After he handcuffed me to the staircase, he fucked me everywhere possible. Then he did it a little more; then he whispered that he made me a consultation for my fuck doll plastic surgery procedures.
Not only did he want my tits done, he wants ass implants, lip injections, cheek implants, rhinoplasty, and liposuction on all the places he thinks I need toning.
I’m down to, at the most, eighty pounds, and I hate the way I look as it is. If he did that to me, I’d hate myself even more. I have no desire to look like a clown blow-up doll. If I don’t try to save myself now, I’ll never get away from him alive.
I jump up and run to the closet as fast as I can, which isn’t really all that fast. My body hurts so freaking badly. I take a dress, my last piece of clothing left—aside from the outfit that Oswald brought home for his charity event, which is tonight. I won’t be wearing the dress, and I will definitely not be meeting the people he calls friends or colleagues.
I look around for a pair of shoes, but all that I can find are the high heels that I’m supposed to wear tonight with the cocktail dress. I opt for a pair of Oswald’s socks instead.
I don’t care if my feet are bloody by the time I reach my destination. I’ll suffer that pain to be free again. I grab Oswald’s nine iron golf club out of the closet and sprint down the stairs, my adrenaline spiking with each step I take.
It takes me at least ten swings with the club to break one of the windows in the living room. I grab the throw blanket and toss it over the shattered glass, so that I don’t cut my feet, and quickly climb out.
Luckily, the back yard isn’t fenced in, so I make my way around the side quickly, careful to keep an eye out for signs of anybody, or anything, around me.
As soon as I turn the corner from his street, I run. I took a cab to his house in LoHi, Northwest Denver, from WashPark, where Ziven’s condo’s building is located. I miss Washington Park. I used to go sit out on a bench and feed the ducks when I needed some space. Now, I never want space again, not like I used to.
I want to feel safe again, and the last place I felt safe was with him. He’ll probably never want to see me again, but maybe, just maybe one of the other guys will protect me, will keep me safe, or maybe just send me somewhere safe, where Oswald can never find me again.
It takes me almost two hours to navigate my way to Ziven’s building. I stand outside of it. My body aching, my feet torn to hell, freezing cold from walking in the melting snow for so long. But for the first time in almost two months, I feel happy.
I walk up to the door, finding Mika’s button first. The only men that live in this building are Bratva, so I know that I can find someone to let me in. Mika is my first choice.
“Yeah?” he asks, his voice husky. He sounds tired.
“Mika?” I ask as I close my eyes, a tear spilling over my cheek.
“Who’s this?” he barks.
“It—it—it’s Quinn,” I rasp.
He doesn’t say anything, and I wonder if he’s going to ignore me. I back against the wall and I slowly sink down to the ground, knowing, just knowing that he isn’t going to help me.
I’m so alone. I’m going to die out here. When night falls and the sun is nowhere around to keep the chill out of the air, it’s going to freeze, and I’m going to die.
At least I’ll die being free.
“Quinn?” Mika’s voice interrupts my self-pity party. I open my eyes, tipping my head up to look at him.
“Mika,” I whisper.
“Holy fucking shit, what the fuck happened to you, mishka?” he asks as he bends down to his haunches to get down to my level.
“I messed up.”
I can’t hold back the tears a second longer as they start to fall from my eyes.
“I’m calling Ziven,” he announces.
I reach up to him, wrapping my hands around his arms.
“No, no he can’t see me like this. I did this to myself. I was so mean. I was such a bitch, and I ran. No,” I mutter as I start to shake.
“Okay, okay,” he mutters as he picks me up. His head snaps down as soon as he stands. “You’re skin and bones. Where have you been?”
“In hell,” I whisper as I lean my head against his shoulder and sigh, closing my eyes.
Mika carries me upstairs, lying me down on his bed before he sits next to me. He takes me in, as he would any wounded animal probably. He looks at me with pity, pure, unadulterated pity. His hand cups my cheek, and he shakes his head.
“I’m going to start you a warm bath then get you some good warm food. You will talk to me, mishka. Eventually, you will tell me what happened to you and where you’ve been,” he murmurs.
I don’t bother responding. I’m never telling anybody where I’ve been. Oswald Johnson is powerful. He could put Mika, Ziven, and Timofei away, or at least try, and that’s something I’m not willing to risk, not ever. He has my phone, which means he has their phone numbers. I was too stupid to erase them before I knocked on his door.
I was so fucking stupid for so fucking long.
I ruined my entire life.
Now, I just want to breathe, to live, to not be scared or to hurt anymore.
I hear the bathtub filling up with water, and I sigh. I can’t wait to soak my body in a warm bath. Mika walks back into the bedroom a few minutes later and picks me up, carrying me to the bathroom.
“I’m okay,” I tell him. He only grunts as he sets me down on the counter.
I watch as he bends down and removes my socks, a curse hissing from his lips as he examines the soles of my feet. The socks held up pretty well, and I know my feet are probably a little banged up, but I don’t think they’re too awfully bad.
“They could be worse; how long did you walk?” he asks as he shifts me to standing.
“Two hours at least,” I mutter.
“You didn’t call.”
“I don’t have a phone anymore,” I whisper.
Mika doesn’t respond as his hands wrap around the hem of my flimsy cotton dress.
“No,” I scream.
“Mishka, you need help. Calm yourself,” he murmurs gently as he continues to lift my dress.
I squeeze my eyes closed tight as I lift my arms. Then I hear his intake of breath.
“Quinn—oh, fuck, what happened to you?” he rumbles.
I shake my head. Luckily, he doesn’t make me say anything. He quietly helps me into the tub. After a long look at me from the doorway, he turns and walks away.
I don’t bother trying to put my ratty assed hair up, or even hide my body. The water is clear, he didn’t have bubbles, and I don’t care. He’s seen me now, every inch of my naked, bruised flesh. I should be ashamed or embarrassed, but I’m not.
I’m free. Finally free.
I shake the man’s hand before he leaves my office. He’s not anybody extremely important, but he’s good to have on my side. A man in the department of public works, he’s in charge of maintaining roadways, amongst other things.
I need to have some palms greased, just in case, and this man is needed in conjunction with law enforcement and other positions around the city. The phone rings and I look down at it noticing that it’s Mika calling.
“Dorosh,” I grunt into the phone as my greeting.
“We have a problem, boss,” Mika murmurs on the other line. He sounds like he’s trying to be quiet, and I furrow my brow in confusion.
“What’s this?” I ask as I start to collect my things and shut down my computer.
“Quinn is back,” he rumbles.
“Get rid of her,” I grunt as I walk out of my office and start to make my way toward my car.
“She’s banged up pretty bad, boss; looks like she’s lost about twenty or thirty pounds, too. I can’t turn her away.”
My heart stops fucking beating in my chest at his words—completely and totally stops.
“On my way,” I grunt.
“She’s not the same, Ziven.”
“I don’t care. I’m on my way,�
� I announce.
I slide behind the wheel and talk myself out of speeding through LoDo, Denver. The snow is slush, but the last thing I need to do is wreck and cause any kind of scene.
It takes me about twenty minutes to get to her. The traffic is moderate, and I’m thankful. Jogging to the door, I quickly make my way to the elevator and hit the button that leads me to Mika’s condo.
This building is ours, bought and paid for by the Bratva. A place for Mika, Timofei, and I to live while we’re here doing business. There are a couple other men that live in the building, and a few empty condos in case guests come to the city.
Eventually, the three of us will move out and purchase homes of our own. Until then, we’ll live here. They’re just condos to crash in. Our lives are too busy at the moment, and we’re all three single. There’s no reason to have a home with no family to fill it with.
I had been looking for a house for Quinn and me, but I stopped the first time she ran from me. It was obvious she wasn’t where she wanted to be, and I got tired of making her stay.
Mika’s door opens before I can even knock, and his big, wide body fills the space, not allowing me to pass.
“She’s in the bath,” he murmurs. My eyebrows shoot up in question. “Ziven, I don’t think you should see her.”
I place my hand on his chest and push him to the side; though, if he wanted to stand firm, there would be no way I could move the mountain of a man.
Regardless, I’m his Pakhan. He’ll do what I tell him to do, or he’ll be shot. Mika moves to the side and lets me pass. I walk straight to his bedroom, then into his bathroom.
Quinn is toweling off her body. My eyes drink her in, and I’m fucking flabbergasted by the sight before me. She’s skeletal, her hair dyed back to bright red—which I fucking hate—and her body is covered in different stages of bruising. She looks nothing like the curvy woman who left me six weeks ago.
“Ziven,” she breathes shakily as her eyes fill with tears.
With one word, I know that Mika is right. She’s not the same woman. She’s broken. I don’t know where she’s been, I don’t know who has done this to her, and I’m not sure if I give a fuck.
I’ve been wishing she would return to me. I’ve been wanting her to come back to me and to want me as much as I’ve always wanted her. I never imagined she’d come back fucking broken.
“Quinn,” I whisper.
“I’m so sorry,” she says as her lips tremble and tears fall from her gorgeous green eyes.
She takes a hesitant step toward me, but I can’t move. I’m frozen solid to my place, my eyes pinned to hers, trying my damnedest not to look at her bruises. I want to take in the fact that she’s standing in front of me, the wish I’ve been wanting—yet, it’s not the way I wanted it at all.
Then she wraps her arms around my middle and buries her face in my chest as she cries.
My brain tells my arms to hold her, to wrap her up, but I can’t get them to move.
“I’m so sorry for how awful I was to you, and for how long,” she murmurs against my chest.
I wrap my hands around her biceps and take a step back from her, looking down into her watery green eyes, not knowing what to do, what to say, or how to handle this. She nods as though she’s agreeing to something inside of her own head, and then she whispers.
“It’s okay, Ziven. You don’t have to want me back in your life. I understand. I just, I just wanted to apologize.”
My heart cracks and breaks into a hundred thousand pieces as I look down at her. She’s as Mika said. She’s damaged, and to look at her, it would appear that she’s irreparable; but I won’t allow that—I will repair her.
This meek, sweet woman, she’s all I wanted in Quinn. Her sass, it was cute, but her bitchy attitude, her cold and cruel words, they were tiresome after a while. All I wanted was a sweet woman. A woman who was appreciative of all the things that I did for her.
Now that she’s standing in front of me, it’s not as appealing as it should be. She’s not docile. She’s completely fucking broken. I don’t know how to handle that.
I don’t say anything to her. I can’t. I turn around and walk away, leaving her naked in the bathroom. I want to punch my fist through a window I’m so fucking angry.
“Boss,” Mika rumbles as I walk toward him.
“Call the doctor here, immediately. Did she tell you who she was with?”
“Nyet,” he murmurs.
“Find out,” I bark as I walk away from him, slamming the door behind me.
I need to release some anger. If I stay, if I continue to look at her battered, bruised, broken fucking body, I’ll scare her.
I WATCH HIM LEAVE the bathroom. The look of sheer horror on his face said everything I need to know. He’s disgusted by me, and he hates me. I don’t blame him, not in the slightest. I feel the exact same way about myself. I jump when I hear the front door slam, and that’s when I know that he’s gone.
“Quinn,” Mika’s gentle voice calls as I hear his footsteps approach.
I quickly wrap the towel around my body to cover myself, although it doesn’t really matter. He’s already seen my grotesque body. Mika walks into the bathroom and nods as he hands me a pile of clothes.
“Put these on. Doctor Sokoloff will be here any minute.”
I take the material in my hands and hold it to my chest, lifting my eyes to his.
“Doctor?”
“Yeah. Ziven wanted you to get checked out, considering…”
I blink in surprise that Ziven is the one who arranged this doctor to come here. Then again, I shouldn’t be. Even though he doesn’t want anything to do with me, Ziven is still a good man. A realization I wished that I had come to on my own months ago. My life would be so different right now had I really seen him, instead of turning a blind eye to the man he is, assuming the worst.
Mika doesn’t say anything else. He turns and walks away, closing the door behind him. I drop my towel on the bathroom floor and take the black t-shirt he gave me, slipping it on and watching in the mirror as it covers me to almost my knees, swallowing me completely.
Then I pull on the boxers he’s given me before I pull up the athletic shorts that almost look like pants. I pull the drawstrings as tightly as I can before I roll the waist about fifty times. I root around his bathroom drawers before I find a comb, and I gently untangle all of the knots from my ugly red hair.
“Doctor Sokoloff is here, mishka,” Mika murmurs from the other side of the bathroom door.
I nod, letting out a puff of air before I open the door. Standing in the bedroom, next to the bed, is a tall, slender man. His eyes regard me, looking me up and down as his lips form a thin, unhappy line before they purse together and he grunts.
“Mika, leave us,” he announces.
Without a word, Mika walks out of the bedroom and closes the door behind him.
“Come, sit. I need to go over your history and check you,” he says. His voice sounds hard, harsh, and a little scary.
I slowly make my way over to him and sit down on the bed.
“Mika says you’ve been violated and beaten. Obviously, he left out starved,” he says, his voice gentling as he crouches down in front of me.
I nod, tears filling my eyes and falling in streams down my cheeks without my permission.
“You’re unwilling to give up the man’s identity?” the doctor asks.
“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper.
“Oh, but it does. Nonetheless, that’s your choice, Quinn. Can you tell me what you’ve been through the past six weeks?”
I take him in, his scariness almost completely disappeared. Now, he looks almost kind. Obviously, this is his way of handling me with kid gloves, and I’m thankful and grateful for it.
“From the beginning?” I ask.
“Please,” he murmurs.
I suck in a deep breath before letting it out, and then I nod. I tell him everything, everything but Oswald’s name or his occupation. I need to pr
otect these men who have taken care of me, even when I didn’t deserve it, and especially now that I definitely do not deserve it.
Oswald Johnson is nothing but a nightmare of the past.
After today, I never want to think of him again.
Doctor Sokoloff leaves shortly after testing me for—everything. I’ve never felt so dirty in all of my life. STDs were the last thing on my mind when I was with Oswald; but now, now they’re the only thing on it.
“You want some dinner?” Mika asks, walking into the bedroom.
“Doctor Sokoloff said I needed bland foods, broths and crackers,” I murmur, staring at my feet.
“I think I have some Ramen,” Mika says.
I almost laugh at how stereotypically bachelor of him it is to have Ramen. I don’t laugh, though. Honestly, there isn’t much to laugh about, aside from that.
I eat the Ramen that Mika makes me, thankful and grateful to have his hospitality, sympathies, and even his pity.
“I have a guest room. It’s yours for as long as you need it, mishka,” he announces once I’ve eaten my entire bowl of soup.
“You’re too generous. Seriously,” I say.
After I stand, Mika places his hand at the small of my back he guides me toward his guestroom. Once I walk inside, I see that it’s nothing more than just a simple bed on top of a frame—no head or footboard, and no other furnishings. Though, I can’t deny that the bed looks comfortable. It may be simple, but I’ll be sleeping safely, for the first time in weeks.
“You are a friend, Quinn. You can stay for as long as you need to. I’m hardly home as it is,” he says.
“I’m feeling really tired,” I whisper, looking up to him.
“The doctor gave you some feel good stuff when you took those pills,” he chuckles as he pulls down the comforter for me to climb between the sheets.
I lay down, unable to say another word as my eyes drift closed.
Protected by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 6) Page 3
