Clenching her fists, Kiri spun and stalked off to do her duty.
The group shuffled and shifted, chatted and drank. Some went back for seconds and thirds. Only crumbs were left on the pie and cake trays. A man leaned against a wall shoveling the last of the au gratin potatoes into his mouth.
Ignacio pulled out a chair at Naithon’s table and wearily lowered his thinning heft onto it. Tugging his glasses off, he dragged a linen napkin over his eyes and shoved the glasses back on. Even though it was not Naithon’s own business, it was his father’s, and regardless of the tales of his monstrous ruthlessness, to Ignacio, Naithon appeared relatively helpless in that wheelchair. Yet, clearly Naithon Adranokov was the man in charge. He was the one to deal with.
It stung Ignacio to have to do business with a man half his age, and a cripple at that, but he had no choice. The father, Zhilov Adranokov was a vicious violent man, the word was, his youngest son was even more so. But Zhilov was out of the country, and apparently instead of one of his older brothers running the show, Naithon was the crown prince of their industry.
“So,” Ignacio took a breath to calm his nerves, ease the shake from his voice. “What do you say about a truce, eh, young man?”
Under low-lidded eyes that frosted over at Ignacio calling him a young man, the tone indicating as if he was still in diapers, Naithon scanned the room, his dark gaze stopped at Kiri.
Kiri felt his creepy eyes stroke tangibly, invasively up and down her body, she was unable to suppress the shiver of fright it brought. He had watched her exchange with Rueford with an unreadable face and those deeply hooded eyes. No expression, just a vein beating at one temple, and his jaw working. Did he want to hurt her too? Near the far side by the entrance, she set the rum bottle on the bar counter with trembling fingers.
Calm down, she told herself, she was in a roomful of men, with her father and brothers, the disturbing thug couldn’t hurt her. She had noticed the angles in the man’s hard face grow sharper, lids lowered further hiding his thoughts when Rueford had smacked her butt. All horrid men, Adranokov probably was thinking she, as a woman, had deserved the humiliating insult.
These mobster males believed women were property and to be treated as errant children, and of course as sex objects. Great. She couldn’t wait to be alone with Rueford. He would probably lock her in an iron maiden when he wasn’t home, and knock her around when he was.
Naithon answered Ignacio, his heavy accent all the more chilling at the guttural sound of it. “What I want, right now, while I ponder this truce, is that girl,” he nodded to Kiri and said, “on my lap.”
The room hushed, all eating and talking halted. The group looked to Naithon, then to Kiri, to Ignacio, back to Naithon. Naithon sat calmly with a bland expression, as if bored with it all.
Standing in the middle of the room, Rueford bristled, his ruddy cheeks reddened.
Kiri’s face flushed at Adranokov’s offensive request. He must be just trying to stir her father up, surely he doesn’t really mean it.
Awkwardly getting to his feet, Ignacio spurted, “Ah, I- did I hear you correctly? You want my daughter-”
“You heard me. Now. Right now or this meeting is over,” Naithon’s quiet, deep voice whipped through the room.
Moving to where Rueford stood, “Hmm,” Ignacio grunted, scratched his head, then his chest, then shrugged. “Well, I guess if that’s what you want…” Disregarding the look of disbelief and horror on his daughter’s face, he said coolly, “You heard the man, Kiritina, get over there.” When she didn’t move, he barked, “Now!”
Next to him, Rueford started to speak, Ignacio slashed his hand down telling him to shut up. Still Rueford protested, “She’s my girl, he can’t-” Ignacio sharply shushed him.
Kiri stood frozen on unsteady legs, no way was she crossing that room and sitting on that gangster’s lap. He was only joking around to humiliate her father.
Naithon put his hands on the wheel rims. “I guess we’re out of here.”
“No, wait,” Ignacio said quickly. “Janero, Piero,” he jutted his chin at them. The brothers started, then, they trod over to their sister, each gripped an arm.
She gasped. “No, stop, what are you doing? I’m not going near that- that monster!”
Naithon’s brow quirked as if amused at being called a monster. He tightened his fingers on the wheel rims.
Seeing he was really going to leave, Ignacio snapped, “Piero!”
The brothers tugged Kiri, she had to walk with them or she’d fall and be ignominiously dragged. “No, wait, listen-” she cried.
“Shh,” Piero whispered in her ear. “Pacify the crippled bastard. He can’t hurt you. He’s just doing this to claim dominance over the meeting. It’ll only be for a minute. Worst he does is feel you up a little. Just let him give your tits a squeeze or two and he’ll be satisfied.”
In her other ear, Janero murmured, “Don’t worry, they say he hates when chicks try to sit on his lap, won’t last a second.” They pulled her across the room stopping in front of Naithon.
His eyes were so hooded she could barely discern them. God, he was going to maul her in front of all those men. Suddenly, Kiri found it hard to breathe, her lungs constricted, stomach tensed and flipped over. She tried to resist them, but her brothers forced her onto Naithon’s lap.
As soon as her thighs landed on the plaid afghan, Naithon swung a surprisingly hard, strong arm around her, preventing her from getting back up. Terrified to look at the gangster, her body rigid, Kiri sat half-sideways and pushed at his arm and chest to break from his hold. He easily restrained her from moving off his lap.
Lowering her head without looking at him she murmured, “Please don’t do this. He’s already humiliated by losing the battle. Please, just call your truce, and let me go.”
His arm tightened, hard, but not enough to crush the breath out of her. Her left arm pressed against his chest, she gripped the strong arm that held her with her right hand trying to pry if off her. Still pushing at him, she squirmed on his lap, he squeezed her to stop her wriggling. In seconds she realized why. The man was hardening under her thighs.
Kiri gasped in abhorrence and fought frantically to get off him, his arm only held her tighter. She stopped squirming, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. The lump under her grew longer, harder. She could feel his nose push into her hair, she thought with revulsion, oh my gosh, he’s sniffing me like a hunting animal!
The room broke out in uneasy conversation. Ignacio didn’t know what to do. His daughter was sitting, cheeks bright red with embarrassment, on his enemy’s lap. This last insult almost too much too bear, Ignacio slung off his glasses and daubed the napkin over his sweating face.
Adranokov’s stony expression didn’t change an iota. He just wrapped his right arm around Kiri’s waist caging her, and splayed his large left hand possessively over her stomach. She tugged at his hand but it was like trying to open a locked safe.
Beside Ignacio, Rueford huffed and puffed, but he was not stupid enough to harangue Naithon Adranokov. The man could kill with one damned hand without getting out of that chair, for crying out loud. Rueford had to stand there like the rest of them and take the sneering disrespectful show of power. His blustery face so mottled with crimson in his anger, it matched his hair.
That’s all it was, Ignacio sighed, a damned show of power. Little punk, thug. Convict. A true bastard in every sense of the word, his mother had been an unwed whore, his father’s concubine. He turned his head from Naithon with a twinge of fear. He’d heard that Romanians were spooky gypsies with voodoo powers, if the fucker could read his mind, he’s a dead man.
People got up and shuffled around the room, getting more to eat, drink, the atmosphere was uncomfortable as hell with Delducci and Adranokov in a face-off, and both Melonie and Fiereza shooting daggers of hate at Kiri.
Kiri’s face was red as a beet in her mortification. The only one that seemed at ease in the entire room was Naithon. His thumb stroki
ng Kiri’s belly, he sat casually staring at Ignacio, making him speak first.
“Uh, well, then,” Ignacio cleared his throat. “Let’s talk about the truce. What can I do to stop your people from killing my people, razing my businesses?” He stared levelly at Naithon looking for a sign, a tell, that he was the least bit nervous, awkward. Nothing. The man was a steel rock. Zero expression, sable eyes blank of anything, everything. No light, compassion, mercy. Nothing. A killer’s eyes.
He waited for Naithon to reply, and damn the man, he sat silent, his gaze steady on Ignacio. All the attention in the room was on Naithon with Kiri trapped on his lap. When she saw lust flare in many eyes as the males were mentally putting themselves in Naithon’s place, Kiri resumed struggling, her face blushing with degradation and fear of what would come next.
She could feel the horrible gangster’s strong arm wrapped around her, feel his heart beating against her arm. Feel his big hand spread over her stomach in a boasting show of possession. The scent of faint aftershave and soap still lingered, he must have showered right before coming.
Everything about the man was fully and totally masculine, from his broad, muscular upper body, strong jaw, eerie eyes, faint dark shadow on his lower face a contrast to his light hair, even his unused thighs felt firm and hard beneath her, as well as the thick erection that pressed into her bottom. Apparently power turned him on. She wailed silently to herself, would this day never end?
“Adranokov? What do you want?” Ignacio prompted him, it was too uncomfortable waiting for his response.
Naithon replied, “We have told you we are not responsible for the murders. But if you insist,” a humorless, unpleasant smile curved his lips with the familiar cruel bent. He lifted the arm that held Kiri, and he stroked his huge palm over her shoulder and down her slender arm, drawing a shiver from her. She held her breath, waiting for him to forcefully grope her.
“I want this girl,” he stated, and proceeded to pluck the pins from her hair until the mahogany ringlets tumbled down, covering her like a shiny curly shawl. He tossed the pins carelessly to the floor.
The room braked into sudden silence again.
“Excuse me?” Ignacio’s brows arched to his hairline. Rueford’s nostrils flared, his breath rushed out hard.
Naithon’s men shifted closer to him. Kiri froze. The man was just taunting her father, this will be over soon, soon.
“I said,” Naithon repeated calmly, “I will take this girl. She will come with me now.”
One of Kiri’s pins could be heard dropped in the aghast room. Melonie and Fiereza’s mouths fell open. Piero and Janero’s brows furrowed in confusion, was the man joking? Naithon’s crew remained impassive.
Ignacio cleared his throat again. “I uh, I mean, what uh, do you mean? You want to take her for the night?” His lips pushed out in consideration, he shrugged with an arched brow. “I suppose that would be okay.” Kiri’s heart stopped.
“What!” Rueford shrieked. “You gotta be fucking kidding me, man, no way is she going with that gypsy piece of-”
“Not just a night. I plan to keep her,” Naithon announced matter-of-factly. “She is my price for the truce.”
Puzzled, Ignacio asked, “Whatt’ya mean, like collateral?”
Eyes bounced around the room, gasps and muttering prevailed. “Ignacio, man, please,” Rueford begged, freckles spotting his round, tomato blotched face.
Ignacio said, “For what, Adranokov? A couple of days? A week? I guess we could let her go for a week if that’s what you want.”
“Ignacio!” Rueford bellowed.
Ignacio made a calming motion with his palms. “So he fucks her a couple of times and gives her back to you. So what?”
Rueford screeched, “But she’s mine!”
“Uh, yeah. Listen Adranokov, that one is engaged. Why don’t you take my other daughter? Keep her as long as you want.”
Melonie’s eyes popped, a grin lit her plain face. “Yes! Yes! I’ll go, I’ll go with you! I’ll be your collateral!” She pushed through the crowd of stunned men.
“No. I’ll have this one. We’re leaving, now.” Naithon lifted his jaw to signal Mazonn. Maz grinned at him, drew his weapon and started to move to keep the others away so Naithon could leave unheeded.
Everyone spoke at once. Melonie kept coming, Fiereza dug her nails in her husband’s arm. Apparently, she was furious that although she’d jilted Naithon and married his brother, Misolav, she was upset he’d choose another woman right in front of her. He should have asked for her!
She didn’t care that her husband was Naithon’s brother, and that she wasn’t a Delducci, ergo she couldn’t be considered collateral. He still should have chosen her! Maybe he was just trying to make her jealous, of course, that’s it.
In the commotion, while he was distracted, Kiri pushed herself off Naithon’s lap and ran for the door, she was out and gone in a flash.
“Piero, go get your sister, bring her back,” Ignacio ordered. He kept a hand clamped on Rueford’s arm holding him from going after her.
“No, I’ll get my property.” Naithon calmly pushed the afghan aside and stood up.
Again the room was instantly silent.
“What the hell?” his brother Misolav muttered.
“You can walk?” his brother Novikav gasped.
“Since when?” his brother Vitalik squawked.
Naithon ignored them all and strode out the door, going after his prize.
Mazonn grinned with Yashin, he said to Misolav, “Took him almost two years to heal, get on his feet again. You didn’t do a perfect job of it, Mislo.” Mazonn’s voice dropped dangerous and vengeful, “You didn’t paralyze him. He’s stayed in the chair to keep everyone off balance, underestimating him.”
He chuckled. “The cops never look at him for our crimes, I mean really,” he glanced at his friends who laughed with him. “Who would accuse a cripple of scaling a building or making a hit? Joke’s on all of you.”
Fiereza was stunned. “You mean he’s- he can walk? All this time?”
His features degrading into a hateful sneer, Mazonn said, “What do you care, Fiereza you whore, you tossed him aside like yesterday’s garbage when you learned Misolav would inherit the business, the money. Fuck you.”
He waved his arm. “Yashin, Vlad, let’s get the cars.” He ordered three of their other men to prevent anyone else from leaving. Guns drawn, no one else in the room moved.
Chapter Nine
Outside, her heart in her throat, Kiri ran as fast as she could. She didn’t have a car, her father kept her dependent on him, kept her isolated. Without her consent he appropriated her identification, and took over her bank account as soon as she’d landed in America.
She’d been driven to the distillery today. She couldn’t go to the police for help; daughters of mobsters did not do that. With no money, no ID, and threats of imprisonment and beatings, she was trapped. There was nowhere for her to go, no one to help her.
But she was damned if she was going from the frying pan into the fire!
Frantically, she raced down the drive heading for the street. She thought she heard the tasting room door slam shut, she ran faster, rushing across the grass, no way was she going anywhere with that monst- “Oof!”
An arm flung around her waist, slinging her off her feet and around, and he dropped them both to the ground. Naithon took the brunt of the fall then rolled over forcing her on her back, and flattened her with his weight. A smirk lifted the side of his harsh mouth at her shocked eyes.
“You- you- you can walk? How?” At first she lay stunned, then realizing he was on top of her, she struggled to get out from beneath him shrieking, “Get off of me! Let me up!”
Naithon scoffed coolly in her dismayed face. “I can do a lot of things, little lamb to slaughter, that you are going to learn quite quickly.” He maneuvered his hips between hers, intentionally settling his still burgeoning erection on her pelvis.
Bracing on his forearms, blond
tufts flopped over one eye as he smirked down at her. Deliberately, he rubbed his chest on her breasts, humped her sex, grinning more broadly at the shock and terror that radiated from her rounded green eyes.
Her hits at his chest were useless; he didn’t even flinch at them. She cried, “You’re insane! Get off me, I am not going anywhere with you! Someone is sure to have called the police by now.” Struggling under his weight, she heaved, “You should leave, run while you can, before they come and get you.”
That brought a barked laugh from him. “Honey, you forget who’s up in that building. There is not a soul in there that would call the uniforms.”
“M- Melonie, my sister, my brothers, they’d call-”
He laughed again at her naiveté. “Your dear sister would rather watch you get hung from the gallows than help you. Your brothers know better than to thwart your father,” the sarcastic mirth left his hard face, eyes narrowed with menace, he said coldly, “or me.” He rolled off her and leaped to his feet then bent and grasped her arm pulling her up.
She wobbled unsteadily, he kept his fingers wrapped around her arm. “Come along, little lamb to slaughter, isn’t that what they say?” He tugged her back up the drive.
She dug her heels in the tar. “No! I refuse to go with you, you can’t make me!”
With a laugh, he paused, bent, and swung her over his shoulder. She landed with an ‘oomph,’ he placed one hand under her knees, the other splayed across her butt.
Screaming, kicking, hitting at his back, Kiri fought to get free.
After a few steps, he smacked his palm hard on her bottom. “Settle down, girl, I do not want to have to thrash that fine ass of yours, but I will if you keep fighting me.” His boots thudded up the driveway, she kept hitting and kicking him, he swatted her again, several times, each one harder than the last. Still she struggled.
Distilled Duplicity Page 6
