by T. L Smith
“He’s alive,” he says. I bend down to look at him, he’s Bartalotti family that’s for sure. Except why is he taking what’s mine? Kazier walks in upon hearing the noise. Death helps me tie him to the chair, and when he’s firmly fastened into position I start the gas oven, letting the flames burn brightly. I pull out a sharp knife, very sharp. Kazier cuts the man’s shirt open, revealing his hairy chest. He tries to pull loose from his ties, but it doesn’t work. Both Kazier and Death sit down near him. Waiting and watching.
“It didn’t have to come to this,” Kazier says, tapping his fingers on the table. I heat the tip of the knife over the flame, letting it glow red hot before I walk back over to him. He squirms but can’t move at all. The knife comes in close, the tip of it bright orange from the heat. It drags down his skin, from his collarbone to the middle of his chest. He screams, loudly, as his skin opens up not just from the edge of the knife but from the burn as well. The smell isn’t pleasant, not at all.
“What do you want,” he screams.
“Why did you think it was okay to take what’s not yours?” Kazier asks him.
The man looks to me when he answers, “She isn’t yours either.”
Fuck! Really. Does everyone know?
Did someone put out an all-points bulletin that I didn’t know about?
“She is mine.”
“She said she wasn’t.” That just proves he had her, the fucking idiot. I grab his nipple, pulling it from his skin and slicing it straight off. Tears, blood, and screams come from him all at once. It drops to the ground, and his eyes follow as he sits there crying.
I reach for the next one, ready to cut that one straight off his body when he speaks, “Gesepi is taking her to Boyra. She’s unharmed.”
Kazier’s hands tap on the table again, I drop his nipple and walk back to the stove, heating up the knife again. The man’s eyes watch me as I step closer, he struggles with the ties unable to move and realizes his words won’t work. The hot knife goes over where I just cut his nipple off, burning and sealing the wound effectively stopping the bleeding. His screams are more powerful now, so much so it deafens me. Death backhands him and knocks him out just to shut him up.
“Why would he hire someone to take her? Especially when we organized the deal,” Kazier mutters to himself. It wasn’t something I’d planned, I got told minutes before she did. That’s why I couldn’t look at her when they were speaking about it.
What was I meant to say? We aren’t in love.
We’re only in a relationship because it was forced upon us. We had no way out of it and having to stay married until one of us dies. But neither of us have died, and I don’t know if that is better or worse. Plus, I don’t tend to argue with the rules. Everything I put first is my family, my job, it’s what I’ve always done. Why would I change that because I tasted a pussy? I have tasted many in my life. Yes, hers was the sweetest and yes, it was impossible to stop, but I did though. I pulled back because it was too soon for her, she wasn’t ready to go that far, into what I like, what I do.
So, it was somewhat easy to let her go, that was until she was actually gone.
Kazier stands and walks out without saying another word, I watch as he brings the phone to his ear. Death follows me out the door, then I stop, turn slightly, and throw my knife straight through the guy in the seat’s eye. His head drops down.
Angelina is still asleep when I get to the car, Anton is playing on his phone, and Death opens the back door and pushes Anton purposely hitting his sore leg as he climbs in.
“You fucking ape,” he swears at him. He goes to grab his nipple to rip at his piercing, that the two fuckers did themselves, but Death just swipes his hand away like he’s a kid.
“Elina said Gesepi hasn’t met up with anyone yet. He’s still driving, she’s tracked his phone,” Kazier says to me while starting up the car.
“Tell me again why we haven’t killed all those Italian scum?” Anton asks.
“My wife,” Kazier growls.
“Pfft, she has more Russian in her every day than Italian. She is basically one of us, if you know what I mean.”
We shake our heads and don’t bother saying anything to encourage him. If you give Anton a leaf, he’ll try to grow a branch. Not a wise move.
“She good with tracking?” I ask Kazier.
“Yep, her brother would ask her to do it when she was younger. She has a thing for computers and phones, so I’ve discovered.”
“Get her to track Freya’s phone.” He looks to me, thinks for a second, and calls her phone asking her to do just that.
“Same as Gesepi,” Elina’s voice comes through.
“Keep her tracked, let us know if they move.”
“Okay,” she says hanging up.
“You plan to bring her into the family business more, don’t you?”
“I don’t see why not. Sometimes she’s more useful than you three put together.”
Death grunts in the back seat and Anton snickers.
“It’s only ‘cause she gives you pussy,” Anton says under his breath, except we all hear it.
Angelina starts to move, her eyes open wide, and her lips tremble because she’s scared.
“What happened?” Anton asks her.
Angelina’s eyes find mine. “She didn’t want to go. She stabbed one in the arm before they knocked me out, that’s as much as I know. I don’t even know how they knew where we were. We only planned to meet that day a few hours before,” she mumbles on. Her hand goes up to touch her head and she winces. When she brings it back down she knocks into Anton’s sore leg, making him curse at her. Death laughs, making us all laugh.
“I’m so sorry.” Her hands start to move his pants that covers the hole in his leg, she looks around and finds her bag, pulls out a needle and thread, threads it through with her teeth and leans closer to his wound. “Bite down,” she says just as she starts to stitch him up. She gets two threads through and stops, dropping the needle down and placing both hands on her head, she takes a moment and a few deep breaths before she goes at it again. “Sorry, head spin,” she says finally finishing it.
Anton watches her in fascination as she does it, not even caring about his wound, it’s like she isn’t even touching him.
Chapter 10
Freya
I don’t even know him, yet I want to kill him. Who does he think he is? He sits in the front seat driving a flashy black car with me tied up in the back. He and his friend took me from Angelina’s. How they knew I was there I have no idea—I don’t have bodyguards anymore so I’m easy pickings.
Now I have a husband… oh, what a waste that was. But right now I have neither, and here I am stuck in the car with someone who took me without my consent. My hands are tied behind my back, my mouth has a gag over it, and I have no idea what he wants.
I didn’t see it coming, I don’t even know how they knew where I was. It’s not like I planned this day ahead of time, it was planned today. And poor Angelina, they knocked her out. I managed to shoot the one driving me now, but I missed anything major. So now I’m stuck, with no one looking for me.
I try to undo my hands behind my back, but they have a zip tie secured around them. I manage to push the gag off with my tongue. He slows the car down just as it falls from my mouth then turns around to face me. His dark hair is long and tied back behind his ears.
“You little bitch,” he says getting out of the car. He opens my door and pulls me by my hair to get out. I manage to find my footing before my face hits the floor. He attempts to pull the gag up again but I bite his hand, he screams and slaps me across the face.
“Who the fuck said you can touch her?” a voice booms from behind me. I turn because I know that voice. Boyra stands tall with his hands crossed over his chest as he looks at the man whose hands are now moving away from me. Boyra comes over and with a knife he cuts my hands free. The man that brought me here looks from Boyra to me.
“She took her gag off,” is all he says.<
br />
“I didn’t tell you to harm her,” he seethes at him.
“Fuck this, where’s my money?”
Boyra produces a bag from the ground and hands it to him, leaving me standing there wondering what the fuck is going on.
“Freya, come inside, please.”
I shake my head. “What’s the meaning of this, Boyra?”
He steps forward and touches my face with the back of his hand running it down my cheek. “You’ve heard, yes? That you no longer have to be married to that man?”
I nod my head.
“It’s because of me, I helped you with that.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Boyra.”
He starts to walk inside and I follow behind him. I’ve never seen Boyra as threatening toward me. He was always good, kind. Apart from how he’s gotten me here, that I won’t forget.
“I asked your father years ago if he would choose me, to marry you. He always said no, until recently that is.”
“Why are you working with the Italians, Boyra?” This is the real question I want to know the answer to. He stops at the door and turns to face me, his brown eyes, the ones that are very similar to mine look back at me.
“They work for money, they don’t care who the payer is.”
I shake my head. He’s wrong, or just plain stupid. They do. They always care, especially when it’s the Russians. He opens the front door and hands me my bag.
“Why am I here, Boyra?”
He signals with his hand for me to come in, so I take a few more steps inside and he closes the door behind me.
“I want you to come back to Russia with me, Freya. You never wanted to leave in the first place, and I want you on my arm.”
I shake my head at him. I love my home, I really do, but here is my home now. I don’t think I want to go back, not yet anyway. And on his arm? I look up to him, his short dark hair to his brown eyes and his toned body. All those things are part of the reason I had a crush on him when I was younger. Plus he was sweet, he never made me feel unwelcome when I crashed whatever the boys were doing.
But that all changed the day I had to leave. My phone starts calling, so I pull it from my bag and see it’s Viktor. There’s over twenty missed calls from him alone. I look up to Boyra before I answer it.
“You can answer your phone, Freya, I want us to work.” He takes a step closer to me, and I take a step back and hold up my hands.
“Who the fuck is this,” Viktor’s voice booms through the phone.
“It’s me.”
“Freya, where are you?”
I look back up to Boyra, he’s watching me now with intent.
“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Soon you won’t have to worry at all.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Our marriage is being annulled, Viktor, and the man that you choose for me is standing right in front of me.”
“I didn’t choose any of this,” his voice is low now, but still has an angry overtone.
“I have to go. Have a nice life, Viktor.”
“Freya…” I hang the phone up in his ear, then I stare at it. Another chapter in my life ending, before it even had a chance to start.
“Come in, Freya, dinner is ready.”
I follow behind him.
Boyra isn’t very tall. Actually, he’s on the shorter side, more like me. Viktor would tower over him. Boyra is maybe a head taller than me.
“The chef prepared dinner just before you arrived… all your favorites.” I take a look at the table and on it is Mimosa salad, Medovukha, and Kholodets. I’ve missed this food and drink. So much so that all I can stand to drink is Vodka, and even that’s not the same as back home.
“Why do you want me, Boyra? Is it because of my family?”
He pulls out my seat for me to sit, I do, and he pushes it back in then walks to his side of the table. He places the napkin in his lap and rests his elbows on the table as he leans forward. “I’ve liked you since we were kids, Freya, you know that.”
“That isn’t answering my question.”
He raises one eyebrow up at me. “I see you haven’t lost your attitude either…” he pauses before he continues, “… yes and no. The name stands for something, demands respect. Where we are from, everyone knows who you are, and most know me. If we were to have a child together… a boy, he would be next in line after Patrick. That’s a big deal, Freya.”
I hold up my hands. “I don’t want kids, Boyra, not for a very long time anyway.”
“They didn’t tell you, did they?”
“Tell me what?”
“Your husband was to make you pregnant within the year.”
That news shocks me. A part of me doesn’t believe it at all, then I hear the front door get kicked in and footsteps follow. I see Viktor first, followed by Kazier and Death. Not even having touched my food at all, I quickly stand up. Viktor looks me over then makes a line straight for me, his hand comes out to touch my body and I push it back away shaking my head.
“We’re leaving,” he says grabbing for me again. I pull my hand back and place it behind my back.
“I’ve had enough of people telling me what to do… where I should go, who the fuck I should marry,” I scream the last part. “Not fucking happening anymore.” I shake my finger in his face. He turns to look at Boyra behind me, then back to me.
“I don’t give a fuck,” he says bending down and knocking my knees out from behind me. He lifts me up and into his arms then he’s carrying me out the door. I hear the sound of a gun load, he stops when that happens.
“Drop her, now,” Boyra speaks in Russian—very pissed off Russian at that.
Viktor doesn’t stop, and I know Kazier and Death are almost ready to kill him.
“It’s fine,” I say lifting my head, seeing the gun trained on Viktor and I. When I turn to the boys I see their hands already have weapons drawn. “Just let me leave with him, I need to talk to him.”
Boyra lowers his gun, nods his head to me, then passes a look over the boys before his stare comes back to me again. “Tomorrow Freya.”
I nod my head, well I try to anyway. Viktor walks again and opens a door, I hear Anton and Angelina’s voices. Viktor climbs in the car, setting me on his lap. Buckling us both in then he straps his arms around me as well. I turn so I can see Angelina.
“Are you okay?” She smiles softly and nods in answer.
Kazier starts to drive and I try to move to get comfortable.
What a fucking day.
“Stop fucking moving,” Viktor’s voice growls in my ear.
“It’s fucking uncomfortable,” I say back to him. He places his hands on my hips and holds them tight, locking me into position. I can feel now what I’m doing to him, and I like it.
The car comes to a stop, with me not saying a word for the rest of the drive. I notice it’s our apartment, well his now I guess since we aren’t together anymore. Viktor lifts me up and climbs out without putting me down. He shuts the door and doesn’t say a word. I watch as the car drives off, and wonder what the fuck I’m doing back here.
“I don’t belong here anymore,” I tell him when he opens the front door. He puts me down and locks it, then turns so he’s facing me. I don’t know what that look is on his face, so I take a step backward to get away from him. He takes a step forward, stalking me. When I hit a wall, I can’t seem to make myself move. His hand comes up when he reaches me, touches my face and pushes my hair behind my ear.
“Who did this?” he asks. I go to touch my face but end up holding my hand over his. His mouth comes down, it’s slow and deliberate as he kisses me on my lips, making me part them so he can make the kiss deeper. I let him because no matter how pissed I am with him, he knows how to make my body sing, make it scream for him.
His hands circle around my waist, he lifts me, his lips still not leaving mine as he starts to walk us. He doesn’t walk far, my back goes down onto our coffee table in the middle of the living room, and he
hovers over me. Spreading kisses down my neck, he tries to remove my clothes and I let him, having no desire to stop him.
I think I should stop him. Our marriage isn’t consummated, so if this leads where I think it will, tonight will be it. I want to, though, that’s the problem. No matter how pissed off I am, I want it to be with him. I’ve never had this strong a feeling for anyone as I have for him. Even at first when I was due to marry someone else, those feelings arose.
Before I know it we’re both naked, his lips kissing the arch of my breast, licking its way to my nipple. He spreads my legs wide so he can fit between them, his hand comes between and he touches my clit, rubbing it slowly, then going down to touch my sweet spot before he comes back up and continues with my clit.
“Are you sure, little bird?” he asks.
I’m too afraid to form words, so I nod my head instead. He reaches for something, the sounds of wrapper tearing come through to my ears followed by air hitting me between us. I manage to open my eyes to see him coming back down. He continues his decent, and his mouth touches between my legs in the same way he did last night. He plays with it like it’s his own musical instrument. My legs begin to shake, and before they do he lifts his head looking back up at me.
“Relax.” He breathes onto my neck. I watch his body, not his face as we become connected, as he begins to slide into me. I feel it, then it’s followed by pain, so I close my eyes and squeeze them tight. He stops and doesn’t move, which only makes it worse.
“Move,” I cry out to him, and he does, slowly. I was warned about this part, the part that hurts. I didn’t think it would hurt this much, though. It’s like a stinging pain that I can’t turn off. His hand comes between us and he touches my clit, mixing my emotions, pleasure and pain. He seems to be a master at this. I don’t know which I’m feeling, his mouth on my breast, his fingers on my clit, his cock in my burning pussy, it’s all so much.
“Fuck, just like heaven,” he says into me.
I arch my back, the pain suddenly gone. It still feels sore, though, but bearable at the moment. Maybe it’s because of the pleasure that’s happening as well. He bites down on my nipple and his hips move faster. I cling onto his back, stopping him from biting and bringing him in closer. I want our bodies to touch, I want to feel somewhat connected to him. His hands come under my armpits and circle around over top of me, he uses me as his weights as he pushes in and out pulling me with his arms with each thrust.
