King's Command (Fire & Vice Book 3) Read online

  Once Claudia was in the alley and the door closed behind her, she ran full speed for other end and the entrance to the subway. Luckily for her, she knew the city like the back of her hand. She knew every possible escape route. She hoped for the best, but always anticipated the worst: that Dante, Franco and their thugs would discover her whereabouts. Now, thanks to Tyson King, that possibility was more likely than ever.

  And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to regret her brief time with the giant, possessive billionaire. She knew there was never going to be a happily ever after for her, but if anyone could make her dream it was Tyson. He had spent the past ten days doing his best to convince her that she should stay with him. His idea of convincing meant he kept her all but locked up in his tower of a penthouse, indulging in her every whim, including hiring instructors to teach her guitar lessons, painting, yoga and pilates. Claudia had quickly discovered she hated yoga and pilates and suspected she nearly got the instructor killed when she described some of the poses the man had made her do.

  Claudia had giggled at the thunderous expression on Tyson’s face around a mouthful of pasta that he’d made at her request. She had been in the process of explaining what a ‘down dog’ was, thoroughly enjoying the way his eyebrows lowered ominously over snapping eyes. The more time she spent with him the more possessive he became. Finally she had said with a gasping laugh, “I’m pretty sure my yoga teacher would be more interested in you than me.”

  Tyson had rounded the table, shoved her plate out of the way, bent her over the table and fucked her from behind in retaliation for her teasing. Then he had laid her naked in front of the fireplace in the living room and fed her the rest of her dinner by hand. No one did possessive sexy better than Tyson King.

  Reflecting on the past week and half spent with her new boyfriend, Claudia realized she was going to miss the big, unpredictable man. Too bad she couldn’t trust anyone. Dante taught her that lesson too well. The man had been all charm, good looks and easy money while wooing her. It wasn’t until she was well and truly in his pocket that she realized his quick smile hid a vicious temper and that his charm and money were backed by drugs and prostitutes. She had understood, after enduring one of his more nasty drunken rants, that he intended to sell her to his friends for top dollar. She was his beautiful blond princess, relatively inexperienced except for him, she could help him get places by entertaining his competitors and gathering information.

  Claudia was smart enough to make her escape the moment she discovered Dante’s sadistic plans. She decided to take insurance with her in the form of a USB key with the contents of Dante’s hard drive, in case her plan to lay low didn’t work and she had to buy herself help. Though a suspicious guy, Dante never once thought Claudia would betray him. She was far too pliable and silent to give him any indication what she would run away from him – not when he could give her any pretty thing her heart desired, and buy prestige in their circle of Miami acquaintances. He hadn’t known her true character one little bit. That’s one thing she had to give Tyson credit for. He liked to buy her expensive things, but he never once acted like it made a difference to their relationship.

  Ignoring the curious looks that followed her, Claudia pelted toward the subway stairs, virtually flying down them to the mid line. Barely pausing, she swiped her transit card before going through the turnstile. She landed on the platform, gasping for breath, and made her way behind a pillar to wait for a train. She didn’t think there was any way Daniel was fast enough to get down here before a train came, but the guy was an eerie combination of intelligence and ruthless determination.

  Claudia sighed in relief when a train pulled up. “Excuse me!” she said breathlessly, pushing past a group of midday shoppers. She ignored their grumbles and hopped on the train. Quickly finding a window seat she sat and stared toward the stairwell entrance, silently begging the train to get moving.

  The train doors shut and within seconds the train was moving. She was in the process of slumping in her seat in relief when she saw Daniel leap down the stairs. Without pausing, he hurtled toward the nearest train door. As though instinctively knowing where to find her, his eyes zeroed in on her through the window and narrowed.

  “No!” she gasped, shocked. She watched, terrified as he tried to force the doors open.

  Damn him, Daniel had anticipated her. His usual stoic expression gave way to fury for a split second when he realized he wasn't able to pry the door of the moving train open. That look of fury convinced Claudia she never wanted to run into ex-mercenary in a dark alley. She watched him with trepidation as the train gathered speed. He took his phone out of his pocket and lifted it to his ear. Then he pointed at her. Pinning her. She knew right down to her core he was marking her as prey for Tyson King.

  Claudia forced her frozen brain to work over time. She quickly deduced that Tyson would soon have his people crawling all over every subway station in the city. She would have to abandon her original plan of taking the train to the bus station and buying a ticket out of the city and get off at the next stop. Hopefully she could make it far enough away from the station before Tyson was able to galvanize his security team. It didn’t bear thinking what he might do with her once he got his hands on her.

  With a start, Claudia realized she didn’t doubt he would find her. Tyson had far more resources than she did. He would be watching the airport, the bus depot, the train station and every road out of the city. He would snatch her up and drag her back to his lair where she would be a sitting duck for Dante and Franco. Damn it, why couldn’t he just let her go! Why did all the men in her life want to own her?

  What am I doing? Claudia thought to herself, suddenly furious. I’m no quitter. If I was, I’d be dead by now. I’ll get the hell out of this city and Tyson King can just kiss the backside of my ass on my way out!

  Claudia stood as the subway train approached its next platform. She walked toward the back of the train car. On her way by a guy in his early twenties listening to loud music with earbuds, she pretended to sway and fall sideways into his lap. She blushed furiously and excused herself, leaning forward so her long hair brushed his face. He brought hands up to steady her and, after getting a good look at the bounty that literally fell into his lap, his scowl turned into a grin. Claudia grinned back and stood up, squeezing his shoulder. She continued toward the nearest door with his black hoodie, which had been carelessly tossed in the seat next to him, clutched in her hand.

  As soon as she was out the door, she pulled the University emblazoned sweater over her head and popped the hood up, careful to tuck every last strand of hair into the enveloping hood. Next she shoved the chic oversized sunglasses on that she had lifted from a woman who was too busy reading her text messages to notice the sticky fingers that reached into her purse. Trusting that she wouldn’t draw undue notice to herself, Claudia made her way back up to street level. This time she didn’t run, instead forcing herself to slouch and walk at a normal pace. She had to blend into the street atmosphere – not a difficult thing as she was currently in a bustling part of downtown.

  Claudia knew her next move would draw Tyron right to her, but she didn’t have a choice. She would just have to trust that lady luck would stick with her. She pulled out her cell phone and called the only person she knew in the city who might be capable of helping her out. Anastasia Sitnikov.

  “Claudia!” Anya answered in a breathless rush. “Where the hell have you been?”

  Claudia laughed shortly. “Locked up in Tyson King’s penthouse.”

  “Why didn’t you call or text me?” Anya demanded, sounding miffed. “I was worried.”

  “Yeah, same goes, girl. Last I saw of your ass it was being dragged out of that awful gambling club by super hot blond guy.” Claudia snorted. “Look, Anya, I don’t have a lot of time here, so I’m going to explain some things to you fast. I’m living here illegally, I don’t have a work Visa or anything and I’m Canadian.”

  Anya said nothing for a moment and then s
aid sarcastically, “Are you some kind of Canadian terrorist then? Did you steal the maple syrup recipe and decide to sell it on the black market to your neighbours to the south.”

  Claudia rolled her eyes. “I’m serious Anya. I moved here a few years ago to dance in Vegas. I met a guy there, the owner of the casino where I danced. He introduced me to a colleague, a guy from Miami. I thought I was in love, but it all turned out really badly. He was some kind of big time drug dealer, into all kinds of terrible things. He… he tried to make me do things. I knew refusing would end badly for me so I grabbed something of his and took off. Now he, and god knows who else, are probably after me. I need to get out of the city fast and I don’t know anyone else that might be able to help.” She finished in a breathless rush, waiting anxiously for Anya’s reply.

  Anya seemed to digest what she said for a moment before speaking slowly, “So you were a Vegas showgirl? How did I not know this about you? That explains so much.”

  Claudia laughed out loud, slapping a hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. “I sucked as a showgirl, but somehow I caught Dante’s attention. Lucky me.”

  “I might be speaking totally out of my ass here,” Anya said, “but I was under the impression Tyson King had a thing for you. He’s a powerful guy, he can probably keep you safer than anyone else in the city, except maybe my brother.”

  Claudia sighed heavily. “You don’t understand, Anya. I just can’t be under the thumb of another guy, especially one who’s not up front about his business. I let myself be led by my ex-boyfriend, and it ended so badly I had to change my name and stop speaking to my family.” Her voice broke on the last word. “I don’t trust anyone to take care of me but me.”

  “I understand better than you think darling, one day I’ll tell you all about it,” Anya said quietly. “In the meantime, let me think for a second.”

  Claudia held her breath while she waited, chewing on the ragged edge of a fingernail. She wanted to tell Anya to hurry, that Tyson would most likely be tracing her phone as they spoke. Her gaze darted around the sidewalk and street. She saw a few guys on the other side wearing suit jackets over jeans. They were thickly muscled and wearing dark sunglasses. She didn’t know them personally, but she did recognize the walk and the sweeping glances they took. They were some kind of security. Claudia darted into a nearby Chinese tea shop and watched them through the window until they rounded the end of the block.

  “Claudia?” Anya’s voice sounded worried as though she had tried to get the other girl’s attention a few times.

  “Yes, I’m here,” she replied quickly. “Sorry, I thought I saw someone that could belong to Tyson.”

  “Okay, here’s what you’re going to do,” Anya said, all business now that she recognized the real fear in her friend’s voice. “You’re going to go see my brother. I’ll call him and tell him to expect you. He’ll be happy to do me a solid. Especially if I promise him an extra month of living in his mansion, enjoying full time live-in staff and an Olympic-sized swimming pool.”

  Claudia grinned despite herself. Anya really was a gem. “Maybe I could move in too?”

  Anya laughed and gave her the address. Without hanging up, Claudia dropped her phone into the shop’s wastebasket. Tyson could enjoy tracking it while she was on her way to the other side of the city. Taking a deep breath and pulling the hood further over her face, Claudia walked swiftly out of the shop and hailed the first cab she saw.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Claudia gaped at the man that opened the door of Vladimir Sitnikov’s mansion. He was probably even bigger than Tyson, which was saying something considering Tyson was one of the largest men to inhabit her world. This guy was probably close to seven feet, dwarfing her own not insubstantial frame. His hair was cut close to his skull, which highlighted the stark tattoos that wound up his neck into his hairline. He wore a dress shirt with a leather holster over top. Tucked under both of his arms were lethal looking guns. His bearded jaw looked perpetually tensed in steely determination. Her eyes remained glued on his massive hands, watching for any twitch that might indicate he was reaching for a weapon. Dude looked like he should be carrying an axe.

  She wondered if his name was Tiny.

  “Are you the butler?” she asked weakly, eyeing him skeptically. She was pretty certain the Sitnikov mansion would be on everyone’s no-solicitation list if this dude was answering the door regularly. She was intensely glad she wasn’t a Jehovah’s Witness at that moment.

  “Claudia?” He asked in a heavily accented voice. Her name sounded like Clow-dee-yah coming out of his mouth.

  She nodded, but briefly considered saying no and running away. She could probably scale the massive privacy gate that had swung open to let her in if she was properly motivated – like being shot at by a Russian mobster for trespassing. She wondered how Anya was brave enough to live here with this human pit bull around.

  “Boss will see you.”

  He moved back to let her in. Knowing her options were slim to none Claudia took a breath and entered into the darkened interior of the house that belonged to the most feared man in the city. Even in her relatively small and sheltered circle at the coffee shop she worked at, she heard his name mentioned in whispers. Usually in connection to some illicit business or mob activity. She hadn't realized until several days ago that her friend was his sister. But she trusted Anya. With her life, apparently.

  The mountain of a man strode down a hall in front of her. Claudia would have enjoyed looking around her at the beautiful furnishings of the mansion, but his legs ate up the hall, leaving her to nearly run to keep up. He stopped abruptly next an ornate, carved wooden door. He banged on it twice with a fist before shoving it open.

  Claudia hesitated. He reached a hand out for her and ushered her impatiently into the room with a massive paw against her back. She gasped as she was propelled forward into a gorgeous masculine office. The door slammed shut at her back, trapping her in with one of the scariest men she would ever meet – and that includes Franco Delgado.

  Vladimir Sitnikov stood behind his desk. She eyed him as covertly as she could, feeling completely overwhelmed in the mansion and in his presence. She silently questioned his relation to the spunky, smart-mouthed Anya. His sister was lovely and lithe, like a tiny dancer figurine. While Vladimir was much taller, leanly muscled and surrounded with a menacing intensity that stole her breathe and had her questioning her sanity in deliberately seeking him out.

  Claudia watched him warily, ready to fly at the first hint of Russian mob-ittude. Not that she had a hope in hell of getting past the human-shaped guard dog that stalked the premises. Vladimir stopped in front of her, looking down into her face intently. He was close enough that she could see grey in his dark hair and lines of strain fanning out from his eyes and lips. He looked implacable, as though his iron hold on a huge empire was unshakable. It took its toll though, and made him seem somehow lonely. Which made him slightly more human in her eyes.

  He brought a hand up to her face. His fingers were long and rough. The middle one had an ornate ring on it that she suspected was Russian. The finger was crooked as though it had been badly broken once. She flinched, but forced herself to hold still when he pushed the hood back off her head. Without asking permission, he took a hand full of her hair and pulled it out from the hoodie, running his fingers down the long, wavy length. It flowed like a silk banner over her generous breasts down to her waist.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured, dropping the lock of hair and stepping away from her. “I see how you have managed to capture the kingpin’s attention. You would be a rare prize for the man.”

  Claudia frowned. She was getting sick of men thinking they could touch her without permission. She tucked the silken strand of hair behind her ear and stared up at Vladimir. He was studying her intently. She didn’t like the way he spoke of Tyson, like a business acquaintance or something. Finally she found her voice and said, “Anya said you could help me, Mr. Sitnikov.”


  Her words seemed to snap his focus away from his musings. “Please, call me Vladimir my dear. I apologize for my poor manners. It is just that I have long wondered if anything could crack the money machine that is Tyson King. It’s interesting to me that a young woman like yourself is the one to finally break into his exclusive tower.”

  Claudia snorted. “I don’t remember it happening quite that way.”

  He stared at her with chilling intensity. She really got the feeling that he was weighing how valuable she could be if used against the billionaire tycoon. She shivered at the thought of these two men clashing and really, really hoped that, for her sake, Anya hadn’t sent her into the lion’s den to be consumed. She knew there would be no way off his property without his express permission. Despite its outward charming exterior, she suspected she was currently standing in the middle of a modern day fortress.

  Crossing her arms in front of her chest she glared at him. “Anya would be extremely pissed if anything happened to me because of you.”

  He laughed, the sound deep and slightly unused. As though very little amused him enough to warrant laughter. She felt privileged. And also a lot like a little mouse trying to convince a lion not to eat her.

  “Yes, she would be annoyed,” he replied still eyeing her. “I can see why she has befriended you, Miss Cantore. You both possess a fighting spirit. This is something I can admire in a woman. Even if the fight is useless.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked defiantly.

  Vladimir went around behind his desk and sat in the big, dark chair. It looked like an extension of his body, comfortable, like a place from which he spent a lot of time running his vast empire. “What I mean, Claudia Cantore, is that you should go back to Tyson King and beg his forgiveness. Then ask him prettily to take care of this messy business you have found yourself in.”