Torrid

by Nikki Sloane

  Wrong. They’d just traded one set of evil men for another.

  Although, today actually was their lucky day. They’d have to figure out where to go from here, but at least it wasn’t straight into the sex trade.

  This crop of girls was just like all the others, maybe even uglier. Pasty, bland faces over cheap clothes and unattractive bodies. Some weren’t a total loss. With a shower and some makeup, they might even make money. I didn’t look long because we needed to hurry the fuck up. Their hopeful stares were eating at me, so I withdrew my Glock and let the gun hang at my side.

  There were gasps, and every gaze dropped to the floor in terror. I’d taken my gun out not just to keep the girls quiet and pliant, but to motivate Alek. “Pick one or I pick for you.”

  He frowned as if facing an impossible decision. Shit, it wasn’t that hard. He wasn’t going to marry the girl, he was just looking for a warm body to stick his dick in. Fine, I’d select a girl for him and we could—

  I locked gazes with one of them.

  All the others cowered in fear, but her? She didn’t seem scared, she just looked tired. The gun in my hand was unremarkable to her. The other girls had vacant stares, but the blonde’s eyes were full of fire and life. Heat licked across my skin, sizzling like a jolt of electricity.

  She wasn’t the hottest thing I’d ever seen. In another room, she’d probably look better than average. An eight at most. But among this crowd of ugly-assed bitches? The blonde was a ten. And she wouldn’t fucking stop staring at me. It made my skin itch.

  She looked too young to buy a drink, but old enough to get into trouble. Her thick hair was the color of wheat and hung halfway down her arm in waves. It was pretty.

  Wait, what? Fucking . . . pretty? I tore my gaze away.

  It was like Alek knew and latched onto it. “That blonde is fucking hot.”

  “She’s all right. Hurry up.”

  Alek waded into the group of women. My interest sparked as he bent down and grabbed the blonde’s arm. She looked alarmed, but didn’t say a word as he hauled her up to her feet. None of the other women came to her defense. They were all in survivor mode, figuring as long as we were interested in the blonde, we’d leave them alone.

  The girl was stiff as he tugged her along, and I clenched my teeth at Alek’s tight grip on her arm. I didn’t like his hand on her, which made no sense. Why did I care how he handled the Russian whore? I tried and failed to avoid her gaze and holstered my gun. The words came out before I had time to think about it. “I’ve changed my mind. Get a girl for you, I want this one.”

  He hesitated and asked it more surprised than annoyed. “Really?”

  I’d never taken one for myself, but the girl stared at me like I was a puzzle she wanted to figure out. It could be fun watching her try.

  Alek didn’t act disappointed at losing his top choice. It was almost like he’d expected it.

  Whatever. He understood who his boss was. He glanced around the group, then shook his head. “No, let’s go. The rest of them are ugly.”

  Filip and his men had already gone out the back by the time we stepped out the front, and I held my hand up, shielding my eyes from the falling rain. None of this sat right with me. Goran was going to be pissed, and I’d likely be the one he’d take it out on. It’d been my call to bail, but at least Filip would back me up.

  I yanked open the backseat door and stared at the girl, wordlessly commanding she get in. Her big, doe-like eyes blinked at the car, then her gaze shifted to me. My expression set. You’ll get in if you know what’s good for you.

  She had a bag slung crosswise over her body, and she lifted the strap over her head to take it off as she stepped forward and climbed inside. My gun hadn’t fazed her, which meant she didn’t have a healthy fear of them, and it might make her more difficult to control.

  I ducked into the back seat beside her and pulled the door closed with a solid thump. Her guarded expression and rigid posture showed just how uncomfortable she was. Her bag was in her lap, and she squeezed the strap with both hands so tightly, I could see the fatigued shake of her arms.

  “You speak any English?” I demanded of her as Alek got into the passenger seat.

  Her voice was soft and feminine. “Yes.”

  I didn’t know how to feel about that. Sometimes it was easier when they didn’t understand, so you could talk freely. Alek wasn’t raised in a bilingual household like I was, and had trouble holding full conversations in Serbian.

  “Home, John,” I said. The car eased away from the curb. I yanked my phone from my pocket and thumbed out a text to Goran.

  Me: Meet and greet fell through. Might want to check with whoever scheduled it.

  His text came through almost instantly.

  Goran: Filip’s on it.

  “I knew it,” Alek said, his tone amused.

  “What’s that?” I peeled off my wet jacket, dumped it on the floor, and cranked up the heat on the rear console. It was forty degrees outside, which was average for November, but the rain had my skin chilled.

  He turned around in his seat, staring at her while speaking to me. “That you’d go for her, Vasilije, if I wanted her first.”

  “Shut the fuck up.” I turned my attention to her. “What’s your name?”

  She stared back at the warehouse and looked worried. “What’s going to happen to those women?”

  Not only did she speak English, she spoke it with barely an accent.

  Breath gurgled in her throat as I wrapped my fingers around her neck and shoved her against the door. Her head cracked against the glass, and she winced. I focused in on the startled girl I had in my grip. Her pulse raced beneath my fingertips. Her eyes were wide and fixed on me. I’d slid across the seats and had my knee pressed against her thigh, and I was so close I could feel the heat rolling off her body. I felt her tremble.

  In the darkened back seat, it was like we were closed in together. Just us.

  Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. I abruptly had the image of my cock buried between her lips and halfway down her throat. Would she stare at me the way she did now? I scowled and pushed the thought away. So not the time.

  “How come you speak English so well?” I said, hissing in her face.

  Her voice was weak and tight, but my grip probably had a lot to do with it. “I watch a lot of American movies.”

  She gasped for breath as I released her, and I shifted back into my seat on the other side of the car.

  “Your name,” I spat out. “I already asked you once.” If she didn’t answer me a second time, I’d take her name away. I’d change it to ‘whore’ like my brother Luka had done to our stepmother years ago.

  The girl hesitated, but then smartened up. “Oksana.”

  Her gaze drifted down and traced each strap of the under-arm holster I wore, and then lingered on my gun. Was she thinking about making a play for it? That wouldn’t end well for her—or the resale value of the Lexus.

  “Where’d you come from?” I asked.

  “The airport.”

  Smart-ass bitch. I had my hand wrapped around her throat again, and this time I leaned into her so my lips were right by her ear. “People don’t talk to me like that, especially not whores.”

  Oksana shivered and closed her eyes. Her sweater was thin and wet from the rain, and she was obviously cold. Her nipples stood out beneath the fabric. But I pretended her reaction was from the power I was exerting over her, or my proximity. I was a good-looking guy, and girls lost their shit when I paid attention to them. She gasped for breath against the squeeze of my fingers on her windpipe. I was certainly paying attention to her now, wasn’t I?

  “Kazan,” she choked out. “I am from Kazan.”

  Her eyes fluttered open as I released the tension from my grip, but I kept my hand in place, making sure she understood who was in charge. She seemed to get it. Her heartbeat hammered away under my touch.

  “Okay, Oksana from Kazan who likes American movies,” I slid m
y palm down her throat until it rested threateningly at the base, “tell me how old you are.”

  Her bottom lip quivered. “Twenty.”

  The SUV went around a curve to merge onto the highway, and it forced my weight into her. She wasn’t as bony as most girls, and I used the opportunity to get closer. I put my left hand up on the window behind her, trapping her in.

  I’d thought she was mildly attractive back at the warehouse, but now I was seeing her up close and saw how wrong I’d been. Her skin was pale and smooth. Her dusty pink lips were lush and sexy, even as she parted them and took in a stuttering, nervous breath. Icy blue eyes were surrounded by long, thick lashes.

  In another setting, after a shower and better clothes, she might even be a knockout.

  Oksana was so far out of Alek’s league, it was a good idea I’d taken her away from him. He’d come to expect this caliber of girl, and . . . forget it. It was just dumb luck a girl this attractive was in the batch tonight. It wouldn’t happen again.

  Her chest rose and fell with her hurried breath, and I slipped my hand further down until my palm was pressed in the center of her chest. She turned to look at me, wide-eyed, and her breath hitched. My fingers were dangerously close to her breasts, and I tugged on a smile.

  She wasn’t afraid of my gun, but my touch? It looked like it scared the hell out of her.

  2

  Oksana’s crystal-clear eyes studied me with fascinated horror. The girl needed to relax; I was barely touching her. Although, I was curious how she’d react if I actually did. If I slid my hand down another few inches and gripped her, if I pinched her nipple that was poking through her shirt, what would she do?

  Would she fight?

  Would she submit?

  I didn’t want an audience when I found out and eased away, giving her space. She shuddered with what I assumed was relief, and I grinned. Anticipation tightened inside me. I’d never broken in one of the girls before. Never had a desire to put my favorite thing—my cock—anywhere near the whores, but Oksana looked clean, and the idea of her on her knees before me was really fucking appealing.

  “Open your bag,” I said. “Dump it out. I want to see everything you’ve got inside.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip and reluctantly moved to do as ordered. She flipped open the canvas bag and turned it upside down, dropping clothes and books on the seat between us. I rifled through the ugly, cheap clothes and unsexy underwear, and shook out the three paperback books she had. There were ticket stubs from her flights, her visa paperwork, and sixty-two US dollars in cash. I pocketed it and her Russian passport, and her expression crumbled.

  “What are you going to do with me?” she asked, barely louder than a whisper.

  “It’s all right,” I said in an overly sweet tone. “We’re going to be friends.”

  Highway lights streaked by, throwing a traveling beam of light over her face. She wasn’t fooled. She must have a smart brain to go along with her smart mouth.

  There was a composition notebook among her things, and when I picked it up, she inhaled sharply.

  Her reaction announced this item was the most important to her, and I flipped it open, expecting to find pictures of family and friends. What the fuck? I yanked out my phone and turned on the light so I could make out what I was looking at.

  Music.

  Handwritten, messy sheet music. I paged through the notebook, intrigued. It was a third of the way full of pencil scrawled across the pages of repeating five blue lines. Notes were scribbled in the margins. I didn’t read music, but I recognized the two different clefs. Piano music? This was her prized possession?

  I turned back to the first few pages and studied the pattern of notes climbing up and down the lines. Oksana’s expression was like she was standing naked in front of me.

  I closed the notebook in my lap. “Where are the pictures of your family?”

  “What?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Your parents. You left them behind and didn’t even bring a picture?”

  Her expression would have been heartbreaking, if I had a heart. Her tone was flat. “My parents are dead.”

  It was clear she wasn’t talking figuratively. Pain lurked in her eyes, and . . . it fucking got to me. Orphan was a word my brother refused to use to describe us, but he was older. Luka was twenty-seven and going on fifty. He’d always been independent. But even at twenty-four, there were plenty of days where I felt parentless and alone. I didn’t blame Luka for leaving, but it was surprising how much I missed him. He was the only family left I could trust.

  So, Oksana was an orphan, just like me. Although, I highly doubted her situation was the same, unless her parents had been murdered by her own family, too.

  “Put your shit away,” I said.

  She gathered her things and jammed them back into the bag, but kept stealing glances at the notebook I was holding on to. She wanted it, but was too scared to ask, and I enjoyed watching her squirm. Anytime I could be in a position of power, I’d take it, even if it was just over a Russian girl who meant absolutely nothing.

  “I’m hanging on to this,” I said, holding up the notebook.

  I pictured the evil look on my face as I smiled. I was glad to have an extra piece to leverage. If she gave me a hard time tonight, I’d threaten to trash the book. That would motivate her.

  She looked resigned and her shoulders sagged. “What will I have to do, Vasilije, to earn it back?”

  My name on her tongue was strangely exciting.

  She’d most likely picked it up when Alek had used it, but she’d avoided his annoying emphasis and pronounced it properly. Oh, she was smart, all right. With so few words, she understood her role, which was good. If you gave a woman an inch, she’d not only take a mile, she’d slide a knife in your back when she was finished. And probably smile at you while she watched you twist with pain.

  There was only one way this was going to work. I’d establish my dominance over Oksana, fuck her until I had my fill, and then send her on to Mira, one of my uncle’s associates who ran the whorehouses.

  Her icy gaze didn’t waver from mine. She watched me like a zebra drinking beside a lion at a watering hole. I stroked my fingers over the cover of her notebook, and she twitched as if I’d run my hand between her legs. Did I look scary to her in the darkened back seat, giving her a grin that was full of teeth?

  My phone buzzed with a text message from Filip.

  Filip: Meeting tomorrow 9am in your office.

  It wasn’t a question, but I’d treat it that way.

  Me: Okay.

  Obviously, we had shit to sort out.

  The rest of the drive was silent. The girl stared out the window, looking at nothing because it was dark and rainy outside, and my house wasn’t near anything else except for a golf course. I wouldn’t say she’d relaxed on the drive, but when the SUV turned up the driveway and my home came into view, she tensed.

  Did it look like a palace to her? It was illuminated with nightscape lighting, making the eight-bedroom home and attached six-car garage look grand and sprawling. It wasn’t that big when there’d been a Markovic family living there, but now it was just me and felt cavernous.

  Luka urged me to sell it. The taxes were outrageous, but fuck him. I could afford it and wasn’t ready to let the house go. Was it guilt? I hadn’t been in the basement since Luka and his girlfriend left.

  John pulled into the garage. I grabbed my coat off the floor and flung my door open, climbing out with Oksana’s notebook tucked under my arm. Alek was out of the passenger seat, and the strange expression on his face caught me off guard.

  “What?” I asked.

  His voice went low. “Vasilije, be careful. She makes me uneasy.”

  “You’re worried about the girl?” Was he serious? He was acting weird, and I didn’t like it.

  “I should’ve picked an ugly one,” he said.

  He was getting on my damn nerves. “Aleksandar. What the fuck are you talking about?”
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  It was like he was suddenly aware of his surroundings, and his face went blank. “Nothing.”

  I moved so I was within striking distance, and squared my shoulders to him in a threatening stance. “You’ve got something to say, so say it.”

  He took a step back and put his hands up in a nonthreatening manner. He was reluctant to talk, but far more reluctant to fight. “You . . . always want what other people have.”

  My immediate reaction was to curl my hands into fists. I was a big guy, who liked to use my home gym. Alek was taller than I was, but he was soft. He was allergic to all exertion except for fucking. Shit, he got out of breath just going up the stairs. I could drop him with one punch.

  But he wasn’t wrong.

  I did want what other people had. I wanted the respect our father had handed easily to my brother and not me. The loyalty Luka’s girlfriend had given him. And most of all, I wanted my uncle’s position at the head of the family business.

  I peered at Oksana through the tinted window of the car. Yeah, I wanted her, too.

  I wanted everything.

  Tension released and I uncurled my fists as the backup plan formed. “I’ll text Mira you’re coming, and tell her I’m good for the money. Whatever you want.”

  My peace offering should have been more than enough. Alek was getting the better end of this deal, or so I’d heard, since I’d never paid for sex. He could have one or two girls tonight who were pros, rather than the shy Russian girl who might be a terrible lay.

  He stared through the window for a long moment, watching her. I lifted my eyebrow into a sharp upside-down V. Did he want me to rescind my offer and end up with no pussy at all?

  “Okay,” he said finally.

  “Good.” I forced a smile. I treated Alek well, and he had spread the word to the other underlings who worked for the Markovic family. I’d been weakening my uncle’s support system, rotting it from the inside.