Marital Privilege. Ann Voss Peterson
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“Did you ever consider giving me a choice?”
“We chose each other, Laura. Our feelings for each other had nothing to do with my background. That hasn’t changed.”
“Everything’s changed.”
“Because my past is different than you thought?”
“Because my future is different. Our son’s future is different.”
This morning, when she’d awakened, her life had been everything she’d ever wanted. She had a thriving business. She thought she was married to the man of her dreams. And she had a perfect little son on the way.
And now her marriage—everything she knew—was gone.
Marital Privilege
Ann Voss Peterson
MILLS & BOON
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Special thanks to Lynda Sandoval, Linda Style,
Susan Vaughan and Virginia Kelly for their help
filling the gaps in my limited knowledge.
To my critique partners Carol Voss and Judith Lyons.
And to my family for doing without wife and mother
while I battled the Russian mob.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ever since she was a little girl making her own books out of construction paper, Ann Voss Peterson wanted to write. So when it came time to choose a major at the University of Wisconsin, creative writing was her only choice. Of course, writing wasn’t a practical choice—one needs to earn a living. So Ann found jobs ranging from proofreading legal transcripts, to working with quarter horses, to washing windows. But no matter how she earned her paycheck, she continued to write the type of stories that captured her heart and imagination—romantic suspense. Ann lives near Madison, Wisconsin, with her husband, her two young sons, her Border collie and her quarter horse mare. Ann loves to hear from readers. E-mail her at [email protected] or visit her Web site at annvosspeterson.com.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Alec Martin—Born Nikolai Stanislov, Alec has tried to build a new life since entering the Witness Security Program. But when the man he sent to prison—his own father—is paroled, he has to run to save his life—and that of his wife and unborn son.
Laura Martin—She thought she was married to the man of her dreams, a safe caring man, only to find out he’s the son of a mobster. But before she can figure out if she still has a marriage, she has to run for her life.
Ivan Stanislov—The powerful head of a faction of the Russian Mafiya, Ivan wants revenge almost as much as he wants his unborn grandson.
Wayne Bigelow—The reporter says he wants to help Alec. Can he be trusted?
Tony Griggs—When the U.S. Marshal died, he gave away Alec’s new identity. Now his murder might bring Ivan Stanislov down.
Detective Mylinski—Is the seemingly honest cop beyond suspicion?
Special Agent Callahan—He needs Alec’s help to bring down Ivan Stanislov, but will he be able to honor his promise to keep Alec safe?
Sergei Kamarov—The murderous brute wants revenge and to regain his place in the warm spot.
Pavel Tverdovsky—The young thug is the future of the Russian mob.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Chapter One
Alec Martin stared at the photo of U.S. Marshal Tony Griggs on the morning news and struggled to wrap his mind around what he was seeing. He stepped toward the television set suspended high above the scarred oak bar. “Can we turn up the sound?”
The bartender glanced up from his cup of morning coffee and the list of booze he needed to order. “No remote. Lost it during a Packer game a couple years ago. You want to climb on the bar and turn it up? Hey? Be my guest.”
Alec didn’t move. The stiff collar of his dress shirt choked him. Sweat slicked his palms. He’d dreaded this day for ten long years. Even now he didn’t want to believe what he was seeing.
Snips of headlines scrolling under the talking head, CNN style.
Retired U.S. marshal killed.
Signs of torture found.
The screen focused on a balding police detective named Mylinski. Frustration knotted Alec’s aching gut. He had to know more, and staring at a soundless interview with a tight-lipped cop wasn’t doing a damn bit of good. He grasped his cell phone from his belt and flipped it open. Spinning on his heel, he made for the door, punching in Wayne’s direct number at the Brooklyn Chronicle from memory.
“I haven’t given you my liquor order yet,” the bartender’s annoyed Wisconsin accent sounded from the bar.
“I have to make a call,” Alec shouted over his shoulder as he pushed outside. The morning sunlight blinded him for a minute, but he didn’t slow his pace.
The secretary answered on the second ring. “Brooklyn Chronicle.”
Alec didn’t recognize her voice. “Wayne Bigelow, please.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Bigelow is in a meeting. Would you like his voice mail?”
“No.” The last thing Alec was going to do was leave him a message. Not about this. “Interrupt the meeting.”
“Excuse me?”
“Do it. This is an emergency.”
“That may be, Mr….”
“Stanislov.” Alec never thought he’d hear the name come from his lips again. It rested on