Dark Russian Angel (A Vancouver Mafia Romance Book 1)
Dark Russian Angel: Chapter 3

The sound of the bathroom door locking echoed through the apartment.

Fucking hell. I stalked to my drink cabinet and poured myself a double vodka, tossing it back before pouring myself another.

She needed to go. I didn’t want her here. Her very presence was a liability that could cost my organization more than I wanted to pay. The problem was, if I let her go, she was as good as dead.

The police had proven that they couldn’t keep her safe. Bunko was on a warpath to terminate her. And by engaging with Bunko’s men, we had put a large target on our backs. Things were going to get ugly. If we were going to pay with bloodshed, our best bet was to get her to trial and make sure Bunko stayed behind bars.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door reopened. She stood in the doorway, looking shit-scared, but her voice was strong. “I think we need to call the police.”

I held her gaze. The police were in the process of trying to determine who took out the safe house. They would arrest me and ask questions later. Which was exactly what I didn’t need right now. “The police can’t keep you safe.”

She tried again. “This is a police matter.”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

She looked like she was ten seconds away from passing out. “They need to know where I am.”

I was losing patience. “They will bring you down to the police station and put you through hours of questioning. They might even ask you to walk through the crime scene. Is that something you want to do right now?”

I looked her over for the first time. Her long brown hair was tied in some sort of knot at the back of her head. Her eyes were big and brown, and she had a cute little nose. Her body reminded me of a dancer, not a stripper. Her frame was small, as were her chest and hips. Most strippers had endowed racks, but she obviously hadn’t had any work done in that area. She wasn’t my type, but she was cute in that girl-next-door kind of way.

She stared back at me with those big eyes, but she didn’t answer. She looked so exhausted and defeated; I wasn’t sure how long she would remain standing.

“Get into bed.”

She looked at the king-sized bed beside her in alarm. “Isn’t that your bed?”

I gave her a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “I’ll let you borrow it.”

“Isn’t there someplace—”

“I’m not asking.”

Her bottom lip trembled, but she kicked off her shoes and climbed on the bed, fully dressed. She placed her bag next to her head.

I softened my tone. “Go to sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

I poured another drink and moved to my desk. I opened the files that Paul had sent me. Ignoring the file on Bunko, I opened the file on my little guest. It read like a tragedy.

Olivia Childs. Age twenty-three.

When Olivia was eight years old, her father attempted armed robbery. He was caught and sent to prison for seven years. Six months into his sentence, he was killed in a knife fight. Olivia lived in a trailer park with her mom.

When Olivia was twelve, she won a dance scholarship. She moved to Winnipeg, lived with a billeted couple, Judy and Bill, and studied ballet until the age of seventeen. It looked like she was actually going to break out of the cycle of poverty she had been born into. The National Royal Ballet hired her straight out of the academy. She danced with them for four years before her partner dropped her and she tore the anterior cruciate ligament in her knee. That injury effectively ended her dancing career.

She moved back to Vancouver and lived with her mom in a rundown trailer park. Abruptly, she moved into a rundown apartment that she shared with two other strippers. A month after that, she got a job dancing at the Velvet Petal, a rather seedy strip club barely off Hastings.

I paused. It was a long fall from professional dancer to stripper. What had gone so wrong that she ended up down that route? Still, four mornings a week, she took business classes at a local community college.

After she witnessed Bunko’s crime, the police ripped her out of her pathetic little life and put her in witness protection. She wasn’t dating anyone, had no children, and currently had $416 in her bank account. She paid her taxes every year, volunteered at a local pet charity, and had no criminal record—not even a parking ticket. She had done everything right in life, but she couldn’t seem to catch a break.

I glanced over my shoulder. She lay on the top of the covers. I stood up and walked over to the foot of the bed. Asleep, she was curled up on her side, looking younger than her age. Her odds of surviving this weren’t great. If she went back into police custody, she’d be dead within weeks. I doubted she would make it far if she went on the run. Her best bet would be to stay under my protection, but that didn’t mean I wanted to get involved in this mess. Grabbing the throw from the foot of the bed, I covered her body. She sighed heavily, snuggling deeper into the pillow.

Shaking my head, I dimmed the lights and moved out of the apartment. I headed down to where they worked on the truck. The acrid scent of the chemical that had burned off the paint stung my nostrils. Four men, all wearing masks, were sanding down the truck. They always did what I asked without question.

Satisfied, I went looking for Viktor and found him sitting at his desk. Despite the late hour of the night, he was bent over his work.

“You’re still up,” I stated, leaning against the desk across from him.

He sat up, stretching his back. “Where’s the girl?”

“Asleep at my place.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s scared.”

Viktor nodded. “I don’t blame her. Tonight was a bit intense. What next?”

“She wants to call the police.”

Viktor looked shocked. “You’re not going to let her, are you?”

I remained silent. Allowing her to go to the cops was the equivalent of putting a bullet in her head. “She can do what she wants.”

“She’ll end up dead.”

I knew that, and before I set her free, I’d let her know too. “The decision is hers.”

He didn’t look impressed. “What next?”

“When Bunko figures out we helped her, he’s going to turn his attention our way. We need to be prepared.”

“I agree.”

Viktor had more military experience than me. He had been Russian military special forces before he was kicked out of the military under suspicious circumstances. He never told me why he had been dishonorably discharged, and I never asked. We were all allowed our secrets, because God knows I had my share. When I hired him, I put him in charge of keeping the men trained and ready. In two years, he had become an integral member of my team.

I stood up. All of the men in our group had some level of military experience, but the last few years had softened them. They needed to be hardened and ready for the inevitable. “I want everyone to get a refresher on hand-to-hand combat. They all need to sharpen their shooting skills. They need a big reminder on battle tactics.”

Viktor nodded. “I’m going to do an inventory on our weapons. We’ll need to bulk up on that too.”

“Do whatever it takes to get this place prepared.” Our eyes met. We both knew what was coming, and it wasn’t going to be fun.

Viktor looked resigned. “I’ll get started tomorrow.”

I looked back at him. “When does Vlad get back?”

Annoyance flickered in Viktor’s eyes. He made no secret of the fact that he disliked Vlad. “Monday morning.”

I waited until ten in the morning before walking back into my apartment. She was still curled up on her side.

Was I really going to do this?

If she leaves here, she is as good as dead.

I have no business trying to protect her.

I don’t want any more blood on my hands.

My indecisiveness annoyed me, making my voice harsher than it should. “Time to wake up, sweetheart.”

She jolted awake, sitting up in bed and clutching the blanket in her hands. Wild eyes looked around the room before settling on me. “What time is it?” Her voice was rusty with sleep.

“Just after ten.”

She blinked, her wary gaze watching me.

“How’s your head?”

She lifted one hand to her forehead and lied. “It’s fine.”

I motioned to the bathroom. “Go shower. You’ll feel better. Then we talk.”

She crept out of the bathroom with her long wet hair twisted in a heavy bun at the back of her neck. She wore a T-shirt and the same jeans as the day before.

“Want a coffee?” I asked, turning on my espresso machine.

She stood on the other side of the island, watching me as I ground beans.

“You want to speak, then speak.” I didn’t look up at her as I made her coffee.

She watched me before speaking. “I want to call the police.”

I glanced up at her. She looked unsure of herself. I slid the small coffee cup in front of her. “You realize that they can’t keep you safe.”

She avoided my gaze. “They’re the police. That’s their job.”

“They’ve failed you twice.”

Her eyes lifted to mine, defiant. “I can’t stay here. You’re…”

I crossed my arms. “Go on.”

She dropped her gaze again. “You’re a criminal.”

That amused me. Usually, women in my company didn’t care what I did to earn money, as long as I could pay for what they wanted. “I prefer the term entrepreneur.”

Her gaze hit mine again, and this time, anger flickered in her eyes. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

Her feistiness suited her. It gave her face life and her skin color. It was exactly the kind of fight I liked in my women. “Oh, sorry. Do I remind you too much of Daddy?”

Her nostrils flared with emotion, but she managed to swallow it down. “I want to call the police.”

For the sake of my conscience, I tried once more. “You are aware that in doing so, you’re probably not going to live until the end of the week. I can get you to trial in one piece.”

She lifted her chin. “I’m a law-abiding citizen. I need to work with the police on this.”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

She looked startled. “Just like that?”

I had a momentary urge to lock her up and keep her safe. “This isn’t my fight. It doesn’t matter to me one way or another.”

She looked around, uncertain. “Okay.”

“Let’s go.”

“Right now?” Her voice was tinged with fear.

“I don’t want the police to know about my involvement. I’ll drop you off in a safe place, and you can call them.”

She nodded.

I pulled up in the parking lot of the strip club she used to work at. It was a seedy joint. Most of Bastelli’s clubs weren’t half bad, but this was one of his older, more run-down clubs.

She turned and looked at me with a hurt expression. “How did you know?”

“I know a lot of things.”

She played with the straps of her bag. “It was a temporary job. Just to get me back on my feet.”

I had dated my share of strippers and dancers. Most of them developed a hard sheen to them. Olivia did not suit this lifestyle, but she was wrong about it. Once you were in, it was almost impossible to get out. Thanks to Bunko, her life expectancy had been shortened considerably, so we would never know if she made it out.

Not my problem.

I handed her an envelope containing a thousand dollars in cash. “Take this.”

“What’s this?” She looked down at it.

“Money in case you get into trouble.”

She frowned. “I don’t need your money.”

That was a first. “Consider it hush money. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone what happened last night.”

She chewed her lip. “What should I tell them?”

“I don’t care. Just don’t mention my name.”

She looked at me with those serious brown eyes. “I won’t.”

I handed her my business card. “Call me if you get into trouble.”

“I won’t bother you again.” But she shoved the card into her bag.

“Go inside the club and call the police.”

She stared at the club. “Why did you bring me here?”

Lack of police, lack of cameras, her familiarity with the place. They were all good reasons to drop her here.

“I think you’re wasting my time.” My words were harsh, but she had made her decision. She was no longer my problem. The sooner she got out of my car, the sooner I could go back to my own issues and not think about her.

She will die out there. I should protect her. I debated just forcing her to stay under my care, but she opened the door.

She looked back at me. “Thanks for your help.”

“Try to stay alive.”

Without another word, she got out and walked into the front doors. I moved the car down the street and waited. Within ten minutes, two unmarked police cars pulled up at the club. Detective Klaassen looked both ways before she moved towards the club with two other men. Another few minutes passed before they ushered Olivia back outside.

They put her in the back of the car and drove off.

I resisted the urge to follow them, force her out of the vehicle, and put her under my protection.

She’s not my concern.

I needed to get my head back in the game. We were on the verge of going to war. It was time to get focused and be strategic about what was coming down the pipe. Bunko was a force that needed to be managed carefully.

Late that afternoon, Detective Klaassen showed up at my warehouse. After calling me, Viktor ushered her up to my office.

I threw my pen down on the desk and leaned back when she walked into the office. “Detective Klaassen. What a pleasure.”

Her eyes searched my face. “What do you know about the hit on our safe house?”

“Not following.”

She sat down across from me. “Last night our safe house was compromised.”

“And you’re telling me this, why?”

“Two of our best detectives were killed in cold blood. Our witness escaped out the second-floor window. Eyewitnesses claim there was a high-speed chase up the 1A that involved three vehicles.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Three innocent civilians were sent to the hospital for serious injuries as a result of the chase.”

“And the vehicles engaged in the chase?”

“Two vehicles were found with their front tires shot out. Witnesses say that men with guns took off on foot.”

“And the third car?”

She crossed her arms. “It was a black truck with two men inside.”

“I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”

“My witness went missing for fourteen hours and then mysteriously reappeared. She called me and asked us to come and get her.”

“Sounds like your story has a happy ending.”

She stood up and planted her hands on the edge of my desk, doing her best to intimidate. “Were you involved?”

I squinted up at her. “Why don’t you ask your witness?”

She pushed off the desk. “She’s not talking.”

“Pity.”

“Two decent officers are dead.”

This conversation was starting to bore me. “Maybe you need to figure out how to keep your witness properly hidden.”

She glared at me. “We’re doing our best.”

“Apparently you’re not.”

She looked frustrated. “I think we have a leak.”

I stood up, ready to end this conversation. “I’m not sure why you drove all the way down here to tell me this.”

“I think you are involved. I need you to tell me what happened.”

I stood up and walked around the desk. This meeting was over. “Instead of chasing shadows, maybe you need to focus on plugging that leak and figuring out the best way to protect your witness.”

She took a deep breath. Switching gears, her voice became husky. “I thought you’d have called me by now.”

And there was the reason she had shown up in person.

“I’ve been busy,” I lied.

She dropped her gaze playfully. “I think we’re more compatible than you think.”

I didn’t want to be having this conversation, but it didn’t pay to piss her off. She wasn’t an ally, but I didn’t want her working against me either. I forced myself to lighten my tone. “How do I know you’re not here to get intel on my business?”

She stepped too close and looked up at me coyly. “Because I could lose my job if I get involved with you.”

I hated her aggressiveness. As punishment, I spun her around, pinned her arms behind her back, and spoke harshly in her ear. “I’m not a nice man.”

Her entire body vibrated with excitement. “I know.”

Uncaring about what she wanted, I shoved her away from me. She twisted to face me, and longing marred her expression. “I want the same things you want.”

“I doubt that.”

Her chest heaved. “I need a man like you. Someone to take charge.”

“I don’t like to be in charge of anyone,” I lied.

She shook her head. “That’s not what I heard.”

Mild curiosity made me ask. “What have you heard?”

She licked her lips. “You like women to submit to you sexually. You like control.”

All true, but I was also picky. Unfortunately for Detective Klaassen, I wasn’t remotely interested in bossing her around. “And you like to be controlled?”

She swallowed, and her eyes traced over my body. “Handcuffs, ropes, blindfolds. The rougher the better.”

It was a pity I didn’t replace her attractive, because she would come in more than useful, but I didn’t pick my sexual partners based on my business needs. Even I didn’t stoop that low.

“You heard wrong.” I nodded towards the door. “Good luck with your case.”