“The attendant and the pilot?”
“No longer a problem. Both were part of our family. A traitor and a pussy. Disgusting,” I say, ending the conversation about that.
I feel guilty. Not for killing the two people who helped take Emiliya from me, of course. I should have been more on my guard; but to be honest—I was excited. It was happening, I was making plans with my sweet Emiliya for our future. A future we will probably not have now.
“South Africa…” Yakov murmurs.
Then every single muscle in his face tightens and he turns to me with fire in his eyes.
“Nothing makes sense,” Yakov murmurs.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Yakov is staring out of the window and shaking his head in what I can only assume is confusion.
Then he speaks
“The last time you were here you mentioned Dimitri had disappeared and I was curious. This should not have happened. No man should disappear; and then none of his men are talking? I asked around, I wanted to know where he was. I broke into his office looking for clues, trying to figure out where he could be. At the time, I didn’t think it was anything…” his voice trails off and I impatiently wait.
I knew Dimitri was gone, but Maxim was trying to find him. I didn’t know Yakov had entered the search as well. This not only makes Dimitri look bad, but Maxim as well. Who can I trust, the answer is simple—no one.
“He was looking at properties in South Africa. I thought he may have wanted a little vacation house, maybe a future place to retire. You know, after Maryia’s death, he hasn’t been the same. I thought perhaps he just needed to get away for a while,” he says almost softly. Then his head inclines to the side.
“Do you think he’s capable?” he asks.
I nod once before I answer. “I think any man is capable of anything. We have seen shit in this life, Yakov. We have seen good men do despicable things, and we have seen despicable men do good things. If you would have asked me two years ago if Gregori was capable of turning his back on his brothers, on Maxim? I would have said, no way in hell,” I explain, hitting home my reasoning with the example of Gregori. He manipulated and used Haleigh.
“I have a pilot. He is not connected, but he is discreet. We rest tonight and prepare. Tomorrow, we go with Pasha and his security, along with mine, to South Africa. I want Ashley back. I want my sister back. I want who ever fucking took Ashley and my sister to fucking suffer, at my hand.”
I don’t utter another word to him as he begins calling together security. I take the moment to call Pasha and explain. I also call Maxim to check on Haleigh and the baby, and to update him on the goings on here in the U.S.
I feel him out. I have to keep him informed, but I do not trust him yet. I will know soon enough if he is with Dimitri or not. If he defends him, or if he tries to turn me away from the search, that will be all the proof I need. Wisely, Maxim does not defend Dimitri. He has already watched one person he considered a friend deceive him. He tells me that there is no loyalty; every man is a suspect, and that includes Dimitri. Then I call Kirill to inform him that I will not be in California as anticipated.
We are not fools in this world.
Sex, greed, money, and power can change a man in mere seconds. If your core is weak, then you are weak. Dimitri has been fucking crumbling for months. We have all seen it coming. Nobody would believe he could hurt women, women who belonged to his own brothers; but at this point, it appears as though he has.
Yakov and I arrive at his place, and if I gave a fuck, I would probably think it was badass. I don’t give a fuck, though. I only care about one thing in life, and that is to have my Emiliya back, unharmed. I do not want to even think about the horrors she could be enduring at the hands of the monster who has her. She has seen enough, has been hurt enough, she doesn’t need this to top it off.
“I have one question. The guard who was with your sister in Paris?” I ask Yakov as he takes two shot glasses and fills them with vodka.
“I dealt with him, personally,” he says, arching a brow at me.
I nod.
I want more, but he doesn’t seem willing to give me any information. We each take a shot, then another. Before I realize it, we are each six shots in.
“The guard. He always lusted for Emiliya. Scared her, mostly, but he never did anything while our father was around. Too scared, or some shit. He thought once Ivan was out of the picture, Emmy would go wild and crazy with her newfound freedoms. My Emiliya wouldn’t have, even if she could have. She was raised to be fearful of our father and his wide reach. Never would she step out of line. Never would she give herself away to any man other than her husband,” Yakov says, his voice quiet and lethal. He takes another shot and walks toward the big windows that overlook the city.
“Our father put an expectation on her virginity, and a high price tag. She knew if she was not perfect and pure on her wedding day, then there would be hell to pay. When she called me crying from Paris, I knew what had happened. I talked father into transferring him before I left to help her. I never told him why. I knew he would take the assault out on Emiliya, instead of the guard. The bastard never made the plane to his new destination,” he explains.
I turn my head, unable to look anywhere near him. Rage is building inside of me and trying to claw its way out. This was not Yakov’s fault, this was Ivan and the guards’ fault. They are both dead. I should be glad.
“Do you know why I chose you, Radimir, the real reason?” he asks, stepping back with a sway.
“Because of the way I dealt with Klavdia,” I state. He shakes his head with a smile.
“No, friend. Because I knew no other man on earth would appreciate the goodness my sister has within her. No other man would think her strong enough to deal with this life. They would keep her dumb and hidden away. I know your past, Radimir. I know more than most people. I know that the shit you’ve been through was evil and you had a hard life. You deserve good, my friend; but Emiliya, she deserves to be worshiped, and only a man who has seen what you’ve seen and done what you’ve done can worship her properly. You are a man that can love her eventually, and can allow her to stand next to you instead of behind you. That is why I chose you, Radimir. Your dealing with Klavdia only proved what I already knew about you.”
I gape at the man. He is younger than I am, and yet he knows so much about me. It is astonishing. Only Sergei and I know the whole truth of my past. It angers me that Sergei would betray my trust and tell this man-boy my business. I open my mouth to say just that, but Yakov beats me to the punch.
“I strong armed him, Radimir. He suggested you for Emiliya and I wanted to know why. I wanted the truth, and I wanted all of the details. He refused for a long time, until the end, until decisions had to be made. His confessions and his stories stay with only me, my friend. I will never tell another living soul,” he promises. Stepping up to me, a mere foot from my body, he places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes before he continues.
“We are family now, Radimir. You are not only my brother by bond of Bratva, but you are my brother by marriage. Your children will be my nephews by blood, and together, we will build up this Bratva to be strong and good again.” He smirks, looking away and then back at me with a full on smile, “Well, as good as it can be with men like us running the show and needing to make a fucking profit.”
I look at him for a beat before I begin laughing. The mood is a bit lighter from talking about Emiliya’s shit, my shit, Ivan’s shit, and Yakov’s shit.
“Let us sleep. Tomorrow we get our fucking women back,” he shouts. I can’t help but feel a bit better, excited even, to take back what is mine.
My lover.
My wife.
My Emiliya.
Though Emiliya has only been gone a few hours, it feels like years. I only had her again for a day before she was ripped from me.
Coming to the U.S., to California, it was supposed to be the beginning of a new life for us. A new Pakhan f
or me, but a new start for her, too. Here in the states, nobody knows or cares who Emiliya Chekova is. They don’t care who designed her latest dress; and they don’t give a fuck about her life, her husband, or her father.
This was as much a move for protection as it was for her to be able to just breathe.
I know what my woman needs, and she had been suffocated in Russia for far too long. I was ready to watch her shine and become who she is meant to be. Now, I only pray she has not been broken so that she can still be the strong woman I know lives inside of her.
I CAN PRACTICALLY TASTE Ashley’s sweet pussy; we are so close.
Six of us piled into the plane that is now headed for South Africa. This lead has to be correct. I won’t be able to hold in my rage if she isn’t at Dimitri’s home here. I don’t know where else to look or who else could possibly have her.
I have been working my ass off, killing, threatening, and extorting all of my father’s contacts and enemies on my search for my little blonde haired beauty.
Gregori had fucked her up, but her mind isn’t completely gone yet. She is strong, smart, and sweet. I wanted to save her—yes.
However, I wanted to fuck her while I was saving her. I’m a sick fuck, wanting a woman for my own. A woman who has been abused for far too long. I should give her a choice to go back to where she came from. Ashley has no family, none that were worth anything, anyway. I want to take care of her, though - she is the one for me.
I have never felt the same about another woman in my entire life. Maybe it is our strong bond, from me bringing her back from the brink of death. Maybe it is the way she looks at me, as if I am her fucking hero. I feel ten feet tall when she looks at me like that, like without me she would be lost. I feel the same. Maybe it is the way she calls me Jacob, the American version of Yakov. It sounds like spun sugar as it passes her lips.
Ashley is so innocent in all of this, it is sickening. Her father owed debts to Gregori and Ivan. It had nothing to do with her. It is why I killed him when I first had the chance. Any father who would not die trying to save his daughter from a life of torture at Gregori’s hand did not deserve to live. And now, Dimitri is twisted and angry about whatever he’s angry about. Most likely he’s pisssed about whoever took and tortured Maryia. Again, this makes Ashley completely innocent. And Emiliya? Fuck, my poor sister.
“We land in thirty minutes. We need to change,” Radimir informs from beside me.
Radimir, the man who has married my sister. Perhaps I should be angry that he did not protect my sister better; but then again, I couldn’t protect Ashley, so I cannot blame him when I am not blameless myself.
We dress in black fatigues and bullet proof vests. We have no clue what we are walking into, but we will not be walking out of there without our women.
“Kirill Baryshav, my new Pakhan, will be meeting us there,” Radimir announces. It confuses me.
“Why? We have men from Pasha,” I say.
“I told him why I wouldn’t be in California on time and he offered himself and a few men. Apparently, he has heard of Dimitri, and not good things,” he murmurs.
It would make sense. Kirill has been Pakhan in the Unites States much longer than I have. I am not going to get pissed off over extra help. I will take whatever men I can to get my Ashley back.
Once the plane lands, we step outside to find ten black SUV’s lined up, with at least thirty men standing around them. One of them is bigger, badder, and more dominant than the others. Kirill. He catches our eyes and walks straight for Radimir and me.
“Chekov, Zalesky,” he says, holding out his hand to shake ours.
Kirill’s dark hair is a bit long, but slicked back; he has a full beard and he’s thin. He’s wearing cargo pants and a bullet proof vest, much like we are. He’s in charge, and not one man standing at his back will question him. I see it in their eyes, but also in his.
“Baryshev,” Radimir and I say at the same time.
“Did I bring enough men to smoke the fuckers out?” he asks, chuckling.
I grin and Radimir smiles widely. Though he looks exhausted, the obvious future victory lightens his mind a bit.
“Let’s get the women and fuck those assholes up,” I offer, making both Kirill and Radimir laugh.
Kirill walks over to an SUV and opens the back hatch. It is full of guns, all different calibers and all big, black, and beautiful. I watch as he begins handing them out to his men and then to ours. He doesn’t hand Radimir and I the big powerful guns; instead, he places small silver hand guns in each of our hands. They are lightweight, and they leave me absolutely speechless. I want ten just like them. They are powerful, their sleekness a thing of magnificence.
“From my personal collection. You are not soldiers; you do not use soldiers’ guns. You are brigadier’s Let’s go.” He lifts his chin and all of the men begin to pile into the SUV’s.
I am hungry – hungry for blood.
For the blood of a fucking traitor pussy.
That piece of shit is fucking mine.
I wake with my heart racing, threatening to leap out of my throat. It is beating so rapidly and hard.
Something is not right.
I can feel it.
It must be early in the morning, because the sun is not shining through the blinds yet. I look over to Ashley, who is curled into a ball on the floor, whimpering. She has been this way since her shower, after spending her evening downstairs, somewhere.
We didn’t speak.
I didn’t ask her what happened and she didn’t ask me. Although, I have a feeling that she was more than just displayed and groped. I am certain that she was violated in ways I could never imagine.
I place my hand on her bicep and squeeze as she cries out, tears falling from her eyes in sleep. I will not wake her, and I will not ask her about the horrors she has suffered, but I will be her friend.
I study her pretty young face.
My brother loves her.
I am sure of it.
I saw how devastated and broken he was when she disappeared. Originally, I thought that perhaps she ran—maybe to start over, maybe to her family, wherever they are. Knowing her now, Yakov was right. She wouldn’t have run from him. Just the sound of his name brings a smile to her lips and a twinkle to her cloudy eyes. They are meant for each other.
“Why are you awake? You should get as much rest as possible,” she says, her voice deep with sleep.
“I have a bad feeling,” I mutter. She opens her eyes to look at me.
“I have had a bad feeling for a while,” she deadpans. I almost want to laugh. If this wasn’t so serious, I might.
“We will not survive this place if we do not get out,” I say.
“I know,” she whispers, sucking in her bottom lip.
“Are you hurt too badly?” I chance asking, not wanting to go into details.
“My ass hurts so bad,” she admits as red creeps up her cheeks in obvious embarrassment.
“We will survive and we will be free again,” I murmur.
Ashley slides her eyes over to me and smiles weakly. She doesn’t believe me, but I am determined. I do not want all those men to touch me ever again. If this is to be my life, I will struggle with Dimitri every step of the way. Even if freedom means that I aimlessly walk the streets here in South Africa, I will do it. He cannot win. I will not allow him to abuse me; I do not want to hurt like Ashley does. I was born a Chekova and I am now a Zaleskya. I will not go down without a fight.
In that plane on the way here, I survived—now I will fight.
The door slams open and my spine goes straight, a shiver running over my entire body. Dimitri is standing at the entrance, a look of pure hatred on his face. His eyes narrow on me, and then he walks straight to me, picking me up by my hair. I feel like the strands are going to rip out of my head. The pain slices through my entire body, but I do not show it.
To show fear or pain shows weakness, and I refuse to be weak a minute longer.
“T
ime to start your training, blyad,” he sneers, dragging me out of the room. I can’t turn to look at Ashley, but I can hear her softly sobbing behind me.
Dimitri will not break me.
I will not go down without a fight.
He will have to kill me before I will whore myself out for him.
I will only whore myself out for one man.
The only man who deserves it.
My husband.
Penniless, homeless, and destitute sounds a hell of a lot better than spreading my legs to make this man rich. Yesterday, before I was strung up like some piece of meat, I thought I could handle being used by the men Dimitri sold me to. Today, after listening to the crying of Ashley all evening long, I know that I would not survive it. Perhaps I would be breathing, but inside I would be dead. I would rather be dead on the street then in this man’s house.
Dimitri drops me onto the hardwood floor in the living room, the place I was strung up last night—presented like meat to be ogled, touched, and grabbed by perverse strangers. My body feels as though it will forever remain bruised at this point. I ache all over, from sleeping on the hard floor, and the abuse at the hands of this psychopath.
“Strip,” he clips. I do not move. I will not surrender to him. Ever.
“Never,” I state, looking into his cold, dead eyes.
“Do it, or I let Dima and Sasha have at your body for the rest of the day.” He arches a brow, challenging me.
I stand, uncaring that his face doesn’t mask his anger at my defiance. Squaring my shoulders, I look deep into his eyes, his cold, dead eyes. I have to be strong. For myself. For Ashley.
“I submit to nobody but my husband, Dimitri. If you want me, you will have to take me by force, and I will fight until I die. I will not accept being violated ever again. I am not weak. I am Emiliya Ivana Chekova Zaleskya,” I announce, watching as his eyes go from cold and dead to surprised.
“You are not married to Radimir, you are just his whore,” he hisses.
I laugh. It is a false bravado, and I honestly want to curl up into a ball and cry, but I will not in front of this man.
Seducing the Badman (Russian Bratva #2) Page 14
