Russian Mobster's Pregnant Mistress Page 8

  Maggie squeezed him tightly. Her gut was telling her this was going to get a whole lot messier before it was over. “I trust you,” she said. Miracle of all miracles, it was even true.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jacob rolled to his side, opening his eyes when he reached out and felt an empty bed beside him. A quick glance at the clock told him it was later than usual. In the two weeks he and Maggie had been living together he’d discovered her to be a bit of an early riser.

  “Hey.” She appeared in the bedroom doorway with a warm smile on her face. “I thought I heard you moving around in here.”

  “I was looking for you.” He stretched, feeling a sense of contentment that no business deal could match. “Come back to bed.”

  Maggie walked a little farther into the bedroom and perched on the edge of the mattress. Her hand settled on his hip as though she couldn’t stand to be this close without touching him. The idle stroking of her fingers was heaven. Jacob gently covered her hand with his and laced their fingers together.

  “I woke up starving,” she explained. “So I went ahead and made some breakfast.”

  Jacob became aware of a delectable smell wafting its way through the penthouse. He inhaled deeply. “You made coffee.”

  “Of course. Someone is useless without his morning cup.” She gave his fingers a squeeze. “I’m kind of surprised there’s not an espresso machine in the bedroom so you can grab a quick fix before morning sex.”

  “Let’s just say there are other things about morning sex that wake me up far more enjoyably than any cup of coffee.” Jacob waggled his eyebrows at her, unable to contain his smile once she started giggling.

  “It doesn’t feel like it’s only been two weeks,” Maggie said with a sigh. “This has been like a dream. I just wish it could last forever.”

  Jacob sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. “Let’s not think about that.”

  “We have to think about it soon,” she said darkly. “I have my first meeting with the FBI”—she made a face—“handlers this afternoon.”

  “Not thinking about that!” he said loudly. “Not thinking about it. Not. Not.”

  Jacob swept Maggie off her feet and cradled her against his chest. “Now, what was that about breakfast?”

  “Have I told you lately how much I love breakfast?” Maggie gave an exaggerated sigh. “The yummy baked goods and fluffy eggs, and all of the pancakes! So good to eat!”

  She was still listing off her seemingly endless list of favorite breakfast foods when Jacob carried her into the kitchen. It was obvious she’d been busy this morning. There were blueberry muffins, scrambled eggs, biscuits that looked light enough to float off the plate, crispy bacon, and plump sausage links.

  “I believe this is a very American breakfast.” Jacob set Maggie on a barstool in front of a plate and picked up a muffin for himself.

  She piled her plate with food and began eating with gusto. “What do you eat in Russia?”

  “Kasha,” he mused. “It’s porridge made of buckwheat. Or bliny, which are these thin pancake things.”

  She looked fascinated. “Maybe I could try making some of that.”

  “Have you always liked to cook?” Jacob asked. “I realize that we really haven’t had as much time as I might like to get to know each other.”

  “Quitting my job at the law firm to hang out here has speeded up that process considerably, you know,” she pointed out. “And I like to cook breakfast. Lunch and dinner not so much.”

  The final piece of a puzzle that had been taking shape in Jacob’s mind snapped into place. He mulled it over along with his muffin. Both were very appetizing and showed an incredible amount of promise.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked between bites of biscuit.

  “That I want this life with you.”

  She laid her palm against his cheek. “I wish it was that easy.”

  This was not the time to argue his point. Today was the beginning and he needed to know that she was ready. “Do you remember how this meeting with Taggart is meant to go?”

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “I could hardly forget. It’s pretty much the only thing on my mind these days.”

  “That’s not a bad thing.”

  She snorted. “Speak for yourself. I’m just obsessed with not going back to jail. It’s not like I’m fantasizing about Taggart or anything.”

  “I would hope not. That bastard is on my list.”

  “I’m hoping you’re talking about your list of important people to avoid and not another sort of list which would just create more trouble.” Maggie shot him a warning look. “Because we all know that Taggart has to be breathing in order for any of this to work.”

  Sasha came striding into the kitchen. “Such a shame, really,” he quipped.

  “Sasha!” Maggie smiled warmly. “Are you hungry? There’s plenty of food.”

  Sasha eyed the impressive selection of breakfast choices on the counter. “I see that. Are you doing that nesting thing I’ve heard pregnant women do?”

  “Good Lord, I’m only two months along!” Maggie moaned. “Am I doomed to hear these pregnant woman accusations for the next seven months? That is going to get so old!”

  “You’re the one who went and got knocked up,” Courtney added as she sauntered in from the direction of the front door.

  “Hey!” Maggie gestured to her flannel pajamas. “I’m not exactly dressed to receive guests.”

  “So go put some clothes on.” Courtney gave a discreet cough. “You’ve sort of let yourself go since entering the housewife profession.”

  Jacob drew back, holding up his hands as though he were surrendering. “You’re braver than I am. Don’t you know it’s a death sentence to say something like that to a pregnant woman?”

  “Ugh!” Maggie huffed. “Enough with the pregnancy stuff. Weren’t we meeting to go over the master plan?”

  Jacob put an arm around Maggie, wanting to soothe her without seeming too obvious. He knew she wanted to be strong. He also knew that what was coming was a big worry for her. No matter how much they all claimed to have a part to play, Maggie was the one who had to sell the whole deal.

  ***

  Maggie shifted from foot to foot, trying not to seem nervous and yet knowing that it didn’t really matter either way. Special Agent in Charge Taggart was going to expect her to be nervous. So if Maggie seemed nonchalant would that make him think something was amiss? In fact there were so many ways to overthink this situation she could have easily driven herself insane trying to anticipate them all.

  “Hello, Maggie.” Taggart took a seat on the park bench beside her. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

  “You do realize that this is all happening like a really bad B movie, right?” Maggie couldn’t help but point out. “Seriously. FBI agent meets with informant in a public park and pretends they’re not having a conversation while sharing the same park bench.”

  Taggart shrugged. “It’s just the way we do things.”

  “It’s lame.”

  “Your opinion is noted, but not necessary.” Taggart looked impatient. “So? What do you have for us? You’ve been there two weeks. Our commitment is a three week duration. As far as I’m concerned, you’d better have enough info to really blow my skirt up.”

  “There’s a lovely mental image. Thank you.” Maggie wondered if he could tell from her voice and her body language how much she loathed him. “It’s not like Jacob sits around and discusses his business plans with me.”

  “You’re living in his home,” Taggart insisted. “Surely you’ve got something.”

  “Well there is this meeting,” she hedged.

  Taggart leaned forward in his seat, obviously eager. Maggie let him ruminate on that for just a moment. She needed him to be frothing at the mouth, and to think it was costing her big time to divulge this stuff. It couldn’t seem like she was spoon feeding him bullshit.

  “Who is he meeting with?” Taggart pressed.

  �
��I’m not sure who will be there, but I know it’s about a really big shipment of cars.” She gave a one shoulder shrug. “I don’t want to say they’re stolen, because I don’t know that for sure. But I know they’re imports. The really expensive kind.”

  Taggart whipped out a little black notebook and a pen. “When is this meeting?”

  “Tomorrow night.” She hedged a little as if she were truly reticent to tell him. “It’s at Jacob’s warehouse down on the wharf.”

  “Excellent!” Taggart stood up, obviously done with Maggie for the moment.

  “Hey!” she said indignantly. “So is this it? I mean, I’m done right? I can go back to my regular life and you guys will leave me alone?”

  Taggart snorted. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re a mafia whore. As far as we’re concerned, you’re ours until we’re through with you.” Taggart’s expression of superiority made her blood boil.

  “Your commitment might be three weeks, but after that we can run you in on conspiracy charges just about any way we want.” He pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slipped them on. “You might as well consider yourself FBI property, Ms. Morrison. Until you’ve outlived your usefulness of course. Then it’ll be a prison sentence or probation for you. The judge will have to decide. Either way it won’t be my problem.”

  Taggart left and Maggie sat for a while, staring at the ducks frolicking in a pond not far away. She wondered if she would have chosen differently that night at Club 599 if she had known how things would turn out. What Taggart was telling her was that no matter what sort of agreement she had with the FBI, they weren’t going to honor it anyway. She would eventually end up in court. Her life would be over.

  A soft breeze ruffled the loose hair around Maggie’s face and neck. She tried to imagine what it might be like to live somewhere other than New York. It was strange, but her thoughts kept returning to Jacob. She didn’t care anymore where she lived. She simply wanted to be with him. She wanted a chance to have a real life, both for them and for their child.

  Standing up, Maggie put a protective hand over her belly. Jacob had told her weeks ago that she had to trust him. She did. Probably more than she had ever trusted anyone else in her life.

  “Hello, sweetheart.” Jacob’s softly accented voice soothed her ragged emotions. “Have you been waiting long?”

  “Not long.”

  They both knew they were being watched. This was probably one of the most important parts of the entire scenario. The FBI had to believe that she was trapped and that their plan to keep her dependent on them was secure.

  “What’s wrong?” Jacob asked, his expression looking almost wooden.

  “Have you thought anymore about what I asked you?” she prodded. “You know, before?”

  “About marriage?”

  “Yes.” Maggie held her breath. This was fake, yet there was a tiny part of her that worried she could truly be trapped in this snare of FBI bullshit.

  “Sweetheart, I cannot marry.” Jacob’s delivery was so sincere that Maggie felt her stomach knot with tension. “A man in my line of work must maintain his freedom. I’ve told you that I will happily provide for you and for my son, but I’m simply not ready to settle down. I won’t be here too much longer anyway, you know.”

  “You mentioned that,” Maggie murmured.

  “Of course, my son will accompany me back to Russia.” Jacob rested a hand on her belly. “Since he will have dual citizenship he can walk in both worlds.”

  “So you’d raise him to follow in your footsteps?” Maggie asked. The question might have been a ruse, but the sentiment was real. Did she honestly want her child—her family—immersed in this world?

  “Of course,” Jacob assured her. “He would be a Dolohov. It’s his birthright.”

  Maggie didn’t say anything else. She had played her part. There was just a tiny portion of her heart that worried she’d played it too well.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “This is a bad idea,” Sasha muttered. “In fact I cannot believe you talked me into this.”

  Jacob hid a grin. Sasha would not have appreciated it, nor was the timing particularly appropriate. “Are you sure your contact at the morgue is going to be ready?”

  Sasha snarled something in Russian. Jacob gave the man a pass on the bad attitude. All things considered, Sasha was entitled to be a little tense. In the back of the van, Igor and Vasily were in much the same condition. Jacob seemed to be the only one in good spirits.

  They turned into the darkened bay behind the morgue. Jacob moved to get out of the van. Sasha grabbed his arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I need to make sure the likeness is good, don’t you think?”

  “The records are falsified in the system. It doesn’t matter!” Sasha griped.

  Jacob yanked his arm away and jumped out of the van. “Unless the corpse is a five foot tall, five hundred pound Italian.”

  Sasha was still cursing in Russian when Jacob opened the back doors of their van. A man pushing a gurney appeared at the morgue exit. Sasha’s contact rolled the corpse they’d acquired down to the bottom of the bay. The man’s hand was hanging out from beneath the sheet, dangling lifelessly as the body trolled along. Jacob had seen his fair share of corpses. This one was a little different.

  “I got your body,” the man said in a heavy New Yorker accent. “You got my dough?”

  Jacob didn’t speak, tossing an envelope at the man’s chest in response. The guy snatched it up and fingered the cash before heaving the body unceremoniously into the back of the van.

  “We’re good.” The guy turned on his heel and shoved the gurney back toward the morgue.

  Sasha managed to wait until Jacob had buckled his seatbelt. “I’m going to give you one more chance to stop this madness,” Sasha said quietly.

  “A few weeks ago you thought this was the best route to take. I know you did.” Jacob faced the man who had been friend and comrade since they were adolescents in the tenements of Moscow. “You have envied me my position for nearly as long as I have held it. Why the change of heart?”

  Sasha put the van in gear and started the short trek to the wharf. “I will miss you.”

  “And I’ll miss you.” Jacob put a hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “But this is what I want.”

  “Have you explained the entire plan to Maggie?”

  This was the rub in Jacob’s scheme to gain his freedom. “No. I couldn’t risk it. She needs to believe I’m dead in order to convince the FBI. If they believe she’s hiding something, Taggart will never leave her alone.”

  Sasha shook his head. “You realize the risk you are taking?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then who am I to stand in your way?” Sasha said quietly.

  ***

  Jacob pulled his car up in front of the warehouse and put it in park. He exited the vehicle and paused, turning several times to ensure anyone watching the building would be absolutely certain it was him.

  Finally he yawned and made his way into the warehouse. He gazed around with a new sense of something approaching nostalgia. This was going to be his last time seeing his office and these familiar surroundings. Was he truly ready to give up his position as head of the Dolohov syndicate?

  “About time you showed up,” Sasha said from the top of the metal staircase leading to Jacob’s office. “I was wondering if you’d left your balls back at the penthouse with your mistress.”

  “At some point you’re going to have to address your jealousy, Sasha,” Jacob said with a sneer. “It’s really becoming an occupational hazard.”

  Sasha opened the door, purposefully carrying their argument inside. “And what would I be jealous of?” Sasha let the door slam closed behind them. “The way you cannot seem to see that this woman is screwing you over?”

  “What?”

  “She’s working for the FBI!” Sasha shouted. “Can you not see this? We’ve told you again an
d again that Maggie is working for the enemy, but you will not listen.”

  Jacob shook his head and spoke in Russian. “Draw not your bow before your arrow is fixed, my friend.”

  “My arrow is fixed.” Sasha lifted his hand and ten Dolohov men stepped out of the shadows. “We have come together tonight to judge you, Jacob Dolohov.”

  Though Jacob had been expecting it, the sight of his own men aligned against him still raised the hackles of his primal self. These were his men. He had fought and scraped and bled for them over the years. To see them side with Sasha was a bitter pill to swallow even though these had been his orders.

  “All of you?” Jacob shouted. “All of you are here to judge me? Me?”

  “The meeting with the importer for your cars was just a ruse to get you here, Jacob.” Sasha raised his voice so that it would carry, even beyond the walls. “I claim the support of our men and the leadership of this family!”

  The hairs on the back of Jacob’s neck lifted as he heard the warehouse door fly open. Not even knowing what was to come could prepare him for the shock of seeing Maggie standing in the doorway.

  Maggie’s heart was hammering in her chest. She could barely breathe. Never in her life had she been so afraid for an outcome. Worse, seeing Sasha and the other Dolohovs aligned against Jacob was horrible even though she knew it was supposed to happen.

  “What are you doing here?” Jacob started to move toward her, but Sasha pulled a gun from a shoulder holster.

  “Ah, ah,” Sasha warned. “Stay away from the traitorous bitch.”

  Maggie bristled at the insult, plan or no plan. “Who’s the traitor now?” she snarled at Sasha. “I heard you talking to Vasily earlier. That’s why I came.” Maggie held her hands out to Jacob. “I’m not what he says, Jacob.”

  “What do you mean?” Jacob asked slowly. “You told me what the FBI wanted you to do. You told me that they accepted you had no information on our organization. You said they let you go!”

  “They did,” Maggie agreed. “But I had to agree to spy for them.”

  The hurt on Jacob’s face looked so very real it made her heart clench. “What?”