“You’ll tell me who this man was, won’t you?” Ziven asks, his back still to me as he adds the chopped ingredients to the pot.
I was right. Oswald lingers, and he probably will for the rest of my life—in every room, and around every corner.
“No,” I state firmly.
“How can I keep you safe, Quinn?” he asks, still not turning around.
“I’m always safe with you.”
“I can’t protect you unless I know the dangers,” he rumbles, turning around to face me.
“Don’t you think that perhaps I’m trying to keep you safe as well?”
“From what?” he laughs.
It’s a cold sound, nothing like the rich laughter from just moments ago.
“From everything—yourself, and him. I know once you find out the name, you’re going to go after him, aren’t you? Then, when you get thrown into prison, I’ll be all alone.”
“You think I would ever be caught? Quinn, do you know so little about me?” he asks, raising a brow in question.
“It doesn’t matter if you wouldn’t be caught. I won’t risk it,” I state.
“I’ll find out,” he mutters. “And when I do, I’ll kill him.”
THE SOUNDS OF HER whimpering sends my eyes straight open. I reach for her at the edge of the bed, finding her tiny frame and pulling her toward my chest. Her breathing hitches as my body dampens with her sweat, and then she sucks in a breath as her eyes widen and she frantically looks around. It takes a few seconds before she realizes where she is, and then she lets out a shaky exhale.
“You’re in bed with me,” she states in a whisper.
“It’s my bed,” I mutter.
“I didn’t know you’d be in it,” she says as though she hasn’t just had a nightmare.
“Sure you did,” I grunt. “What was that about?”
“Nothing,” she says, trying to pull away from me.
I don’t let her.
“Telling me about your dream won’t make it more real. In fact, it will probably help,” I murmur, running my fingers up and down her back as soothingly as possible.
“He was holding me down by the back of my neck, his fingers squeezing the sides. I could breathe, but it was getting harder. My face was being shoved into the mattress. Then…” she trails off, but I shake her slightly. “You don’t want to know.”
“I doubt very much that I do, Quinn, but you need to release it. You’re safe here. You’re safe with me, in this bed, and in my home,” I remind her.
“He fucked me in the ass, Ziven. Is that what you want to hear? He fucked me in the ass, and it hurt. It hurt so fucking bad,” she cries.
I hold her so tight, I’m sure I’m hurting her, maybe even adding to her bruises, but I can’t seem to let her go. How could somebody do that to another person? How could he hurt Quinn that way?
It’s not as though I’m completely innocent. To say I haven’t wanted in her ass would be a lie, but never, not ever, would I imagine just taking that part of her. Not like that.
“Do I disgust you now?” she asks on a whimper.
“Never,” I mutter. “No way in fuck could you disgust me, Quinn.”
“But that, what happened.”
“He took something that wasn’t his to take. He forced himself, Quinn. That is something that you should never feel disgusted over. Not ever.”
“What if he gave me a disease? The doctor tested me. I didn’t even think about it,” she whispers. I feel her tears hit my chest.
“Don’t think about that, katyonak. You cannot stress out about something that is unknown; not yet,” I murmur.
I can’t say that I haven’t thought of it myself. In fact, it was my first thought when I laid eyes on her battered body in Mika’s apartment a few days ago. I’ve been inside of her so many times bare, I couldn’t imagine not feeling her tight pussy wrap around my cock with a condom between us. But I have to know she’s safe, not just for me, but for herself as well.
If he made her sick, if he hurt her anymore, I’ll demand his name, and I’ll take care of him. I’ll still demand his name, eventually, and I will take care of him. Sickness or health on Quinn’s part makes no difference to me. In the end, this fucker will die.
“If I hurt you any more, Ziven, I couldn’t bear it,” she mumbles against my chest.
“You won’t, katyonak. I’m not so weak that you have to keep looking after me and keep apologizing to me. You’re sorry, I understand,” I grunt.
“I can tell you’re still angry,” she whispers.
“Give it a few weeks, let my anger die. You keep being this version of you that I had today, and it will. It will disappear forever,” I admit.
“Okay,” she sighs.
“Sleep.”
I continue to run my fingers up and down her back, over my t-shirt that she’s wearing. I listen to her breaths as they even out, and when she sighs, I know that she’s finally asleep.
My mind drifts to our conversation, and the woman she was today. She was everything I ever wanted. I kept watching her, waiting for the act to wear off, or for that cold, bitter Quinn to show herself, but it never did.
I don’t know if it’s all an act to stay here with me, or if this is really her. I want to believe it’s her, but I can’t. Not yet, and maybe not ever. If she wants to play this role, this sweet, soft, and almost innocent role, I’ll take it without question. I’ll accept it, and her, just like this—real or fake.
This woman I can build a life with.
This woman I can have babies with.
This woman I will forever protect until the day I die.
I just have to heal her first.
“Oksana make her decision yet?” I ask as Mika hands me a stack of cash from his area.
“Nyet,” he grunts, eyeing me wearily.
It’s been two days since I’ve seen him. I didn’t bother going anywhere yesterday. I spent the entire day with Quinn; but it’s time for me to get back to work. Today is collection day, and I have to collect tribute and count it.
“How is she?” he asks, looking around.
I’m not surprised he came a bit early to ask me about Quinn before anybody else arrived. Mika understands this situation and the reason I would want to keep it from the rest of the guys, Timofei excluded.
Timofei and Mika are my closest men. They help run this area. We’re making it our bitch, making it grow by leaps and bounds. That said, our soldiers, they’re new and untrusted.
Our personal lives do not mix with them, not yet at least. Calling Kristy to do Quinn’s hair was a risk in and of itself.
“She’s anxious for the doctor’s test results, but she’s doing good. She had a bad nightmare last night, but she talked about it after a little pushing. She’s eating,” I explain. Mika nods.
“I can only imagine the hell she’s been through,” he mutters.
“It’s only been a few days. I’m expecting her to completely and totally zone out, freak out, and retreat. She’s handling it too well right now,” I admit.
“You think she’s still in shock?” he asks, sitting down across from me.
I pour us each a tumbler of vodka and dip my chin to his glass, which he takes. I take a drink and lean back in my chair.
“I don’t know. She’s definitely not the woman she was two months ago, so I keep waiting,” I shrug.
“You think she’ll go back to her?”
“I do,” I admit.
“Then what?”
“I don’t know, but I suspect that I’ll have to let her go,” I say, feeling my heart race and my stomach twist at the thought.
“Ziven,” he begins.
He’s interrupted when the door opens, and men start to file into the room.
We’re in the back of a nightclub that the Bratva owns. The club is the front, one of the hottest clubs in Denver. It’s named, The Church.
When we were scouting out legitimate businesses as our front in Denver, I came here to let off steam. I in
stantly knew that it had to be mine. It had been designed by one of the best interior designers in Colorado—a man I met with, after escrow closed, to do some remodel tweaks. Judah St. Michaels. I instantly liked the guy; a man of few words, but a man that got shit done and didn’t fuck around.
The back is where money is exchanged, where tribute is made, and where product is discussed. Each Boyevik goes out to the warehouse and distributes the product, whatever it may be, under the watchful eyes of Timofei and Mika.
Tonight, I count money, discuss product—who needs more, who isn’t meeting their goals—and then I give the men their cuts to take and distribute amongst their crews.
Money goes from hand-to-hand-to-hand, but that’s on the leaders of the crews, and they have to earn the respect and trust of their men. I already have it, and the last time someone tried to skim from the top, it didn’t end well for them.
I’m sure my men remember it vividly. Fabi tried to feed his own house with my money, so I fed him his fingers. The fucker didn’t shit right for a week.
“Everything good with the bikers’ exit?” I ask Timofei after I’ve finished counting and separating money.
“Yeah, they were gone the next morning. A little hungover, but gone,” he chuckles.
“You hear anything about the Cartel out there on the streets?” I ask, taking one of my cigars out of the case.
I don’t smoke them often, but the stress of the past few days has me antsy.
“Naw, just that drama in New York; but papa took care of it,” he shrugs.
“How are you doing?” I ask, eyeing him.
Timofei has changed a lot from the first time I met him. He doesn’t go out and party anymore, and he doesn’t fuck every hole that flashes him a smile. He’s matured greatly.
Unfortunately, the only reason he’s done so is because his mother was murdered, and so viciously.
“I’m great. Going to marry a little Irish girl in a few years, haven’t you heard?” he practically sneers.
“Yes, I know you’ve been contracted and matched, that’s why I’m asking.”
He takes his phone out of his pocket and punches a few buttons before he slides it across the desk to me. I pick it up and look at the photograph.
She’s lovely, the girl looking back at me; very young, on the cusp of womanhood, but still an awkward teenager. Her face is clear of acne; it’s creamy white, like a porcelain doll. Her hair is black as night, and her eyes are a very light blue, like the color of water. She’s going to be a stunning woman when she matures.
“She will be a great beauty when she’s a woman,” I remark, handing the phone back to him.
“Her father’s men killed my mother. Raped her and killed her. I have to marry her. I want to hate her, but she’s fucking beautiful,” he rasps.
I’m thankful that most of the men have left the office to either get back to work or party in the club. It’s just Timofei, Mika, and I in here now.
“You can’t be angry at her for what her father’s men did without his knowledge. That would be like your sister being angry with Gavril, whom she’s agreed to marry?” I ask as my eyes dart from him to Mika.
“Yeah,” Timofei mutters, not looking anywhere near Mika.
“That’s who she chose?” Mika asks, his tone hard, unyielding, and angry as shit.
“She didn’t have a choice,” Timofei says.
“What?” Mika shouts.
“My father took her choice away in the end. I don’t know why. I didn’t ask.”
I watch as Mika stands, sending the chair he was sitting in to the floor before he stomps out of the office, slamming the door behind him.
Usually, that display of shit would get him reprimanded, but I think he held affection for Oksana, more than he was letting on. I’m going to let his tantrum slide.
“I don’t think she wants to marry Gavril, but after everything that’s happened, she’s relenting and consenting to whatever papa wants. Same as me.”
“Don’t hate your fiancée when you know nothing about her, Timofei. Keep an eye out on your sister, yeah?” I rumble.
“Always. I always have a fucking ear to the ground for Sana,” he announces as he stands.
“Go, relax,” I say, lifting my chin.
“Tell Quinn hi for me,” he chuckles as he walks out of my office.
I look at my clock. It’s after midnight, and I need to get home to her. She knows what tonight was for me, and as much as I hated leaving her alone, I had no choice.
My fingers wrap around the handle of the shopping bag. A bag that Edik handed to me, along with a message from his wife, Kristy.
Something pretty to make all of her feel pretty.
The bag is filled with a few cotton dresses, panties, and bras. Comfortable, soft things that will make her feel like a woman, maybe a little more whole, maybe even cute, but still loose and easy. She’s not going anywhere, so she doesn’t need a whole lot right now.
Honest to fuck, I don’t want to buy her anything when I’m trying to get her to put on a good thirty pounds to her small frame.
The condo is dark when I walk inside, except for a light coming from my bedroom. I have to say that it’s nice to sleep in the same bed as Quinn, to be able to reach for her in the middle of the night and have her scent all around me.
Even if shit changes, she’s here with me now. She’s exactly what I’ve always wanted—like a fucking dream come true. A man like me doesn’t get to have dreams come true often, so I’ll take what I can, hold on with both hands, and hope for the best.
“I didn’t realize you’d be gone all night,” she whispers as soon as I walk inside, setting the bag down next to the door.
“It won’t be like this every night, but every now and then,” I say, shrugging out of my suit jacket before I start to unbutton my shirt. “Were you scared?” I ask, pausing at my task and looking over at her.
Quinn’s blonde hair is a messy mass, tumbling around her shoulders. I lick my lips at the one shoulder peeking out from the black, V-neck t-shirt of mine she’s wearing as a nightgown. Her face is bare of makeup, and she looks, fucking gorgeous. Her big, green eyes look back at me as her mouth falls open slightly.
“A little,” she breathes.
I slide my shirt off of my body and let it fall to the floor. My cock is pressing against the seam of my pants, begging to be freed to sink inside of Quinn’s soft body. I’ll refuse it entrance. She’s definitely not ready, even if she looks like a goddamn wet dream right now.
“You eat tonight?” I ask as I toe off my shoes and let my pants fall to the floor, trying to keep my cock under reigns.
“I had the rest of the soup from lunch yesterday,” she says. “And some of that gelato you had in your freezer.”
“Mmm, mint or chocolate?” I ask, walking over to the bathroom to turn the light off before crawling into bed next to her.
Quinn’s body is stiff as I pull her against me, but it only takes her a few seconds to relax in my arms. I stroke her arm with my fingertips, moving from her shoulder to her wrist over and over again.
“Mint,” she breathes shakily.
“You left the chocolate for me, didn’t you?” I chuckle.
“It’s your favorite,” she whispers, remembering my love of the cold sweet, treat.
“It is, but I wouldn’t have minded had you wanted to swipe it,” I murmur against the back of her neck.
“Maybe tomorrow,” she sighs.
“I’ll buy you more, katyonak.”
“Will you be home tomorrow?” she asks, sounding unsure of herself.
“I have some things to do in the late morning and throughout the day, but I’ll be home for dinner. I’ll bring you home some food, whatever you want. You tell me, yeah?”
“Okay,” she says, relaxing a little further into me.
“Doctor Sokoloff will be by tomorrow; do you want me to be here when he comes?” I ask, feeling her body stiffen in my arms.
I pay her no mind, c
ontinuing to run my fingers up and down her arm as I hold her close.
“No,” she says weakly.
“Then I’ll be here, because you just lied to me, Quinn.”
“Ziven,” she rasps.
“I’m going to heal you, katyonak, and that starts with me being by your side. You need me there, whether you say it or not. It’s my job to know, and trust me, I know you need me for this.”
I feel her melt into me a little more, and then I’m surprised when she turns her head and her lips softly caress my jaw. It isn’t overly sexual, it is just a whisper of her lips against my skin, but it’s the most affection she’s ever freely given me, ever.
I hold her a bit tighter to me, feeling for the first time in years something that I’ve never felt—happiness.
I SIT ON THE edge of the bed, my eyes widening every time Ziven pulls something else out of the glossy black bag he’s holding. Clothes, underwear, bras, all for me.
My mouth is dry and my eyes wet once he’s taken the fifth and final dress from the bag. They’re cotton, plain, sleeveless and just solid colors, but they’re pretty and mine, a gift from Kristy.
“She really did this for me?” I ask once I’ve cleared my throat.
“I didn’t even think about getting you clothes. I should have,” he mumbles.
I stand and walk over to him, taking the garments from his hands and setting them down on the bed behind me. Then I turn back around to face him, taking another step, pressing my body against his chest and placing my hands on his strong jaw.
He’s tall, and even before I lost weight, he was so big in comparison to me. Now, he feels almost massive; though, compared to other men, he’s long and lean muscled.
“You’ve done so much for me, Ziven, so much more than just some fabric. I could never repay you, not ever in my life. Thank you,” I murmur as his hands gently wrap around my waist.
His brown eyes move over my face, studying me, and his mouth tugs at the corner before he lowers his head so that his nose slides alongside mine, a new move he’s started. I absolutely love it.
“I’d do more if you’d tell me the bastard’s name who did all of this to you,” he whispers, his voice dark and dangerous.
Protected by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 6) Page 6
