My leg is covered in a massive bruise, and as much as I’m used to pain, I still wince looking at it.
“You fell on that side on the stage. Can I get you to drink—a protein shake?”
“Yes, anything you’d like.” I nod, keeping my features neutral. I’ve had protein bars before, and I enjoyed them. I hope this is the same thing. He pokes his head out the door for a minute then closes it again.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. I won’t cause you any trouble, I swear. Once this clear stuff is out, I will do whatever you wish.”
“Look, I’m nothing like those other guys. I won’t hurt you. You can talk. Yema is nowhere close to us, and even if he were, he couldn’t touch you now. Talk, ask questions, take a shower, sleep, whatever sounds good. Just take it easy, so you get well.”
“I can ask you a question?”
“Of course, ask away.”
“Where are we?”
“We’re on my father’s private plane. That’s where we’re going right now.”
“To your father’s?”
“Yes.”
“Am I to be his?”
“No…listen to me Sasha, you don’t belong to anyone.”
Tears fill my eyes at his words. I thought I was on stage to become his? I don’t want to have to go back. He’s already been more kind to me in this conversation than Yema ever has over many years.
“Hey, don’t cry. It’s okay, I promise.”
I nod, stunned inside that my body’s producing tears again. Is that from the saline? There’s a knock at the door, and then another guy pokes his head inside. He glances over at me, offering a lopsided grin and holds out a large glass with a straw to Mr. Masterson.
“This is my buddy, Finn. He won’t hurt you either.”
Finn smiles wider. “Nope, sure won’t, lass. You let me know if I can help ya, ‘kay?”
I nod again, shocked at how he speaks to me—how they both do. He’s friendly. Only a few of the Master’s men were ever semi-kind to me before.
The door closes again, and my handsome gentleman brings the glass with him.
“You probably won’t be able to drink it all. It’s thick, and if I know Finn, he most likely mixed this with ice cream, so you may get a sugar rush, too.”
“Ice cream?” I ask, not familiar and his eyes grow sad.
“Yes, Sasha. It’s good, try it.”
Taking a small sip at first, I nearly want to guzzle it as the flavor explodes over my tongue. It’s cold and delicious.
“What is it?” I ask after swallowing a few large mouthfuls.
“It’s a chocolate protein shake. But they’re usually not that great. It’s Finn’s doing, mixing it with ice cream that makes it so good.” He smiles, and it’s awe-inspiring. I’ve never seen a man so good-looking in my life as when he’s happy and his hazel irises are sparkling.
I must gawk because he swallows hastily and pushes the glass in my direction, so I’ll hold it for myself. He has me in a daze staring at him, and it’s a little embarrassing. I would get punished for gaping before, but Mr. Masterson says he’s not like them. Does that mean it’s okay for me to look at him?
I sip another big gulp, my stomach already growing full. “Thank you, Mr. Masterson.” My eyes stay trained on my lap as I say it.
His large hand, lays over my free one, lightly, drawing me back toward him. “It’s nothing, and my name’s Beau.”
“Beau.” It leaves my lips on a breath, wispy and low.
He clears his throat, standing from my side of the bed. “You finish up whatever you can drink. I’ll be back to check on you.”
We land, and I have her hold onto her IV drip while I carry her, princess style. She’s on her second dose, so I’m hoping she’ll be feeling better in no time. I checked on her once earlier, and she had been asleep again. I couldn’t stop gazing at her when she appeared so peaceful. Simply put, whoever did this is a monster.
She’s perfect—beyond perfect—and they were slowly killing her. How can you ruin something so trusting and pure?
Her face when she tried the shake nearly brought tears to my own eyes, and I’m not a man who cries. I’m not soft or caring for the most part, but it killed me inside knowing she’d never had something so simple as ice cream. How long did they have her? Has she ever had a normal life?
The officer in me has me wanting to interrogate her about every little detail I can get, but I’m holding myself back not wanting to overwhelm her just yet. I have to keep reminding myself that victims need time to recover and process things. I’d called my father as soon as one of Viktor’s men had an IV in her arm and told him to have a doctor waiting for us. I did the basics with what we had available, but I need a professional to do a closer look.
“We’re going to your home now?” she asks, her face so close to mine as I load her into the waiting town car my father sent for us. Her lips are near enough I could easily brush mine across them, but I won’t. She’s not here for that, and I’m a pig for even imagining it.
“No little dove, we’re going to my fathers. His place is big enough for all of us, and we can keep you safe there.”
“I forgot, sleeping so much.”
“No worries.” I climb in beside her, and she lies across the black leather seat, her head in my lap. She’s completely trusting and does it automatically without hesitation. Regular people don’t act like this when you first meet them. Sasha’s like a sweet kitten—curling up to you and seeking whatever attention you’ll shed on her. “How are you feeling?” One hand rests on the seat beside me, while I use the other to brush her hair away from her face.
Finn sits in the front, quiet beside the driver.
Her eyes flutter close, and she practically purrs with the small touch of affection I show her. I’m honestly not sure how to act with her. I’ve been around many victims, but this feels so much more personal to me.
She’s a grown woman, but I can tell she’s been morphed into whatever Yema and those around him wanted her to be. I need to tread carefully. I’m sure she already feels completely lost with all the changes, and it hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours yet.
“I feel good.” Her eyes meet mine. “Better than I have in a long time.”
Brushing over her forehead lightly, I send her a soft smile. “I’m glad. Keep resting so you feel even better, okay?”
She nods, her eyes closing again as she leans her cheek toward my thigh, burrowing more. She’s so close and so fucking beautiful, I’m scared she’s going to notice the chub resting in my pants. I can’t help it. I’m torn between being angry as all fuck and turned on. I want to gut them for treating her like this. A police officer or not, this has my Mafiya genes bubbling to the top.
I roused Sasha a bit moving her from the car to the house but was able to get her tucked into her suite without completely waking her. My father had a room and bathroom prepared with all of the basics she could need, including some stretchy yoga pants and small T-shirts. I figure I’ll help her get some nicer things once we figure out her sizes and what she likes. This will do for her to recoup in though.
“Still sleeping?” Finn asks when I close her door and find him waiting right outside in the hall.
“Yeah, who knows the last time she was able to get some good rest. She’s probably not used to having a full stomach like that too. You hungry?”
“A bit.” He nods. “Could go for a drink and then bed myself.”
“Was your room okay?”
“Your da did good. Yer sure he won’t mind havin’ me under his roof?”
“No, he’s not in the Bratva anymore. Even if he were, you’d be welcome. You’re my friend.”
“That’s not how it went awhile back.”
“Well, that’s how it goes with me involved. My father may have been a selfish prick before, but he’s trying to make life simpler for me now.”
He nods. And we come to the study where my dad’s hanging up with someone on
his cell.
“Sin.” My father approaches, bringing back memories of hearing him speak to my mother and me in Russian when I was a boy.
“Victor.” I greet, and he slightly winces. I think he’s still holding out hope that one day I’ll acknowledge him as my father to his face. “My good friend, Finn O’Kassidy.” I gesture to the sturdy man beside me, and surprisingly my father grins holding his hand out to him next.
“Finn, you resemble your papa a great deal.”
They shake hands, and Finn blinks a few times. “Thanks fer that.”
His father’s been dead for a long time, and mine just paid him a big compliment, welcoming him and speaking kindly of his father.
Victor nods. “Come join me for dinner, and you two can fill me in while we wait for the doctor to arrive and check over the little captive.”
We head for the dining room that’s been set with four places. To the side is many of my favorite dishes; Borscht which is a type of red sauce with pork and vegetables; Pelmeni which is meat filled dumplings; chicken kotleti which is ground chicken that’s been breaded and sautéed; Syrniki which is a sweet pastry type of food, dusted with powdered sugar and raspberries; and, my father’s favorite, Medovik which is essentially a honey cake. My mother has cooked these dishes many times while I was growing up.
“You’ve prepared.” I acknowledge what he’s offering. It would be rude not to, and with everything he’s done recently to help gain his favor, he doesn’t deserve for me to be disrespectful right now.
“Da.” He stands behind the chair at the head of the table, his spot.
“Spaseeba.”
He waves me off. “It’s nothing. Anytime you wish to be here, I will prepare.”
Finn and I sit on each side of him once Victor takes his seat—the empty plate left vacant beside me. “I didn’t want to wake her.” I don’t want him thinking she's rude. He grew up in a different type of life, a different set of rules of what was expected.
“She’s hurt, I do not take offense.” He’s been in Russia lately; I can hear it in the way he’s speaking. His words and his English always change when he visits home. “Vodka?” he suggests, lifting the expensive bottle and pouring his glass half full.
“Da, spaseeba,” I reply, nodding as he pours my glass, then he turns to Finn and pours his as well. It’s customary in our family to always pour a guest’s first glass of vodka to welcome them.
“You all fill your plates, and tell me what happened,” he orders, and we comply. I’m starving. The private plane has decent food, but nothing like this.
Taking my seat again, I sip the delicious vodka and tell him all about our adventure and how I want to go back and kill each man responsible. As he listens to me speak passionately, I swear his shoulders grow wider and him taller as he sits, like he’s about to burst with pride.
“You are my sin,” he states proudly when we’re finished talking about it, and you’d think it was Christmas morning the way he looks as he says it.
I’m his son, but I’ll never be anything like him.
“You’re gonna be happy,” said life,
“but first I’ll make you strong.”
-quotags.net
When I wake again, it’s morning. At least it feels like morning and judging by the unfamiliar surroundings, I’m assuming we’ve made it to Beau’s father’s house. How out of it was I yesterday? I hope I didn’t anger Beau and his father. I can’t remember ever sleeping so long before or feeling this much energy. It reminds me of the few brief memories I have from being a little girl, always bouncing around.
An older lady enters the room quietly and smiles kindly at me when she notices my eyes open. She nods. “Miss.”
Surely she can’t mean me. I don’t know what Beau told her for her to speak to me so respectfully. The Master’s voice comes back to me, taunting as he’s done so many times in the past. You’re nothing. I’m nothing. I’m something to be bought and sold, used when needed and out of the way when I’m not.
No, he’s not here. I won’t let him command me when he’s not my owner anymore. I belong to Beau now.
“Hello,” I respond quietly.
“Bright day today. You should get some sun. Maybe Mr. Beau will take you for a walk,” she suggests and opens the long, burgundy drapes, sunlight pouring in as she does. It’s beautiful, the room, the light, her friendliness—all of it.
“If that’s what he wants.” I nod, and she smiles again.
“There are toiletries in your bathroom for you and a few items in the bureau for you to wear until Mr. Beau takes you shopping. It should get you through a few days while you recover. Did you need me to help you shower or dress?”
I’ve never had anyone help me do any of it before or offer to leave me alone to do it. I always showered quickly in cool water and dressed in my white gowns in front of the Master’s men. It was required; they watched us all.
My arm’s a little sore and still feels heavy, reminding me of the IV. I may need her help, after all, maybe that’s why she’s offered.
I glance down to find a small bright pink bandage in place, the tubes and needle gone.
“I patched you up last night once the drip was finished. The doc stopped by for a minute to look you over. He’ll be back this afternoon or tomorrow to speak with you and do more.” She pats her light grey hair as if it’s messed up, but it’s still pinned up in a perfect twist.
“I know how to wash myself.”
“Okay dear, whenever you’re ready then. I just want to make sure you can stand first. You may still be a little wobbly from the traveling.” She comes to the bed and holds out a wrinkled, pale hand to me.
She’s going to help? Why would she care if I need assistance?
Placing my hand in her steady grip, I climb to my feet, swaying a bit as my equilibrium plays catch-up. She remains beside me as I take a few careful steps, my hips also sore from my fall. It must’ve been fairly hard for me to feel the ache. Usually, I can block it out.
“I’m not weak usually. I promise I can be good help to you,” I mumble as I slowly make my way to the attached bathroom.
“Honey, you’re so frail, don’t you worry your mind about being weak. You’re a little fighter, bouncing back from a spell like that so quickly. Mr. Beau and Mr. Victor will be pleased when I let them know you’ve woken. You just take all the time you need; a warm shower will do you some good.” Her accent is heavy with a slow drawl to it. It reminds me of honey, sweet and thick.
“It’ll be warm?” My gaze finds hers, and she nods, looking a touch sad after I ask. The words just left me without any thought. I couldn’t help it. She said warm shower and my heart sped up—eager.
The bathroom is massive, reminding me of the Master’s home. Everything was big there as well; only I was never allowed to use any of the fancy stuff. We all stayed in the basement there, in tiny cage-like rooms. I don’t want to think of that though. I’m about to take my first warm shower in God knows how long—definitely since I was a child.
The lady lets go of my hand and reaches into the spacious shower, turning the water on for me and explains which button to push to increase the degrees and which to decrease it. She points out the different soaps and asks if I have a skincare regimen. I don’t have any idea how to reply to that, so I remain quiet. By the time she leaves me, she looks quite sad, and I hate knowing that it was somehow my fault making her upset. I didn’t do it on purpose; I wish she would’ve kept on smiling.
I say goodbye to the Chief and put my cell away. He was calling to tell me that Internal Affairs is one step closer to clearing me in the Johnson case. I’ll believe it when I see it though. He also wanted to know why a field agent from the FBI had called his office hoping to speak to me.
It’s pretty random that someone from their office would call me. Either they’ve noticed that I’ve been visiting my cousins lately and now my father, or else they have someone on the inside and they saw me at the events. Regardless, I don’t wa
nt their attention from either one of those scenarios.
Chief gave me a number to return the call, but I’m not sure if I want to. Before digging myself in the middle of this sex trade business, I wouldn’t have thought twice about talking to the FBI. Now, however, I know too much. I could answer too many questions if they were to ask them and that’s not good.
It may also be time to get a new phone. I’m assuming they’ve been tracking mine. Not that I’m surprised; I know I’m tracked by the department lots of times. It’s the fact that I know they’re doing it and are open about it that puts me at ease. The FBI’s sneaky, though. They like you to think they don’t know who you are when in reality, they know everything about you and then some.
Then there’s Finn. He’s a criminal, but he’s also my friend. He keeps his illegal activities away from me, and we’re fine. I don’t want anyone getting the impression I’m working with him in those aspects. In that same breath, I don’t want any of Finn’s associates, thinking he’s turned rat to the cops. Rats die, and that’s the last thing I want for him.
I’ll figure it out. Let’s hope whatever it is, doesn’t send me to jail.
My knuckles rap against Sasha’s door a few times before I push it open. Susan, my father’s housekeeper, came down the stairs a little while ago pretty upset. She thanked me for helping Sasha and told me I have a kind heart. I don’t know what happened; I didn’t ask. I’ll let Sasha fill me in on whatever she feels comfortable with. I don’t want to break her trust already.
“Sasha?” I call as I step into the room. She’s sitting dressed in her new yoga bottoms, white socks and a T-shirt with a towel wrapped around her hair, staring into the mirror. She looks to be in a trance. “Susan had mentioned about you being up for a walk outside today?”
Her careful gaze meets mine in the mirror. “You’re not angry with me for the woman leaving?”
“About what?” I step farther into the room, coming to a standstill directly behind her.
We continue to speak while watching the other through the mirror and I like it, it feels like it makes her a touch braver and not as frightened to speak out of turn as yesterday. I’m hoping baby steps will bring her out of her shell. I noticed some fire in her at the first auction. It was brief, but it was there, and I want to bring it out again.
Undercover Intentions Page 9
