Read The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2) for Free Online

button-down felt too damned fancy for his T-shirt-and-jeans taste. But for G, he’d wear it. At least until the vows were exchanged.
    The new boss hadn’t wanted to single any one of his friends out as best man, so, being the diplomatic guy he was, Gabriel had asked all of them to stand for him. Vincente, Alek, and Maksim would be at his side.
    He and Gabriel had known one another since they were little, hanging out at weddings and baptisms and shit, but it hadn’t been until they were in middle school that they’d become close friends. One of the first things Vincente had noticed about the youngest Moretti was his wariness when dealing with their classmates. Even as a boy, Gabriel had operated with caution. And Vincente had seen firsthand why.
    Stefano.
    He wondered idly if Gabriel’s brother would show tonight, but he doubted it.
    They’d been in sixth grade, and Vincente had been late for school that day—he’d had to drop his sister off first because their mama had a doctor’s appointment. He’d come around the corner, aiming for the front doors of the building, and had seen Gabriel, who’d been oversize even then, same as him, crouched down picking up his books spilled around the pavement, backpack empty. His older brother, Stefano, had been standing over him. No backbone , Stefano had said with a sneer as he kicked a math textbook just out of Gabriel’s reach. Why don’t you call Pops? He’ll teach you how to stand up for yourself, you spoiled little shit. With no reaction to the words, or the bullying antics, Gabriel had reached over, gathered the rest of his belongings, straightened, and walked away. As he’d passed by to enter the school, he’d given Vincente a too-mature-for-his-age nod and carried on about his biz. Ten fuckin’ years old.
    That was the first time in his life Vincente had known what it was to be impressed by someone. He’d hooked up with the youngest Moretti that very day at first recess and had been with him ever since, at his back, where he’d stay until one of them took his final breath.
    The sound of voices had him looking up to see Vasily Tarasov in the foyer. He nodded to Eva’s father, head of one of the most powerful Russian organizations in the States today. The guy headed straight upstairs, clearly anxious to hang with his kid.
    Vasily’s two heavies, Dmitri and Aron, could be heard talking with Vito, their own doorkeeper—enforcer—of the night, ensconced in the alcove at the entrance, his ball game on the small plasma screen set inconspicuously into the wall.
    How would Nika greet him when she arrived?
    Would she smile at him? Would those emerald eyes flash with remembrance of the last time they’d been together? Maybe she’d walk over in that relaxed way she moved . . . Yeah, with her old man trailing behind.
    He glanced up when heavy footsteps sounded and almost groaned when Maksim sauntered in. Great. Just what he needed. Ten minutes of the Russian’s penchant for riding Vincente’s ass until he wanted to throw down. Uh-huh. G would be real proud with them, clothes torn to shreds, faces and knuckles bleeding, standing next to him as Eva walked down the aisle.
    Maks spotted him and came right over, snagging a couple of carrot sticks off a tray on the bar as he passed. “Parents and brother were murdered,” he said before crunching the vegetable between his even white teeth. “Found in their home with their throats slashed. No forced entry. No one ever charged.”
    Vincente stared at the freak of nature. Guy was six feet seven inches of I’ll-fuck-you-up-with-a-smile . His massive body was hard and muscled and covered by tattoos only another Russian mobster would know the meanings of. He’d recently begun to grow his hair out, after having shaved it clean off for more years than Vincente could remember. Maks was now sporting a dark Julius Caesar do that worked liked nobody’s business.
    And if it hadn’t? Who would have told him?
    Well, he would have.