King’s Ransom: A Dark Bratva Romance (Ruthless Doms)

by Henry, Jane

  I’ve never had a sister, or a sibling of any kind, and I’ve been turning over what Caroline said to me.

  The women of the Bratva stand together.

  “Oh?” Caroline asks. She finishes the remainder of the tea in her cup before placing it on a saucer, clearly in no rush. I do the same, then follow her lead when she gets to her feet. “Does he wish to see both of us?”

  The guy, clean-shaven and young, nods. He looks like they recruited him straight out of high school. “Both of you.”

  Caroline smiles at me. “Very well then. Let’s go.”

  I grit my teeth when the guards flank either side of me, though they allow Caroline to walk unencumbered.

  “Am I really this much of a threat I need these guys watching me?” I say, not bothering to temper my voice. “Honestly, Caroline, his arm’s as big as my thigh. I couldn’t possibly hurt anyone. I can barely open a jar of pickles without asking Stefan for help.”

  Caroline smiles sadly. “It isn’t your physical threat they wish to prevent, Taara.”

  I sigh. I know why I pose a threat, and it angers me that they don’t believe I won’t betray them.

  “Remember,” she whispers in my ear. “Prove your loyalty and this all goes away.”

  “In here,” one says, gesturing to one of the doorways that leads to the dining room. I follow, my stomach gnawing with hunger when I smell something savory and pungent wafting in the air. My unease resurfaces when I see Tomas, Nicolai, and Stefan all sitting at the table. Large, muscled, tattooed, and stern, they’re a formidable trio. They stop talking and look up when we enter the room.

  Tomas smiles broadly and gestures for Caroline to come to him. She crosses the room with her head held high, regal and powerful. I want to be like her someday. Fearless and undaunted by her exacting husband, dedicated to loyalty for both her fellow sisters of the Bratva as well the brotherhood. Unencumbered with a past that haunts her.

  But before I can even begin to think of such things, I need to convince Stefan I am not a threat. I’m not sure I’m a “woman of the Bratva” as Caroline says. Yet.

  Tomas stands, folds his napkin and places it on the table, then pulls a chair out for Caroline. Stefan pulls a chair out beside him as well, but instead of his gesture being chivalrous, it’s a sharp command. “Sit,” he barks. “And do not speak unless you are spoken to first.” I hate that she’s a welcome guest and I’m the prisoner shrouded in shame.

  The tone of his voice stings, re-opening the wounds he inflicted earlier with his cruelty. I swallow hard, vacillating between the desire to either cry or tell him to fuck the hell off. Caroline has told me what I need to do. Every action I take will be to serve that purpose. So, when he points, I sit. I keep my hands obediently tucked onto my lap and don’t speak, even when large tureens of soup are placed on the table beside baskets of fresh, fragrant bread.

  Caroline helps herself to a large bowl of soup and a roll, then looks questioningly to Stefan and me while she butters her bread.

  “You may eat,” he says to me with a frown. He takes a set of keys out and unfastens my cuffs but warns me. “You stay right here under my watch, and you may continue to have your cuffs off for the remainder of this meal.”

  “I hardly see her daring to do something stupid in front of all of you,” Caroline says pleasantly. “Stefan, though I’m not a member of your Bratva, I promise you my allegiance. Do you trust me?”

  Tomas watches her through narrowed eyes, and Stefan sighs. “You aren’t the one I distrust, Caroline.”

  “Then listen to me. I’m a good judge of character. I think it’s one of my finer traits, to be honest.” She smiles. “And I’m telling you that Taara not only doesn’t pose a threat to you but has the potential of being one of your biggest allies.”

  I could hug her.

  “While I appreciate your vote of confidence, Taara will have to prove that with her actions,” Stefan responds.

  I stifle myself from letting out an angry breath just in time and bite my cheeks. The insides of my cheeks will bleed before I let my tongue get the better of me. I merely nod to her to thank her.

  Show him your loyalty.

  I cannot forget what she said after that, the promise that spoke to a need in me so strong, I’m near desperate.

  If you win his heart, he will devote himself to you…

  It’s the stuff fantasy is made of, ethereal and whimsical, but hell, I’m not going to deny the fact that I want that. Even after what I witness, heaven help me.

  I see the way Tomas looks at Caroline, with such tenderness and devotion I know she is his treasure. He would raze an army singlehandedly for her. Nicolai, too. There are no laws he will not break, no adversary he fears when it comes to protecting his Marissa. When in the presence of others, he never takes a hand off of her, resting one on the small of her back or her neck. He lost her once and will not lose her again. These are the men of the brotherhood, fiercely loyal, brutally protective, like modern-day Knights of the Round Table. United as one, devoted to both their brothers and women.

  Betray them and earn a lifelong enemy. Earn their trust, and you become one of their own.

  I’ve known this. I’ve seen this. I’ve longed for just this, and Caroline’s talk has led me to believe my hoping was not in vain.

  But I am not one of their own. Not in their eyes. And it is up to me to change that.

  Stefan ladles soup into a bowl and places it in front of me, then lifts a roll, still steaming hot, and breaks it open. I watch in rapt fascination, his large fingers spreading the roll open and slathering it with butter before placing it next to me. I blink in surprise. I thought he prepared his own food, but this is for me. “Eat,” he orders, and I realize I was staring. “You still may not speak unless given permission.”

  I meet Caroline’s eyes, and she gives me a nearly imperceptible nod. She told me to prove my loyalty to him and obeying him is a good first step.

  I lift my spoon and quickly begin eating the soup. It’s delicious, a traditional Russian soup made with thin, angel hair pasta, hearty chunks of potatoes, vibrant red peppers and carrots, all in a savory chicken broth that warms me through. I keep my head down, listening to the conversation as I eat. I don’t realize what they’re speaking of until I hear the word Afghani. I open my mouth to speak, when a sharp shake of Caroline’s head warns me just in time.

  “That’s despicable,” Caroline says, shaking her head before ladling more soup into her bowl. “Is it really that complicated stopping such behavior?”

  “Of course it is,” Tomas says to her shortly. “Those who rise in power often risk anything and everything to gain control. Without knowing how deeply the plot to overthrow us runs, we can only see the tip of the iceberg. If we don’t delve into deep waters, we run the risk of utter destruction.” He scoffs. “Cowards are those that only face superficial dangers.”

  Cowardice is anathema to the men of the Bratva. They despise it.

  “Yes, I know,” she says softly, and I don’t understand why her gaze suddenly becomes sympathetic before she looks away from me. She knows something I don’t.

  “So, it seems the only option, then,” Stefan begins, “is to investigate ourselves.”

  “I agree,” Nicolai says. He takes a long pull from a frothy beer stein. “And I’m ready and willing to go with you.”

  Stefan shakes his head. “Absolutely not,” he says. “I will go alone. Me and Taara, of course.”

  Caroline watches me and doesn’t say a word. I blink.

  Wait, what?

  Tomas nods. “We have a connection on the auction ship. You can find out what you need to know from him in your travels. If I tell him ahead of time you’re coming, you can meet discreetly aboard the ship, then report back after you get to Russia.”

  Auction ship? Russia?

  I want to ask so many questions I don’t even know where to begin, but I’m not allowed to speak. It’s probably just as well anyway, as I need to listen to every word
they say.

  “I think the first order of business is upon us,” Stefan says. “The next ship leaves this evening, yes?”

  Tomas nods.

  Stefan continues. “Then Taara and I will fly to Boston and board that ship. I will find out what I can in the short time we’ll be aboard and take my findings to Russia. With the aid of the Moscow contingent, we will find out what we can about who poses a threat to us.”

  “It’s risky, brother,” Tomas says. “The Thieves will stop at nothing to get what they want.”

  “I know,” Stefan says coldly, as if his dealing with them is somehow personal. I wonder if it is.

  “Very risky,” Nicolai says. “You should let me go instead.”

  “The hell you will,” Stefan scoffs. “You have a family here that needs you. My going will be perfect, because you will take on my duties as pakhan in my absence, and given that you’ll be my successor, it’s an opportune time.” To my surprise, he turns to me next. “And I want Taara to eventually earn her freedom. She can prove her loyalty to me by playing her role in this.”

  What does that mean? Still, hope flares in my chest. I don’t even know what he’s asking of me, but he’s casually mentioned exactly what I want. I need to know more.

  I open my mouth to speak, then close it abruptly.

  “You have permission to ask questions,” Stefan says, and I don’t miss the weariness in his tone.

  “My… role in this? What is that? I’m confused.”

  I don’t miss the way Caroline’s jaw ticks, or the way she drums her fingers on the table.

  “We will board the auction ship this evening, you under the guise of being my partner. Slave, as it were. I will give you a story,” Stefan says, finishing off his drink. “The identity you will assume. And explain in detail what I expect.”

  My food suddenly feels like a rock in my stomach. “Oh?” I whisper.

  “Please, Stefan. Be careful,” Caroline begs. “This is no easy task you ask of her.”

  “We ask no easy task of any of our women,” Tomas reminds her, squeezing her knee. “A woman connected to the Bratva knows this. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

  She sighs. “Yes. But Taara is innocent,” Caroline insists, her eyes boring into her husband’s. The woman has more pluck than I do. He’s terrifying.

  “Then let her prove it,” he responds.

  Oh, shit. What are they talking about? What does she know that I don’t? I swallow hard. But he said there was a chance for me to prove my loyalty…

  I make up my mind then. I sit up straighter. I made a mistake last night, a grave one that’s put me in this position. But I want to prove my loyalty. I want this ignominy behind me. I hate being his prisoner. I will do what it takes to earn my freedom.

  I eat the rest of my meal while listening to them, trying to piece together the plans, and when we’re done, Stefan rises and takes me by the elbow. I follow. Caroline stops me at the door, though, and kisses my cheek. She looks at me with sisterly concern, her brows furrowed, lips turned down at the edges. She’s worried for me. Hell, I love that. Someone actually cares.

  “Be brave, Taara,” she whispers in my ear. “And all will come right in the end. And when it comes right, you’ll come see me, won’t you?”

  Be brave? Oh, God.

  “Sure,” I say, though I can’t imagine anything good coming out of this.

  Then she’s gone, and all I’m left with is my captor and my thoughts. He’s leading me out of the dining room by the elbow, and I barely register where I’m going. We’re going back to his house.

  Stefan is issuing rapid commands in Russian to people who trot by his side. I gather some of what he says and their response.

  Wait. What? We’re leaving already?

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” His staff takes commands in stride. Stefan’s face is impassive, and he doesn’t make eye contact with me, just holds me in his firm grip so I can’t get away.

  “Prepare her a bag,” he says to one. “Be sure to pack whatever womanly things she needs.” He casts an angry glance at me. “You are to follow me in silence and ask no questions until further notice.”

  Great. Here we go again.

  And then it dawns on me. If he’s taking me to Russia, how will I see how my mother is? How long will we be gone?

  “Stefan—” I begin, but in response he swings me out in front of him and slaps my ass so hard I stumble. Tears fill my eyes.

  He’s still a jerk.

  “I said you may not speak,” he says, his voice tight with anger.

  “My mother—” I begin, unable to stifle the questions that plague me. “Sir!”

  “Enough,” he snaps, then to my surprise he stops where he is and drags me out in front of him. “Do you have any idea how much danger you are in? Any idea at all? Do you know what we’re up against here? Christ!”

  What the hell?

  I blink at him and shake my head. I suppose I don’t.

  He continues, his blue eyes alight, gripping me so tightly it hurts. “Every one of the men in the room with me today wanted you dead. We don’t give second chances here. You have one, Taara. And this is it.” He releases me and continues marching me by his side. I skip to keep up with his strides as I mull over what he’s said. But then maybe he softens or something, for a moment later, he shakes his head. “But some day, I will bring you back to your mother.”

  Some day? What does that mean?

  “After you change into suitable clothing, you will sit by the door,” he says, pointing to a window seat. “Keep your hands where I can see them and do not speak until I give you permission.” He hands me a pair of black leggings and a red top. They belong to me, so I assume someone fetched them from my room.

  With a sigh, I dress in the little bathroom on the first floor while he stands outside the door, then I go to the window seat. I love this place, right here where the light filters in through the large bay window. I often sit here with a book, bathing in the sunlight. But today, it feels very different. I watch him go to his office and retrieve a few things before he heads back to me. His staff wheels luggage on the landing, their rapid packing happening before my very eyes. It seems only minutes later when they come downstairs, wheelie bags in hand. Something catches my eye outside the window. I turn to see a long, sleek black car pulling up out front.

  This is it. We’re going. I won’t get a chance to say goodbye to my mother. I’m leaving her here in Atlanta and going with Stefan as his… I don’t even know. Prisoner? What did he say?

  Slave?

  I hear familiar footsteps on the stairs and look up to see Stefan trotting down. “Come with me,” he says, before he grabs my hand and drags me to the door.

  I have so many questions. So very many questions. I hope that when we finally find ourselves alone, he’ll allow me to ask them.

  When we’re alone.

  It scares me to think about being alone with him again. Just one day ago, it would have been my biggest fantasy come true, but now… now he terrifies me.

  When we get outside, he opens the door to our car and gestures for me to go in, but I must be going too slowly because he practically lifts me and shoves me into the car. I stumble into the dark interior and land softly in a plush, velour seat. He stands just outside the door to the car, speaking to Nicolai and Tomas.

  “You will lead well in my absence,” Stefan says to Nicolai. “I trust you.”

  Nicolai nods, and then men embrace briefly, before Stefan joins me in the back of the car.

  I don’t speak. I don’t ask the questions that gnaw at me. I have to be patient. We drive in silence, and my heart aches. I had plans to visit my mother this weekend, and now… What if she has a moment of clarity and she wonders where I went to? Why I left her? But those thoughts flee when I look at Stefan.

  His blue eyes no longer hold the anger they did just moments ago. Instead, he looks contemplative.

  “I wonder,” he says softly, almost as if to himself. “How
you will handle this.”

  Yeah, I’m kinda curious myself, especially since I have no idea what “this” even is.

  “Am I allowed to speak now?”

  He nods. “Now that we’re no longer in the presence of my men, you may.”

  I take in a deep breath. “Thank you,” I say. “But how will I handle what? I have no idea where we’re going or what we’ll be doing.”

  Be brave, Taara.

  He sighs, but to my surprise, actually fills me in. “The man we killed last night was only one of a group of men banded together to form an uprising,” he explains. “Their purpose is to boost the human trafficking ring run by rival Bratva in America and to overtake their rivals. Namely, us.”

  I blink in surprise. Human trafficking ring? Wow.

  “Okay,” I say cautiously. “And how exactly does that impact us?”

  Leaning forward, he places his forearms on his knees and looks at me with those blue, blue eyes that pierce my very soul. God, how I want to see tenderness in his look again. Just for one moment, an ounce of compassion. It would fuel me for whatever we face next. “Taara, do you wish to vindicate yourself, not only to me but the entire brotherhood?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you further wish to prevent the abduction and sale of fellow Afghani refugees?”

  “Me? You want my help?” I ask in a little voice.

  His gaze doesn’t waver as he explains. “The men we pursue are doing just that. Their wish is to steal the refugees from Russia and sell them here in America. Since you’re Afghani, it will be an easy matter to pretend you are one of them, bought by me. And having you as my slave will make it easier for me to fill my role.”

  “I see,” I say, which is a lie, because I have no fucking idea what he’s talking about. This makes no sense to me at all. “For how long?”

  He shakes his head. “I have no idea, but you’ll remain my prisoner until you’ve proven your innocence. Until every member of my group and others knows that you do not pose a threat.”

  I shake my head. This sounds impossible, and I dislike not having more concrete guidelines. What exactly will “proving my innocence” entail? But I fall into silence next to him. I can’t control any of this. And though the thought of what he proposes terrifies me, I have a chance to do what Caroline told me to.