Hope filled her gaze but she shook her head. "You can't fix this. These people? The cartel? They are not going to simply trade my father for a painting."
"No," Yuri agreed. "I'm sure they'll want more."
"Yuri," she said softly, "you can't—"
He silenced her with a kiss. "I can, and I will."
"But—"
He kissed her again, putting an end to the protests. "Go upstairs and wait for me. I'll handle this."
She glanced at Tommy. Even though she was angry with him, her concern for her cousin won. "You won't hurt him?"
"No. I think Sasha taught him a lesson." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "Go."
With a nod, she pulled out of his embrace and left the kitchen. Without needing to be asked, Feodor followed her. He didn't worry about the older man repeating anything he'd heard. He trusted Feodor with his life.
When they were alone with Tommy, Nikolai asked, "What do you want me to do with him?"
Lena's cousin looked like he was about to piss his pants. Although he rather enjoyed making him squirm, he showed mercy on the would-be thief. "Get him patched up and stow him in a safe place. I want him under lock and key until this is over and no phone or internet access. I don't trust him. He might throw my Lena to the wolves to save his own ass."
"I wouldn't! I promise. I won't hurt her."
"You've already hurt her."
Nikolai gestured for him to come closer. Turning his back on Tommy, Nikolai slipped into their mother tongue. "Look, Guzman is going to want that painting back. For a high-end item like that, I'd typically go to Joe Cruz for information. Unfortunately…"
"I can handle that end of things. I have a friend who knows everyone in the art world. He's the one who helped me start my collection."
"The Dane?"
Yuri nodded. "If anyone can find a hot Galán, it will be Niels."
"Good luck on that front." Nikolai glanced back at Tommy. "You understand that this could get messy. That shit that Ivan went through to save Erin will look like child's play by the time this is over." Nikolai slashed his fingers across his throat. "They're probably going to want a head for the original theft of the painting."
Yuri felt Tommy's intense stare but didn't give the man the satisfaction of acknowledgment. "Let's hope it doesn't get that far."
"And if it does?"
"It won't."
Nikolai's jaw tensed. "You've been in this glamorous world of yours so long you've forgotten what it's like down here in the rotten shit with the rest of us."
Yuri rubbed the back of his neck. He bristled at Nikolai's assertion that he'd gotten soft but maybe his dearest friend was right. "Look, one thing this glamorous world has taught me is that everyone has a price—even a man like Lorenzo Guzman."
"But are you willing to pay it? This won't come cheaply."
Lena's smiling face flashed before his eyes. "I'll do it whatever it takes to protect her and to save her father."
Nikolai studied him. "I'll see if I can arrange a meeting. It might be difficult with my history."
Yuri frowned. "Your history?" And then it hit him. "Shit! Vivian's father?"
Nikolai nodded. "That outlaw motorcycle club he rides with runs protection, guns and drugs for the Guzman Cartel."
"Hell!"
"It's probably going to add a considerable premium to the cost of doing business with them."
"It's fine. I'll cover it." Yuri considered what his terms should be. "I want proof of life and a daily phone call between Lena and her father until we get this mess sorted out to my satisfaction. Let them know I want him in one piece and as unharmed as possible." He considered the mayhem and barbarism so often in the papers and on the news. "No beatings, no starvation, no torture."
"Yeah. Okay."
Yuri grasped Nikolai's shoulder. "Thank you. I know how much you're risking by helping me."
"You've risked more for me. I'm happy to do this for you."
Yuri was surprised Nikolai had brought up the ugly episode from their childhood. It was a thing none of them ever discussed. For Nikolai to bring it up now…
Kostya entered the kitchen with his heavy bags slung over his shoulder. The knees of his scrubs were stained red. "It's done." His gaze jumped to Tommy. "Should I take care of him now?"
Yuri's lips twitched at the horrified expression on Tommy's face. "Yes. Get him to the doctor. I'll settle up the account tomorrow."
Kostya crossed the kitchen for a better look at Tommy. He peeked under the towel and winced. "The doctor is going to charge more for that. Do you want to pay the extra fee for anesthesia?"
Tommy looked like he was going to pass out at the very idea of going through the surgery required to put his arm back together without any pain relief. Yuri showed some pity and nodded. "Whatever it takes. Make him comfortable."
Tommy's shoulders rounded as he fell forward in a relief. "Thank you."
Yuri ignored him. Nikolai clapped him on the back. "We've got this. You should go upstairs and talk to her."
Nikolai's romantic notion surprised him. He expected that kind of thing from Ivan or Dimitri. Maybe he wasn't the only one getting soft…
He shook Nikolai's hand and hugged him quickly. "Thank you."
Nikolai made a dismissive gesture and stepped toward Tommy and Kostya. "Get up. Keep that towel wrapped tightly. I won't have you bleeding all over my damn car…"
After leaving the kitchen, Yuri found Feodor sitting on the stairs. He sat next to the old man he'd long considered a mentor and leaned back on his elbows. It had been Feodor who had taught Yuri the art of street economics and Feodor who had pushed him to be ambitious once he'd finished his time in the military. Everything he had today, he owed to this man.
Side by side, they watched Nikolai, Kostya and Tommy leave. The situation struck Yuri as being so surreal. He'd always managed to insulate himself from the seedier side of life but now it was right here in his home. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.
With a heavy sigh, Feodor finally spoke. "This is very serious."
"Yes."
"One night with this woman and now you've got a cartel knocking on your front door."
He heard the warning loud and clear. "To be fair, I've already had the Russian mob walking in and out of that door since I broke ground here."
Feodor made a humph noise. "That's different. That's something you understand. That's your history. This? This is all new—and very violent."
"This isn't her fault. She didn't ask to be born into a family of criminals any more than I asked to be abandoned in a public park."
"You care about this girl." It wasn't a question. Feodor stated it as fact.
"Yes. Very much."
"She's like you." Feodor held his gaze. "I can see it in her eyes, in her face. She knows where you come from because she's been there. She's a good match."