by Vi Carter
She’s beautiful in such a natural way. She isn’t like the women that I usually find attractive, but I can still appreciate her natural beauty. Her breasts are small, maybe a handful, I normally like mine big and artificial. She crosses her arms over her chest like she knows my thoughts. I take another sip from my coffee and observe her from over the rim. What am I to do with her? I could get a message at any stage to drop her to the can. Maybe they hadn’t picked up Pavel yet and they didn’t want two of them together? The thoughts of Pavel near Mila turns the coffee sour on my tongue and I put it down.
“Do I have to give you a list of rules or do you understand you are mine for now?” My gaze roams across her and she pushes her shoulders back, but she can’t stop the fear that pools in her eyes or the tremble of her lip.
“I understand.”
I nod and open the top two buttons of my black shirt. “Good.”
I leave the kitchen and check my phone as I climb the glass steps. My designer had said they gave the illusion of more space, I hadn’t disagreed, but each time I look down, my stomach flips slightly. I’m not afraid of heights, but I’m not a fan of them either.
My suit jacket drops on my bed before I pull off the shirt. Mirrors coat every wall in my room. This illusion I like, especially when entertaining. No one can hide.
Each mirror reflects my tattoo covered torso, I had no more space left for ink. Mila’s eyes had taken in the ink on my neck, her eyes had widened, like she had a notion of what they meant. Pushing down my trousers and boxers, I enter my bedroom, which is a complete wet-room. Pulling the tie out of my hair, I step in under the spray and like always, my cock grows hard as I think of the blond who had danced for Pavel in her glass box. She couldn’t see who watched her; it’s a one-way mirror. All she would see was herself doing very naughty things. The bleep of my phone has me knocking off the water, my cock still begs to be touched as I pick up my phone.
Another collection. This is a first. Three so close together.
Dimitri Smirnov–Detain within the next twenty-four hours and take to the collection point.
My hard cock dies very quickly as I drop the phone on the bed. This is why I have no friends. I don’t have anyone who I care about, because it took one message and if I have to deliver them, I would.
I take out another black suit. I know where Dimitri will be tonight, so his capture will be simple. Getting dressed, I re-tie my hair before going back down stairs. Mila is still in the kitchen, standing right where I left her.
Throwing my cold coffee down the sink, I turn to Mila. I can’t just leave her here. I need to tie her up. Rummaging through the drawer, I withdraw a roll of heavy black duct tape. When my gaze meets hers, her eyes widen and she takes a step away from me.
The house is new, so some of the rooms haven’t been finished yet. Pulling a chair from the table, I leave the kitchen. “Come on.” I tell Mila and carry the chair and duct tape to the first empty room. The walls have been painted and blinds cover the windows. I drop the chair and draw the blinds. Mila hovers in the doorway, her eyes scanning the room.
“Sit down on the chair.” I open the duct tape and she hesitates, but walks over to the chair and sits down. I’ve never had someone do exactly what I say. Normally they would lash out, try to run, but Mila sits down and focuses on her hands. I want to ask why Victor wants her. I want to know what she did to get herself in such a situation. But it’s a rule of mine, I don’t ask questions. Tearing off a lump of duct tape, I cover her mouth and she whimpers but doesn’t pull away as I continue to tie her to the chair. The duct tape circles her small waist and for extra measure, I tie her legs to the chair. When I stand back, I’m satisfied that she won’t be going anywhere.
I turn off the light and pull the door closed behind me. Turning the key, I pocket it, before making my way to Gail’s.
***
“Nicholai, what can I do for you?” Gail, the owner of the club greets me. The tight green wrap around dress sits perfectly on her toned body. She’s in her early forties, she says late twenties, but she keeps herself well. Her short hair is spiked and she wears an open and friendly smile. She’s ruthless behind it all.
“Has Dimitri started his shift?”
Gail glances at the Rolex on her slim wrist. “He’s late. He’s never late.”
Fuck.
He knew they would send me after him.
“Pavel was a good customer of mine. He spent a lot of money here.”
“If you want him back, talk to Victor.”
Gail nods, but that snippet of information serves her purpose for this conversation. What was she searching for?
“Victor?” She raises one arched eyebrow.
“It’s not a secret, Gail. But right now, I’m starting to feel like you’re wasting my time.” I brush past her but start to run when I hear her curse. Removing the gun from the band of my trousers, I point it at the sliver of light that appears and then disappears as Dimitri escapes out the exit door.
“You’ll be hearing from me,” I shout over my shoulder at Gail before I leave through the door that Dimitri had left through.
“Stop running!” I shout after him and I aim my gun. I can take a shot if I want to. I’m allowed to wound, and if it’s the only way to bring them in, I can kill. I lower the gun as he disappears around the corner and out of sight.
MILA
I’m breathing steadily through my nose, but each time I think of it, I’m sobbing into the duct tape before I calm myself down. The fear is growing and I need to control it. I’m exhausted as tears soak my face. The walls around me start to close in and no matter what I do, I can’t stop the memories pouring in. I scream into the tape and push all my weight to the left before swinging to the right, the chair tilts, but lands back correctly, and it’s all I need. I keep rocking until I finally get what I want. I land on the ground hard, my head taking the brunt of the fall. Pain explodes behind my eyelids. Warm liquid pools beneath me, and for the first time I welcome the loss of time. I welcome the sanctuary that the darkness offers me.
***
The room is tinged with red. Wasn’t it white before? I blow out a painful breath through my nose and the pool of blood ripples as the air races across it.
I groan and try to roll, the pull on my body has me groaning again. I wiggle my legs and pain explodes in my head. The creak from the leg of the chair has me keeping my eyes closed as the leg of the chair breaks free, freeing my leg.
I’d laugh… only the pain increases behind my eyes. I wasn’t even trying to escape. This time a laugh bubbles against the duct tape. My cheek is cold, the liquid is alarming, but I close my eyes and try to find the darkness again.
I crane my neck back as the door opens. His polished shoes move towards me and I look up at him. Dark eyes that have seen too much blink once and then twice. He steps away from me, and peels off his suit jacket—he folds it and lays it on the floor. His tie is next. Fear jackhammers in my throat and I’m trying to raise my head from the floor. Bile claws up my throat and I have no choice but to swallow. He unbuttons the sleeves of his shirt as he assesses me. What is he going to do?
He cracks his knuckles and walks towards me, I’m waiting for the blow that will finish me. My body buzzes with shivers, but nothing happens. Opening my eyes, I’m faced with an empty room. A sob pushes against the tape on my mouth.
He arrives back in with a basin of water. I close my eyes as he straightens the chair up. I’m ready to spew everywhere but force it down.
He leans over me and separates my hair without a word. Returning with a cloth, he’s gentle as he cleans my head. I recoil from his touch, and he holds me still with one hand pressed firmly on my shoulder. The basin of water soon turns red and he gives up.
The knife in his hand could be a blessing. Is he going to make it quick? Did Victor order him to keep me here and kill me? I know this isn’t the job of The Collector. He didn’t take people home.
The duct tape falls away from my waist
and legs.
“You broke my chair.” It’s the first time he’s spoken since arriving back in the room. Dark eyes that hold nothing, focus on my face. His long fingers clutch the duct tape. “This is going to hurt.” He gives me a warning before he tears the tape off my face along with a layer of skin.
I wince in pain. The burn continues long after the duct tape is gone. I lick my lips. They feel raw.
“Can you stand?”
I force myself out of the chair and the world tilts sideways. I’m falling, but strong arms and the smell of cologne wraps around me. I turn my head away from his chest as my stomach finally rebels and I empty the contents onto the floor. Once my stomach settles, he exhales loudly and carries me from the room. I keep my head away from him as he carries me upstairs. It’s like we are walking on air. I blink and my stomach shifts again. The steps are made of glass. Who has glass steps? I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Don't sleep.” His warning has me opening my eyes, but I realize the worst that could happen has happened, they’ve found me. I close my eyes and don’t open them again until my back is cushioned by a bed.
I’m in a double bed, the sheets a deep gray under my hand. A door to a bathroom is open and The Collector returns with a washcloth. Blood stains the end of his rolled-up sleeve. I roll my head so I face the window as his huge frame makes the bed dip and he starts cleaning my head. Hitting my head doesn’t seem very wise now, the ache is growing, but at that moment, I had wanted the memories to stop.
His hand parts my hair gently and a part of me wants to see his face. It’s a dangerous part of me that has recognized how gorgeous he is. The devil always wears the mask of an angel. The Collector works for Bratva bosses who are ruthless. He is no better than them.
He gets up with no explanation. His footsteps are light for such a huge guy. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus. I know the rules, I know how this works, so why am I here in The Collector’s house? Based on the fact that things are different, I need to try to escape. I don’t have to be a sitting duck. But no one outruns The Collector. Yet, I never heard of The Collector taking his jobs home. Does he know who I am? Does he know what Victor did to me?
I swallow more saliva and keep my eyes tightly closed as he re-enters the room. “Don’t fall asleep.” His warning this time has me opening my eyes and glancing at him. A dangerous shiver rattles my bones and the idea of escape breaks apart and turns into a mist that dissolves completely.
He sits back down, and my gaze roams over the tattoos that coat both his arms, fingers, his neck and as far as the shirt will allow me to see. There isn’t a blank space on his tanned skin.
“Face the window.” His accent is a mingle of Russian but toned down to something Irish. I want to ask him, but I turn away. Getting friendly with The Collector isn’t wise. Not that he would answer my questions. My thoughts cease as a sharp needle enters my flesh. My stomach heaves with the tug on my head. I try not to picture a needle and thread in his hands.
I open my eyes and focus on the sky, clouds move past and reshape but I can’t make a picture out of them like I could when I was a kid. Spending hours lying in the lush green grass with my brother would be how I’d pass the time. I squeeze my eyes tightly as a final sharp pain erupts at the back of my neck. I automatically go to rub it.
“Don’t touch it.”
My hand falls back to my stomach and The Collector stands up. “Don’t sleep for a few hours.” The tips of his fingers are coated in blood. His eyes hold no warmth as he steps into the bathroom. The sound of running water has me sitting up. The ache in my head has me slightly worried. What if I have an internal bleed? I’m itching to touch my neck, but I keep my hands resting on my stomach.
The Collector leaves the bathroom, his heavy eyes land on me and I sink deeper into the bed. The room shrinks quickly and I’m tempted to close my eyes. He dries his hands on a small navy towel as he stares at me. When he’s finished, he doesn’t speak but leaves the room. The key turns in the door and I’m not sure if I want to sink into the bed now that he has gone, or cry because I’m alone, once again, with my thoughts.
CHAPTER THREE
NICHOLAI
Opening the windows after cleaning up the vomit, I’m ready for this mission to end. I’m aware of the time that is passing. I have twenty-four hours to get Dimitri. Glancing at my phone tells me I have sixteen hours left. I open my tracking app and have a sense of satisfaction when Mila’s red dot blinks to life in the upstairs bedroom. She hasn’t moved off the bed. After I had stitched her head, I had placed a tracking device into her neck. It’s the only way I could leave her alone and make sure she stayed where I left her.
Showering and changing into a fresh black suit, I leave the house again.
The neighborhood that I pull up in has too many unemployed people loitering on their porches. All eyes swing to my Audi. Drugs, poverty and violence have taken any form of civilization away from these people. I could understand how Dimitri wanted to live amongst them. It reminded him of the Bratva. It was a unit, a law upon itself. It was belonging. No one sits on his porch. I hadn’t exactly expected a welcoming committee. Checking both guns, I place one in the holster around my ankle and the other I stick in the band of my trousers as I exit the car.
The shift in the air is so brief; it’s like the rattle before the crack of thunder. These people recognize me and slowly they make their way into their homes. Locks are turned and soon the street is devoid of life. I move along the white panelling of Dimitri’s home as I make my way around back. The back door is unlocked. I pause for a heartbeat and remove my gun from my waistband. He knew I would come; he wasn’t stupid. I lower the gun and step into a tidy kitchen. My gaze bounces across the washed down counters before jumping to Dimitri who stands in the doorway that leads to the hall.
“You could always say you didn’t find me.”
I grin. I don’t put my gun away but lower it to the ground. “I find everyone.”
Dimitri doesn’t return my smile. “I have a daughter.” His admission adds a layer to him that I don’t want to see.
“You can come with me without a struggle, or I can drag you to Victor.”
His laugh fills the small kitchen. “Have you ever met Victor?”
His question has me raising my gun. I didn't do this. I didn't talk and debate. Debating meant there was room for a negotiation, which there wasn’t.
I didn’t want to shoot him and he was unarmed. Placing the gun in the band of my trousers, I clear the space between us.
“Move.” I order.
His lips curl up. “You don’t have to do this.” He raises both hands like I have a choice.
“Move.” I give the final order and curse him as he pulls a knife from his sleeve. I lean back as the silver dagger swipes the air. It’s a kill shot. He tried to cut my throat. He swings quickly, not giving me much time to recover. I met his arm with my own. The knife vibrates in his fingers before he loses his hold and it sails across the room. His eyes widen but flicker towards the back door. The creak of the hinges has me diving to the ground. I remove both guns and point them at my targets. The guy pauses in the door and he hasn’t a chance. I pull both triggers and two bodies hit the ground.
Getting off the ground, I holster my guns before wiping down my suit. The guy who’s face down at the back door, bleeds out on the tiled floor. Using my foot, I kick him onto his back. He looks like one of the porch occupants. Maybe a friend of Dimitri’s. I check his pocket for a wallet but find none. I’m ready to dismiss him as a neighbor when a tattoo behind his ear catches my attention. A small picture of an octopus has been tattooed onto him.
I grab his arms and drag him away from the back door. Going out to my car, I reverse it up the driveway and pop the trunk. Rolling out some plastic, I grab two gallons of petrol. I bring them inside the small house. Dimitri is heavy, but I carry him out and place him on the plastic in the truck of my car. The wound between his eyes leaks and I wrap the plastic around him befor
e returning to the house. I douse each room in petrol and lead a trail out to the driveway. I drop a match and watch the line of petrol burn as it makes its way into Dimitri’s house.
I pull out and see curtains shift as I drive through the small neighborhood. Dimitri’s house blazes behind me, but no one comes out of their homes to investigate.
***
I leave Dimitri’s body in the can and drive back to Gail’s. She’s there when I arrive and I see the disappointment at seeing me.
“You tried to have me killed by one of your goons.”
She stands tall and wraps one hand around the other that hangs in front of her. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
I smile at her as I move closer. “No worries, he’s dead. Both of them are.”
It’s there, I see it in the depths of her dark eyes. She had a thing with Dimitri.
“I didn’t think you would get attached to someone. You know, in this game, we all have to be lone wolves.”
Her laughter is forced. “He kept my bed warm, that was it.”
I move closer, so I’m towering over her. “If that’s all it was, why did you send one of your men to kill me?”
It’s the first time I see the indecision in her eyes. “I didn’t send him to kill you, I only sent him to warn Dimitri.”
I didn’t believe a word she was saying. She was lying through her pearly whites.
“You inconvenienced me.”
Gail holds my stare before raising her hand and clicking her fingers. A young boy comes forward.
“Nicholai would like to be entertained. Give him whatever he wants.”
I grin at Gail. “I’ll take the offer, but it doesn’t erase what you did.” I leave the threat hanging and follow the boy to the back rooms.
“What would you like, Mr. Nicholai?”
I’m picturing a blond with big boobs, only a small blond with blue eyes and small breasts fill my mind.
