by Zoe Blake
Damien poured gasoline around the shop while Gregor poured a straight path out the back door. Bruiser rolled off the sofa and landed with a thud on his stomach. Begging for mercy, he propped up on his forearms and tried to pull his considerable bulk toward the door, dragging his useless legs behind him.
Ignoring his pleas, we walked out the door. Opening the trunk of the Range Rover, I reached into my duffel bag and pulled out a plastic bottle of water and a t-shirt. I poured the water over all of our hands and wiped mine dry before tossing the shirt to Damien.
He held it up before wiping his hands. “A Nappoliano, nice choice.”
I shrugged as I reached for the gold and black slim box of Sobranie cigarettes and lighter tucked into a side pocket. “You’re not the only one who likes to look good.”
Flipping open the box, I offered them each a cigarette. After holding up the lit flame for each of us to use, I tossed the lighter to Gregor. He turned and walked back to the building. When he opened the door, I could just make out Bruiser’s form as he was still desperately dragging his body toward the exit.
Flicking the lid on the Zippo, Gregor tossed the open flame into the building and shut the door. I would have liked the honor myself, but as Nadia’s eldest brother and head of the Ivanov family, by rights, it fell to him.
He returned and leaned against the car with Damien and me. We listened to Bruiser’s agonized screams as black smoke crept through the narrow gap around the door.
I took a final drag off my cigarette and tossed it into the alley dirt. “Gentlemen, time to go hunting.”
Chapter 20
Nadia
I stared at the closed door.
Damien had locked me in and, what’s worse, I’m pretty sure Mikhail knew he was going to do it. The moment he opened the door, there was a shove between my shoulder blades. I fell into Yelena’s arms. Before either of us could react, the door slammed shut, and we heard the ominous click of the lock sliding into place.
Samara, who was sitting on the bed dressed in her usual outfit of a paint-splattered t-shirt, wide-cuffed dark jeans, and a lipstick red bandana around her hair, popped the top of a McDonald’s hash brown into her mouth and said, “Welcome home, Sis!”
Yelena flopped down on the bed beside her before reaching for a large styrofoam cup, which I was certain contained a Cafe Mocha, knowing them both. “For at least an hour, they lured us in here with the promise of a McDonald’s Egg McMuffin.”
Pulling one of the small, upholstered bucket chairs closer to the bed, I sat down and peeked inside the slightly crumpled brown to-go bag. Inside was a third uneaten McMuffin. “That rat bastard,” I marveled as I reached for the yellow-wrapped breakfast sandwich. Mikhail knew what my brothers had planned before even taking me here. That’s why he’d said we would get breakfast at Gregor’s when I said we should swing through a drive-through on our way.
Yelena leaned back and plucked a third Cafe Mocha from the cup holder on the nightstand. “It’s cold but still drinkable.”
I shook my head as I took it. “He knew they were going to lock me in here, too.”
Samara picked at her hash brown, popping another piece in her mouth. “We were going to warn you, but the cavemen took our phones,” she said using their collective, and rather fitting, nickname for Gregor and Damien.
I shrugged. “Wouldn’t have helped. My phone’s dead and still plugged in back at the store.”
Yelena and Samara exchanged a worried look.
Yelena played with the plastic tab on her mocha cup. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
I thought they would never ask. I wanted to be sympathetic to them being locked in a bedroom because of me all morning, but I was dying to tell them about Mikhail and everything that happened this morning. I desperately needed their advice.
Nodding, I said, “God, yes.”
They both squealed and moved closer to the edge of the bed as they sat up straighter.
Before I could begin, Yelena gestured to my outfit. “Loving the Tomb Raider chic thing you have going on here. I never thought you’d give up those babydoll dresses of yours. Although, I see you still have the pink Doc Martens, but with this outfit they work.”
I adjusted the collar on my turtleneck. “Thank you. Mikhail got it for me.”
Samara leaned in. “And exactly why did you need new clothes?”
Yelena snatched the corner piece of orange cheese from the Egg McMuffin in my hand. “Tell us everything.”
“Okay, but you have to promise not to tell my brothers. They’d lose it.”
Yelena drew her thumb and forefinger across her lips. “Our lips are sealed. Now spill it.”
I started with how Mikhail kissed me behind the cathedral right after the wedding.
Samara’s mouth fell open. “Just like that, after all these years, he finally kissed you?”
I nervously twisted my fingers. “Not exactly. There’s something I never had time to tell you both.”
I then backtracked and told them about the night of my eighteenth birthday party.
Yelena cried out. Grabbing one of the bed pillows, she tossed it at my head. “How come you didn’t tell us?”
I hugged the pillow to my stomach. “It was right before you both ran away. What was I supposed to say?” Looking straight at Samara, I continued, “Sorry my big, super scary older brother is forcing you to marry him, but let me tell you about how Mikhail spanked me and called me his dirty girl?”
“Yes!” they both shouted in unison.
Yelena shook her head. “So for all these years he hasn’t touched you or made a pass or anything until yesterday?”
I popped the lid off my mocha and swirled around the last few swallows to capture all the chocolate syrup. “Nope. It was like he barely knew I was alive.”
Samara chuckled. “I have a feeling he knows you’re alive now.”
Since both of them had shared all the kinky details of their relationships with my brothers, despite my countless protests of ‘Ew that’s my brother you’re talking about,’ I knew I didn’t have to hold anything back with them.
It was difficult telling them about the part where I was attacked. For starters, I completely wanted to forget about it. That wasn’t the healthiest. Countless magazine articles and Oprah shows would tell me to deal with my trauma and feelings, but it was my choice not to. It would open up a Pandora’s box. Once I went down that path, it wouldn’t just be about the attack. It would be about why I got attacked, which would lead back to my family and the family legacy of violence and dirty money and Mikhail’s connection to it. That wasn’t a lid I wanted to open right now.
Plus me relating how I was grabbed from behind and struggled for all of two seconds before Mikhail burst through the door like Bruce Willis in Die Hard, although similar to what had happened to Samara, hardly compared to the terrifying experience Yelena had recently gone through. And the last thing I wanted to do was make either of them relive their own trauma right now. We could save that for another time over lots and lots of martinis.
Instead, I focused on what happened afterward, and Mikhail’s complete, jaw-dropping reversal on how he treated me.
Yelena clapped when I got to the part about the dildo. “Oh my God, you are a dirty girl. I can’t believe you swallowed that.”
“Seriously, Nadia, way to break down stereotypes about shy virgins,” Samara chimed in.
“As if either of you are ones to talk,” I protested.
Samara and Yelena exchanged a look and laughed.
Yelena asked, “When is his birthday?”
“I don’t know. I doubt he does either. They left him at an orphanage in Siberia. I don’t think they kept substantial records.”
Yelena thought for a moment, then said, “I bet he was born in April or May. He sounds like a Taurus. It’s an earth sign. They are extremely stubborn, like bulls, but loyal to a fault.”
That sounded like Mikhail.
She continued, “You know,
when Taurus and Leos get together, it is an extremely sexual combination. They’re both intense signs who channel anger and fights into highly charged, super kinky sex.”
Now that part really sounded like Mikhail and me.
I threw the pillow I was holding back at her. “You added the super kinky part.”
She shrugged. “Still true.”
I crumbled the yellow waxy paper in my hand into a tiny ball. “It may not even matter….”
I told them about the surveillance cameras and how after finally being allowed to leave Gregor’s house, I'd thought I was independent, but I really had never been.
Samara reached over and stroked my arm. “We never really apologized for what you suffered because of us running away.”
I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “No, don’t say that. It really was for the best. When Gregor demanded I move in here, it was out of anger at first, but that quickly changed. He knew I hated living with my mother and all her constant backhanded remarks about how I dressed and what a waste of time it was to pursue a career in jewelry design. Gregor’s the one who encouraged me to take jewelry making classes.”
Samara smiled. “He appears to be this terrifying grizzly bear, but he has his teddy bear moments.”
“He also insisted I take business classes so I would be ready when I wanted to open my own boutique.”
“That sounds like him, too. He wants me to do the same. He wants me to take more art classes but is insisting on business ones too.”
Yelena chimed in. “Damien’s so supportive of me launching a fashion career, I’m a little afraid if I took any classes, he’d insist on going with me. I can see him now yelling at my teacher for giving me a low grade for a scalloped-edged collar I put on a dress.”
I thought of Mikhail. I wish I could be certain he’d be as supportive of me as my brothers were of them. So far, I’d been in a relationship with him for less than twelve hours, and all I’d seen was his overbearing ‘my rules or nothing’ attitude. He’d also repeatedly brushed aside my concerns about my shop as if they were secondary to his own concerns about my safety. On one hand, I understood, but on the other it was sending up huge red flags. I voiced my concerns to Samara and Yelena.
All three of us were quiet for a moment. Finally, Yelena spoke. “I think there is only one solution to know the truth. Nadia, I think it’s past time you ran away from home.”
My mouth dropped open. “What?”
Samara jumped off the bed and grabbed me by the shoulders, raising me up. “It’s the perfect plan! You need to run away.”
I looked from one to the other. “You’re both crazy.”
“It worked for us,” Yelena offered.
“How?” I protested. “You both wound up with the very men you were running from!”
Samara placed a hand over her belly. She wasn’t showing yet. It was way too soon. “Sometimes you need to experience what you only think you want, to recognize what you truly want.”
Yelena gave me a quick hug. “We’re saying this because we love you. You need to leave. See what the world would be like without your brothers or Mikhail in it.”
“Even if I wanted to, they would never give me permission to get on a plane and go somewhere completely alone. They’d freak out about security.”
Samara winked. “Who says you’re asking for permission?”
The idea sent a frisson of both fear and excitement down my spine. I was twenty-one for heaven’s sake, why shouldn’t I travel and see the world? I had money to do it. I had inherited money from my father at his death. It was nothing compared to the tens of millions of dollars my brothers and apparently Mikhail had, but it was still a couple million. The only reason I didn’t own the building where I had my apartment and shop was because they wanted to shield the Ivanov name by purchasing it through a shell company. I rarely spent any of my money because I didn’t need to. I liked my secondhand furniture, off-the-rack babydoll dresses, and nights in watching movies. Still, maybe it was time to do something bold and rash on my own.
Maybe it was time to run away from home.
At the very least, it would give me space and time away from Mikhail. I needed to think about him and us. If I stayed here, I would never have a moment to think straight in his presence. He was just too intense, too sexy and overwhelming. I would forever happily submit to his will.
Yelena put her hands on her hips. “Well, if you’re going to run away, we first need to get out of this room.”
“I’m not leaving this second.”
“I know. I just want to show them they didn’t really lock us in here. Samara, pull the covers off the bed and grab that sheet.” Yelena marched over to the window and threw up the sash.
I followed her and looked out. Just below there was a small balcony. She pointed to it. “The sheet will get me to the balcony. Once I’m there, you untie it and toss it down to me. I’ll then retie it to the balcony and shimmy down the rest of the way to the ground.”
Samara approached us with the end of the sheet. “It’s anchored to the bedpost,” she said before tossing it out the window.
Yelena shrugged out of the paisley silk robe she was wearing so she was only in her matching silk pajamas. She leaned down and threw her right leg over the sill. Samara grasped the sheet, braced her left foot against the wall and tightened her grip.
I watched them both in awe. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t the first time you’re doing this?”
They both laughed. Yelena pointed to Samara. “The first time in Los Angeles was her fault.”
Samara countered, “Yeah, but the second and third time in Mexico was all on you.”
A stab of jealousy pierced my chest. I envied the bond they now had from their shared adventure. They were right. The only place I had ever traveled was to Russia, and that was always with family and under heavy guard. Maybe it was time I saw a bit of the world on my own. Maybe it was past time I had my own adventures.
Yelena slowly lowered herself to the balcony and then waved back. I helped Samara untie the sheet. We tossed it down to her. In only a few minutes, Yelena was running to the other side of the house, keeping close to the perimeter. It was only a few minutes later when we heard a muffled conversation on the other side of the door. We both jumped back when the door rattled, then there was the sound of something sliding against it followed by a dull thud.
The door swung open, with a beaming Yelena on the other side. We had to step over the guard when we exited.
Yelena shook her head. “Poor Carl disagreed with our plan. He’ll be okay. He’ll wake up in a few hours with a bump on his head and a bruised ego.”
Samara straightened her shoulders. “Ladies, shall we adjourn to the kitchen for some hot chocolate and further planning of Operation Fly the Coop?”
This was happening. I was going to run away. A sudden chill settled over my fevered excitement.
What was Mikhail going to do when he realized I was gone?
Chapter 21
Mikhail
We parked our vehicle one street over so as not to draw attention on the quiet street we were targeting, especially since it was still morning. We didn’t want to wait for the cover of darkness. At night, people in our line of work tended to be more on their guard. Not so much during the day. No one expected an attack in broad daylight, which was precisely why we were doing it now. Plus, we still had the element of surprise. Word would not have gotten to Dumb and Dumber yet of their crew’s complete failure and our response.
It was only the three of us. This was going to be quick and deadly efficient. We did a perimeter sweep first. Novikoff’s house sat on some property about twenty minutes outside of D.C.
The neighborhood was an odd mixture of quaint one-story pillbox houses built in the fifties and massive new McMansions squeezed onto every square inch of small half acre plots. It happened a lot. Grandma died, and her grandkids put her house up for a song just to unload it. Some asshole with money swoops in and buys i
t. First thing he does is tear it down and build some obnoxious monstrosity that casts a shadow over the surrounding houses.
Egor Novikoff was one of those assholes.
We made our way toward the obnoxious mansion. Taking up a position in the bushes of the small house next door, we watched for signs of activity. Several men patrolled the perimeter of the house, their sharp eyes scanning the space just above our hiding place.
Motioning with his hand, Gregor whispered, “That’s our target.”
I focused on a brick wall which spanned about twelve feet. On either side were two curtained windows. I could see through the white linen the faint impression of bookshelves and a desk. Egor’s office.
I took out the Range-R. Cupping my hand to shield the bright screen, I tried to take a reading.
“We’re too far away,” I whispered.
Typically, the Range-R needed to be close to the target to take an accurate reading. Ideally, it would be pressed against the wall of the room it needed to scan. I had hoped our sniper position, barely one hundred yards away, would have sufficed. There was no way I could creep closer, take a reading, then get back into position to take the shot without possibly attracting the notice of the guards. They would be immediately suspicious of a man lurking near the house, but maybe not two men returning home drunk to their wives.
I motioned to Gregor and Damien. “I have an idea. Who's got a flask on them?”
Both Gregor and Damien pulled out beat-up silver flasks. I snatched Damien’s, opened it, and poured some over Gregor’s shirt and suit jacket.
“What the fuck,” they objected practically in unison.
Gregor complained in a harsh whisper, “This was a nice suit.”
Damien grimaced. “That was Macallan Rare scotch, aged over twenty years. Why couldn’t you have grabbed Gregor’s flask?”
