Nothing.
For so long, Luka had worked with careless abandon, never giving a second thought to those he hurt, and despite it all, he rarely felt fear.
But as his hand continued to tremble when he raised it again, he couldn’t deny that that was what he was feeling.
Fear.
With one slap harder than the others, he yelled her name.
She groaned, a low sound that was like music to his ears. She tried to push off him, but he kept a firm hold.
Luka had to fix this, fix her, but in his current state, he was panicking too much to do any good. Balling his fist, he slammed it into the wall, then again, only satisfied when he heard the crack of the tile along with the sharp pain radiating up his arm.
Pain sharpened his mind, helped him focus, and normally turned off everything inside of him.
Against her hair, he whispered an apology, knowing that what he planned to do to her was for her own good…even if it hurt her.
Shifting her, he opened her mouth and shoved two fingers in. Alex responded immediately, gagging, her dainty hands coming up to grab at his arm, her nails scoring his skin. Only when she started throwing up did he remove them.
Once it started, it wouldn’t stop. She lurched to the side, but there was hardly any room for her to move. Most of it went all over his jeans, and her own clothes, but he didn’t care about that, only glad that he was finally seeing her move.
But it wasn’t until she started crying, whispering broken words he couldn’t hear that something broke inside of him.
PART TWO
Secrets never die.
We bury them alive,
And pray they don’t
Come back to haunt us.
-Mia Hollow
16
____
Past
November 22
Luka stepped off the elevator, hands in his pockets as he walked toward the door listed on the paper his former boss had given him. After three months of working underneath Mikhail Volkov, Luka was now being sent to work for his son, the very person who Luka had made a point to avoid, but he couldn’t deny the new assignment without suspicion.
It had helped that he told partial truths, enough that no one questioned his origins and that he was able to keep it all straight in his head. While he still had his accent from the old country, it was now muddled by his time here in the States, along with his pronunciation of his mother’s accent. Considering he did the dirty work—and the way he went about it—no one wanted to spend any extended time with him, which worked for his cover.
He didn’t doubt that the son of Mikhail had heard the rumors about who he was and what he did, but he only hoped that the attitude he portrayed would be enough to keep him from being questioned.
Raising his fist, he knocked it against the heavy wood, standing back so that the person on the other side would be able to see him clearly. It took a few moments, but when the door swung wide, Luka wasn’t expecting who he saw on the other side.
A girl, with big green eyes and long blond hair. Despite her small stature, she didn’t look much like a child. There was not an abundance of curves, but just enough for him to take notice.
“Who are you?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he didn’t regret asking.
A smile crossed her face, one of sly amusement, one without any hint of an ulterior motive. It was different, and he couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him with something other than contempt.
No…he could, he just didn’t like thinking about her.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” she asked, the light lilting quality of her voice drawing him in.
French? “Maybe. I’m looking for Volkov.”
“That would be me—or Volkova if you want to be technical—what can I do for you?”
No one had ever mentioned to him that the Pakhan had a daughter, nor one that looked like this girl, but now as Luka really looked at her, he realized just how much she looked like Anya. And if she were her daughter, she couldn’t be much older than fifteen.
Realizing this, Luka took a step back, clearing his throat. “The other Volkov then.”
She looked at him curiously, as if just from the short time they had been standing there together, she found him interesting.
Opening her mouth, Alex meant to say something more to him, but a voice inside the apartment cut her off.
“What did I tell you about answering my door?”
It was no question that the boy who’d appeared behind his sister was Mishca Volkov. Luka was hauntingly familiar with that face, but unlike the one that Luka had tortured a few months ago, there was no fear in this man’s eyes. Only a coldness, an anger that Luka could relate to.
“Who are you?”
He thought of putting his guard back up, but he thought of something better, a cover that would make him less likely to be liked.
“Luka,” he answered with a broad grin. “The help.”
It had the desired reaction.
Mishca didn’t seem to know what to think of him, his eyes narrowing as he tried to determine whether Luka was trying to purposefully be disrespectful.
“Come in and I’ll update you with everything you need to know.”
Mishca stepped to the side, allowing Luka to walk in front of him, careful not to have his back to him. Smart. But Luka didn’t trust him either, no matter how long he had been working for the family and no one had seemed any the wiser, but he was less conspicuous about it.
He was led to an office, one that was the same muted gray tones as the rest of the apartment seemed to be. Before heading in, however, Luka found himself looking back over his shoulder at the youngest Volkov, an unexpected addition that he hadn’t counted on.
Barely ten minutes in her presence and he knew, knew it in a way that surprised him that she was going to be a problem.
Whether good or bad, he still didn’t know.
17
____
Locked In
Stars blanketed the midnight sky, peeking through the sparse covering of clouds. The moon hung heavy, muted light spilling in through the window of the darkened room.
Alex was groggy as she came awake, trying to get her bearings, pushing her hair out of her face as she sat up. She wasn’t at home, that much was apparent, since she didn’t recognize her surroundings. But that was hardly out of the ordinary since most nights she found herself not remembering what she had done. It was also clear that she wasn’t at Snow’s since wherever she was was far too clean.
Though she still felt a little off, she was careful as she moved—remembering the last time she had woken up like this—climbing to her feet, frowning down at the mattress in the middle of the floor at her feet. Sheets covered it, clean from the looks of them, but besides the mattress, there was nothing else in the room.
She looked down at herself, pulling at the bottom of the shirt she wore, trying to read the front, but it was nearly faded to the point of not showing at all. Somehow, her dress was gone, and her hair was damp.
Weird.
She ran her fingers over the faded type, positive that she had seen Luka in something similar. And she was prone to wishful thinking sometimes when it came to him, but she thought it smelled like him, too.
Looking around, she took in her surroundings, but she didn’t think, even with the hazy memory, that she had been here before. She could tell she wasn’t with Snow at the very least. It was far too empty and lacked the smell of a pack of men who lived together.
Heading into the bathroom, she raided the cabinets, finding a small bottle of Listerine that she desperately needed to get rid of the foul taste in her mouth. After, she splashed her face with water, feeling moderately better, but not nearly as well as she’d hoped.
Leaving the room, she took in as much as she could, hoping that she might find something, even just a picture that would help her understand whose place this was.
A narrow hallwa
y led to a staircase toward the end of it, two other rooms on this floor. There were no pictures or anything particularly noteworthy that spoke of who lived here. It all just felt…barren. The walls had been patched up in certain spots, the white paint standing out amongst the muted cream, and it was pretty clear that the house was being renovated.
The living room was very much the same, appearing as though it was in the middle of repairs. There wasn’t even any furniture. “Hello?”
No answer came. Nor did she hear footsteps announcing someone’s approach.
Alex turned a corner, heading toward the kitchen where she could smell food cooking. There were an assortment of pots and pans on the six-burner range, all housing bubbling ingredients. Alex was tempted to have a look, but the back door came crashing open, and a rather large dog bounded in, his eyes darting to her as she jumped in surprise.
It was a Husky, if she wasn’t mistaken, with gray and white fur, eyes the same pale blue as Luka’s. The way its eyebrows arched over its eyes made it look demonic, as if it was plotting on how best to chew her arm off and make it into a new toy, but its tail wagged back and forth.
Maybe it was a happy killer?
Luka came bursting in behind it, shaking the snow out of his hair as he closed and locked the door. When he noticed her standing there, his expression went from open to closed, giving nothing away. With her, there was always something in his eyes, whether anger, annoyance, and on the rare occurrence, playful joy, but now…nothing. And while she usually disregarded that, she felt, even though he had yet to say a word to her, that he was upset with her.
If she had to assume, then it had to do with Snow because, if nothing else, she remembered going to him the night before. Was that the night before or just a few hours? She didn’t even know what time it was.
Shit. Where was her phone?
“Luka, where—”
“You hungry?” he asked cutting her off and gesturing to the stove with a nod of his head.
Not when her stomach was threatening to turn in on itself… “Not really, but I’m—”
“Give me a sec. Gotta feed Loki.”
He stepped around her, going over to a corner of the kitchen that had a rather large dog bed and two silver bowls resting beside it. He filled one with water from a jug he pulled from the refrigerator and the other with wet dog food.
Alex had never taken him for much of a pet person, not when he was rarely home, but it was obvious that he loved the dog—was its name Loki?—from the way he had scratched behind its ears before he let him eat.
Maybe he was watching him for a friend? “Is this your dog?” she asked looking back and forth between them.
“Yep. Name’s Loki.”
Of course. Luka didn’t have any friends who weren’t a part of the Bratva.
Alex smiled, looking over at Loki. “I didn’t take you much for a comics guy. Where’d you get him?”
“He came over with me from…” But he trailed off, his jaw tightening for a moment.
Had he not meant to tell her that? “From Albania, you mean? Did you find him, or did your parents buy him for you?” At this point, she was just trying to make conversation, not just because she wanted to know more about him, but also because she wanted to avoid the talk that she knew would come once he told her why she was here with him.
He seemed to fight an internal battle with himself before he answered her.
“I don’t know where he came from, just showed up one day. The place where I found him…the dogs there had been trained to fight and were all massive. He hadn’t stood a chance against them. Had anyone known he was in there, they would have put him down… I just kind of adopted him. He’s been my companion ever since.” Something about the way he told the story made Alex think there was more to it than that, but she wasn’t in any place to push him for more.
Done with his food, Loki trotted over to her, sniffing her hand as she extended it to him. When he deemed her ‘okay,’ he even let her pet him. “Did angry ol’ Luka save your life?”
And with all the conviction in the world, Luka answered, “No, he saved mine.”
Not knowing how to respond to that, she kept quiet, until the silence was too much.
“Is this your place?”
“Yeah.”
That was it. That was all he said. “How long have you lived here?”
“Three years, give or take.” He shrugged, turning toward the stove as he lifted a lid and glanced in.
She decided to ignore his bad mood, going over to a window and peering out, trying to gauge where they were in the city, but there was only darkness and trees, nothing more she could make out.
Apparently, he lived in the middle of nowhere.
“Where are we?”
He faced her, folding his arms across his chest. He wasn’t relaxed, not in the slightest, though he tried very hard to make it seem like he was. Alex couldn’t explain it, the way he was trying to look non-threatening, how he was so careful with his movements, but there was something about the way he was acting that bothered her.
Ignoring her question, he asked one of his own. “Do you know where I found you last night?”
The only thing she knew for sure was that she had been with Snow, but she didn’t know if she had left that place because it wouldn’t have made sense that Luka found her there, not when he hadn’t even known where she’d gone.
“Did I call you to pick me up or something? If I did, sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”
What day of the week was it? Was that why he was acting so weird, because she had interrupted one of his weekly sessions?
He didn’t respond for a long time, his attention focused back on what he was making on the stove. Sensing that something was troubling him—and not wanting to get into it with him about Snow—Alex left him to it, looking at the dog that was still studiously by her side, watching her as though he were the one trying to figure her out.
Besides being kind of massive, the beast actually seemed rather friendly, and when she stuck out her hand to pet him again, she smiled when he practically forced her to pet him. Even when she pulled her hand away, he pushed his head right back under, looking up at her with big eyes.
She had never owned a pet, not that she had given them much thought with how busy she was, even during her childhood, so the likelihood of it being cared for the way it should have was slim. But the thought of having a companion did make her feel like she had missed out on something that could have potentially been fun.
Judging from the sheer size of this one, Luka must have had him for a long time.
“You didn’t have to call me, Alex.”
“Then why were you there?”
This didn’t make sense to her, not in the slightest. She was sure she had never mentioned Snow to anyone, so there was no way he could have known about that, at least not from her. The only other scenario she could think of was that Mishca might have had her followed, but if he had, he would have told her about it at the very least.
“I had a drop—your brother’s orders, by the way. Got there, saw you, and you were ready to leave, so you left with me.”
That didn’t sound nearly plausible…or was it?
Shit, she couldn’t remember anything.
“There’ll be plenty of time to talk while we eat. So, make yourself at home.”
He made the comment offhandedly, as though he weren’t paying attention to their conversation anymore, and not knowing what was eating at him—only knowing that something was brewing beneath the surface—she didn’t push it. Climbing up on one of the barstools, her toes barely reaching the floor, she drummed her fingers on the surface of the counter, waiting for him to finish, and maybe then he would be ready to talk.
It didn’t take long, and she wasn’t sure how long he had actually been doing this, but once the burners were off and he had two plates ladened with food, he nodded his head in the direction of the stairs, indicating for her to follow him back up to
the room she had woken up in.
Now that she at least knew where she was, she finally asked, “Is this your room or a guest room?”
If it was a guest room, then that would explain why he hadn’t really decorated or even put forth any effort into it. There wasn’t even a proper bed.
“Mine.”
While there was something peculiar about the way he was acting, she still willingly entered his room, sitting back on the mattress since there were no chairs in the room…or anything else, for that matter.
He handed her a plate, then a knife and fork, taking his own seat across from her, but as he closed the door before he came over, she couldn’t help but notice that the door didn’t lock from the inside.
On her plate, the food looked amazing. Fish with a mustard sauce on a bed of wilted kale and a side of asparagus. She had never gotten to personally benefit from his talents, but Lauren had told her all about it. And tonight, she was definitely benefiting, even if she wasn’t all that hungry.
Stabbing a piece of asparagus, she twirled the fork in her hand. “Are you going to finally tell me what’s up, or do I need to guess?”
“Answer one question for me.”
“Sure.”
“What are you on?”
Her pulse raced, even as she looked away from his probing gaze. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not going to lie. This shit could have been over had I really paid attention—that’s my bad. I thought you were just drunk off your ass. I didn’t like it, the drinking until your senses were impaired, but what the fuck could I say? I had no claim on you, and you made it pretty clear you weren’t going to be reasonable about anything I asked of you.
“Then last night… I wasn’t lying when I said I had a drop for Mish. I was lying when I said that you wanted to leave with me. Yeah, I promised to never lie to you,” he said at the look on her face, “but there was a chance that if I told you the truth downstairs, you would have walked out of my place…and I couldn’t have that.”
“Luka, what the fuck…you’re not making any sense.”
Hidden Monsters (Volkov Bratva Book 4) Page 11
