The Final Hour Read online

Elation ran through her, but she managed to keep a straight face as she asked, “You already bought it, didn’t you?”

  “Technically, I own the building.”

  “Mish!”

  “I dabble in real estate.”

  “Of course you do, because having two clubs is not enough.”

  He shrugged, looking out one of the windows. “I can’t complain when I can give you the world.”

  “Next thing you know, I’m going to be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”

  “Love, you can’t cook.”

  She swatted his arm as he laughed. “I could learn.”

  Lauren couldn’t help but spin around in a circle, taking in her surroundings just one more time.

  “So this is really ours?” Lauren asked.

  “Yes.”

  She grabbed his face with both of her hands, going up on her toes to kiss him. “Ya lyublyu tebya.”

  “I ya tebya—And I love you. Welcome home.”

  “So how much is the—”

  “No.”

  She laughed, unable to do anything else. “What do you mean no? I didn’t get to finish.”

  “Whatever it is, no. You don’t have to pay for anything.”

  “But I want to,” Lauren insisted, tucking her arm into the crook of his elbow. “I know we’ll never be on equal footing, but I can at least feel like I’m contributing.”

  He looked like he still wanted to argue, but after glancing down at her, seeing that she was unrelenting, he finally caved. “Fine. The groceries for the apartment.”

  “Fine.”

  They were long gone from the building when Lauren thought about what he had said to her. “Wait, but we eat out most of the time?”

  He only smiled.

  While Mishca and Lauren were planning for their future, there was someone that was looking forward to ending Mishca’s freedom, as well as bringing down everything the Volkov Bratva had built. FBI Special Agent Tabitha Green had worked for the Organized Crime Division for the last five years, desperately trying to make a name for herself amongst the seasoned men that were still revered at the agency.

  And she knew that the case against the Volkov Bratva would be the one that made her career. She craved the fame, the recognition for her hard work, and she would do anything to make sure that it happened, no matter what lines she had to cross and what rules she had to bend.

  When she first joined the OCD, it was a man’s world, still was despite their being a more significant female presence on the team. It was no secret that some of them were trying to land the next big case, hoping for their own ten minutes of fame and a corner office, but until they reached that point, they were all stuck on the floor.

  Back when she had first arrived, the men had been more than happy to hand off their files on the Volkov Bratva. It was no secret that the Vory v Zakone was notoriously difficult to infiltrate, and despite what others might have said about them, there were just as many members, and were just as deadly—if not more so—than La Cosa Nostra.

  Relishing the challenge, Green had gladly accepted the case, and had been working it ever since. Fast forward five years, she was now on the brink of taking down an organization that had managed to elude the law for over two decades.

  But she wasn’t going to stop until she reached her endgame.

  Grabbing all of the information she had gathered from her confidential informant—which wasn’t much to begin with—she entered her superior’s office, a mask of indifference on her face. In her mind, she had no reason to worry.

  While she might not have been in the OCD for long, she had worked for the New York field office for a little over ten years, and was known for her unwavering ability to get her man. Since she brought in results, her superiors often looked the other way when she skirted the edge of the law to bring down the deadly criminals she sought, though it was doubtful they would continue to do so if they knew just how far she strayed.

  But that was just how she worked.

  She was attractive and she didn’t fool herself into believing that the only reason others thought she had her own task force was because she looked great in a skirt. She had worked her ass off to get where she was and she wasn’t going to let anyone or anything stand in her way.

  In a room full of men, she stood out, and was often overlooked just because of her gender. Because of this, she tried to stay up on her work, and made sure she was one step ahead of her colleagues.

  “How fairs the case against the Russians?” Taylor was a man that took his job seriously, and expected results.

  “We’ve made progress. I am confident within the next three months, we will have enough evidence to prosecute,” she lied effortlessly.

  Taylor rapped his fingers against his desk, looking skeptical. “We’ve received credible intelligence that the problem between the Russians and Albanians is escalating. Your man, what has he reported?”

  Agent Green cleared her throat, refusing to fidget under his stare. There was no reason for her to be intimidated. “We have it under control. I expect a call later this week.”

  “Keep me up to date.”

  Nodding, Green left his office.

  What her superior didn’t know was that her contact in the Volkov Bratva was not supplying as much information as he was supposed to. In the beginning, when he’d first infiltrated, he checked in every opportunity he was able, but now, she was lucky to get intel from him once a month.

  After the shooting at the club, she had already made her decision to pull him out—another reason why she made her appearance there—but he had asked for more time, wanting to get as much information as he could to take them all down, at least that was the reason he had given her. She doubted there was any more information he could get after being with them for so long, but she permitted it, thinking of the lovely corner office she would get once this case was done and the Volkov Bratva was in shambles.

  Lauren knew that it wasn’t going to always be sunshine while planning a quick wedding, but she didn’t realize just how stressed out she was going to get from it all. Though she had appointed Susan and Alex in charge of everything, she was still getting constant phone calls for last minute details, and it seemed like it would never end.

  She was currently laying with a pillow over her head, her phone ringing on the dresser beside her. Ten minutes of peace, that was all she needed. Once the shrill sound tapered off, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  …If only for a moment.

  Almost immediately, it started right back up again. Lauren thought about pulling her hair out, until she thought of the one thing that would have solved her problem hours ago.

  She turned off the damn sound.

  It was such a simple concept, yet it hadn’t crossed her mind until just then. Now that she was free from it, she could take an hour to herself.

  Lauren didn’t know how long she had ignored her phone as she lost herself in her book but the sound of a slamming door drew her out of it. Reaching for her phone, she winced when she noticed the numerous missed calls, especially when the majority of them were from Mishca. She had promised to always answer when he called, or at the very least, text a response.

  While he might not have worried initially, after the kidnapping, she knew it worried him more.

  As he burst into the room, for a split second, there was relief in his eyes as he scanned her from head to toe, but that was quickly replaced with anger since she was awake and had her phone in her hand.

  Yea, she could understand how that might look.

  “Why weren’t you answering your phone?” He barked at her, shutting the door behind him.

  Maybe it was the fact that he was snapping at her, or because she was just tired, but she wasn’t in the mood for his attitude, and she let him know that.

  “I didn’t know I needed to after talking to you like a couple hours ago.”

  “Six hours ago, Lauren,” he said, his voice rising. “Alex called me in a panic because you were
n’t answering!”

  “I haven’t left the house, Mish!” She shouted back sitting up. “I just wanted a damn hour to myself without having to worry about whether I want a tall centerpiece or a small one.”

  She was so irritated that she didn’t see Mishca reaching for her until he had already snagged her ankle, dragging her to the foot of the bed.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  But he didn’t answer her, instead showing her with his actions. He tugged on her pants, stripping them off of her in just moments. His intention was clear, making all the fight drain out of her as his hand moved between her legs, his fingers brushing over the center of her panties.

  Every protest she could think of died away, her attention too focused on the way he pulled the delicate lace to the side, using his fingers to rub against her.

  “You’re stressed, yes?” He asked, making her feel like his gaze was burning into her the way he was staring so intently at her face.

  “Mish—”

  “Yes or no?”

  “Yes.”

  Almost as soon as the word passed her lips, he pressed a finger inside of her, slowly drawing it out, adding another finger as he pushed back in. She reached for him, wanting to touch him, feel him beneath her hands, but he shook his head.

  “Hands down.” His voice was hard, but there was a layer of need in his tone that made her shiver all over.

  When she complied, his face disappeared between her legs. Her thighs were quivering as she accepted what he was giving her, but it wasn’t just how amazing he was at the act itself, but the deep, throaty groans he made as he did it, like he got off on it just as much as she did.

  Her head fell back as soon as his tongue curled against her, his arm going over her waist to keep her in place.

  She tunneled her fingers through his hair, gripping the strands tight as she fought not to cum as he continued his onslaught, but there was no point in trying to hold back from him, not when he was determined to make her break apart.

  He didn’t stop, not until she was begging him to, but even then, he didn’t seem like he was ready to be done with her.

  Never bothering to undress any further than undoing his jeans and sliding them down his muscled thighs, Mishca pulled her down the bed, his movements urgent.

  Breathless pleas fell past her lips as he rubbed the head of his cock between her folds, then finally, but slowly, entering her.

  His lips were at her ear, uttering words in Russian that she couldn’t hope to understand, but that didn’t stop her body from responding to them.

  His fingers dug into her hips as he used her, just as she used him, to get off. Seconds, minutes, hours, time didn’t matter as she let everything go, reveling in the moment with him.

  He reared back, his gaze intent on her face as he rotated his hips, shifting to a deeper angle. She didn’t have to say that she was close for him to know, he always did.

  Lauren held onto his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she went up to kiss him. “I love you.” The words were barely a whisper against his lips, but he shuddered, pounding harder.

  Her orgasm struck her out of nowhere, her entire body seizing up. Mishca’s hold around her tightened as he found his own release, both breathing heavily as they fell back onto the bed.

  Her legs were trembling on either side of him, but he was too busy nuzzling her throat to notice. “Better?”

  If she could just lay with him for the rest of the day, just like this, she doubted anything else could upset her. “Yes.”

  “Next time, just talk to me.”

  She was tired, exhausted really, but she did had enough energy to laugh, snuggling closer to his side. “No, I think I quite liked how you did that.”

  “The fuck is dove gray?” Luka asked, looking through a collection of fabrics for any indication.

  Alex had made it clear what colors the groomsmen were allowed to wear, and made sure that Mishca enforced the rules. Their suits would be the soft gray color, white button-downs, and royal blue bow ties.

  Since it was the weekend, currently, Mishca, Luka, and Vlad were in a boutique, getting fitted for their tuxes. Vlad had gone first, and now Luka and Mishca were up. With the wedding date fast approaching, things had become far more erratic than they’d been over the last three weeks. Now that Lauren was more open with him, he was now the go-to person for the few details, and if either of them got too agitated…well, they figured out a way that would help them both.

  Roger was measuring Mishca’s arm span when the door to the shop opened. Everyone’s eyes turned to Mikhail as he entered alone. Like always, he was impeccably dressed, looking every bit of the mafia boss he was.

  Through the mirror, Mishca watched his father, wondering why he was there when he had made his feelings on Mishca’s relationship with Lauren quite clear. With a look, he sent Luka and Vlad out.

  When they were alone—Roger had been a friend of the Bratva for years—Mikhail took a seat, studying Mishca with a contented smile.

  “I remember a time when you refused to dress like a man of your position. Now here you are, being fitted for yet another four-thousand dollar suit.”

  “Not this time. This one has a different meaning.”

  Mikhail made a sound of disapproval, shaking his head. “What is this, Mishca? I hear about this, this wedding from my lieutenants, but not my only son.”

  “And what would you have said? I’m making a mistake? That love has no place in our world?” He then leveled a stare on him that could only be read as irritation. “And we both know I’m not the only son.”

  Mikhail, wisely ignoring the jibe, laughed heartily. “Is that not true?”

  “Not always.”

  As Roger finished with his measuring, he took a step back, quietly excusing himself to let Mishca appreciate his work—and gave them much needed privacy.

  “I thought you would learn from my mistakes, but you are a fool. You inherited this trait from your mother.”

  “What exactly did you come here for? I doubt it was just to annoy me, you could have done that in a phone call.”

  Some days, Mishca didn’t realize just how much of a good little soldier he had been during the days when he blindly followed Mikhail’s orders. He still didn’t fully understand why Mikhail allowed it, or if it was just because he was looking for someone to challenge him. Either way, he wasn’t backing down now.

  “Anya is gone.”

  Mishca sighed because he would have preferred to hear anything but that. Anya was the last person he felt like thinking about. “How long?”

  “Who is to say.”

  “And what about the idiots you had guarding her?” Mishca asked, wishing he did smoke so he could light up a cigarette and find a little relief.

  “Two found dead, the others are missing, presumed dead.” Mikhail didn’t sound particularly upset by the news. Hell, he had sounded more upset when he had scuffed a pair of his shoes.

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Nothing. You are going to find her and this. I should have finished her when I had the opportunity, but that is what you are for.”

  Mikhail stood, smoothing the front of his clothes as he smiled at Mishca.

  “Tell me, did you bring this to me only because you wanted me to take her out because of what she might do, or solely because of the fact that she’s Alex’s mother.”

  As he had done so many times in the past, Mikhail simply smiled and took his exit.

  Lauren thought she looked cute, but Mishca didn’t seem to appreciate her outfit. She rarely wore anything this revealing, but Amber had insisted, and with Alex as her wing-woman, she couldn’t be deterred.

  “You don’t like it?” Lauren asked with a smile, spinning around so he could get the full effect.

  “You look beautiful,” he said though he still looked like he wanted her to go and change. “Must you wear this?”

  “Oh, stop your complaining, Mish,” Alex piped up, roll
ing her eyes. “She’s pretty tame considering what I wanted to put her in.”

  Mishca was not in a good mood, but Lauren had a pretty good idea as to why.

  Tonight was her bachelorette party.

  Despite her initial reservations, and outright denial that she would participate, Amber had convinced her that it was a right of passage—one that she refused to let Lauren miss.

  They had tried to go in secret, hoping to make a clean break, but Alex should have known that her brother knew what she had been planning before she had. He had promptly appeared at the door before they could leave.

  “There’s no reason for you to be jealous, Mish. Lauren should be the least of your worries.”

  That didn’t help make him feel better. He folded his arms across his chest, flickering his eyes from Alex to Lauren.

  “Luka goes.”

  “He can’t,” Lauren protested. “I don’t know how many times I have to remind you that he’s going to do something that will send people fleeing, or he’ll just go ahead and shoot them.”

  Alex was quick to agree, though for totally different reasons. “Luka can’t go, what if we want strippers?”

  If anything, that made Mishca angrier. “Luka goes and there will be no damn strippers. Eto moi prikaz—that is an order.”

  Alex and Amber laughed in the background, Lauren fighting her own smile as she narrowed her eyes on Mishca. “Did you just order me?”

  “Luka can be the stripper if that makes you feel any better,” Alex chimed in, winking at the enforcer who smiled at her in return.

  “Wipe that damn smirk off your face,” Mishca snapped, irritably. “And yes, that was an order.”

  “Don’t worry, babe. We’ll have a chaperone.”

  “We will?” Alex and Amber both echoed.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention that Natasha is coming.”

  Amber gave no reaction to the name, but Alex and Luka both looked startled by that. Lauren hadn’t been around her long, but she thought it would be fun for her to go as well.

  When she saw Mishca gradually calming, Alex grew upset. “How do you trust her more than me?”

  A knock at the door cut Mishca off before he could respond. Since Luka was closest, he pulled it open, Natasha standing on the other side.