Misha

by K. J. Dahlen

  He moved the baby up closer to her mother and laid a blanket over both of them but he never took his eyes off them. The little girl fussed but didn’t wake up and that had Misha concerned. The doctor had told him they both had been given strong doses of the chloroform and he didn’t know how much would be too much for the tiny girl.

  Misha just hoped they would both recover. It was almost dawn before the woman stirred. Misha’s eyes snapped open and for a moment he didn’t know what woke him. Then from the corner of his eye, he caught a movement on his bed.

  His swung his gaze over and saw a pair of silver-gray eyes looking back at him. He couldn’t help but smile. Her eyes were a stunning silver gray. Absolutely gorgeous. He leaned forward but at her movement backward, he didn’t leave his chair.

  “You have nothing to fear from me little one,” he whispered softly.

  Her eyes left him briefly as she looked down at her child. “What happened to us? Why are we here? Where the hell is here?” She blinked her eyes as she looked around the room. She wrapped her arms around her child and held her tightly. Then she looked at Misha and her frown grew. “Who the hell are you?”

  Misha smiled slightly. “My name is Misha Constantine. I found you and your daughter late last night.”

  She cocked her head slightly. “And just where did you find us?”

  “Lying at the bottom of a ditch,” he told her firmly. “Do you remember how you got there?”

  Her eyes widened as she tried to remember the events of last night. Glancing down, she saw the bruises on her wrists.

  Misha watched as she began to remember. He watched fear and outrage cross her features then her eyes looked haunted by memories. He saw her glance down at the tiny girl in her arms.

  Clutching the baby closer she looked at him. “He meant to kill us didn’t he?” she whispered.

  “Who is ‘he’?” Misha asked.

  “Her father, Lonnie,” she told him quietly. “He called me and wanted to see her. He left us before she was even born but he called me yesterday out of the blue and wanted to see his baby.” Shaking her head, she admitted. “I should have known better. The lousy bastard.”

  “Why do you say that?” Misha wanted to know.

  She shrugged but wouldn’t say anything.

  “What is your name?” Misha asked her softly.

  “I’m called Zeta and this is my daughter Anya,” she admitted without giving him anymore information. She looked over at the window and noted the sun was now up. “I really should get going home. My brother will worry about where we are.”

  “Why wasn’t he worried about you last night?” Misha asked with a scowl.

  “I am a grown ass woman,” she grumbled. “He knows I can take care of myself.”

  “Then how did you end up drugged and thrown into a ditch like someone’s trash?” Misha asked softly.

  “Because I trusted the wrong person,” she whispered as a tear rolled down her face. She swiped at the tear and glared at him. “I should have remembered four years ago when he left me alone and pregnant. I should have known better than to meet with him again.”

  “Sweetheart…” He leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “You were offering him a second chance. There is nothing wrong with that. Now you know he can’t be trusted.”

  “Why do you care?” she stared at him.

  Misha sat back in his chair and shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I do.”

  Zeta plucked at the edge of the blanket. “How did you find us anyway? Do you look into ditches along the highway a lot?”

  “Actually I don’t.” Misha admitted with a chuckle. “We passed where you and Anya were and I could have sworn I heard a baby crying. I made my driver stop and we found you both. I brought you back here and had a doctor examine you. He told me the two of you had been chloroformed and left for dead.”

  Zeta paled as she listened to his words as he was telling her that she barely escaped death the night before. Looking down at Anya, her frown deepened. “If she was knocked out, how could you hear her cry?”

  Misha rubbed his hands down his face. “That is a very good question. I don’t know but I did hear a child crying.”

  Zeta brushed the hair away from Anya’s face. Leaning over her daughter, she kissed her forehead gently. “Well whatever you heard, I’m glad you stopped. You probably saved our lives.”

  “I’m glad I stopped too.” He smiled.

  A knock came on the door of the apartment. Sighing deeply, he wondered when this would come. He knew his activities of last night wouldn’t stay secret for long. Barron had warned him not to bring the woman home with him but he did anyway. Now he would have to face his father and Nikoli.

  He got to his feet and nodded at Zeta. His fingers began unbuttoning his shirt. If he was going to face his father and Nikoli, he needed at least a clean shirt. Pulling his shirt off his back, he headed toward the walk in closet. When he heard her gasp at his back, he turned toward her and frowned. “Is there anything wrong?’ he asked.

  He stared at her face and saw her fear and rage.

  She got up from the bed clasping her daughter to her chest while staring at his bare skin. Lifting her rage filled eyes to his, she grabbed the light on the night stand and brought it down on the edge of the wood. The bulb smashed and she held the exposed end of the light toward him as a weapon. “Don’t you come a step closer or I’ll use this!” She snarled at him.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Misha asked. He could hear footsteps rushing toward his room and he knew they were coming in to save him from an attack he knew nothing about.

  As the door swung open, Barron, his father and Nikoli stormed into the room.

  They all saw Zeta had backed herself and her daughter into the corner of the room. She held the lamp out in front of her as if to protect herself.

  Misha glanced at her for a moment longer then turned to his family. He took a step and turned to put himself between them and the woman. “Don’t hurt her. I don’t know what this is about but don’t hurt her.”

  Barron trained his weapon at the woman still brandishing the lamp but Sergi held him back with a hand on his arm. He was staring at the woman and the child as well. He glanced at Misha and asked in Russian, “What the hell is going on here?”

  Misha turned and looked at Zeta in confusion. “I don’t know yet.”

  The baby was fussing in her mother’s arms and crying out in her confusion. She was afraid without knowing why. She could feel the tension in the room and was trying to get to the only safety she knew.

  “What is all this?” Misha wanted to know. “You were fine a moment ago. What happened?”

  “You are Bratva.” Zeta growled.

  Misha glanced over at his father and Barron. Sparing a glance at Nikoli, he turned back to her and nodded. “Da, we are Bratva but we aren’t going to hurt you.”

  “In my country that’s all the Bratva does, is hurt people.” She snarled at them in perfect Russian. “You drive down the road and people learned to fear you. You use the power behind your badge and you leave them weak from beating them senseless and taking what you want, what a person worked hard all their lives to gain, and its gone in a moment. You use fear and intimidation to steal what others have produced.”

  “That is a lie.” Barron growled taking a step toward her.

  Zeta put her baby on the floor and moved to stand in front of her in a protective manner. She lifted the lamp into a striking pose and glared at the four men in front of her. “Don’t you tell me that’s a lie. I’ve seen you do it.” She snarled. “I’ve seen your kind beat a man almost to death because he denied you what you felt was your due, just for being Bratva.”

  “Explain yourself.” Sergi roared as his hands curled into fists. He glared at her with rage growing in his eyes at her statements. “The Bratva has never done that to anyone.”

  “Now, it is you who lies.” She sneered at his pose. The small room stank of the rage from both
sides and the air was filled with the cries of fear from Anya. She was curled up in the corner watching the room from behind her mother.

  “Perhaps we should all calm down for a moment, Nikoli suggested. “And take this to the living room. Obviously, there has been a mistake here and we should talk about it in a calm manner.” He raised his hands and motioned at the sobbing child behind her. “No one here is going to hurt you or your child but you’ve made some statements that we need to clarify. No one here is going to hurt you,” he assured her for the second time.

  Misha stepped up motioning toward the bathroom he said, “There is a restroom behind you if you need it. My father and others are here only to talk. I’m sure they can answer any of your concerns and if you want to leave after that, you will be more than able to walk away from this.”

  Zeta frowned. “You will not try to stop me? Or take my daughter from me?”

  Sergi glared at her. “Of course not, we are not animals.”

  Zeta glared right back at him. “That has not been my conclusion in dealing with your kind.”

  Sergi growled and took a step forward lifting his hand as if to strike her.

  Zeta lifted the lamp back into swinging position.

  Misha grabbed his father and dragged him back away from her. He hustled the others out of the room and reached down to pick up his soiled shirt again, from where it landed on the floor when she’d surprised them. Putting it on again, he looked at her. “Please join us and clear this mess up.” He then turned and left the room.

  Dima rolled into the compound and went directly to the clubhouse. Dawn was a few hours off yet but he was sure Maxim would want to hear this right away. He wasn’t sure what it all meant but he knew Zeta was gone and they didn’t know who took her. Or even if she was still alive.

  He found Maxim sitting at a table and when Dima joined him, he placed the baby’s shoe on the table but didn’t say anything.

  Maxim stared at the shoe for a moment then raised silver gray eyes to his VP.

  Dima almost flinched at the rage in the other man gaze. But he held the stare.

  “Where is my sister and my niece?” Maxim finally growled.

  “I don’t know, but you aren’t going to like where I found Anya’s shoe.”

  Maxim’s eye grew cold as he stared at his man. “Where did you find it?”

  “In a ditch five miles out of New York City. It seemed as if someone or something rolled down the ditch from the road. All the grass was laid down flat as if something had rolled down. But I found nothing other than the shoe. Not even a blood trail. I did however find two sets of footprints both down and back up.”

  “Someone picked them up?” Maxim frowned.

  “Not sure. But as I was pulling up, I saw a car pull away from the area. I followed it to a hotel in the city. I don’t know if she’s there or somewhere else but the car is parked there. I went back to the ditch and found the shoe. I came back here right away.”

  “You said there was no blood right?” Maxim insisted. “She and Anya could still be alive then?”

  “Nyet, there was no blood that I could see,” Dima assured him.

  Maxim glanced at the clock on the wall. “Then we have to go to the hotel and find them. If we have to search each room, we will do that. I want my sister and my niece found.”

  “Da, I know what you mean.” Dima nodded. “She is the reason we all are here.”

  Maxim’s fingers tightened into a fist. “Nyet my brother, Ivan Kolvastan is the reason we all are here. We should be home but we were forced to flee our homeland in order to stay alive. One day that man will reap what he has sown. I just hope I’m there the day he realizes that.”

  “Da, I think all of us would like to see that very much,” Dima agreed. “I want to spit in the man’s face as I watch him bleed to death. He has caused more pain in his lifetime than any man’s should.”

  “One step at a time my friend, one step at a time.” Maxim nodded. “First step is to find Zeta and Anya. Then we go after the bastard who took her.”

  “She was with Lonnie Banks earlier tonight. I followed them when he picked her up but I lost them in the city.”

  “I need you to find him,” Maxim whispered hoarsely. “I want you to find him and bring him back here. I have some questions he needs to answer.”

  Dima smiled wickedly. “That would be my pleasure.”

  “Oh, and he needs to be breathing at the very least,” Maxim insisted. “Whether or not he’s broken, well that’s up to you, isn’t it?”

  Dima nodded, getting the message. “I’ll take a couple of the boys with me. We’ll find this man and drag him back for you.”

  Maxim paused then shook his head. “No, send a couple of the brothers out for him. I want you with me when we find Zeta and Anya.”

  Dima nodded.

  “Get a few hours sleep and when the dawn breaks, we’ll go to find my sister. Whoever has her prisoner better hope he hasn’t hurt her. I’ll kill the next man who touches her with nothing but hate in his heart,” Maxim swore. “I took that vow when we escaped from prison and I meant it.”

  When Zeta and Anya came out of the bedroom, Anya had settled down from the sobbing stage of her tears to the watchful stage. She still had fear in her eyes but she clung to her mother and wasn’t letting go anytime soon. She was still confused as to where she was and who she was with but as long as her mother was holding her, she felt safe enough for now.

  The same couldn’t be said for Zeta. She held her daughter in her arms but she also had the broken lamp as well. She eyed the men in the room with mistrust but her rage had banked down. “Will you keep your word to me and allow me to leave?” she asked in a voice full of mistrust as she edged toward the door of the suite.

  Sergi stiffened and glared at the woman. “You have made statements to us that you need to clarify.” He motioned around the room at the others and looked back at her. “We are all Bratva men here and we have never abused a woman.”

  “Well bully for you, not all Bratva men are like you then. The ones I’ve met have done nothing but bullied their way into the lives of the people they dominate.” She looked down at them. She began with Sergi. She took his imposing figure in, from the top of his bald head all the way down his body to the shoes on his feet. Moving on, she glared at Nikoli and then Barron and finally to Misha.

  Sergi was breathing heavily from her inspection and he found he didn’t like the way she looked at him. “You look at me as if I am a piece of meat. Why is that?”

  “Because that’s the way you and your men have looked at me. From the time I was nine years old, I have been nothing more to the Bratva than just that, a piece of meat. To be used and abused by the likes of you and your organization.”

  “Who was this Bratva officer that did this to you?” Misha growled at her description.

  “Does it matter?” Zeta wanted to know. “I may be nothing to the likes of you but where I come from I matter. I mattered to my father, who died in the fields working his fingers to the bone to provide the taxes and protection money the Bratva said he owed to them. I mattered to my mother who couldn’t keep up with the money your man demanded to keep my brother alive in prison. She died trying to gather the money he demanded every month. I mattered to my brother who went to prison for trying to protect me when I was a child from being raped by the Bratva.”

  Sergi’s frown widened into confusion as he heard her words and listened to their meaning. He looked over at Nikoli, Barron and finally to his son. “What the blyad is she talking about?”

  Chapter Three

  Misha kept his eyes on her. He heard what she’d said and he could see the look in her eyes when she said it. There was a cold spot in his gut that told him what she said had indeed happened to her. He took a step toward her but stopped when she brought the lamp up.

  He stopped and held up his arms in surrender. He motioned toward the sofa inviting her to sit. “Why don’t we sit down and you can explain what you mean. T
hat is not the way we as the representatives of the Bratva act. We have no clue what you are telling us.”

  Zeta snorted but watched carefully as the men settled down. She took her place last as far away from them as she could get. Anya fussed a bit and she took the time to soothe her or at least try to.

  When she looked up again, she found herself facing four very rigid men. She waited for them to make the first move.

  “My name is Sergi Constantine,” he introduced himself. “I am the man in charge of the Bratva in Russia and here in the United States. The only ones I answer too is the High Council.” He turned to Misha and said, “This is my son Misha, he is my Lieutenant, my second in command. This is my US representative Nikoli Silvanic and this is Barron, Misha’ bodyguard.”

  She raised her head. “My name is Zeta and this is my daughter Anya.”

  “You have a Russian accent. You understand and speak the language, do you come from there?” Sergi asked.

  “Da, I do,” she admitted.

  “How do you find yourself here then?” Misha wanted to know.

  “It was no longer safe for me to stay in the land I was born in. The Bratva made sure of that.”

  “The Bratva would never do that.” Sergi fisted his hands. “We are not monsters.”

  Zeta leaned forward in her chair and glared at the men facing her. “I was born in a small farming village, not far from the edge the far Eastern coast of the Siberian part of Russia. Near the town of Chita, my father earned a good living producing vegetables and meat from the animals we had on our farm. We were by no means rich but we did well enough we didn’t go hungry. We followed the rules and lived life the best we could. One day that all changed.” She tears welled in her eyes as she remembered that fateful day. As a child she didn’t understand what really happened but that was the day her life changed forever. “I was nine years old and I was out in the fields with my father and my brother. I remember seeing the car coming down the road. My father shouted at me to hide but I wasn’t quick enough to get out of sight. The car stopped and a man stepped out and started toward me. My father and my brother came running toward me. I didn’t know the man but when he grabbed my arm and began dragging me toward the car, my brother got between us. He told the man to leave me alone. The man hit him. When Maxim got to the ground I tried to get to him but the man began dragging me off again. My father told him to unhand me and the man laughed. He asked my father if he knew who he was. He could do what he wanted and there was nothing my father could do to stop him. He was the law, he was the Bratva. My brother got to his feet and told the man he wasn’t taking me anywhere.”