Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3)

by Hayley Faiman

  “Yeah,” she whispers.

  “You are not a bastard. Your father and I loved each other very much. In fact, I have loved no man as I love your father—not ever in my life. He is my soul mate. If you want me to try and find him for you, then I will. But not for some little brat in your school, okay?”

  “Really? But you always said that it wasn’t safe,” she murmurs. I shake my head.

  “I was scared, but I think—I think I could have been wrong,” I admit.

  It is hard admitting that I could have been wrong, to admit I could have been wrong for a decade to my own child. It is humbling.

  As a parent, I try to always be the best example I can be for my child, to make all of the right decisions. But I can’t help feeling that I have failed my baby. I have failed her in the worst way, and that makes me sick.

  Maybe it is time to try and find Kirill. Not only for her, but for myself, as well. If he does not want me, then maybe he will want her. I can’t help but think that my time with love is over, but my daughter deserves to be loved, and he will love her.

  Mrs. Hernandez shows a few hours later and I kiss my baby goodnight before I grab my duffle bag and leave for work. Tomorrow I will start hunting for Kirill. I’ll start where I met him, in New York. Hopefully by lunch I will at least have his number.

  It may take me several weeks to work up the nerve to actually call him, but Kiska, she needs this, and I aim to give my daughter everything in this world that she needs.

  TATYANA WALKS TO THE bus stop and climbs inside. I watch as men ogle her from their perched spots against buildings. They look to be drug dealers, but they’re watching her intently. Her patterns are too routine. Any person could watch her for less than a week to figure her out. I already have. I don’t like where she’s living, where she has my daughter living.

  It is time to let my presence be known.

  But not until later.

  Not until after she’s off of work.

  No, I’ll watch her until then.

  I’ll wait.

  I watch as she walks in through the back entrance of the club safely before I make my way toward the front. The bouncer at the door is different tonight, a big man with dark mocha skin and short clipped hair. He takes my money without even looking at my face. If I did something inside of this building, he would never remember what I looked like. Piss poor security.

  Once I am inside, I walk to the bar and shiver at the thought of drinking that piss they refer to as Vodka. Instead, I order a beer. It’s equally as disgusting, but at least it isn’t insulting.

  The house lights dim as the stage lights brighten and then my Tati is in the center of the platform. She’s dressed in a shimmery bra and thong panties, both completely see-through.

  “Fuck me, that’s the hottest bitch I’ve ever seen. She’s the only reason I come here,” the man next to me says.

  My chest swells a bit with some emotion similar to pride. She is beautiful—exquisite, to be exact—and the fact that other men desire her only makes me that much prouder.

  I am not a man that likes to hide my woman. I want to show her off, to show other’s what I have and what they cannot. The flashier the better. I wasn’t always this way.

  When I was younger, I wanted to keep her hidden from the outside world. There was a reason for it then. That reason being a man named, Ivan Chekov, who is no longer alive. Now, I want to show the world my beautiful possession. And she will be mine again.

  Tatyana bares her body for the audience, and men throw money and whistle at her. I continue to nurse my one disgusting beer and watch. Other girls take the stage, but my eye’s aren’t on them. No, they’re on Tati giving lap dances, something I did not stick around for the last time I was here. She’s conversing and flirting, men’s hands on her bare breasts and ass.

  That makes me angry.

  Men watching her is one thing; their hands on her body, another.

  I leave the club, unable to stay for a moment longer, and I lie in wait. There is an alley between the exit and her bus stop. I back my car into the alleyway and wait for her.

  Tonight, she will finally see me.

  Tonight, she will answer questions and she will answer for herself.

  It is time for her to own up to her actions from years ago.

  I watch as the bouncers and dancers file out of the building. Tatyana is last. She’s talking to the bartender, but I can tell she’s uncomfortable. Her body is rigid and her movements jerky. When he reaches for her, she takes a step back and shakes her head before she turns and quickly begins to walk away.

  I watch the poor bastard stare after her for a beat before he throws his hands up and turns away from her. She is the only one walking in my direction, and I can’t help but grin as I step out of the car.

  I lean against the dirty, brick wall of the pitch black alleyway as I wait for her to walk by. I hear her breath hitch as I wrap an arm around her waist and another around her mouth, pulling her into the alley and slamming her back against the wall.

  I press my weight against her and look into her eyes. She looks frightened, terrified, her eyes darting around and her body trembling—she looks fucking gorgeous.

  The man is staring at me intently. My heart races inside of my chest as I take him in. He’s going to rape me, I know it. He doesn’t say a word as his eyes scan mine. They’re dark, almost black, and cold. His face is covered in a short but full, dark beard and his hair is a little long, a little unkempt.

  Then he opens his mouth and speaks. My heart goes from feeling as though it is racing to feeling as though it has completely stopped.

  “Tati,” he murmurs.

  It is him.

  Kirill Baryshev.

  He’s here.

  He’s found me.

  He removes his hand from my mouth once he realizes that I recognize him. My body sags a bit in relief that I’m not about to be raped and murdered in a shitty alleyway.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask. My first words to the love of my life in a decade.

  “I could ask you the same thing, since I identified your burnt body,” he barks.

  I jump at the venom in his words. He’s so angry, but what he’s said makes no sense. I left him, yes, but I don’t understand what he’s talking about.

  “What?” I ask in confusion.

  “You’re cute when you’re acting,” he says as he tucks a piece of stray hair behind my ear.

  He’s still close, his body pressed against mine, and I can’t help the reaction of want that runs through me. His words confuse me about as much as his presence, but my body doesn’t care. It wants him, every piece of him.

  It’s been so long, so long since I have been anywhere near him. All I can think about is the way he made me feel and how much I have always loved him.

  “Did you enjoy those men touching you tonight?” he asks. I freeze before my eyes widen in surprise.

  “Kirill,” I murmur. His hand quickly wraps around the front of my throat and he leans his face down so that our noses are practically touching.

  “Did you like the way their hands rubbed all over your bare body, Tati?” he growls. It sends a shiver of fear down my spine.

  “No, I did not,” I admit.

  Shame as I have never felt before fills me and my eyes water.

  I am a horrible person. I let men touch me for money and now Kirill knows. I once was only his—pure, except for his touch. But I am no longer so. I can’t even add up how many men have touched me, how many I have flirted with and danced for, how many I have rubbed against.

  I have told myself all of these years that it has been for Kiska, to provide for her; but now, for the first time, I feel like a whore.

  “You looked like you enjoyed it. I wonder how would you feel if it were my hands?”

  “Don’t,” I sob, afraid of what’s to come.

  His eyes are so dark, so cold, so harsh looking. Gone are the warm, gray eyes that looked into my soul and knew me all those
years ago. He is a man now, a hardened man.

  “You fear me?” he asks as if this is a surprise.

  Kirill’s hand is around my throat and his dark eyes are looking at me with complete distain. Of course I fear him. He is completely terrifying in this moment. He is not the same person. Then again, neither am I.

  “Please, don’t hurt me,” I beg. His hand tightens, cutting off my air supply as his jaw tenses before he completely lets me go and takes a step back.

  “I should kill you right here and right now,” he warns.

  I don’t respond to his threat. I’m too damn scared he’ll follow through.

  Agent Green said he was a killer, that he was dangerous. I believed him; but after years of recalling the love he showed me, I wondered how I could believe such horrible things about him.

  Now I know.

  It has always been in him. My sub-conscious must have known. Scared, young, and pregnant, I followed my gut, no matter how badly my heart ached and broke.

  “Get the fuck in the car,” he barks.

  Against my better judgement, I do as he orders. The last bus has already run. Unless I want to walk home, I have no other choice but to get into Kirill’s car.

  “Where are you taking me?” I ask once he starts the engine of his luxury car. I don’t know the brand, but I can tell that it is plush. The seats feel supple and smooth under my fingers.

  “To that shit-hole you call home,” he grunts.

  “What is happening?” I ask in confusion.

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight again, Tati. You have some fucking explaining to do, and I’m not going anywhere until I hear it all,” he announces.

  I look down at my hands, my eyes focusing on my duffle bag at my feet. I do have explaining to do. A shit ton. A decade’s worth.

  I thought I would have more time until I had to come clean. I thought that I would have time to formulate what I wanted to tell him, how I wanted to present myself. But I don’t; and for whatever reason, he thinks I died. I’m so confused and baffled. Completely and totally baffled.

  “You can’t come inside,” I say in a panic once he pulls up in front of my building.

  “Yes, I can,” he announces.

  “No, really, you can’t,” I plead.

  “I know about the girl—my daughter,” he informs me. I gasp.

  “You were following me. Us,” I say. He nods.

  I reach out and slap him, unable to control myself. He scared the ever loving shit out of me. His hand wraps around my wrist and he squeezes.

  “You ever hit me again, Tati, and I will hit you back. Consider that your one freebie,” he warns, his voice low and menacing.

  “You scared me,” I whimper as his fingers tighten on my wrist and he forces my hand down.

  “You knew?” he asks, confusion clear on his features.

  “Of course, I knew. I know what it’s like to be stalked and watched,” I admit. His eyes search my face.

  I give him nothing. Absolutely nothing. The ass.

  “Who has stalked you?” he demands fiercely.

  I wish I could just tell him, give him the answer, but I can’t. I don’t know his intentions, but I do know that he isn’t back because he’s found me and loves me. I can see when he looks at me that he doesn’t harbor any kindness toward me.

  Lust, yes. Hate, yes. Anger, definitely.

  “It doesn’t matter. Just don’t, don’t do anything like that again, please. It frightened me,” I murmur. He releases my hand.

  “Fair enough. I will not stalk you any longer,” he mumbles.

  “You still cannot come inside,” I announce. His head shoots up and his eyes narrow on me.

  “I can and I will.”

  “I live in a one-bedroom apartment, Kirill. I sleep in the living room. Aside from all of that, I don’t want to just have you there when Kiska wakes up. I need to talk to her before we proceed, and first we need to talk to each other,” I explain.

  “Kiska?” he asks.

  “Kiska Barysheva Orlova,” I simply state. His mouth drops slightly.

  “You gave her part of my name?” he whispers.

  “Just because I left doesn’t mean I didn’t love you,” I murmur.

  “I will be right here when you return from taking her to school in the morning, and we will talk. I will meet her after school tomorrow,” he announces.

  His words and his attitude leave no room for discussion. Therefore, I do not argue. I nod and slide out of the car. His hand wraps around my forearm and he stops me before I can stand completely. I look back at him with slight confusion and then he speaks.

  “You will tell me everything tomorrow, Tatyana. Your life is now changed,” he says.

  I nod, unable to really respond.

  The moment he grabbed me from behind and pushed me against the alley wall, I knew my life would be forever changed. It didn’t matter who grabbed me, from that moment on, I would never be the same.

  I’m thankful it wasn’t a man who meant to assault me, but I am under no illusions that Kirill will not hurt me. He has the ability to destroy me. By the look in his eyes, he will do so with zero hesitation.

  I make my way inside of my apartment and relieve Mrs. Hernandez with gratitude and a handful of cash from the night. Once she has left, I walk straight into my bathroom and strip out of my clothes. I wash my face and then look in the mirror. I am not the same girl I was at eighteen. I’ve aged. I’m no longer the shy virgin Kirill loved. I am a woman, a mother, a stripper.

  The hot water does not wash away my heartache; it doesn’t ease my mind that Kirill thinks poorly of me. I have never wanted him to think of me as anything other than his zolotse, his gold. But now—now he knows I will never be that again. The illusions and the memories of what once was and what could have been are shattered.

  I am not the same doe-eyed girl just as he is not the same gray-eyed boy.

  We are changed.

  Hardened.

  We may never fall in love with each other again, but maybe, hopefully, for Kiska, we can co-exist.

  I close my eyes and try to rest but sleep evades me as the memories of my past come rushing forward.

  “Moyo zolotse, you shimmer like gold, do you know this?” Kirill asks as he runs his fingers through my hair. We’re naked in bed. He’s holding onto me, and I’m resting my head on his shoulder.

  “You’re silly,” I chuckle, avoiding his sweet words.

  “I would like to meet your family, Tati,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the top of my head.

  “There is only my mother, Kirill, you know this,” I say as my fingertip circles his flat nipple.

  “You have a father. You remember him, maybe we should find him,” he offers.

  “Why? So he can reject me again? I don’t think so. If you want to meet my mother, you can. She’s not very friendly, so I make no promises that she’ll like you.” I giggle as he rolls on top of me, his hips nestled between my thighs.

  “I’m a fucking delight; she’ll love me. All women do,” he smirks. I laugh even harder.

  “So humble, my love,” I grin, biting my bottom lip.

  “Say it again,” he grunts as his eyes darken to the color of charcoal.

  “My love,” I whisper before my breath hitches.

  “Moyo zolotse,” he whispers before his lips touch mine and his cock enters me in one swift thrust of his hips.

  We made love. It wasn’t fucking, it wasn’t just sex, it was passionate love. That was the moment we conceived Kiska. I loved him with all of my heart and soul.

  I knew he was my love, just as I had professed. What I didn’t know was who and what he was at the time. When I found out—and it wasn’t from him, but from an FBI Agent—I ran scared.

  If I could take that back, I would.

  If I could go back to the time when I was his moyo zolotse and he was my love, I would in a heartbeat.

  I would take back the past ten years and I would go back to him.


  Maybe we wouldn’t have worked out, but at least I would have known that I gave it all that I could, instead of running scared and giving up.

  I DON’T SLEEP.

  I can’t.

  I make Kiska a big breakfast of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. When she sleepily rubs her eyes as she walks out of her room, she stops dead at the sight of me in the kitchen cooking. Her dark hair is all messy and matted, her eyes tired and focused on me. She looks exactly like Kirill when he’s first waking from sleep. It’s been a while since I have seen him that way, but some things you never forget.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks as I plate her food and place it down on the table.

  I busy myself with my own plate before I motion for her to sit.

  “I need to talk to you,” I say.

  I want to assure her that nothing is wrong, but what the hell do I know? I can’t tell the future, and this Kirill that I met last night—he scares me.

  “You’re not sick are you?” she asks, furrowing her brow.

  I almost laugh, but instead I shake my head and wrap my hand around hers before I explain.

  “You remember how yesterday you said you wanted to meet your father? You wanted me to contact him?” She nods but doesn’t say anything. “He has found us. I only talked to him briefly last night, and today, while you are in school, we are going to discuss some things that are long overdue. But he would like to meet you after school,” I blurt out, unable to pause or even slow down my words.

  “Really?” she asks with a smile on her face.

  “Really,” I nod.

  “Wow. Will he like me?” she asks. It breaks my heart. Shatters it completely.

  “Kiska!” I practically shout. Her head snaps up. “He will love you, wholly and completely. He already knows about you and is very anxious to meet you. He wanted to this morning, but I wanted to make sure you have plenty of time to spend together, so I asked him to come after school.”

  “Really?”” she breathes.

  “Really. Now eat up and get ready for school. Today is going to be a fantastic day, my Kiska girl,” I grin. She returns my grin with a bright, blinding smile. I love it.

  I walk her to school, as I do every day. Except today, she is practically running there. I can tell her excitement is above and beyond anything she has ever felt before, and I’m so happy for her. I am. I’m scared for myself, the way Kirill was last night—he’s unreadable. But for Kiska—for Kiska I am ecstatic.