This Cradle Won't Fall (The American Soldier Collection 18)

“The McCann men? Those soldiers you told me about, Ella?” Aunt Gay asked, smiling.

“You told her about them already? She just got here?” Evonna asked.

“Are you kidding me? Gay asked who was vying for guardianship over you. I just told her about the multiple men around town inquiring, but how destiny placed you and Benny into the McCann brothers hands the first moment you stepped foot in town. It’s a love story, Vye. A beautiful one and just the beginning. I’m so excited,” Ella said.

“A love story?” Evonna whispered and felt scared out of her mind. She stroked Benny’s cheek.

“You’re love story, Vye. You deserve men that will love you and Benny, not physically and emotionally hurt you,” Aunt Gay said to her.

Evonna looked at Aunt Gay, then Ella and Valentina.

“I just don’t think I’m really ready for anything more than friendship right now.”

“Take your time. There’s no rush. Everything has a way of working itself out. You’ll see,” Ella said to her.

“I can’t wait to meet them,” Aunt Gay said, then smiled.

She prayed that she hadn’t just made a huge mistake and some sort of commitment she didn’t have the strength, the courage to pursue. She was scared, and there was no hiding it, but it was too late now. She’d made a decision, and as long as she put Benny and herself and what was best for them, first, then she would wait to see how the cards fell.

Chapter Six

New York Grand Hotel Russian-American Art Exhibit & Fundraiser event.

Anastasia Perchaveck stood by a series of gorgeous paintings by Malayna Merkovicz-Mulicheck, daughter of Nicolai Merkovicz and wife of Border, Krane, Star, and Lucca Mulicheck. She was extremely talented and had a gift for creating such masterpieces as the ones displayed before Anastasia. The Merkovicz and Mulicheck families were very high up in power and continued to strengthen as their families expanded.

Anastasia’s uncle was Nuvron Perchavek, a Russian made man who headed one of the top ten families. His brother Ogar, her father, was in charge of maintaining and securing the numerous artwork of the Perchaveck family while also working with members of the black market, and stealing, smuggling, buying, and selling profitable items around the world. Anastasia not only had a love for the arts but an ability to draw in buyers and maintain repeat customers. Her identity was disguised. No one knew if she were male or female as all correspondence was done with computer-enhanced voice-over devices. It kept her safe and secure as she had connections to many untouchable Russian affiliates.

Looking over Malayna’s artwork that was selling in the mid- hundred of thousands, she searched for the artists of the painting she had a buyer for. A rare piece brought in by the Lenvick family. Her thoughts were interrupted as a small commotion erupted near the entryway. Her uncle Nuvon had

arrived with his men. She felt the instant anxiety, the hatred she had for the man and his ways. He treated her father, his own brother, like shit, yet her dad ran the most lucrative part of the family businesses. She had been forced into her role because of her mother’s untimely illness, then death. She continued to work and hoped he, nor Creagan, his right-hand man and guard, had noticed her.

As she sort of hid behind the extra-large, wide paintings, she thought about somehow getting out of this life, out from under Nuvon’s thumb, but knew if she did that her father would pay the price. This was her family and this was whom she was stuck with. She may as well make the best of it and make a shit load of money. She was well trained in self-defense, martial arts, and weaponry and could take care of herself. Men found that both sexy and a turn-off. She had yet to meet a man who could handle her abilities, as well as her successes.

She glanced between the paintings when she felt the hand on her hip and then heard Creagan’s voice as he whispered into her ear.

“Sweet, gorgeous Anastasia, I missed you,” he said as he kissed her cheek. She turned toward him, put on her fake smile, and showed her respect.

“Creagan, so nice to see you, too. I thought that you would be working or still away on business.”

“You know me, always doing business. It never stops,” he replied, eyeing over her body and, of course, her breasts in the slim-fitting navy blue evening gown.

“Boy, do I know that,” she said and glanced toward her uncle where a few men stood. Creagan stroked her hip and reached up with his other hand to caress her hair from her face. She stared up at him, hating this guy as much as she hated her uncle.

“You were away for a few days. Where did you go?” he asked her.

“The beach.”

“Venice?”

“Florida, actually.”

“How boring,” he said to her and stared at her lips. “Your uncle would like a word with you.”

She squinted at him.

“Come,” he said, taking her by her elbow and leading her away from the paintings and toward her uncle Nuvon. He eyed her over and gave a small smile, an approval of her attire. As if she cared what he thought.

“Uncle,” she said and leaned in to kiss each cheek as he held her and then looked her over.