdings are not what they once were. I know that the other families are hesitant to continue alliances with us because we’re perceived as weak, as failing. I know that if we don’t further diversify our interests, we’ll be left in the dust, running numbers and selling dope at a stop sign. I know that we need to move into the twenty-first century or we’re sunk.”

  Her father opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He looked shocked. Then he turned to Nikolai and Alexei. “Do you both agree with Galya’s assessment?”

  Nikolai nodded slowly, face serious. Alexei looked to be in danger of spitting, he was so angry. Galina leaned forward, taking Ilya’s hand in hers. “Papa, I don’t say this to hurt you. I love our family and I want to keep us safe. But if we continue doing business in the same old way, we’ll go the way of the dinosaurs.”

  “What do you know about anything?” Alexei’s voice was all snarl and snap. “You’ve had your head in books for the past five years!”

  Galina gave him a withering glance before turning back to her father. “And when I had my head in those books,” she said, dismissing her brother, “I was learning things.” Unlike you went unspoken but clear to all of them.

  Alexei made a move behind Galina’s back, the scuffle catching her attention, and then her father was standing, his face thunderous. “Enough!” The old man’s voice was hard, the sharp bark of an Alpha calling his pack to heel. “You will remember where you are!”

  Turning her head, Galina saw Nikolai holding back Alexei. She came to her feet in one smooth motion, baring her teeth. Ilya jumped between them, holding his arms out to keep them separated. Alexei’s face began to morph as his anger got the better of him.

  Papa moved faster than someone his age should have been able to, backhanding Alexei across the muzzle. A high whine escaped her brother’s lips, and his face slowly reverted back to human. “You will not!” their father shouted. “You will control yourself. We have guests coming!”

  “Come on, Alexei,” Nikolai said, giving Galina a significant look. “Let’s go for a walk.” He took their brother’s arm, forcefully steering him toward the door, but Alexei shoved away from him with a growl and stalked out of the room.

  Ilya walked to the bar and poured himself two fingers of vodka. He downed the drink in one gulp, throwing the liquor back with practiced ease. Galina got up and poured one for herself. She smiled when Papa frowned at her.

  “You are too young,” he scolded.

  “I’ve been legal for four years, Papa,” she chided him gently. He needed to stop seeing her as a little girl in blond pigtails. She’d been grown up for quite some time. She sipped at her drink, smiling at him over the glass.

  Sitting down with a sigh, Ilya rubbed at his forehead with a heavy hand. “I do not know what you want, Galya. You embarrass Alexei, you do not know your place. I want to find a nice husband for you, but you fight me at every turn. What am I to do with you?”

  Galina tried not to bristle. Alexei was the embarrassment, not her. How many times had Nikolai had to clean up one of his messes? Ten, twenty times? More? And “knowing her place”? It was that kind of hidebound thinking that would keep them from utilizing all of their assets to the fullest extent. It was stupid and wasteful.

  Taking a deep breath, she let all of her frustration and anger go. She was close to getting what she wanted, and she needed to remain calm. In a soft voice, Galina asked, “What if I could prove that my ideas have merit?”

  Ilya took another swig of his vodka. When he spoke, his voice was harsher than she was used to hearing. “Tell me.”

  She wrapped long fingers around the rocks glass in front of her. It kept her from fidgeting as she met his gaze. “There are plenty of people who would pay handsomely for art and artifacts that can’t be acquired through the usual means.”

  “Smuggling.”

  “If you want to call it that,” Galina conceded. They had a number of smuggling operations, but none that dealt in the fine arts. She had the knowledge and contacts. She just needed the infrastructure already in place at her father’s operation to make it work. “I have a number of buyers just waiting for the right product. It’s got minimal risk.”

  “Galya, you know that women and business do not mix.” But there was a hesitation in his voice that she knew she could capitalize on.

  “Papa, you sent me to school to learn. And I did.” She leaned forward, eyes on his face. “I’ve been watching you run the business since I was old enough to walk. I can help our family. Let me have this so I can show you what I can do.” A chance, that’s all she wanted.

  “And after that?” Her father stared at her as if he knew the inner workings of her mind.

  “You can see my results and make your own decision.” She smiled at him, as if this was of the least concern to her. “And I will accept whatever you decide.”

  Ilya’s eyes narrowed. “You should have been born a boy,” he said with a frown.

  Galina kept the calm mask on her face through an effort of will. She would not show her father how much his words had stung. “But I wasn’t,” she answered softly. Then she smiled, “And besides, you have two son
s already.”

  She didn’t say that one of them was too busy stroking his own ego to be able to run the family and the other was too busy cleaning up the other’s mistakes to be effective in his own right. “I can do this.”

  Ilya pushed up from the table, the small jowls along his jaw line shaking slightly. “Very well, Galina. You have your wish. I will give you a few men to use in your operation. Don’t disappoint me.”

  I’m not the disappointment, she almost said, but kept it to herself. Because she knew that she was a disappointment to him. What good was intelligence and drive when they were housed in a woman’s body? Galina didn’t feel like she lacked anything, but her father certainly did, and she knew that others of the old guard felt the same as he did.

  She stood with him. “Can the men be of my choosing? With your approval, of course,” she added quickly. She suspected that her father would select the most recalcitrant and unbending of his people if she let him in the hopes that she would fail. And if Alexei had a say in it, he’d make sure she worked with idiots and psychos. She needed young men, eager to make a name for themselves and with the ability to think for themselves.

  “And I want a new set of guards. I’m not impressed with the ones I’ve got.”

  Her father’s eyes narrowed, sweeping her from head to foot. “Did something happen?”

  Andrey’s words came back to her. “I went to lunch with Maksim yesterday. He had to leave early and took his guards with him.” She thought it best to leave out the assault with flying fish. “I had to walk back to the museum by myself. I didn’t see the car or either man anywhere near me.” That Maksim came out sounding like he’d been unconcerned for her safety too was a mark in the “win” column.

  Papa’s face turned red. Taking her shoulders, he peered at her face. “Are you all right?”

  Resting her hands on his, she said, “I’m fine, Papa. But I want different guards.”

  He sighed, dropping his hands from hers. “You are a good girl, Galya. Why don’t you want to settle down and have babies?”

  “Who says I don’t, Papa? I just don’t want to do that right now.” She winked at him.

  Ilya threw back his head and laughed. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. She smelled his cologne—a cloying scent that made her wrinkle her sensitive nose—and alcohol leaching from his pores. He must have tied one on last night. “Come now. I will introduce you to the rest. If you are going to be working for me, you should meet them.”

  “Have you thought of who will replace Sergei yet?” It wasn’t a high ranking position, but a competent person could make something happen in it.

  “Alexei wants Vasily.” Her father guided her down the hall, leading her toward the front parlor where her father always met with his lieutenants when he was home. He usually preferred to meet with them at one of his businesses, but with the death of Sergei, everyone was being more circumspect.

  Galina frowned. “What does Nikolai say?” She knew what Nik would say. Vasily was a cocky thug with about as much sense as a rock—although Galina wondered if rocks might be insulted by the comparison. He was hired muscle, nothing more, but he was one of Alexei’s long standing confederates and he was loyal only to him. He backed Alexei on every play he made, even the disastrous ones that got people killed. Usually the wrong people. Vasily was a menace. Which made him Alexei’s perfect choice.

  “He thinks Vasily to be unseasoned.” Her father’s eyes snapped with mirth and Galina grinned at him. Trust Nik to be diplomatic and understated in his disapproval. “I agree with him. He suggested the Demidov boy.”

  She fought back a laugh. Everyone under the age of fifty was still considered a boy in her father’s eyes. She knew vaguely of the man he was talking about—at least Andrey’s age if not a bit older—and he’d be a good fit. Much better than Vasily anyway.

  “And what do you think?” she asked him, curious as to which way her father was leaning.

  “I’ve already spoken to his father.”

  Galina smiled. Perhaps her father wasn’t as blind as she thought he was.

  9

  The Merry Widow

  EVERYONE WHO WAS ANYONE came to Sergei Volkov’s funeral. It was like the damn Oscars for Russian criminals who embraced questionable fashion choices. The Kandinsky Funeral Parlor had been reserved for the occasion; Anya Volkov had spared no expense for the send-off of her beloved Sergei.

  Galina smoothed her black dress over her hips one last time and looked over at Irina. The only word that came to mind when she saw her sister was resplendent. Irina was wearing a fiery red dress and the diamond necklace that she’d worn at Katy’s Sweet Sixteen party. Her makeup and hair were flawless.

  Mama Anya was sending Irina death glares as she hovered over the casket that held her son’s body. They were all gathered in the private viewing room—the Sudenkos and their bodyguards, and the Volkovs. The Volkov contingent consisted of Mama Anya, her remaining son, Gregori, and their two men. Irina stood out like the proverbial rose among thorns.

  Mama Anya wept openly, sobbing over Sergei’s body. Galina watched Irina step over to Anya, her hands out to comfort the woman. Before she got within a foot of her, Irina’s mother-in-law snapped upright and whirled around to face Irina.

  “Don’t touch me!” she shrieked, eyes wild in a face contorted by grief. “You never loved him. If you had, you would have given him children and he might have had something to fight for! Just look at the way you’re dressed, like a whore on her way to a party. No respect! No modesty! No heart! You were always a cold, unfeeling woman! You didn’t deserve my Sergei!”

  Galina had to agree with her. No one on earth deserved Sergei. Galina thought that Mama Anya might be done, but she was mistaken.

  “You pack your things and get out of my son’s house. It is mine now, by right! Go back to your father’s house, you useless little human bitch!”

  “You’re right,” Irina said, her voice quiet but forceful, “I didn’t deserve your son.”

  Galina interposed herself smoothly between the two women before someone drew blood. Viktor, who was shadowing Irina for the funeral, looked as if he was going to use Anya as a chew toy. Galina couldn’t blame him. After the spew of insults that the woman had hurled at Irina, she wanted to smack Anya until her hand hurt—after she’d toughened it up beating on a tree for six months. “Okay, why don’t we all just give Irina a moment alone? Give her the opportunity to say good-bye to her husband.”

  She snagged Anya’s arm in a firm grip, tightening it when the older woman began to struggle. “My baby! I won’t leave that woman alone with my baby!”

  Galina had had quite enough of this fuckery. She leaned down and whispered in Anya’s ear, “Listen to me. You can either walk out of here, or you can be carried out of here unconscious. It makes no damn difference to me, but let’s at least try to have a modicum of decorum in the funeral home.”

  Mama Anya stopped her keening long enough to stare at Galina in horror. At the same time, Galina signaled Nik and Viktor over to help Mama Anya out of the private viewing room. The other bodyguards helped usher everyone else out. When Anya had been safely conveyed to somewhere that wasn’t there, Galina walked over to Irina.

  Her sister stood stone-faced before the casket. Galina lightly touched her arm to get her attention. “Take your time. We’ll meet you at the receiving line.” She squeezed her sister’s arm, kissed her on the cheek, and left her alone with her dead husband.

  Galina closed the door behind her to give Irina some privacy, resting against it as she gathered her thoughts. This was a farce of the highest order. The casket Mama Anya had picked out was the Elvis Presley of caskets: gleaming white, gilded to within an inch of its life, and covered in huge swaths of white roses. She’d hired a horse and carriage to carry the abomination to the cemetery.

  Franny walked up to her. “How’s Irina doing? I just saw Mrs. Volkov having the vapors in the receiving room.”

  Galina
grimaced, rubbing at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. She was getting one hell of a headache from all of this nitwittery. She wanted to take Irina, go back to her house, and watch stupid movies for two days.

  “Mama Anya is a giant pain in the ass,” Galina gritted. “Irina’s hanging in there, but it hasn’t been an easy day.”

  “Gotcha. I’m on it.” Franny disappeared back down the hall, a woman on a mission.

  Galina followed more slowly. She dreaded standing in the receiving line, but she’d do it for Irina. She wasn’t sorry Sergei was gone, and she wasn’t going to pretend she was torn up over his death. She was happy her sister was rid of her albatross of a husband. It wasn’t particularly nice, but Galina didn’t think you got anywhere as a woman—at least not in her family—by being nice.

  The number of people in the receiving room was staggering. Mama Anya must have strong-armed the entire Volk Organizatsiya to attend. Galina knew that half of those here despised Sergei, but a lot of business was conducted at funerals. She was hoping to corner one of Sergei’s old lieutenants and see if she could glean any information about what Sergei had stolen from Andrey.

  Maksim Federov stood near her father, shaking his hand and offering condolences. His suit was tailored, but it still looked a bit too big for him, giving her the impression that he was playing dress up in his big brother’s clothes. Galina ducked behind a knot of mourners, not ready to make small talk with the Caviar Prince.

  “My sincerest apologies for the loss to your family, Miss Sudenko.” Andrey’s voice was rich and warm. Galina turned to see him watching her, a sly smile on his face as if they shared a private joke.

  She extended her hand, feeling the now-familiar tension twist within her. He took her fingers in his, pressing his lips to the back of her hand, deliberately nipping at each knuckle. His eyes never left her face and Galina felt herself growing warm. She pressed her thighs together, cursing Andrey to the lowest hell possible. He knew what he was doing to her and he knew he was doing it to her in the middle of a room full of werewolves. If she had to leave to change her underwear, everyone would know why.