by J. L. Drake
Did I want him dead?
I shook off the thought. I was turning as crazy as these Russians. Murder wasn’t a problem-solver.
“Change of plans this weekend? Last we spoke, you were going to visit relatives.”
Shit. “Yes, totally a last minute thing. My friend scored tickets to the Bengals game and invited me to go. It’s on Christmas Eve.”
“Kiki?”
I shook my head. “My other friend, Ryan.” I snuck a peek up at the boss as I smashed my potatoes down with the back of my fork. He still seemed in good spirits. I thought he would be pissed at me for trying to pull a fast one on him, but the fact I would be his houseguest for the next three days probably made up for my bullshit.
Vladimir set down his fork and patted his mouth with a napkin. “You’re exhausted. Let’s get you settled in the living room.”
“Perfect.” I picked up our plates, but Vladimir took them out of my hands and insisted I rest. He rolled up his sleeves, loaded the dishwasher, wiped off the countertops, and took out the trash. The way he was there for me…I wished I could tell him the truth about what had happened, but if he knew what Leonardo tried to do or about my examination, he would have a Chernobyl-sized meltdown.
“You left this in my car.” Boris handed me my phone. “Your papa is trying to reach you.”
I checked my missed calls. It wasn’t Dad. Ryan had called eight times and sent about twenty texts. “I better call him back. I’ll be quick. Can you get a fire started?” I asked Vladimir.
“Anything for you, angel.”
Once the boss left the kitchen, I got up from my chair, turned my back to Boris, and tapped out a text.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“If I don’t get back to Ryan, he’ll call my dad,” I snapped. I felt empowered knowing Vladimir was home to protect me.
Angry at my disrespectful tone, he whirled me around, clamped onto my shoulders, and jammed his thumbs into my collarbone. My ankle exploded in pain. “Be careful. It takes seven pounds of pressure to break the clavicle bone. I’m at five and half.”
I squirmed to slip out of his lethal grip. He didn’t let up. I dropped the phone and tried to pry him off me, but me trying to defend myself against Boris was as productive as trying to yank a brick out of a house with my bare hands. “You’re hurting me. Let me go or I’ll scream. The boss will be pissed when he finds out what you did to me.”
He loosened his grip. I made a run for the swinging door to dive into the safe arms of the boss, but before I hobbled a foot, Boris grabbed my ponytail and slammed me back against the pantry door. He towered over me and covered my mouth with his hand.
“If you ever threaten me again or breathe one word to anyone about your examination, I will hurt you in ways that will haunt you the rest of your life. Don’t forget who you’re dealing with, little girl. I am not a man to cross.” He pointed to my phone and snapped his fingers.
Panting, I picked it up off the floor and handed it to him.
He motioned to the door. “Don’t keep boss waiting.”
I skittered back to the living room, picked up the remote, and browsed the movie channels. I stopped when I found my favorite movie of all time: Moonstruck.
I snuggled up with a throw blanket on my side of the couch. The poodles joined the party and curled up on the rug. Vladimir caressed Anastasia with his foot.
“Will there be anything else tonight, Vladimir?” Boris towered over us holding two glasses of red wine.
My body started to shake. I lifted the blanket up to my neck.
“No, we’ll be fine.” Vladimir took the vino from Boris and handed a glass to me.
“Have a wonderful evening with boss, Carter.”
Something in Boris’s suggestive tone freaked me out. In the last twenty-four hours, I had sprained my ankle and almost been date-raped. Ryan and Leonardo beat the shit out of each other in my house, where drug-dealing Leonardo was never supposed to be, and Boris and his thugs had done the unthinkable. I would love to have a wonderful fucking evening, Boris.
A half hour into the movie, I gave up. “I don’t think I can make it to the end, boss.” I let out a big yawn.
“You’re a tough girl. You can make it.” He lifted his glass. “Za tebya.”
“Za tebya.” We clinked and sipped.
At the point in the movie when Ronny enters the story, I blinked to stay awake. My body felt so heavy. Vladimir pulled me over to his side of the couch and nestled my head on his chest. He tipped the glass to my mouth, encouraging me to take another sip. As Loretta and Ronny argued onscreen, he stroked my hair and sipped his wine.
I yawned again. He removed the glass from my hand and set it on the coffee table. He lowered my head to rest on a pillow and brushed my hair off my face. I fought to keep my eyes open, but before Johnny Cammareri came back from Sicily, I blacked out.
Chapter 32
Filthy Animals
It was almost noon the next day when I regained consciousness. I had no memory of how I got tucked into bed in the guestroom—or how I ended up in crisp, clean pajamas. I felt like a steamroller had mowed over me. I groaned as I sat up. When I leaned over to snag my cast, vertigo set in. I tipped off the bed and crash landed on the floor with a thud.
I don’t remember drinking that much.
My body needed more sleep, but my brain urged me to get moving. I slid on my cast and made my way to the bathroom. I undressed and checked my body for damage. I had deep purple and red marks on my collarbone, a bounty of finger bruises dotted my arms and legs thanks to Playboy and his crew, and I was sore down there from my examination.
I replayed what had happened over and over in my mind. I understood—in Bratva terms—why Boris wanted to know if Leonardo had forced himself on me, but why did he want to know if I was pure?
As I considered the thought, I got down on my knees and hovered over the toilet in the morning after ready position. The last thing I remembered was dozing off on the couch. Then the realization hit me—
They drugged me.
I shuddered to think what they’d done to me while I was unconscious. Once again, only one reason came to mind. I dry heaved into the toilet. I had to keep it together. I was trapped there. If I didn’t emerge soon, they would come get me. I had two and half more days there, and it wasn’t in my best interest to conjure up the pakhan.
Live to fight another day.
I got dressed in one of my home-away-from-home outfits, plastered on my game face, and limped to the kitchen. Vladimir was seated at the bar sipping a cup of tea next to a box of pastries and a fresh fruit and cheese display. “Good morning, angel.”
I couldn’t look him in the eye. “Sorry I got up so late. I don’t usually sleep in.” I motioned to the food. “You didn’t have to do that. It’s my job.” My voice sounded hoarse.
“Nonsense. You are my guest. Sit. Eat.”
Boris wore a hat and coat, and had Leonardo’s gym bag clutched in his hand. He stood by the door spinning the Cadillac key ring around his index finger. “Well rested?”
Careful not to let on I knew they’d drugged me, I played dumb. “Best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.” I smiled. “Oh, have either of you seen my phone? I must’ve misplaced it.”
Boris held it up. “It’s been going off all morning.”
I slid over to him, snatched my cell from his hand, and shuffled back to get some distance between us. I had five missed calls—all from Dad and Ryan—and about a hundred texts. Kiki, Rakhi, Coach Erin…Leonardo.
Leonardo: Coming over at noon to pick up bag. NO COPS.
My stomach turned. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants.
“Boss, if you don’t mind, I have an appointment to get to at precisely noon. Do you need anything before I attend to business?” Boris asked.
“No, of course not. We’ll be fine. Do svidaniya.”
“Do svidaniya.” Boris tipped the rim of his hat.
“Wait,” I blurted. “Can you ta
ke me to the club? Coach Erin asked if I could stop by today so the trainer can check my ankle. She’s leaving early for the holiday weekend.”
“It’s up to boss.”
I have to get out of this house. “We can go downtown when I get back. There’s a Christmas display at Fountain Square and ice skating and a nativity scene with real reindeer and a band—”
“We will do all of that and more.” He laughed. “Don’t be gone too long.”
I got a water bottle out of the bar fridge and grabbed a pastry. “Do svidaniya. That’s how you say goodbye, right?”
“Perfect. You see, Boris? She’s one of us.”
Boris shook his head as if the idea of me being like them was enough to make his brain bleed.
I slid on my shoe and followed Boris out the door. When we got into the car, he turned on the music. I turned it off. “What’s the plan? You’re just going to give him his bag, right?”
Boris drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Not possible.”
The patsani that had held me down the night before were waiting for us in a white van with blacked-out windows, the kind murderers drive in movies and true-crime shows.
“Are they going to follow us?”
“Shush. No questions.”
Boris turned the music back on. I whizzed the pastry out the window.
I got the evil eye. “Why can’t you eat like normal person?”
“I don’t feel good.” I squeezed my arms around my legs.
Boris studied my body language. “You drank too much.”
“What did you do to me after you drugged me?” I buried my face in my hands, frightened by my own words.
He grabbed my forearm. “Don’t come up with crazy ideas—not what you think.”
I shrugged him off and turned my back to him.
“Look at me.”
Fearful of backlash, I peeked over my shoulder and met his unsympathetic eyes.
“Filthy animals do things to girls against their will, not boss.”
I wiped off my tears and snot on my coat. “There’s no other reason. Once that dirty old man told you I was a virgin the two of you decided to help yourselves—”
“No one touched you.”
“You mean again?”
By the death glare on Boris’s face, I was skidding dangerously close to the Point of No Return.
“I needed to make certain you stayed put in your room.”
I gasped. “Why?”
“I don’t like giving you freedom to roam the house while we’re sleeping.” He glanced sideways at me. “I’m not a trusting person, you know?”
“It was your idea to drug me?”
“No, dear. My idea was to handcuff your wrists to the bed frame.”
I covered my mouth with my hands.
“Lucky for you, boss didn’t like that idea either. He’s too soft on you.”
The idea of the two of them discussing the best way to immobilize me made me ill, but I believed the motivation behind it. Considering their illegal activity, I was a liability. “Which one of you took my clothes off?”
“No more questions.”
My thoughts turned back to where we were headed. Leonardo was in grave danger. He deserved what Ryan had dished out to him last night, and in my eyes, we were even. As casually as I could, I slid my right hand into my pocket and pulled my phone out just far enough to manage a text to warn him not to go to my house.
Boris busted me, twisted my wrist, and squeezed my hand until I let it go. The Cadillac veered down a secluded road and parked in front of an old dilapidated barn. The murderer van slid in behind us. I unlocked my seat belt and hopped out of the car. I had only made it a few feet before Playboy had me in a chokehold.
“Don’t go to the house I will—” Boris read from my phone.
“I will what, Carter? Give him another opportunity to disrespect you? Want to go have some fun with these bad boys?” He nodded to the barn.
The goons circled around me.
“Please stop. You’re scaring me to death.”
“That dirty Spaniard will be sorry for what he did.”
“I’m sure he’s sorry already. His face was bloody the last time I saw him.”
Boris licked his lips. “He contacted you because he wants something, but failed to apologize for hurting you and for the damage he caused to your house.”
“Let’s make a deal,” I said. “If he apologizes, you call off the wolves. If he tries anything, you have my blessing, okay?” I held out my hand for a binding agreement.
Boris scoffed. Playboy steered me back to the Caddy. Before I could get there, I dropped to my knees and vomited in the snow. Mentally exhausted by my bullshit, Boris handed Playboy Leonardo’s bag and gave the patsani their orders. The white van rolled away and kept course toward my place. Leonardo was going to learn a lesson about the consequences of fucking with the pakhan’s most prized possession—me.
Chapter 33
Under His Spell
When Boris and I got back to the house, Vladimir greeted me at the door. “Ready to celebrate?” His eyes were lit up and dazzling. I believed Boris when he said he didn’t drug me for the reason I’d thought. Vladimir would never hurt me—that way.
“I’ll wait while you change into something clean.”
Such tact. In the car I noticed I had vomit splashes on my clothes and reeked like a frat boy on a Sunday afternoon. “Yes. I’ll hurry.”
Once I showered and dressed in fresh designer clothes, Vladimir took me to lunch at a trendy high-rise restaurant that overlooked the holiday festivities on Fountain Square. We had a cozy u-shaped booth tucked in the corner. The best seat in the restaurant.
I choked down a couple bites of bread and a few spoonsful of vegetable barley soup, but I was so anxious from all that had gone down in the last twenty-four hours, I doubted I could keep anything in my stomach. Not to mention, I had the Big Papi of all hangovers caused by whatever Boris had slipped into my drink last night.
A text came in on my special phone. It was a photo of Leonardo lying on the ground with a busted up and bloody face, holding his ankle in agony; it was clearly broken. Acid built up in my throat and chills rocked my body.
Boris: Any more messes need cleaning up?
Carter: No.
Boris: Not a word, understand?
Carter: Yes.
Boris: Good girl. Delete this now.
I trashed the picture and tucked the phone back in my purse.
Vladimir pushed his soup bowl aside and folded his hands on the table. “Talk to me, Carter. I need to know what you’re thinking.”
I must have looked as crappy as I felt. I tucked my hands into my shirtsleeves and stared out the window. I held back tears, trying to come up with something to say that wouldn’t get me into trouble. Ever since Leonardo had given me a lift home, one fucked up thing after another had been set into motion. I didn’t know how to make it all stop.
Coach, Natasha, Leonardo—no more mistakes.
Our twenty-something-year-old waitress with bouncy pigtails and artsy tats came back to the table. “Are you finished with your first course?”
Vladimir motioned for her to take his bowl. “Please.”
“Cool tats.” The waitress flashed a flirty smile. “Goes great with the accent.”
“Spasibo,” he replied.
She tilted her head and giggled.
“I’m finished, too,” I said.
After the waitress skittered away, I asked, “Jeez. Do all girls throw themselves at you like that?”
“Jealous?” He winked.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “No.”
“Ready to talk?”
“There is something I want to ask, but I’m afraid—”
“Don’t be.” He scooted closer to me in the booth.
I wrung my hands in my lap and tried to think of how best to phrase my question.
“Tell me.” He put his hand on my back.
His touch
startled me. I lowered my gaze, slumped my shoulders.
He wrapped his arm around me. “Please don’t fear me. I would never hurt you.”
“Did you come to Cincinnati because of me?”
He squeezed my shoulder. “You have quite an ego, Miss Cook.”
Why had I bothered? He wasn’t going to tell me the truth anyway. “Yeah, whatever. Can we go now?” I stood up to leave, but he held on to my arm.
“Wait.” He pulled out his wallet, flipped it open, and cupped something in his hand.
I sat back down and he revealed a striking picture of Sophia with the New York skyline behind her.
“I spent five years of my life in a Siberian prison camp. The idea that this vibrant young woman was waiting for me to return kept me alive.”
“You thought she was waiting for you?”
He tipped his head.
“When did you find out she died? Before or after you got out?”
“After. Boris thought it best not to tell me. He knew she meant the world to me.”
“You must’ve been devastated.”
“With the love of my life gone, I had no will to live until—” He flipped over a second photo of me, holding a tennis trophy. I was in high school, and I’d just won my first tournament.
“Whoa, whoa. You’ve been stalking me all these years?”
The restaurant went silent. All eyes were on us.
“Not stalking, looking after you.”
I blinked as if I’d been conked over the head with a blunt object.
“Sophia loved you so much, Carter. With her gone, I felt it was my duty to watch over you. Knowing a part of her lives on through you has helped me get past the grief.” He picked up my hands. “My family convinced me to stay away from you, for your own good. My line of work can be unpredictable.”
“Why’d you change your mind?”
