Ivan 2 (Her Russian Protector Book 10)

by Roxie Rivera

  She sniffled and wiped at her eyes again. It took her a while to work up the courage, but I didn’t mind. I held her hands and waited. Eventually, she lifted her head and admitted, “I was getting high inside.”

  Relief washed over me. “Is that all?”

  “Is that all?” she echoed. “I’m telling you I used drugs inside after I was forced to get clean, and you don’t think it’s that big of a deal?”

  “I’m sorry,” I hastily replied, not wanting to piss her off and cause her to clam up again. “I was expecting something so much worse, but a relapse that early in your recovery isn’t unexpected, especially in a high-stress environment.”

  She looked at me funny. “Ivan wasn’t kidding. You have been reading a shit ton of books about addiction.”

  “I want to understand what you’re going through and how to help you, Ruby. I love you, and I want you to be happy and fulfilled and not have this fucking demon following you around for the rest of your life.”

  “It’s always going to be there, Erin. Addiction doesn’t go away. It’s a disease. It gets easier to not think about using and to not crave the high, but it’s always there in the back of my mind.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t understand it the way you do, but I’ll try. If you share with me when you’re struggling, I’ll help any way I can. I promise, Ruby.” I squeezed her hands. “I will not let you down ever again.”

  “What? Erin! You never let me down!”

  “I did, Ruby.” The guilt I had been carrying around for a long time came crashing down around me. “I was so wrapped up in my own life, in enjoying college and dating and going out with friends. I didn’t want to deal with your problems.” Hating myself for what I was about to admit, I started crying, too. “I blamed you for Mom and Dad. I was so angry with you. So, I told myself I didn’t care and that you weren’t my problem. I should have been a better sister.”

  “No, no, no,” Ruby said, throwing her arms around me. “You’ve always been the best sister. I blamed myself for Mom and Dad. Of course, you did, too! We were so young, and we had no idea how to handle the trauma of losing them like that. I lost myself in pills and cocaine, and whatever else I could find to send me into the oblivion and numb my pain. You lost yourself in school and work and your friends.”

  “I tried to stay busy so I wouldn’t have time to think about it,” I realized, suddenly putting together all the pieces.

  “And I’m glad that’s the path you took,” Ruby insisted. “I’m glad you stayed away from the shit that almost killed me.” She rubbed her face with both hands. “The shit that got me into all this trouble I’m in now.” Lowering her hands, she explained, “One of the girls on my cell block had a connection inside. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the guards who brings in the drugs and cell phones and contraband. She offered me a free taste, and I resisted—at first. Then, one day, I got the shit knocked out of me by this big bully bitch, and I started thinking about how many more months I had to go, and I lost it. I wanted to forget everything.”

  “So, you accepted her offer?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then?”

  “It wasn’t the pills I preferred. It was fentanyl. It was a huge fucking dose, way too much for the first time, at least.” Ashamed, she shook her head. “We did the deal in a supply closet by the laundry, and I passed out almost as soon as I put the pill under my tongue. When I woke up, I was alone in the dark—and then he found me.”

  “Kavanaugh?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he...?”

  She nodded. “Twice.” She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. “After that, he would take me out of my cell whenever he wanted. A few weeks ago, before I got moved to the processing center to leave the jail, he had taken me to a room that I had never seen. It was in a part of the jail I had never been to or even knew existed.”

  When she stopped, I understood that she needed a moment to gather herself. I held onto her hand, and she started to speak again. “There was a camera on a tripod. Like the kind beauty influencers use to film their makeup tutorials,” she explained. “What he did to me had been terrible before that, but the idea of him recording it so he could watch it or share it broke me. I didn’t even try to fight him, and that just made him angrier.” She winced. “I could barely walk the next morning.”

  “Oh, Ruby,” I cried. “Oh my god.”

  She inhaled a shaky breath. “He kept me in the room for too long. We heard men’s voices, and he dragged me into a storage room. He used duct tape to wrap up my wrists and ankles and covered my mouth with it so I couldn’t make any noise or try to catch anyone’s attention.” She rubbed her mouth as if remembering the feeling of the tape. “The men had one of the girls with an ICE hold. She was younger than you. There were four or five men. Maybe more. I couldn’t see them. I could only hear them.”

  I tried to visualize the picture she painted with her description. It must have been terrifying, like something out of a horror film. Part of me wanted to ask her to stop her story, to leave it unfinished so I wouldn’t have the rest of the image in my head, but I didn’t. I let her purge all the terrible things that had happened.

  “They brutalized that girl. It was vile. She screamed and cried and begged. I couldn’t do anything. I was useless.”

  “There was nothing you could have done,” I desperately tried to assuage her guilt. “You were one woman against all those men.”

  “I know, but I can still hear her crying,” she sobbed. “It was awful, Erin. So awful.” She sniffled loudly. “And then...”

  “Then?”

  “She bit one of them. His dick,” she clarified. “He shrieked, and then all hell broke loose. I didn’t see it, but I heard it. I heard what they did to her.” She aggressively rubbed her face. “I can still hear it.” She blew out a shuddery breath. “And then it was quiet. Too quiet.”

  “They killed her?” I asked aghast. “They murdered her in jail?”

  “Yes. They panicked. I could hear them fighting with each other and talking about the body. Kavanaugh was just as scared. He was terrified they were going to find us in the storage room. He had his hands over my mouth so hard that the insides of my lips were bleeding from the pressure of my teeth grinding into them.” She traced her mouth as if reliving the memory. “When they were done, and it got quiet, he took me out of the room and returned me to my cell. He warned me not to say a word—or else.”

  I tried to process everything. “What happened to the girl they killed?”

  “The next morning, during roll call, they found her hanging in her cell.”

  “They faked a suicide?”

  “Yes.”

  “Holy shit.” I sat back on the sofa and exhaled slowly. “Okay. So. Kavanaugh must have snitched, right? Because if he wanted to keep you quiet, he would have come after me on his own.”

  “But there was a whole team that came after you,” she murmured, following my line of thought. “It was probably the other guards in their rape ring.”

  “One of them put his hand between my legs,” I revealed. “He was disgusting. I can completely buy that he is a predator.”

  “So, what are we saying, Erin? That Teague is tied in with a rape ring that operates inside a jail? That he knows one of those guards?” She shuddered. “Or maybe he’s one of their customers? Maybe he buys their sick films?”

  “Oh, God,” I said, feeling nauseated. “I hope not.”

  “This is really complicated, Erin.” Ruby seemed overwhelmed by it all. “Teague. The guards. The dead girl. The Neo-Nazi angle.”

  “Somehow, it all fits together.”

  We sat shoulder to shoulder, both of us quietly contemplating what the hell we were supposed to do next. We would have to start by telling Ivan everything. He would be furious when he heard the whole story. Murderous, even. The possibility that Ivan would track down Kavanaugh and make him disappear didn’t upset me as much as it probably should have. For what he had do
ne to my sister, Kavanaugh deserved to be punished—and much harder than the justice system would allow.

  “You want to come with me to a meeting?” Ruby unexpectedly asked.

  Surprised by her question, I asked, “Really?”

  “Yeah. Really.” She seemed calmer as she explained, “I think it would be a good idea for me to get to a meeting today. I’m feeling stressed out and anxious, and I know where my thoughts are going to turn later when I’m alone.”

  Ready to do anything to help her maintain her sobriety, I stood up and reached for my purse. “Let’s go.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. Now. I don’t know where the meetings are, so you’ll have to find one that starts soon.” I grabbed her hand and tugged her off the couch. “Come on.”

  We had taken less than ten steps before Ivan intercepted us. Concerned, he asked, “Everything okay, zolotse?”

  “Yep,” I answered brightly.

  He noticed the purse in my hand. “Where are you going?”

  “To a meeting.”

  “A meeting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “We’re not sure yet.” I glanced back at Ruby, who had her phone in hand to find one. “But, it’s probably at a church.”

  “A church.” He looked between us as if we had lost our minds. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes.”

  He glanced around the gym. “Let me have Paco or Ken take over. I’ll drive you two.”

  “No.” It felt surprisingly good to say it.

  “No?” He frowned. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m tired of letting these cowardly assholes control my life,” I explained matter-of-factly. A surge of bravery had me lifting my chin. “I’m not going to run around afraid of my shadow anymore. I’m not going to limit myself or drag around a babysitter.”

  Ivan’s mouth settled into a grim line. He seemed to be fighting the urge to argue with me. I couldn’t blame him. He loved me as much as I loved him, and I wouldn’t want him in danger either. Finally, he exhaled roughly. “Okay.”

  Surprised, I repeated, “Okay?”

  He nodded. “Da. You’re right. I can’t coddle you. I can’t clip your wings and put you in a cage.” He stepped closer, sliding one hand from my waist to the small of my back and cupping my nape with the other. “Be careful. Stay alert. Try to be home before it gets dark. If you see anything that makes you nervous, you call 9-1-1 immediately.”

  “I will.” I rose on tiptoes to kiss him. His warm hands held me in place a few more seconds before he reluctantly took his mouth from mine. “I’ll see you at the house later.”

  “Text me with updates.”

  “I will.” I backed away from him and waved. “Ya lyublyu tebya.”

  Ivan smiled at my surprisingly good Russian. “I love you, baby.”

  Out in my SUV, I waited for Ruby to finish buckling her belt. As I shifted into reverse, I said, “We’re going to embrace our inner Stabler and Benson. We’re going to look into Mueller, Teague, Kavanaugh, and all of their asshole friends. We’re going to dig up everything we can on them. We’re going to build the biggest, nastiest, ugliest report—and then we’re going to use it to fuck them.”

  Ruby’s eyes widened, and then she grinned. “Hell. Yes.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ivan watched Erin and Ruby leave the gym. He felt a sliver of guilt knowing that Kostya’s spiders were following Erin and her sister. He was glad that Erin felt empowered, that she wasn’t going to cower, but he wouldn’t have let her leave without a guard if he hadn’t known that Kostya had her under observation.

  Seconds after Erin and Ruby left the gym, his phone vibrated in his hand. He glanced at it and read the two emojis in the message from Kostya’s spiders—a pair of eyes and a car. It was a simple enough way to tell him that they had eyes on her. His concern ebbed to an acceptable level, and he returned to his work. He and Ken, the conditioning coach, discussed some changes to training plans for three of their fighters with upcoming fights as they stood at the edge of the grappling mats.

  “Have you heard back from the producers yet?”

  Ivan shook his head. “They said it could be as late as March before they make their decision.”

  “And if they ask us to be this season’s camp?”

  Ivan shrugged, still uncertain what he wanted to do. “I haven’t decided.”

  “I understand.” Ken and Paco were the only two around the gym who did. They were the only ones who weren’t constantly asking for updates. “You talk to Erin about hiring a couple of PTs?”

  Ivan grimaced. “Shit. I forgot. I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her tonight.”

  “No rush,” Ken said with a wave of his hand. “It’s just something I think would elevate our training camp. If we can offer in-house PT, we can recruit high-level talent to fight for us.”

  “Erin has some expansion plans she’s been working on,” Ivan said before stepping onto the mats to adjust Davor’s forearm position and the angle of his back. When he returned to the edge of the mat, he continued, “She thinks we should bring in a nutritionist, a sports medicine specialist, and a compliance officer to handle USADA, TLDR, and all of the other licensing and regulation groups.”

  “That sounds like a solid plan,” Ken remarked and then nudged him with his shoulder. “You need to teach me your tricks for finding a woman like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Smart, ambitious, gorgeous,” Ken listed off. “Most of the guys here are infatuated with her. We hear those heels tapping on the gym floor and—"

  “Hey!” Ivan warned, scowling at Ken who laughed and put up both hands in a sign of surrender. “Go find something constructive to do, yeah?”

  Alone on the edge of the mats, Ivan watched his fighters and tried not to think about how many of the men he trained wanted to fuck his wife. He wasn’t blind. He saw the stares and the open adoration of Erin. He couldn’t blame them. He did the same thing. The few times any man had dared to flirt with her, he had controlled his jealousy by reminding himself that she was honest and loyal. She had chosen him, of all the men in the world, to be her man.

  Certain he would forget to mention the PT question, he wrote a note and stuck it to her computer monitor. He was surprised to see that she hadn’t cleared her desk as she normally did at the end of her workday. Whatever he had walked in on, whatever had caused Ruby to cry like that, had to have been terrible. It had been so jarring it had interrupted Erin’s normal workflow.

  He moved the mouse to put her computer to sleep, but her open email caught his attention. She sorted and emptied her inbox every single day. She was meticulous about keeping an uncluttered inbox, so seeing that many messages waiting for her reply was strange. Wanting to help if he could, he glanced at the subjects to see if he could answer any of them.

  But he didn’t get beyond the first email.

  It had been sent less than ten minutes ago from the fertility clinic. The subject made it clear it was both of their preliminary results. He hesitated before clicking to open it. Worried that the results would upset Erin if they confirmed her fears, he decided it was better to read it first so he could deliver the information in a way that would protect her gentle heart. He couldn’t bear the thought of her crying or blaming herself for being unable to make a baby with him. He meant what he had said a hundred different times. He hadn’t married her for her womb. He had married her for her heart and her goodness and the way she loved him.

  There were several attached lab reports, but he skipped downloading them and read the message from the nurse instead. He didn’t understand what he was reading at first. The medical terms jumped out at him. Volume. Morphology. Motility. Total Count.

  He collapsed onto her desk chair as his shocked brain finally understood. He read the message from the nurse again and again. Normal ejaculate volume. Poor motility. Very low sperm count. Normal morphology.

  Poor motility.

  Ver
y low.

  It’s me.

  I’m the reason Erin can’t get pregnant.

  The bottom dropped out of his stomach as a reality he had never even considered washed over him like acid. He had never had problems getting hard. He had never had problems ejaculating. He had never had an STD. He was fit and healthy.

  This can’t be right. I’m not sterile.

  He read the results again and found the attached semen analysis report. He read each line and the notes from the lab. Each result twisted like a knife to his gut. He could feel his happy life and future with Erin slipping away with every word and number on the analysis.

  He returned to the email and read to the end. The doctor wanted him to repeat the analysis two more times and refer him to a dick doctor. She suspected he had suffered an injury at some point in the past that had caused his problems.

  Memories of groin strikes in the heat of combat and accidental hits to the nuts during training raced through his mind. The carefree way he had laughed off those injuries, the way he had carelessly exposed himself to damage for money and pride, sickened him now. The stupid choices he had made as a younger man were robbing him of the future he wanted with his wife.

  Erin.

  Oh, fuck.

  Erin.

  Gripped in a panic, he shot to his feet. All this time she had suffered and berated herself for failing to conceive, and the whole time he was the problem. He was the reason she couldn’t have a baby. He was the reason she was unhappy and brokenhearted.

  She’ll leave.

  The thought struck him cold. Erin wanted a family more than anything. She was born to be a mother, and if he couldn’t give her that, she would have every right to leave and find a better man. A whole man. A real man.

  An invisible vise squeezed his chest so tightly he couldn’t breathe. For a moment, he thought he might be having a heart attack. He leaned forward, both hands on her desk, and closed his eyes. He tried to slow his racing heart and breathe deeply, but his body fought him at every step—his stupid, useless body.