by Roxie Rivera
“Is that what they want you to stay quiet about? The guards are abusing the prisoners?”
“That’s part of it.”
“There’s more?” I exclaimed, sickened by the realization that my sister had been stuck in a horrific and traumatizing place for all those long months. “Ruby?”
She shook her head. “I can’t, Erin. Not right now.”
“Okay. It’s fine. You don’t have to say anything else until you’re ready.” I reached for her hand, and she interlaced our fingers, holding on for dear life. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here, and I’ll listen.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, her hand shaking in mine. She glanced out the window and said, “You can tell Ivan, but no one else.”
Ivan.
Once he found out what had happened, he would go ballistic. There would be no stopping his need for vengeance for his family. He would risk another prison sentence to make sure Ruby received the justice she deserved.
My thoughts turned from the shock of finding out my sister had been raped—probably more than once—by a prison guard to burning white-hot fury. I was overwhelmed by violent thoughts. I wanted to kill that piece of shit. I wanted to lock him in a cage with Ivan and let my husband teach that disgusting, worthless worm what real pain was.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to exploit all of Ivan’s connections. I wanted to do ugly, terrible things to the man who had hurt my sister. I wanted blood.
And, if I knew my husband, he would make sure I got it.
Chapter Twelve
“That’s the seventh time you’ve checked your phone since you finished our paperwork,” Ivan remarked as we waited to be called into our fertility appointment a few days later. He had his arm slung along the back of my chair, and soothingly rubbed my upper arm. “Ruby will be fine.”
"How can you be sure?” She had stayed behind at the house while we attended our appointment, and even with the security system in place, I was nervous about her being alone after the unnerving run-in at the probation office. We hadn’t seen or heard from Jodi Kavanaugh since that day, but I remained on edge, expecting him to jump out like the bogeyman where ever I went.
He shifted slightly and stroked my neck. “Kir and Stas are sitting at the house.”
The two men trained at our gym but were also part of Nikolai’s crew. “Why not hire one or two of Dimitri’s guards?”
“Because they’ll want to play by the book,” he answered honestly.
“And Stas and Kir won’t.”
“Exactly.”
Deciding this wasn’t the place to discuss his reasons in-depth, I asked, “What are we going to about Ruby finding a job? She can go a little while without one as long as she proves she’s actively seeking work, but what if she can’t get hired anywhere?”
Until my sister’s experience, I had never given much thought to how felons found work after release. Seeing how many employers wouldn’t even look at a felon’s application, I suddenly had a better understanding of why so many offenders ended up back on drugs or in jail. Ruby was luckier than most. She had a safe place to stay, all the food she could ever want, and access to all the comforts and necessities of modern life. What about all the newly released prisoners who didn’t have a support system like hers?
“I have an idea,” Ivan said. “She’ll probably hate it, but it’s the best offer she’s going to get.”
Before I could ask about his idea, a nurse called us back for our appointment. My stomach fluttered with nervous energy, and I silently prayed this would be the start of a successful baby-making journey. With his hand on my lower back, Ivan walked beside me across the waiting room and down the hall lined with prettily framed photos of smiling parents and their babies. Instead of the expected exam room, we were taken to an office for our consultation, which helped me relax a little more.
Nancy, the patient education nurse, sat down with us and went over the process of working with the clinic. After briefly explaining the medical side of things, including some of the tests we would have and the options to achieve a healthy pregnancy, she said, “We have actual licensed therapists and counselors on staff if you would like to talk to someone as you go on this journey.”
Ivan had draped his arm along the back of my chair again, and I could feel him tense at the mention of counseling. I hoped he would keep an open mind about it, but I wasn’t going to push this early in the process.
Nancy didn’t seem to notice his reaction, or maybe she saw it so often from patients that it barely registered anymore. Instead, she asked, “Have you spoken with our financial department? Your insurance will likely cover the testing, but the actual procedures and medications aren’t usually covered. We have access to loans, medical credit cards and even grants if that’s something you’ll want to investigate with one of our financial counselors.”
Fully aware that we were incredibly lucky when it came to money, I had a moment of guilt as I said, “That’s not an issue for us. We’ll be self-paying for whatever our insurance doesn’t cover.”
“Well, that makes things simpler,” Nancy replied, shutting the folder filled with forms and pamphlets. Handing it over, she said, “Dr. Tafesh will be in to see you in a few minutes. She’s finishing up with another patient.”
Alone in the office, Ivan spoke first. “I’ll go if you want to go.” He cleared his throat. “To therapy.”
I shifted in my seat and touched his jaw. He seemed so uncomfortable in this space, surrounded by plastic models and tasteful infographics of male and female reproductive systems. “I appreciate that, Ivan.”
He grunted in that adorable grumpy bear way he had. “It’s the least I can do.”
“It’s really not,” I countered and stroked his jaw, feeling the slight scratch of stubble under my fingertips. “I know this isn’t how we wanted this to go, and I wish my uterus would behave and do its job because—”
“Stop.” He silenced me with a tender kiss. Pressing his forehead to mine, he said, “Whatever happens, whatever is wrong, we’ll figure it out together, yes?”
Basking in his love for me, I nodded and stole a quick kiss as the door opened behind us. We both stood to greet Dr. Tafesh, shaking her hand and introducing ourselves. She had the most incredible tawny eyes and a friendly smile that set me at ease. Her earrings caught my attention, and I couldn’t help but tap my own similar golden earrings. “Zoya?”
“Yes!” Dr. Tafesh answered excitedly. “I see you’re a fan as well.”
“Yes. Very much so.” I couldn’t wait to tell Zoya I had seen her designs out in the wild.
“Why don’t we have a seat and chat about your medical history?”
After we sat, Ivan kept one arm around my shoulders, and the other reached for my hand, holding it as we waited for Dr. Tafesh to scroll through her tablet screen. “You’re both in very good health. Erin, you’re in your prime reproductive years, and Ivan,” she pronounced his name the correct way with a long “e” sound, “you’re a bit older but still within the optimal range for conception.”
Ivan’s jaw twitched at the “bit older” remark. He was nearly ten years my senior, after all.
“Ivan, you seem to exercise quite a lot,” Dr. Tafesh remarked as she read our intake forms. “A minimum of twenty-four hours a week! Are you a professional athlete?”
“I operate a mixed martial arts gym,” he explained, “so I stay in fighting shape.”
“I see.” She glanced back down at the tablet. “Erin, you take a more moderate approach it seems.”
“Just barre and some light lifting and cardio at home,” I confirmed.
“Your cycles are regular,” she commented. “Low pain levels with your period. No heavy cramping or bleeding?”
“No.”
“You have a family history of endometriosis,” she murmured. “Mother and grandmother?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve never been pregnant and miscarried?”
“No.”
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br /> “Well, you two are a puzzle,” Dr. Tafesh announced with a smile. “I like a good puzzle.” Sitting back in her chair, she placed the tablet on her lap. “So, I would like to start with a wide range of blood tests for both of you and then some imaging studies for Erin. Ivan, we’ll need a sample from you. The results from these tests will help me form a better idea of what the problem might be and how best to go about fixing it. Do you two have any questions for me?”
I did, of course, and opened up the list of them in the Notes app on my phone. I asked them one by one, and Dr. Tafesh answered every one of them in a way that was easy to understand and set my mind at ease. After our consultation, we were walked to an imaging room across the hall for my ultrasounds and then to the lab for our bloodwork. I had to stifle a laugh at the unamused look on Ivan’s face when the lab tech handed him a paper bag with a sample cup inside.
“Down the hall, to the right,” the tech said, gesturing that direction. “Pick a room. Read the instructions in the bag or on the posters on the wall. After you give your sample, tighten the lid, write the time on the label, put the cup in the bag, and drop it off at the sample window. Once that’s done, you’re free to go.”
“Is he serious?” Ivan hissed when we were out in the hallway. He stared at the bag in his hand as if it were filled with something offensive. “They want me to...” He couldn’t even finish the thought. “Here?”
Taking his hand, I smiled coyly and tugged him forward. “Come on.”
“Erin,” he protested but followed along anyway.
“It’s going to be fine,” I assured him. “You’ll see.”
He grumbled something in Russian I couldn’t make out and trudged behind me until we reached one of the rooms reserved for giving a sample. I pulled him inside and locked the door behind us. Leaning back against it, I grinned. While I had been prepping for our first visit, I had joined an infertility group on Facebook. It was filled with lots of great information and tips for moments like this. Worried that Ivan would be uncomfortable in a setting like this, I had ordered something very special and new for the occasion. I was pretty sure he was going to like it.
He had stopped in the center of the room. His entire stance was tight, as if he were ready to bolt from the room and never come back. He grimaced when he noticed the TV mounted on the wall in front of a low couch covered in a shiny, easily cleaned navy blue vinyl. “I am not watching porn and stroking one out on a couch that squeaks.”
“I can’t do anything about the squeaky couch,” I said, still leaning against the door, “but I can help with the other part.”
Ivan’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How?”
Wordlessly, I reached down and grasped the hem of my black pencil skirt. I had worn a typical work outfit today—pencil skirt, silk coral wrap blouse, and heels—but underneath I had a hidden secret. Holding his piqued interest, I pulled the hem of my skirt higher and higher, not stopping until it was bunched around my waist. Ivan’s heated gaze burned right through me as he swallowed hard at the sight of my black thigh highs and the matching garter belt. The tiny panties were barely-there mesh.
When I untied the silk ties at my waist and opened my shirt to reveal a balconette bra, he tossed the paper bag onto the couch and stalked toward me. I giggled excitedly against his lips as he captured my mouth and then moaned when he lifted me into his arms and cupped my bottom. He laughed quietly and then gestured toward the sign on the back of the door. “We’re supposed to be quiet.”
“Right,” I whispered, grabbing hold of his neck and the back of his head to kiss him aggressively. He growled deep in his chest, and I could already feel the rigid length of his cock growing between us. Gently and quietly as possible, he placed me on the couch and knelt between my open thighs. I rested my calves on his shoulders and lifted my backside to free the paper bag and sample cup trapped beneath me. He took the cup out and placed it on the top of the couch, leaning it against the wall where it would be easily grabbed when the time was right.
“We can’t swap any body fluids down south,” I reminded him and pointed to the poster on the wall above us.
“Not a fucking problem,” he assured me as he freed his dick from his pants. He stroked his thick, long shaft with his scarred and tattooed hand. His monster cock looked normal in his big hands, but when I reached for him, wrapping my slim fingers around his girth, it looked obscenely huge. I rubbed my thumb along the underside of the ruddy head, pushing back his foreskin, and he groaned, thrusting his cock against my hand for more stimulation.
“Wait,” I instructed breathlessly. “There’s something else for you.”
His eyes flashed with need. “Show me.”
Widening my thighs even more, I ran my fingers along the thin triangle of fabric covering my pussy. Pushing the fabric apart, I whispered, “Look.”
“Where the fuck did you get these?” He took advantage of the split fabric to trace my labia and then dip his fingers into me.
“That’s my secret,” I replied, starting to pant as his fingers swirled over my clit.
“You’re buying more of these,” he decided. “And you’re wearing them to work so I can bend you over the desk in our office and fuck you whenever I want.”
My pussy clenched at the image of him storming into the office, closing the door and pushing me face down on my desk. The idea of having my skirt shoved up, and his cock thrusting into while I gripped my desk made me so wet. He groaned against and pressed his two of his big fingers inside of me, pumping in and out as I stroked his cock. He leaned over me and plundered my mouth, tangling his tongue with mine until we were both shaking and panting.
“I’m close,” he gritted out. “Really fucking close.”
I kept one hand on his cock and reached for the cup with the other. Careful not to put my fingers inside, I removed the lid and set it aside. It was a little tricky to hold the cup in place while I moved my hand faster and tighter over his shaft and right under the head where he was the most sensitive. “Come on, baby,” I urged, my tongue tracing my upper lip. “Give me your cum.”
“Fuck,” he growled and thrust forward into my hand.
“That’s it,” I murmured breathily. “Fuck my hand. Show me how much you want to put a baby in me.”
His pace stuttered. Harshly, he whispered, “Fuck. Fuck!”
“That’s it. Give me every last drop,” I urged, milking him with controlled strokes until his entire sample was in the cup. He was still shuddering when I grabbed the lid and carefully sealed the cup. I had barely set aside the cup when he jerked down both of my bra cups, baring my hard nipples to his hungry gaze. He licked both of them as he pushed three fingers into my pussy and circled my clit with his thumb. When he pinched my nipple, I arched my hips at the wild jolt of pain and pleasure. The moment he pinched my other nipple, I saw stars. Somehow, I managed to hold back a cry of pleasure, staying completely silent as an incredible orgasm overwhelmed me.
He slumped forward on top of me, his forehead between my breasts. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close, enjoying the heat and weight of him. After a while, when we had both stopped panting, he kissed me tenderly and stroked my face. “Thank you.”
“No, no, no,” I replied, still glowing after my climax. “Thank you.”
He laughed and kissed me again. “Let’s get out of here.”
Glad for the attached bathroom, we quickly tidied up and labeled the cup. He placed it back in the paper bag before we left the sample room and dropped it off at the discreetly labeled little window. Hand in hand, we exited the clinic through the waiting room and took the elevator down to the parking garage.
“So,” I said as he turned onto Fannin from the garage, “what’s your idea about Ruby’s job.”
His mouth quirked with a boyish grin. “She’s going to work for me.”
I blinked. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“Ivan.”
“Erin.”
My
mouth settled into an annoyed line. “You and Ruby working together will be a shit show.”
“Probably,” he agreed, “at first, but I think it will be good for her.”
“That depends on what you expect her to do.”
“Cleaning equipment, organizing weights, gym laundry, scheduling, inventory and anything else she can do to take some of the weight off your shoulders and mine,” he said. “She can come with me in the mornings to open up while I work out.”
I snorted. “You leave the house before five.”
“Yes. And?”
“She’s like a hibernating bear when she’s asleep. Good luck getting her out of bed on time.”
“She’ll get up and go to work, or she’ll have to deal with her probation officer,” he replied matter-of-factly. “She’s an adult. She can set her own alarm and take responsibility for herself.” He glanced over at me before switching lanes. “She doesn’t have very many options. She can take a temp job through one of the programs that hire ex-cons, or she can come work with us in the family business. Maybe it’s not the career she wants, but it’s steady work. The pay will be fair. She’ll have insurance—"
“And she’ll be safe,” I interrupted, finally understanding why he wanted her at the gym with us. “We’ll both be safe with you all day. You won’t have to worry as much because we’ll be in your line of sight.”
“Exactly,” he replied. “I need you both close until we get this situation handled.”
“We as in you and me and Ruby? Or we meaning you and Nikolai and the others?”
“Yes,” he answered, shooting me a playful smile.
“Ivan!” I huffed.
“Erin,” he said more seriously, “this is a very delicate situation, right? We’re talking about a criminal conspiracy inside the jail—rape and who knows what else because Ruby won’t tell us the rest. We don’t know how high this thing goes. If Ruby isn’t willing to go to the authorities and press charges—and I don’t blame her—we are limited in what we can do and how we can cover ourselves.”
“I know,” I agreed tiredly. “It’s such a mess.” I bit my lower lip. “What she told us about—the little she told us—is sex trafficking. It’s illegal as fuck. Maybe,” I hesitated, “maybe we should call the Texas Rangers or the FBI.”