The Moscow Affair

by Taylor Lee

  “Good evening gentlemen. It is my pleasure to welcome you. My name is Aiden Forrester. I describe myself as a purveyor of fine goods, be they luxury automobiles, fine wines, or—young women. All items certain to appeal to discerning gentlemen like yourselves. We will move immediately to the business at hand. We have for your buying pleasure a collection of young women guaranteed to meet, and even exceed, your exacting specifications. As you are aware, this is an invitation-only event and we promise you the utmost discretion. The rules are simple befitting this assemblage. The opening bid for each of our lovelies is $500,000, after which increments of $100,000 are accepted. You may enter your bid on the consoles next to your chair, a more sophisticated way of bidding that preserves your privacy and does not require you shouting at the top of your lungs.”

  Aiden grinned at his own joke and there were a number of chuckles from the men in the audience who no doubt did not want their fellow bidders to know who they were competing against.

  “We understand the competition for many of these women will be fierce, and we therefore appeal to your sense of fair play. As in all of your purchasing decisions, whether it is a new automobile or as in this case a fresh body to satisfy your carnal needs, the highest bid wins. The final decision—should a conflict arise—is mine.”

  Rafe studied the young man, impressed by his confidence. Seemingly unfazed by the wealth represented in the room or the egregious crime he was engineering, the blond man showed all the signs of a soulless sociopath. No scruples stood in his way, and his message was clear: Anyone foolish enough to challenge him would not live to tell the tale. Rafe wondered, if Yuri had not sucked him out of the banlieues, would he have become an Aiden? But then, he knew the difference. Unlike Aiden, even as a sixteen-year-old hoodlum, he had a soul and a conscience that would haunt him all of his life.

  Aiden turned to the group of young women at the back of the stage, and motioned to the blonde at one end of the line. She might have been eighteen, it was hard to tell. Her eyes were glazed with fear and the residue of strong drugs. She trembled at his gaze and stepped back. In seconds he was at her side. His hand snaked out and grabbed hold of hers. The pain on her face and her fruitless attempt to free herself confirmed his vicious grip. Dragging her behind him, he lifted her onto the dais and whispered in her ear. Immediately the girl stood straighter but was unable to keep her lips from trembling. Drawing a linen handkerchief from his inside vest pocket, Aiden carefully wiped the tears off her face.

  Turning to the men in the audience, Aiden’s voice was solicitous as though it pained him to see the young girl’s tears. As though it was not him and his band of criminals that had stolen her off the streets, kept her in a semi-conscious drugged state, and terrorized her with their lewd overtures.

  “Please understand, gentlemen. The lovelies we are offering tonight are young and innocent of the ways of the world. They are shy and somewhat fearful… which makes them an even more delightful acquisition. You will have the opportunity to introduce them to amorous amusements they have only read about, and pleasure yourself in return.”

  Jerking the young woman forward, Aiden turned her backside to the audience pointing out her round bottom, curvy hips and long legs. Like a doting dog owner at the Westminster Kennel Club, he showed off her wares, one feature after another, wrenching on her hair to better display her throat. Making a final turn, he faced her toward the audience and tugged on the chain attached to her tender nipples. Her whimper of pain was amplified by the microphone he held to her lips.

  Aiden opened the bidding with an ingratiating smile, now ignoring the tears coursing down the girl’s face.

  “All right gentlemen, what do I hear for the opportunity to treat this young woman to your particular brand of hospitality? I should have noted that if you require only infrequent visits with the items you purchase, my partner and I have excellent accommodations to house the young women. With reasonable notice, we will be pleased to have your property ready and prepared for your use.”

  Eventually, the terrified young girl was sold to a diminutive Chinese man for $800,000. The ugly ritual continued, as one semi-naked woman after another was dragged up on the podium and displayed like livestock. Or, in a more apt analogy, the slave auctions of the past. Rafe glowered. Unfortunately, this was not an event in the past. Rather, it was a 21st century human auction held in the richest, most sophisticated city in the Western world.

  Rafe entered bids for each of the three girls they’d come to find. Actually, he eschewed the bidding process and simply offered $2 million for each one. Aiden and his cohorts didn’t question the peremptory bid, simply announcing that a final bid had been registered. After a relatively short time, nineteen openly weeping girls had been bought by the wealthy unscrupulous men, and were shuttled off the stage to be prepared for the individuals who now owned them.

  Rafe’s chest grew tighter and tighter, recognizing as the group of cowering girls dwindled, the likelihood that Nicki would be the final prize. And why wouldn’t she be? Even in this humiliating venue she stood proud and calm, never taking her eyes off the audience of despicable men.

  There was a noticeable shuffling of feet and even a few open gasps when Aiden walked back to haul Nicki up to the dais. Shoving his hand from her arm, she marched forward and stepped up on the dais. She raised her chin in a familiar gesture that flooded the back of Rafe’s eyelids with moisture. Aiden, flushed with anger, leapt up on the podium and grabbed hold of her arm, bending it up behind her back. With his other hand he jerked mercilessly on the chain between her breasts. Nicki did not cry out but Rafe saw the flash of pain in her eyes. His breathing slowed as his body prepared for the coming assault.

  Clearly furious, Aiden’s lip curled in an ugly smile.

  “As you can see, our final prize, this stunning redhead, is arrogant. I recommend that only men who are able to tame a feisty haughty bitch bid for her. Forgive my coarse language, but I do not exaggerate. This is a woman begging to be taken down and taken down hard.”

  There was a murmur of interest throughout the crowd. Aiden raised his hand.

  “I will accept opening bids in a moment. But first there is another prize for all of you, not just the lucky—or unlucky—man who wins this impudent woman. Her body is decorated in such a manner that every man should have the opportunity to view the erotic artistry—for a price of course. Those wishing to stay for this last sale will make a $1 million non-refundable down payment. Once we have received the down payment, we will strip this young woman for general viewing.”

  Rafe immediately punched in a bid of $5 million dollars. Looking at the console on the podium, Aiden frowned.

  “We accept your bid, sir, of course. However, we must likewise honor the deposits made by your peers. Eleven men have entered a non-refundable deposit for the privilege of bidding for this outrageous woman.”

  Rafe rose to his full height, one hand pulling back the edge of the bisht, allowing him quicker access to the M16 repeater rifle inside his trobe.

  His voice rang out, an icy shot across the room.

  “I will cover those deposits and return them to the “investors.” And I will double my personal bid. You have 30 seconds. If you do not accept my conditions in full, I withdraw my offer as well as my three previous offers.”

  At the sound of Rafe’s voice, Nicki’s head flew back. Her eyes widened and her lips trembled, the first concession he’d seen to the terror she’d endured.

  Then a crash sounded from the back of the room, and a hail of bullets rang through the hallway. At the signal, the ISA team at the door took out the bodyguards and the SWAT team poured in.

  Grayson’s shout added to the cacophony in the auditorium. “Drop your weapons!”

  Simultaneously, he, Caleb, Cam and Danny all drew their weapons, and a barrage of bullets systematically mowed down the startled guards ringing the risers, as pandemonium broke out among the guests.

  Rafe tore off his Arab garb. In a black t-shirt and camm
o pants he sprinted toward the stage, an M16 rifle raised in one hand above his head.

  He shouted, “Down Nicki.”

  But Nicki beat him to it. Wrenching loose from Aiden’s painful grip, she spun in a circle and drove her heel into his shoulder, eliciting an angry scream. She aimed her knee at his groin but Aiden was too fast. He backhanded her across her face, knocking her to the floor. Seeing Rafe leap up onto the stage, Aiden raced from the room, disappearing into a maze of hallways. Nicki heaved herself to her hands and knees, wiping blood from her battered lip.

  Leaping to her feet, she ran for the hallway, shouting to Rafe, “The girls, Rafe. We have to get the girls.”

  Dragging his t-shirt over his head, Rafe tossed it to her, along with a 9 mm Glock.

  “Here. Put this on, Princess.”

  Yanking the t-shirt over her head, she ordered, “I need a knife, Rafe. Give me a knife.”

  Rafe frowned, then quickly tossed her a Bowie knife from his ankle sheath.

  As she ran down the corridor to the private suites on the second floor, she yelled over her shoulder to Rafe, who was right behind her with Caleb and Grayson at his heels. “They will head for the roof. They have three helicopters ready to go.”

  Rafe hollered to Caleb and Grayson and Cam who came from another direction. “Get the girls, then meet us on the roof.

  “C’mon, Nicki. Show me the way.”

  Nicki ran as fleet as a gazelle. At the bottom of the staircase to the roof, she stopped and faced Rafe.

  “Boris is mine, Rafe. He killed my mother.”

  Tucking the Glock in the waistband of her pants, she held the knife in a tight fist at her side. Her voice was soft, her eyes black with deadly fury.

  “He’s mine. Volkov is mine.”

  Rafe shrugged.

  “He’s all yours, Princess—as long as I get that little asshole, Aiden.”

  Chapter 34

  Hearing the whir of helicopter blades and the roar of a motor revving up, Rafe and Nicki tore up the stairs. Throwing open the door, Rafe spotted Boris dragging his heavy body up into the cab. He raced to the helipad, and grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, Rafe yanked the big man out of the cab and hurled him to the rough cement roof. The Russian landed with a loud oomph as the air rushed out of his bulky body.

  Rafe threw Nicki a gleeful grin.

  “There you go, Darlin’. Have at him.”

  Reaching across the seat, he grabbed for Aiden who was desperately working the controls, grinding them in a desperate futile attempt to raise the craft. With a fearsome lunge, Rafe cocked his fist and drove it into Aiden’s face. The crack of bones and flood of blood confirmed that he had broken the Aryan’s nose. Pulling the bleeding man from the cab, he threw him to the ground with a triumphant roar.

  “And you, you disgusting prick, are all mine.”

  Chancing a quick glance to make sure that Nicki had the big Russian under control, Rafe’s heart filled with pride when she banged Boris’ head against the cement, then dug her thumb into a paralyzing lock on his shoulder.

  But taking his attention off Aiden even for an instant was a mistake. The hoodlum was no Boris: He was young, lithe, and armed with a thousand dirty tricks learned in the hood. And now he had a Sig Saur aimed at Rafe’s head. With instincts honed by years of near deaths, Rafe ducked; the streak of pain confirmed the bullet had merely grazed his shoulder. Fury was a welcome anesthetic. Rafe and Aiden attacked one another, ferocious animals smelling blood. They were well matched. What Aiden gained from youth, Rafe earned in the sheer number of killings under his belt. Their screams filled the night. Rafe couldn’t remember the last time that he attacked a man with his bare hands, with the express intent of killing him. But there was no question… if he didn’t kill Aiden, Aiden would kill him. Trading blows, they drew closer and closer to the rail encircling the landing pad. Rising from the ground after a particularly hard throw, Rafe suddenly barreled forward, driving his head into Aiden’s gut. Aiden sailed back, crashing against the guard rail that snapped under the weight of his body.

  Rafe stepped back, watching in wonder as Aiden frantically clutched at the broken railing, trying to heave his legs back up on the deck. But it was no use—his momentum and the weight of his body was too hard to control. Hanging over the edge, his hysterical screams filled the air. Desperately fighting for purchase, clinging to the edge of the roof, Aiden looked up imploringly at Rafe. His eyes were filled with terror. His voice was an agonized rasp.

  “Please, man, help me.”

  Rafe stepped closer and nodded.

  “My pleasure.”

  He stamped on the man’s grasping fingers with his combat boot. With a hideous tortured scream that echoed through the night, Aiden lost his grip and fell fifty-six stories to the ground below.

  Rafe whirled to see Nicki sitting on Boris’s chest, straddling him. She wrenched his head back, exposing his throat to the blade in her hand. Ignoring the pleas from the blubbering man, she bent down, her face inches from his.

  “Did you enjoy raping my mother? Did you?”

  When he sobbed louder, she raked the blade across his cheek. When his shriek quieted, she leaned down again.

  “I asked you a question! Did you enjoy raping my mother?”

  Boris cried out a sob-filled affirmative.

  Nicki’s voice turned low.

  “How many men were in front of you?”

  When he sobbed louder, she tucked the point of the knife under his chin drawing blood.

  “How many? How many men raped my mother before you did, you piece of shit?”

  The word bubbled in his panicked throat.

  “Seven.”

  “And you brought up the rear? You were the last of the cowardly animals?”

  When he sobbed louder, she poked his throat again, her voice was like ice.

  “Answer me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that when she died?”

  His answer was barely audible.

  “Yes.”

  With a quick slash, Nicki slit his throat. Rising unsteadily to her feet, she kicked his dying body to the side.

  “Rot in hell.”

  She stood for a moment, then began to sway. Rafe was at her side in seconds, sweeping her up in his arms.

  Grayson and Caleb, followed by Cam and Danny, bounded up the stairs and rushed through the doorway. Grayson pulled up short causing the others to crash into him. Staring at Boris’s bloody body, Grayson looked at Nicki huddled in Rafe’s arms and raised a questioning brow.

  Rafe nodded and held Nicki closer to him.

  Glancing around the rooftop littered with weapons and covered with blood, Grayson frowned.

  “Aiden?”

  Rafe quirked his thumb, pointing to the broken railing.

  “Over there.”

  ~~~

  Rafe determined that they would fly back to the compound in the Gulfstream. Grayson, Caleb and Katya rode with Nicki and Rafe. Cam sat up front with Jeff to co-pilot the six-seater.

  Max insisted on treating Rafe’s shoulder—but he had to clean the wound, apply the antiseptic, and bandage it while Rafe held Nicki in his other arm, refusing to put her down. He wouldn’t have been able to if he wanted to; she clung to him as if she’d never let go.

  An hour into the flight, Katya gave in and fell asleep. Caleb had removed the armrest between them and held her until she settled down. She had cried intermittently from the time she saw Nicki, until she finally fell asleep snuggled up to Caleb. As many times as Rafe and the others told her that it wasn’t her fault, Rafe knew it would be a long time until they all stopped blaming themselves for the near tragedy.

  Nodding to Grayson who peered over the seat periodically to check on them, Rafe scowled.

  “Eyes in front, Bro.”

  Grayson raised a brow then gave him an understanding nod when Rafe pointed to the nipple clamps visible under Rafe’s t-shirt that Nicki was still wearing along with the harem pants.

 
As quietly as he could Rafe spoke to her.

  “Nicki, are you awake, baby?”

  When she nodded sleepily, he reached up under her t-shirt and cupped her breast in his big hand. She shivered then gave a little cry when his thumb touched the clamp.

  “Princess, I’m going to take these things off of you, but I have to warn you, baby, these little devils hurt more coming off than they do going on.”

  Before she could protest, he unclipped the vise-like clamp.

  She yelped in surprise as the blood rushed back into the swollen tip.

  Pulling up her shirt Rafe leaned down and covered her sore nipple with his mouth, laving it gently with his tongue. Within minutes her agonized breaths turned to soft pants.

  Rubbing the tortured nub with his fingers to distract her, Rafe unsnapped the other clamp. She startled and cried out.

  “Damn. Why does it hurt so much?”

  When he bent over her, covering her other nipple with his mouth, licking the tortured peak, she moaned and whispered. “And why does it feel so good when you do that?”

  He smiled down at her.

  “If it’s done right, Princess, they can feel good going on and coming off. Depending how sensitive your nipples are.”

  She breathed out a quivering puff of air.

  “And if they are sensitive like mine are?”

  “It can be good, Darlin’. Damn good.”

  He held her close, ministering to her tender flesh, murmuring comforting words as he licked and stroked the sensitive skin.

  Feeling her excitement stirring, Rafe tried to quell his growing arousal. As usual, his dick had a mind of its own. Holding her close, he felt her heart pounding against her chest, knowing that it couldn’t beat any harder than his.

  She moaned softly then put her hands around his neck and pulled his lips down to her naked breasts. Her breath came in airy gasps, fluttering against his cheek.

  Struggling against his own arousal, Rafe gently unwound her hands.