Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2)

by Nicole Fox

  There’s only a moment’s hesitation before all four men exit the room. When the door snaps closed, Eagle Tattoo walks over to me, his eyes roving from my face to my breasts.

  “Did he touch you?” he asks. He almost sounds concerned.

  “He slapped me.”

  “Did he try to rape you?” he asks.

  I still, feeling a sense of dread overtake me. This is not an innocent line of questioning. Not by any means.

  “Answer me.”

  “He tried to convince me to have sex with him,” I say softly.

  “Well, who can blame him?” Eagle Tattoo smiles, and for a moment it actually feels like he’s trying to flirt with me. “Artem’s a lucky motherfucker. No wonder he got you pregnant so fast.”

  I look down at Phoenix, who’s whimpering a little in my arms, but he’s stopped crying. It’s almost as though he realizes that crying won’t help us now.

  “Please,” I say. “Please, just let me and my son go.”

  He laughs. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

  “He’s only a baby.”

  “Exactly,” he agrees. “He’s only been in your life a short time.”

  Those words send my mind into new echelons of panic. I grip Phoenix a little tighter.

  “My husband—”

  “Your husband is dead,” he snaps. “There’s no one left to rescue you. It’s just you and the boss. But before that… it’s just you and me.”

  I can sense where he’s leading me. My body seems to resign itself to the inevitability to what’s about to happen.

  I can feel it giving way—giving up hope, giving up the fight.

  I have escaped this horror countless times now. Artem saved me once.

  Will he be here to save me again?

  I can’t believe he’s dead. But even so, it feels like there’s no way out.

  And a part of me no longer cares. Because I know now that I will endure anything—if it means my son will be safe.

  “I’ll do whatever you want,” I say suddenly. “And I’ll do it willingly. Just please… don’t hurt my son.”

  Do I believe my own words? In the moment, they feel sincere, but I’m not sure anymore.

  I don’t feel like myself. I feel like a trapped and desperate woman who will try anything to save her son.

  That is exactly what I am.

  That is all I am.

  “Oh?” Eagle Tattoo asks. “Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll do whatever I want?” he asks again.

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll get naked and suck my cock?”

  “If that’s what you want,” I whisper, my voice as deadpan as my face.

  “You’ll spread your legs for me?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “You’ll take it in the ass?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  He stares at my expressionless face. I can tell he’s annoyed, but I cannot give him any more concessions. If he’s expecting me make a show of enjoying my own rape, then that’s one line too far.

  “But you can’t hurt my son.”

  “Put him down over there,” Eagle Tattoo tells me. “I’m not fucking you with that brat in your arms.”

  I stand up immediately and walk over to the largest sofa in the room. It’s soft and cushy and I settle Phoenix into the ample cushion. Then I put a cushion on the open side of the sofa just to secure him.

  I know I don’t have to worry—he’s still too young to roll—but I do it anyway.

  I feel numb. That feeling scares me more than anything else. Am I really going to lie down and let him rape me?

  Yes.

  Yes you are, if it means you can protect Phoenix.

  There’s pride in this. There’s dignity in this, even if it seems like both are long gone.

  Save your son. Save your little bird.

  I draw in a deep, shuddering breath and steel myself against the horrors that await me.

  And I make a promise to myself, to Artem, to Phoenix: no matter what happens, I won’t cry. I refuse to shed a single tear here.

  “Hurry the fuck up,” Eagle Tattoo orders me.

  The sound of his voice has my skin crawling with disgust and new rage.

  And the reality of my situation settles over me like a cold shower.

  “You’re strong Esme,” Cesar says, his voice clear as a bell in my head. “You were always so much stronger than me. Don’t take this sitting down.”

  “I’m alone, Cesar.”

  “No, you’re not. You have me.”

  “You left me a long time ago.”

  “Then who are you talking to right now?”

  “Myself. Just myself.”

  “Yeah? Then maybe you should listen to yourself. You are a fucking warrior, and it’s about time you owned it. If you want to be a don’s wife, you have to act like a don’s wife.”

  “Come here.”

  The monster grabs my arm and pulls me to him. My body slams against his chest and I realize just how big he is, just how strong he is.

  I can also feel his erection against my thigh and I have to bite down on my tongue to keep from gagging right in his fucking face.

  No matter how determined I am to fight back, there’s no getting around the fact that he’s bigger than me. Stronger than me. More trained, more capable than me.

  The one thing he’s not is more desperate.

  I glance around as he slides his tongue along the curve of my neck.

  There are several objects I can use as weapons, but I need to get my hands on them first.

  “The table,” I say.

  “What?” he asks distractedly.

  “Let’s go to the table over there. I don’t want Phoenix seeing this.”

  He rolls his eyes but he wrenches me towards the table so hard it feels as though he’s trying to pull my hand right out of the socket.

  My eyes stay fixed on the giant candlestand in the center of the table.

  Eagle Tattoo pushes me back against the table in the same way and starts undoing the zip on my jeans. He’s so absorbed with his task that he doesn’t see me reach for the candlestand.

  He doesn’t see me cock it back.

  He doesn’t see me grit my teeth, summon all the strength in my body, and bring it crashing down over his head.

  Or at least, that’s what I planned.

  But he looks up at the very last second, sees what’s happening, and pivots enough.

  Just enough.

  Instead of cracking open his skull like I did in that little diner in Mexico, this time, all I do is catch him on the shoulder.

  He grunts in pain.

  His face turns dark.

  And he wrenches the candlestand out of my hands and flings it across the room.

  In the same motion, he pins my wrist against the tabletop and leans all his weight on it so hard I cry out.

  “You fucking bitch!” he roars in my face, his skin tuning an ugly hue of red. “You fucking whore! I was gonna be gentle with you, but now I’m going to rip you in half.”

  He slaps me across the face.

  But I keep struggling. I keep fighting.

  Because I understand something about myself in this moment.

  I am not the type of person who will just lie down and take it.

  I am not the type of person who will accept their fate and concede to it.

  I will fight so long as there is breath left in my body.

  I fend off his hold just enough to release my left hand from his grip. Then I claw at his face, and my nails dig into his flesh.

  He growls in pain. When he looks at me again, I can see that I’ve let my mark.

  It looks like a feral animal has clawed him, leaving fresh red streaks of blood along his face.

  Then my eyes find his and I know that I’ve crossed the line and pushed him over the edge.

  I can see murder in his eyes.

  Oh, God… he’s going to
kill me in front of my son.

  The scream is tunneling its way out of my throat when I see something move just behind the massive man. He seems to notice we’re not alone at the same time.

  But he’s too slow. Too preoccupied.

  So I see the shiny dagger’s blade, but he doesn’t.

  He doesn’t even see the knife before it slashes across his throat. It cuts through his flesh like butter, drenching me in a spray of blood.

  And then he slumps to the ground, gurgling his way to death.

  I blink away the droplets of blood and push myself off the table.

  The person holding the knife killed the man who came to hurt me.

  But what does she want?

  44

  Esme

  The woman standing in front of me looks like an apparition for a moment. She’s tall, brunette, and beautiful.

  “Are you okay?” the woman asks, glancing back at Phoenix, who coos softly on the sofa.

  I stumble forward to make sure he’s okay, but I don’t make a move to touch him yet. I don’t want that beast’s blood anywhere near my son.

  “Esme?”

  I turn when she says my name. “I… are you real?” I ask stupidly.

  Her expression flushes with concern and she moves closer to me, pulling off the soft overcoat she’s wearing. Underneath, she has on a figure-hugging black dress that emphasizes her hourglass shape.

  She moves forward and puts the coat over my shoulders.

  “You’re shivering,” she tells me. “My name is Svetlana.”

  Svetlana…

  Why does that name sound so familiar?

  Then it hits me all at once.

  “You’re with Artem,” I say. “You… you’re helping to bring down Budimir?”

  “Yes,” she says, looking relieved that she doesn’t have to explain it to me. “I am.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I was at the hotel when the fighting started,” she tells me. “Artem attacked Budimir’s council meeting.”

  I shake my head. “What… I thought that wasn’t until later?”

  “Budimir moved it up and Artem decided to act fast,” she tells me. “I was brought here from the Regency and I heard the guards talking about you…”

  “Where are they now?” I ask, terrified that someone would walk in and kill us both.

  “Artem has just stormed the compound with his men,” Svetlana tells me. “It’s chaos out there. Budimir has barricaded himself in one of the rooms downstairs.”

  Relief floods through me immediately, but Svetlana notices my expression and shakes her head. “Esme, we don’t know who will win this fight.”

  “But—”

  “Artem is still outnumbered,” she tells me. “And Budimir fights dirty. Not to mention the fact that he has you.”

  “But… we can leave now,” I say desperately. “We can get out—”

  “We can’t just walk out of here, Esme,” Svetlana tells me, grabbing my hand. “Budimir’s men are still all over the place.”

  I close my eyes for a moment and try to breathe. “What do we do?”

  “I was only able to get in here because the soldiers guarding this room were called away to protect the entrance,” she tells me. “But now we have a dead man in here with you and me. It won’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what’s happened.”

  “Who saw you come in here?” I ask urgently.

  “No one,” she replies. “I’m not watched like you are.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Well—”

  Before I can finish my sentence, I hear the sound of gunfire and I freeze. It doesn’t sound like it’s right around the corner, but it doesn’t sound very far either.

  Svetlana turns her gaze to the door as well and I can sense her nerves as well. Still, her expression remains calm, almost impassive, as she turns to me.

  “Wait here,” she instructs.

  “W… where are you going?” I ask, grabbing her without meaning to.

  She doesn’t flinch. Instead, she puts her hand on mine and squeezes it with reassurance. “Don’t worry. I just want to see what the situation is like out there.”

  “What if someone sees you?”

  “This isn’t my first day on the job,” she says with a wink.

  Then she walks towards the door and slips out of it. I stand there in the room, feeling my heart thud against my chest so hard that my ribcage actually hurts.

  It’s all in my head.

  It’s all in my head.

  I try and calm myself down as I get to my knees in front of my son. There’s flecks of blood on my hands, but I wipe it away on the cushions of the sofa and focus on Phoenix.

  He looks a little calmer, but his eyes are wide open, staring this way and that, as if waiting for something to happen.

  “It’s okay, little bird,” I say. “I’ve got you. It’s all gonna be okay.”

  I hear the door open a moment later, and Svetlana slips back into the room. Her expression is carefully orchestrated, but I can tell that she’s worried.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Artem is in the building,” she tells me. “Budimir’s men have him surrounded.”

  “A standoff?”

  “It looks like it, but from my point of view, it looked evenly matched,” Svetlana says. “I… I think you’re going to be the bargaining chip.”

  Of course I am.

  Svetlana comes forward. “Esme, I think they’re going to come and get you soon.”

  “No!” I gasp. “I have to get Phoenix out of here.”

  Svetlana glances towards my son and I see her eyes soften with worry. “All the men are out at the front of the house. Every man is involved in the fight against Artem’s men. There might be a chance to get you out of here without being seen. But we’ll have to move fast.”

  “No.”

  “No?” Svetlana looks at me as though I’ve gone mad.

  “I can’t leave,” I explain. “Artem is here. My husband is here. I can’t leave him. They’re coming for me, Svetlana. I can do something. I don’t know what yet, but I can do something.”

  “But your son…” Svetlana objects, looking between him and me.

  “Will you take him for me?” I ask. “There’s enough confusion in the house. You can take him and get out. Or barricade yourself in a room somewhere. Just keep him safe for me.”

  “Esme—”

  “Please,” I say. “I don’t want him near the violence. And if he’s with me when they come for me, they’ll take him, too. They’ll use him as bait.”

  I see Svetlana’s jaw twitch uncomfortably as she looks at my son. Then she nods slowly.

  “Okay,” she says. “First thing’s first, we can’t let them see you like this. You’ve got blood on your face.”

  She takes her coat off my shoulders and wipes me down with it. The soft cashmere grazes over my skin and removes the blood that marks me.

  “There,” she says. “There’s still some on your clothes but not enough to be immediately noticeable.”

  I’m aware that I still feel very numb, but the feeling is slowly itching back into my extremities, filling me with a new sense of urgency.

  “You’ll have to help me move him,” Svetlana says, glancing at eagle tattoo, who’s sprawling across the floor, face down.

  I nod, steeling myself, as I reach down my grab his ankles while Svetlana takes his arms. Even with our combined strength, his dead weight almost has my knees buckling. But I draw strength from my son and I keep going.

  We push him behind the sofa and Svetlana makes sure he can’t be seen from the front of the room. She takes the dagger that she used to kill Eagle Tattoo and wipes it off on his shirt.

  Then she walks around the sofa and hands it to me, hilt pointed towards me.

  “Make sure it’s concealed,” she says. “And if you get an opportunity to strike—”

  “I’ll take it,” I say without hesitation.

  Fo
r the first time since she’s walked into the room, she smiles. “All right then,” she says. “I’m going to leave before they find me in here with you.”

  I grab her hands before she turns away from me.

  “Thank you.”

  And again, I think about the mantra that has followed me through the last few months of our lives.

  I have survived on the kindness of strangers.

  Svetlana nods slowly. “Do me a favor,” she says, “and survive.”

  “Do me a favor,” I echo, “and protect my son.”

  She nods solemnly. I turn and pick Phoenix up off the sofa. I hold him for a moment, but I don’t let myself linger.

  I can’t prolong this. I don’t have the luxury of a goodbye right now.

  Nor do I really want one.

  This is not the end.

  I lean in and whisper in his ear, “Be safe, little bird.”

  Then I hand him over to Svetlana, who takes him gently, hooking one arm under his small body to secure him against her chest.

  “Good luck, Esme,” she says.

  Then she walks out the door with my child.

  The moment the door closes behind her, I feel loneliness engulf me. I feel my fear more acutely than ever before.

  But I don’t give in to the shivers clawing through my body.

  I can’t falter.

  I start pacing and I make it only three steps before I hear the sound of approaching footsteps… running footsteps.

  I conceal the dagger in my jeans and stand to face the door just as it bursts open.

  I’m hoping to see Artem, but I see two armed guards instead. Their faces are tinged with sweat and panic.

  One guard gestures to me. “Come with us.”

  They don’t have control of the situation, and I can see that immediately. Neither one even seems to notice that I’m apparently in this room alone and unguarded.

  They just nudge me forward with their guns. These cruel men are worried. Terrified, really. Fearful of their lives.

  And that makes me hopeful about mine.

  45

  Artem

  There’s a second in which everything moves in slow motion.

  I see Budimir standing in the shadows, well out of the range of fire.

  I see his men move forward, decked out in full riot gear, looking like black beasts ready to feast on the dead.