The Accountant

Chapter 29 Dead Man Walking The Enemy Antoine Lemonte

He was cleverer than most men and he knew it. Dinara Vasiliy. She was on her way to him. Or she will

once this was over.

A bit damaged but he didn't care. He licked his lips in anticipation.

His next mission. Money. Lots of it. And of course, the new tzarina. But he was hesitant over executing

the rest of his plans.

Dominic's bitch might prove to be a handful while the mafia princess was as sweet as they come.

The anticipation was killing him. Nevertheless, he had to wait for the perfect timing. Jordan had the girl

hidden somewhere.

Antoine will give her time to heal before he trained her to be his perfect slave.

His cellphone vibrated and he checked who was trying to call him. Ahh. Speaking of Jordan.

"Antoine, we have the girl at the safe house."

"Good. Set up the camera. It's time to play with the Russian tzar."

He knew the Vasiliys had no choice but to give in to his demands or they would be witnessing him

defile their precious princess. He had always preferred them young. The younger the better.

As soon as the camera was on, his eyes were glued to sleeping beauty. Good. Someone had tended to

the bullet wound on her shoulder. He smirked. Defiant little minx. He would enjoy breaking her in. In

every possible way.

"It's ready, boss."

"Start recording."

He'd be a billionaire in a few hours.

_______________

Dominic

What had transpired at the prison's cell left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Samuel Grant had been at one time one of his father's trusted men. Even made him one of Dominic's

godfathers.

Money was the root of it all. He became greedy and it was his downfall.

Before he killed the old bastard, he made a lengthy confession to him and his father. The millions he

had stolen, how their group hired Antoine to kill Beau. And how they had paid the fucking bastard time

and again to do whatever needs to be done to finish the job.

No one was able to control Dominic after that. How he wished he could have killed the man over and

over again.

Fuck! It was dawn and the sun was rising. Rafael and his men were resting at the barracks and he and

Alec and his father were on their way home.

Just a few hours of sleep holding his detka then they'd be prowling the streets of San Francisco once

more. To find and kill Antoine Lemonte.

They had enough information to eventually locate him. Beau would know what to do.

His tzarina was really amazing. A true partner. With her by his side, they would be unstoppable.

Dominic closed his eyes briefly. Almost home.

The tension that had almost left him from the anticipation of seeing Beau went back in spades. He

knew something was terribly wrong as soon as they stepped out of the car.

Sobbing. Deep wails of anguished. His detka. Motherfucker! To this date, he had never seen his detka

cry. She was tough at hiding her emotions.

Losing patience, he lengthened his strides and found her slumped at the foot of the stairs, his mother

was crying with her.

His stomach roiled and he heard his father growl.

Each one of them had their women cradled in their arms in a heartbeat.

"Detka, my love." He whispered on her fragrant hair. She was trembling in his arms.

"Dominic, it's my fault." She sobbed helplessly. Her strength had significantly dwindled and she sagged

against him.

"Talk to me." He saw his mother whispering in anguish to his dad.

"They took Dinara and it's my fault." His heart clenched at her words. He held her tighter seeking

solace. For the first time in his life, he felt like crying with his woman.

But he kept it together. He was the Mafia tzar. He would do what he does best and find his baby sister.

Glancing down at his dekta, he willed her to stop crying. She only sobbed harder. And she was

shaking. This wouldn't do.

His eyes found Alec and Dr. Hope. Both were holding unto each other. "Do you have something to

relax Beau? This is not good for the baby."

"Yes, tzar. Let's go to the clinic."

"Alec round up our men. We are going to find our sister." He strolled to the doctor's clinic with his

precious baby girl in his arms. Still weeping hysterically. Fuck it!

Clinging to him, she protested when he was about to lay her on the bed. "Dominic," she whispered. Her

arms tightened on his neck.

"Shhh, baby. Let's make sure you and our baby are alright." He kissed her forehead and laid on the bed

with her. Combing her hair gently, he nodded to the doctor.

"This is just to put her to sleep while I check the fetus, tzar. This will also calm her." He nodded.

Trusting Alec's woman.

Beau's sobs turned to soft whimpers and she steadily grew heavy in his arms. He closed his eyes. NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

Glad he could do this to her.

Hearing a deep whooshing sound, like a beat of a pulse underwater, he opened his stormy grays. His

baby.

Dr. Hope nodded reassuringly. "He is healthy."

Dominic slowly disengaged from his detka's embrace and gently pressed his lips to her temple. "He?"

The doctor shook her head yes. Eyes soft. Fondly assessing the baby's heartbeat.

"Yes. Beau would always refer to your baby as HE. She kept telling me, she knew it will be a boy. We

will know for sure in the second trimester."

God! Now she was in pain because she thought it was her fault Dinara was gone. It was not anyone's

fault but Antoine.

"Please stay with her until I get back?"

"I will, tzar. Go and find my best friend."

***

"Play it." A package was dropped by a boy at the gates of their estate. They tried to question him but

he knew nothing. He was paid by a friend of a friend and he did his job.

Dinara's kidnapper was trying to be clever. Let's see.

'Dominic Vasiliy, mafia king. Not feeling so powerful now, eh?'

They couldn't see anyone on the video except his sister Dinara, unconscious, covered in bandages on

the bed. Her face was shrouded by her blond hair but they knew it was her.

'Rafael, hermano, I know you are listening. And I know you are working with The Butcher. I will do to

her what I did to our sisters.'

Dominic was breathing deeply. And the vein in his temple was throbbing. His hands were clenched so

tightly.