Dynasty

by Jen Davis et al.

  It was going to come down to some massive Optimus Prime versus Megatron showdown. There was no way those two control freaks could coexist peacefully on one planet. I hopped past the dining room into the living room, sat on the couch, and strapped on my walking cast. Then I searched around for a weapon to protect myself: the poodles. I released them from their crates. I went to the dining room and found a carving knife in the china cabinet.

  The argument had escalated, but I didn’t hear any physical fighting. I tapped open the door with my good leg to see what was happening. The door swung open and for a brief moment I saw the look of surprise on two old friends’ faces. What must I have looked like to them?

  The door swung back open and Vladimir and Boris stared at me as I stood there with a twelve-inch knife in my hand, a gimp leg, and two pampered pooches whimpering and wagging their tails.

  “What’s this?” Vladimir asked, unable to keep a straight face.

  “I thought you might…need some help.”

  “You thought we were going to kill each other? Over an argument?”

  “What are we, animals?” Boris asked.

  “Oh. I…” I lowered the knife. The dogs continued their yipping and wagging.

  The two men slapped each other on the back, unable to keep it together. The boss came at me with his hands up, careful not to freak me out. He took the knife from my hand and set it on the counter. The poodles bounced around, excited to see their papa.

  “So what was the plan, Carter? Were you going to slice my sovietnik to death or order the attack dogs to rip out his jugular vein?”

  I took a couple deep breaths to relax my pounding chest.

  “How do you feel about that, Boris? Will you be able to sleep tonight knowing we have a vicious devushka living under the same roof?”

  “I’m sorry I—”

  Boris draped his arm around my shoulder. “It’s okay, dear. You’re good girl. I am grateful you spared my life.”

  “Lapsha.” I shook off his arm.

  “Noodle?” Vladimir translated.

  I shot Boris the evil eye. “You told me it meant asshole.”

  Boris held up his hands in surrender. “Why trust me? I’m bad guy.”

  Vladimir laughed. “You need a drink, angel. Wine or vodka?”

  “Vodka.” I mimicked his accent. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 35

  Sophia

  An empty vodka bottle sat on the floor, and Boris cracked open a second. I had turned over my glass after the inaugural shot to keep my mind clear, but the two of them were not holding back. I was seated at a bar stool, and Vladimir stood behind me with his arm draped across my shoulder while he and Boris reminisced about the good old days. I could tell when the story got to the bad parts because they switched up their language to Russian. I wondered how long Vladimir had been bad.

  After about the fifth toast, Vladimir’s hand slid from my shoulders down to the back pocket of my jeans. Everything had been happening in rapid-fire succession, I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about…that. And I knew better than to bring up anything that might piss him off while he was drinking.

  After they polished off the second bottle, Boris flipped over his glass. He gave me a stern look and then spoke to the boss in Russian. I had a feeling they were discussing security measures.

  I pleaded my case to Boris. “Please, don’t drug me again. My head has been throbbing all day.” I turned to Vladimir. “I promise I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

  Vladimir eyes were at half-mast. “Of course, angel.”

  “Nyet,” Boris said. “If you don’t want drugs, then we’ll do it my way. Your choice, dear.”

  “No, no handcuffs.”

  “Enough. I will not leave you unattended—”

  “I’ll sleep in his room.” I clung to the boss. The second the words dribbled out of my mouth, I knew I’d fucked up.

  Boris tossed me the look.

  Vladimir wrapped his arm around me. “It’s settled then.”

  Boris gave up the battle and swerved down to his lair in the basement.

  The boss and I were alone. He ran his fingers through my hair and tried to kiss me, but I turned my cheek.

  “Something wrong?” I sensed the pakhan had taken over. Careful not to piss him off, I patted him on the back and sidestepped out of his reach. “Everything’s fine. I’m going to get ready for bed now.” I made a run for my room, but he caught me.

  “Don’t you dare leave me.” He tightened his grip around my upper arms and squeezed like a python coiling around its prey.

  I wanted to scream. He was so strong. My bones felt like they were going to snap. “I won’t.” I panted as his hot breath beat down on top of my head. After a moment, he released his grip, when he was ready to let me go.

  “Don’t keep me waiting, Sophia.”

  Oh, God. “I won’t, Vladimir.” I scurried away, rubbing my aching arms and contemplating my next move. I had two options: One, I could lock myself in my bedroom and hope he would pass out before he could bust down the door. Two, Boris.

  There was no way I could protect myself against the pakhan. I decided on the latter. I tiptoed downstairs into the pitch-black nothingness of the basement and felt my way around to avoid bumping into the pool table. “Boris?” I whispered. I found a door and opened it. “Boris?”

  I heard the ruffling of sheets and then a click-click.

  “Jeez! Don’t shoot. It’s me.”

  “That’s it. I’m getting the handcuffs.”

  “No, I need your help. Please, it’s serious. Get up.”

  He huffed, stumbled to the door, and turned the light on. “What did you do now, stupid girl?” He tied a belt around a black silk robe.

  I took a deep breath. “I’m scared. He called me Sophia.”

  He chuckled. “What did I tell you about your teasing? Do what he says. Being with a man will help you relax. Get out of here, lapsha.”

  I tugged on his arm. “He’s out of his mind drunk. He almost snapped my bones in half. I know he doesn’t want to hurt me. If you don’t help me—”

  He clicked his tongue. “What do you think happens when you entice men? It’s time to pay up, Carter. Have a nice evening.”

  He put his hand on the doorknob and tried to shut me out. In desperation, I lunged forward and clutched two fistfuls of chest hair. He retaliated by grabbing my ponytail and dropping me to the floor.

  “Ouch!” I stood and clung to his arm. “Listen, I need a mulligan on this. I’m not on the pill. What if I get pregnant? Dad will find out.”

  Boris pointed his finger in my face. “Get back upstairs. Now.”

  “No. No way. If you don’t help me I’m taking my chances scaling the Berlin Wall out there. Please, he’s not himself. If this happens, it will be against my will. You said only filthy animals do that sort of thing. Is that what the boss is—an animal?”

  “Oh, Carter, why are you so much trouble? The other girls are easy.”

  Other girls?

  The truth of my words registered in his eyes. “Get a bottle of wine from the cellar, open it, and come back.”

  I did as Boris said. When I returned, he tapped a couple of pills out of a small plastic bottle and dropped them into the wine. “One glass will knock out an elephant. Serve half a glass and you both will drink, understand? I don’t give a shit about your headache.”

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I scurried upstairs.

  “Carter.”

  I turned around on the landing.

  “You owe me.”

  Chapter 36

  Pinched

  I awoke late Christmas Eve morning sprawled out on the couch in the living room—on top of Vladimir. My face was nestled in his chest, and my fingers were buried in his soft, wavy hair. I lifted my head. His shirt was soaking wet with my drool. Dad would be so proud.

  I had no memory of what had happened after we drank the wine, but we both still had our clothes on
from the night before. Carefully, I slid off him, mopped the schlarf off my face on the sleeve of my sweat jacket, and made my way into the kitchen.

  I brewed a pot of tea, lit a pine-scented candle, and slid a tray of croissants into the oven. Boris was up shortly after I had started rustling around in the kitchen. “Privet. Merry Christmas Eve.” I greeted him with a cheery smile.

  He glared at me. “Dobroye utro, lapsha. Sleep good? You and boss looked cozy when I checked on you last night.” He glanced at his watch. “He’s usually up with the sun. How much did he drink?”

  I averted my gaze to the oven. The pastries were burning around the edges. I thought it would be nice to cut the dough into the shape of Christmas trees, but the flakey layers were too thin on the outside to cook evenly. I pulled them out of the oven and set them on the counter.

  “Carter?”

  “I have no clue. I made a toast, drank two sips, and everything after that is a blur.”

  “You’re playing with fire, stupid girl. He’s going to know you did something.”

  I peeled my fractured forest off the metal baking sheet and piled the half-baked dough on top of a sheet of wax paper to cool. “Well, technically, you did it.” Worried he might dive across the bar and stuff my head into the oven, I kept my eyes on him, poured him a cup of tea, and pushed it across the bar.

  “This is all going to catch up with you. I look forward to the day.” He lifted his teacup and sipped the steamy English breakfast brew. “Wake him in an hour if he’s not up.”

  “Wait. Are you leaving?” I asked more desperately than I’d intended.

  “I’m going to church.”

  “Any chance I could get my phone back?”

  “Not today.” He walked to the mudroom to retrieve his hat and coat. “Just a bunch of bullshit texts.” He bundled up and issued a warning. “The boys out back are keeping an eye on things for me. Don’t try anything stupid. There’s already blood in the water.”

  I glanced out the window to see if they were out. Playboy was leaning against the murderer van bouncing a tennis ball. Skinhead took a drag off his cigarette and waved hello. I curled my legs up on the barstool and tried to make myself invisible. “How am I going to get to the Bengals game?”

  “Boss will take you.”

  “What if he’s mad at me?” I wrapped my arms around my body, rested my chin on my knees, and chewed on my fingernails. What would happen when Vladimir woke up and found out what I’d done? Would he put his hands around my neck the next time I ticked him off?

  Boris hung up his hat and coat and moved toward me. He put his hand on my jacket and tried to unzip me. I flinched, grabbed his hand, and pleaded with him not to do it.

  “Shush,” he whispered. “Just want a look.”

  For fear of retaliation, I stopped fighting and let him remove my jacket. My limbs were blanketed with bruises in various stages of healing from being manhandled over the last few days. They were so colorful they could have passed for tattoos. The bruises on my collarbone from Boris’s correction the night before last were a disturbing deep purple. The most recent finger marks from Vladimir’s death grip were blood red.

  “Boss did this to you last night?”

  My gaze dropped to the floor and I kept quiet, unsure of how to answer.

  He put his hand on his face and rubbed his beard. “You look like a corpse. I can’t return you to your papa in this condition.” He moved his hands to my waist and felt my ribs.

  I squirmed and shoved his hands off me. “You haven’t eaten a thing since you’ve been our guest, have you? This will not do. Skin and bones, skin and bones.” He went to the refrigerator and took out a carton of eggs, a stick of butter, heavy cream, and a block of cheese. From the cabinet he pulled out a clear mixing bowl and a whisk. He turned on the gas burner and placed an iron skillet over the flame.

  “I thought you were leaving.”

  He cracked an egg into the bowl. “You need protein.” Then he cracked another one. “A stray dog has more meat on its bones. Your papa will think we’ve mistreated you.” He whipped the chicks into a dizzying pulp, beating them until they blurred together into one communal bowl of ick.

  “I won’t eat that. Eggs make me gag.”

  Boris tipped his head. “Most days you don’t eat eggs, today you do.”

  “Stop it. I have some nuts in the cabinet. I’ll eat the whole can.”

  “You will eat eggs.”

  “No, I won’t. You can’t make me.” I stood up and sidestepped toward the door. “I’m going to get ready now. I’ll eat when I get to the stadium.”

  He aimed the spatula between my eyes. “Why do you fight me? I have given you freedom to speak your mind, but now you’re pissing me off, little girl. Take a seat and shut your mouth.”

  I kept moving.

  “Last chance.” He unfastened the buttons on his long-sleeved shirt and rolled them up to his elbows. He had an inky blue chain link tattoo that wrapped around his wrist like a serpent. He prowled toward me with the unsympathetic eyes of a killer.

  I slunk closer to the door.

  Sit down. Let him win this one, Sophia said.

  “You’re going to be sorry,” he warned, closing the gap.

  The intercom buzzer beeped. We looked at each other in mutual who the hell could that be?

  The poodles whimpered.

  “Did you make any calls?”

  I shook my head.

  He glanced at the security monitor, mumbled something in Russian, and tossed me my jacket. “Cover your arms and keep your mouth shut.” He typed in a security code to open the gate and left to meet their guest. I slid to the swinging door to try to hear the conversation in the other room. “Hello, friend. Good to see you. Come in, come in,” Boris said.

  “Thanks, sorry to bother you.”

  I threw open the kitchen door and ran into the living room. “Ryan.” I crashed my face into his Bengals jersey and wrapped my arms around him. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “I was worried when you didn’t get back to me about where you were staying. I texted your dad and he told me you lost your phone. He gave me this address. Why are you shaking?” He unwound my arms and held me back so he could see my face. “You look like hell, babe. Are you okay?”

  Boris was trying to act casual, but I knew he wanted to hogtie me and stuff me in the trunk of the Cadillac. I had to be careful. “I know, right? I caught whatever is going around. I haven’t been able to keep anything down. Boris has been trying to get me to eat something, but I don’t have an appetite.” I coughed and rubbed my nose for effect.

  Ryan’s gaze drifted down to the air cast on my foot, probably considering if Leonardo had something to do with my Sudden Illness. “Is it broken?” His expression was both angry and hurt. I never had a chance to explain why I had been hanging out with Leonardo in the first place.

  “No, it’s no big deal.” I waved my hand dismissively.

  Boris scoffed at the lies that so comfortably rolled off my tongue.

  “We need to talk about what happened, okay?” He tried to kiss me, but I covered his mouth with my hand to block him. “I’m contagious. Trust me, you don’t want what I got.”

  “Why didn’t you call me? If that bastard touched you—”

  I felt the heat of Boris’s rage resonating around me. I had to keep Ryan out of this. “We’ll talk later. Everything’s fine. Let’s have breakfast. I think I can eat something now that you’re here.” I looped my arm around his elbow and guided him toward the kitchen.

  Vladimir sat up on the couch, glared at Ryan, and spoke to Boris in Russian.

  I jumped. “Sorry we woke you, Mr. Ivanov. My friend is here to take me to the game.”

  Vladimir got up, smoothed his hair back, and staggered toward us. His skin was pale, eyes bloodshot. “This must be the football player Carter is always crying about. Ryan, right?”

  Ryan tossed me a quizzical look. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

  Th
e boss studied the cut above his eye from the Leonardo incident. “You had a fight?”

  “Carter didn’t tell you what happened?”

  I pinched Ryan in the side. Boris eyed my hand and spoke in Russian to Vladimir.

  While the two of them were preoccupied, I stood on my toes and whispered to Ryan. “Don’t bring up anything I wouldn’t want Dad to—”

  The weasel detector went off.

  The Russians stopped talking.

  My gaze darted nervously between them.

  “You are a good friend to our dear Carter.” The boss was careful to keep his crazy in check. I had no idea what Boris had told him, but I was certain it wasn’t the truth.

  “You got that right, sir.” Ryan reeled me in and smooched my cheek.

  Judging by Vladimir’s seething expression, my game clock had officially wound down to zeros. Boris had already physically hurt me, and as of last night, so had Vladimir. My messed up situation wasn’t a game anymore. I feared for my life and the lives of my loved ones. I needed a distraction before Ryan caught on. “Let’s go to the kitchen. Boris made breakfast. We don’t want his good efforts to go to waste.”

  I knew I would pay for it later for the egg thing, but I filled my plate with fruit, nuts, and cheese to appease Boris. He circled the kitchen, watching me eat like a goddamn vulture. Vladimir shot daggers at me as he sipped a cup of strong black tea.

  As we stood around the bar, I wanted to curl up in Ryan’s arms so he could protect me if Boris tried to hurt me. If it came down to it, I think Ryan could take him. He was younger and all muscle, but Boris was bigger and meaner—and he had a gun. Plus, he probably kicked ass on a daily basis—and he had no soul. Maybe I was overly optimistic about the odds.

  While I would be safer with Ryan, I wouldn’t allow my poor choices to drag him down. The boss was no doubt ticked my friend was in his house in the first place. Boris couldn’t have missed the death rays Vladimir was firing at Ryan, so he diffused the situation by striking up a conversation with him about his take on the statistical probability of the Bengals scoring a playoff berth. I seized the moment and excused myself to get ready for the game.