She frowned, her brows knitting together. “Pain? How did I cause you pain?”
He turned around and for the first time, she saw the deep scratches on his back, and she didn’t have to ask how they had gotten there, vaguely remembering digging her nails into him.
He smiled, a trace of dark humor in the expression. “You gave as good as you got.”
She would not blush.
“Are you okay now?”
“Better than that, love,” he said kissing her forehead. “Better than that.”
35
____
Natasha
Spring was in the air, the sweet floral scent of the flower shop next door combatting with the constant stench of exhaust that hung in the air. Natasha paid this no mind as she stashed the money she had earned from the past twenty-four hours into the black clutch she carried, stopping at the curb to hail a cab.
Ever since the Gilded Room had closed, Natasha had had to find work on her own, refusing to work a minimum wage job that wouldn’t support her lifestyle. The other girls she used to work with were different from her in that way. She didn’t like mediocre things. She much preferred the finer things often gifted when she did her job correctly.
It wasn’t a bad occupation, even if it wasn’t what she’d set out to do in her life. Her parents were immigrants. They had moved to America before she was born. They had worked hard to provide her with a good life, but that hadn’t really shown in the clothes she wore and the things in their home. At one time, Natasha had grown to resent them for not being able to accomplish the same things other families had after voyaging across the sea.
Of course, back then, she hadn’t known what else those families did to earn money. She only saw the result of it. From that point forward, she knew she wanted something more, something she didn’t possess, and all her life, she’d strived to find it.
Except, she hadn’t gone looking for the Bratva, the Bratva found her. The next thing she knew, she was working under those guys and making more than she had ever dreamed.
She had never looked twice at any of the men who considered themselves her ‘bosses,’ at least until she met Luka, and that was only after a client got a little out of hand. Natasha didn’t think she had ever really been attracted to violence before she met him, before she saw what he could do with his hands alone. Seeing him so effortlessly bring someone to the brink of death, only to hold back at the last second, allowing them to take another breath…she had wanted him badly after that.
But he wasn’t around much after that, at least until he was assigned to pretty much be their pimp. Then, it had been easy enough to convince him to get in her bed. He’d been reluctant—at least until she’d convinced him that it would be nothing more than the pair of them enjoying an hour together, no strings attached. Only then did he jump all over her. In the beginning, he’d constantly made sure she understood that it would never get any deeper between them. She had been okay with that too, but the more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to know about his life, and the more she wanted to be a permanent part of it.
And she was willing to wait for that to happen. She could be patient. She knew that it wouldn’t be easy to convince him that she was worth it, but that didn’t mean she had given up hope. It only meant she was in it for the long haul.
But that fucking bitch, Alex Volkov, beloved sister of Mishca and the Bratva princess, had somehow dug her way into Luka’s heart, making it all the more difficult for Natasha to remain there. She hadn’t thought much of it. After all, Alex had only been a minor when she’d made her crush known and Luka didn’t seem to reciprocate her feelings.
Natasha still didn’t understand what changed between them. The only thing she knew was Luka had dropped her like she never meant a thing to him. She’d been more than a little pissed, wishing that she could do something to get back at him for getting her hopes up, but as of yet, she hadn’t figured anything out. But she would soon, and she would make sure he was as hurt by what she did as she was by him.
As the cab pulled to a stop, she climbed in the back, slamming the door shut as she gave her address to the cabbie and got comfortable.
After she’d moved out of the house with the other girls, she’d found an apartment just outside of the Bronx. Not as great as she would have liked, but she made do.
Pulling off her jacket as she entered her apartment, Natasha pulled the money from her bag, counting it out as she headed for her bedroom…until she noticed the man casually sipping his drink in the chair near her window.
“How the hell did you get in here?” Natasha asked, refusing to move from where she stood. Carefully, she dipped her hand into her coat pocket, feeling for her phone.
“I’m a friend of Valon’s—or are you calling him Luka? I really should learn to keep those straight. Oh, there’s no use in calling him, but I think you know that since he’s essentially dropped you for the younger one, Aleksandra, no?”
Anger, and something very much like jealousy, coursed through her, but she tried not to let that show. “What do you want?”
“Not much…just an address will do. I just want to have a word with her.”
She laughed, genuinely. “Right. You think I’m going to hand over the address of Alex Volkov, the sister of the Pakhan. Either you’re very stupid or very brave. If the Pakhan didn’t kill you for going near his sister, Luka definitely will.” The last was said with a bitter note, and she couldn’t have kept it out of her voice if she’d tried. “I like my life the way it is, thanks.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asked, looking at her with something akin to pity. “You were a whore for the Russians, then you were a willing whore to our friend Valon, but he traded you in, didn’t he? When he found something better? You couldn’t have enjoyed that. He was supposed to be your way out.” The man sighed, getting to his feet, leaving behind a white business card. “But you couldn’t have known that he would never choose you. He might enjoy fucking whores, but he would never marry one.”
Anger simmering in her blood, she glared at him. “You don’t know shit about it.”
“I know more than you think. I know the only whore he ever loved was his mother. Call me when you change your mind.”
He sounded so sure like he just knew that Natasha would change her mind, but despite how she despised Alex, she valued her own life too much. Before she could offer up another retort, however, he was out the door, the lone business card the only reminder that he’d even been there.
She walked over to it, turning it over in her hands. His name—Fatos?— was scrawled across the top, a number written below it. For a man who was trying to do something unsavory, he was quite bold in leaving his name.
She was tempted—if it meant Alex was out of the picture, there would be no one else to snare Luka’s attention—but she also wasn’t a foolish girl. The likelihood of him coming back to her was slim…but if he knew about this, if she told him about the man, then he would owe her a favor.
Slipping the card into her pocket, she pulled her coat back on, leaving back out. She hailed a cab back to the city, seeing Mishca’s club not far in the distance as she climbed out after paying her fare.
His truck wasn’t outside, but he could have parked in the back for all she knew. The closer she got to the club, she found herself running fingers through her hair, checking to make sure her makeup was still in place. There was no reason Luka should have affected her this much, but somehow he’d dug his way into her skin. And instead of pushing him back, she had welcomed it.
Her mistake.
Natasha was almost to the door when she saw her, walking out, her attention on the phone in her hand. Alex looked like every other spoiled rich girl in this city.
Shiny blond hair, big green eyes, and a wardrobe envied by nearly every girl in this country. She had everything she could possibly want, but she still had to have more.
Natasha wanted to hate her, but mostly she envied how everything came so e
asily to her.
Finally, Alex lifted her gaze from her phone, immediately falling on Natasha as though she had sensed she was there. First came the look of surprise before she quelled it, her mask in place.
“Natasha, hi.”
Considering every name Alex had called her in the past, it was amazing that she actually knew what her name was.
“Where’s Luka?”
She cleared her throat, glancing back at the club. “Not here. Is there something wrong? Anything I can help you with?”
“Like I would ever need anything from you.”
“Listen, I was rude to you, more often than I probably can remember. I was wrong and not trying to make excuses, but I was a pretty shitty person back then to a lot of people.” Alex brushed her hair over her shoulder. “I want to apologize—No, I am apologizing. I’m sorry for the things I said, the way I treated you. If you want, I’ll tell Luka you’re looking for him.”
She was apologizing? To her? Resentment filled her as she glared at Alex. Of course she could apologize, she had gotten Luka, the one person that Natasha wanted for herself.
“You’ll never be enough for him,” Natasha couldn’t help but say, sinking low enough that she had to say something, anything if it meant that someone else was hurting, even if it was just a fraction of what she felt.
And her emotions were only made worse by the fact that Alex didn’t look hurt by what she was saying. She actually looked like she felt sorry for her.
“I’ll tell him to call you.”
This time, Alex didn’t wait for her to respond. She just walked off, leaving Natasha to stand on the curb, angrier than she had ever felt in her life.
Back at her apartment, she tried not to think about the Albanian and the words he’d said to her. But the more she sat in her apartment, the more her phone called to her and the need to call Luka. She hadn’t talked to him much at all since Mishca had shut down the operation, nor had she really seen any of the Russians that she’d known during her time working for them.
Her thoughts scattered when her phone rang, a number she had never seen before lighting up the screen. She only hesitated a second before connecting the call.
“Hello?”
“What do you need?”
Luka had always been brusque, but she didn’t think he had ever sounded as short with her as he did now. Not even when he’d come to her place to break it off after he’d finally decided to be with Alex.
“You could at least say, ‘hello, how are you.’ That’s the least you could do, Luka.”
“Hello. How are you? Now, what do you need?”
Struggling for patience, Natasha said, “I was trying to see you earlier—”
“Alex told me. All of it.” A hint of anger entered his voice. “Careful what you say next. She asked me to call. That’s the end of my obligation.”
At that moment, Natasha forgot all about telling him about the man that had visited her. “So, as long as I let you do whatever you wanted to me, then I was okay. But now that you’re with the princess, I’m just another whore?”
“I never called you a whore.”
“That’s all you have to say? I gave you everything! We were happy, and now you’re acting as though I mean nothing to you because you’ve finally had your taste of young pussy?”
It was the wrong thing to say.
His silence told her that, and it was too late for her to take it back, but more than that, she didn’t want to.
Fuck Alex.
Fuck her brother.
And fuck the entire Volkov Bratva.
“Don’t ever talk about her like that,” he said calmly. “You won’t like what I do if I hear it again. This is it, Natasha. Stay away from Alex and don’t ask for me again.”
He hung up, the click sounding loud in her ears. She was hurt, embarrassed, and more importantly, she was angry.
She wanted to rage, to destroy the few precious things in her apartment so something else could feel as broken as she did, but there was a better way to get back at Luka for his carelessness.
Pulling the card out, she didn’t waste any time dialing the number.
36
____
Reminders
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Alex asked as they stopped in front of Lauren’s building. She had yet to take her eyes off him since they pulled off.
Before, he would have told her, or at least given her some information that would quell the anxiety she felt. He didn’t know much more than she did, but he knew as much as she did, Mishca’s call cryptic and short. The only assignment he’d been given was to deliver Alex to Lauren’s apartment and make sure they stayed there, and then he was to drive to the address given.
“I don’t know much,” Luka responded, dragging her across the seat so he could plant a kiss on her lips. “And even if I did, it wouldn’t be for you to worry about.”
Rolling her eyes, Alex pulled away from him, her hand going to the car door. “Not you, too.”
He smiled, shrugging. “For good reason. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Yeah, knowing you, you’d shoot first and ask questions later,” she joked.
He helped her out of the Jeep, his smile tight but genuine. “I’d burn this city to the ground.”
A part of her was thrilled at those words, but the new rational side didn’t like them as much. It was one thing to say what he was willing to risk to protect her, but he was also saying he would risk himself and she didn’t want that.
When he readied to leave, she hesitated, wanting to call him back but not wanting to look foolish. If there was one person who could handle himself, it was Luka. It was his job after all, but that didn’t stop the sliver of anxiety from racing through her at the thought of whatever unknown he was going out to face.
He glanced back at her, pausing mid-step before returning to her. His hand cupped the nape of her neck as he dragged her forward, his mouth swooping down to connect with hers. Just a brief touch, but it was all she needed to calm herself.
“I’ll see you soon.”
____
There was nothing quite like the smell of a burned body and decomp. The moment Luka stepped foot onto the property, his gaze searched the surrounding area in case someone had decided to stick around, and the scents assaulted his nose. The second he was used to. He’d been around enough dead bodies to recognize it, but the first made his heart skip a beat.
He was the first one to arrive though Mishca had made the call. As he waited beside his truck, staring at another ghost of his past, he lit a cigarette, taking in deep pulls, hoping the nicotine could do what he couldn’t.
Luka should have been prepared, should have known that the moment Fatos had shown his face, this would be next. He couldn’t know what was inside, but he had a pretty good idea. Fatos, unlike anyone he knew, knew how to fuck with someone’s head.
Finally, after ten minutes had passed, two cars pulled up, one modern and sleek, the other older and in need of a wash. Mishca stepped out of one, and Klaus climbed out of the other. And seeing that mercenary, whose eyes immediately cut to him from where he stood, Luka knew this wasn’t going to end well.
All three of them shared a history with this place, Luka and Klaus more than Mishca. And that history was different for each of them.
But it was safe to say that this place was not looked upon fondly.
No one spoke as Mishca led the way inside, following the twisting pathway to the front door as they had been there often. But it was hard to forget a place like this one. Klaus had nearly died here, suffering for something he had no control over, and it wasn’t that long ago that Lauren had been brought here by Brahim to suffer a similar fate. Such brittle memories filled this place that it felt like those were the only things keeping this place standing.
There was nothing on the first floor that was noteworthy, and as they ventured upstairs, Luka thought about how many people he had killed in this place, from hi
s very first time here to his last. When he took a breath as he ascended the stairs behind Mishca, he could almost taste the blood in the air from the day it had covered him.
Clearing the stairs, they only had a brief moment to prepare themselves for what awaited them on the other side of the wall. Mishca cursed at what he saw, Luka’s entire body flinched at the sight, but Klaus…Klaus didn’t react at all.
His expression was unreadable as they all eyed the two bodies tied to the chairs. A particularly brutal scene brought back memories that were better left buried. As it had since the moment Fatos made his presence known in the city, the countdown ticked ever louder in Luka’s head. He knew it was all catching up with him, but there was one thing that Luka knew.
Fatos would never be the one to tell Mishca the truth.
Not because he was afraid, but because this was a game to him. As long as Luka continued to play it, he would drag it out as long as possible, not caring who he hurt in the process.
This was as much a message to Klaus as it was to Luka because he was far more intimately involved with this scene than even Luka. Despite the years, there was nothing that could have hidden the emotion in Klaus’s eyes as he looked, not to the dead Russian who bore many of the same injuries as Klaus once had, but to the burned corpse that was unrecognizable.
Oblivious to his surroundings, or lost in his memories, Klaus reached for the chain he normally kept hidden beneath his shirt, clasping the charm dangling from it.
This would have been his fate had Luka not checked for the one thing that would have proved he’d been telling the truth under the onslaught of his torture. No one knew about that simple truth however, not even Klaus. After what Luka had done to him, he doubted that would have made much of a difference, so he’d never bothered to reveal that.
Realizing that they, too, were lost in their own thoughts, Luka broke the silence. “What do you want to do?”
But the question was left unanswered as Klaus seemed to snap out of whatever spell he was under. Neither Luka nor Mishca said a word as they watched, with varied expressions, as Klaus walk toward the burned body, kneeling before her.
Hidden Monsters (Volkov Bratva Book 4) Page 27
