THE RUSSIAN THUG: Abducted by the Bratva ~Krasnov Brothers Book 1~

by Warren, Rie

  It didn’t take long for him to return my kiss, his hands sweeping down my back to cup my ass.

  I drew back after lusciously sucking on his bottom lip. “Thank you.”

  He cleared his throat, meeting my earnest eyes for several long seconds. “I’ve got to go now. I’ll be right downstairs.”

  After he departed, I turned on my phone to make sure he hadn’t actually just dismantled the whole thing.

  Miraculously, it still worked.

  Would wonders never cease?

  I returned to the bedroom with Boris loping after me. “Guess I better clean up this mess, huh, pup?”

  It still tickled me that Kirill had named him Boris Yelpsin—his sense of humor came out at the rarest moments, and I’d begun to treasure the sound of his deep laugh, the sight of his breathtaking smile.

  Humming under my breath, I set about placing all the breakfast things back on the tray.

  I supposed the phone didn’t make a huge difference. I certainly didn’t use it for frivolous things like Facebook, which I definitely wasn’t on.

  He never would’ve given it back if he hadn’t come to some sort of agreement with my brothers first anyway. But I recognized the gesture for what it was—an olive branch from the man who demanded absolute loyalty.

  After I cleaned the dishes in the kitchen, I took a long shower, remembering the much more sensual one last night.

  He had a way about him that made my body tighten and tingle in the most delicious places.

  And, in the bedroom, all those clothes and items he’d purchased for me were neatly put away in his dresser or hanging in his closet.

  This place—a Bratva stronghold—had oddly begun to feel like home.

  Everything I put on was brand new, probably very expensive, and fit me like a glove. The man had impeccable taste.

  I brushed out my damp hair then made the bed, arranging the pillows I’d sent into disarray last night. The heights of pleasure Kirill drove me to made me mindless, delirious, absolutely wanton.

  Just earlier it’d been nearly impossible to focus on eating when he’d sat there like a magnificent god, wearing only a towel low on his lean hips.

  Little girl he called me.

  At first he’d meant to demean me, I was sure.

  Now when he said it, the words sounded like a caress, a term of endearment from such a usually stoic man.

  I tidied away the first aid things I’d used to take care of him yesterday, cleaning up the bathroom counter. Finally, I threw out those ugly clothes he’d come home in. The sweats and shirt had seemed to offend Kirill more than the lacerations and bruises marking his flesh.

  I was puttering around some more—alternating between that and loving on Boris—when my phone chimed with a new message.

  I didn’t recognize the number but, then again, I hadn’t been in possession of my phone for days.

  The text read:

  Jo, you there?

  Who’s this? I typed back.

  Jo?

  This is Jo. Now who the hell is this?

  Lucky. Using a burner. Gotta keep things on the down lo right now

  Why?

  Listen, sis. Think the Russkies might be in danger. We can help. Come alone.

  Frowning, I sank onto the couch and stared at the thread of messages.

  If Kirill, Arkady, and Maksim were willing to help my brothers take on Da then maybe, for a change, I could do something to help them.

  After yesterday with the Yakuza, I knew Lucky had the Bratva’s best interests in mind.

  I texted back:

  Fine. Send location and time to meet. Has to be ASAP

  Back in the bedroom, Boris once again shadowing me, I pulled a black T-shirt over my tank top. With my hair always a dead giveaway, I stuffed it up under the new baseball cap and turned the bill backward so the Red Sox emblem was less prominent.

  Remembering that first afternoon in this place, I furtively glanced at the security cameras in the room. I’d nearly forgotten about the monitoring devices.

  Once again, the light showed red—not recording.

  Kirill is trying to trust me.

  I couldn’t do this to him . . . but if it was for him and his brothers’ own good . . .?

  I checked my phone again—Lucky’s location was only a block or so away. Now that I looked as nondescript as possible, I just needed a way out of Kirill’s apartment. And the nightclub, with dozens or more soldiers milling around and the elevator impossible to access.

  Unbelievably, I heard the elevator ding right then.

  Boris went trotting out to the main room, and I heard a woman say, “Hey, doggie. I brought you the treats you love. Yes I did.”

  The voice didn’t belong to Sasha or Baba, so I went to inspect the new visitor.

  The woman bent over Boris, hand feeding him his treats when I walked into the room.

  She peered up at the sound of my steps approaching, then stood fully.

  Caucasian. Mid-forties. Streaked blonde hair in a ponytail. She smacked gum loudly and kept one hand on a tall trolley loaded with mops, brooms, spray bottles, sponges.

  A cleaner. Not the type of cleaner normally employed by a mafia.

  “I’m—” I started to introduce myself.

  Her hands flew up. “No names. I ain’t to know any names. I just clean, darlin’.”

  Dammit. So she was well-versed in the ways of the organization.

  She wouldn’t be any help.

  After patting Boris one last time, she snapped her gum some more. “Imma start with the rooms in the back. Sheets always need changin’ ’round here, if you get my meanin’.”

  “I’ll just be here, doing my nails,” I grumbled quietly.

  Kirill had said no pedicures.

  Ha.

  Maybe I’d surprise him in a different way. Save his ass for once.

  But Lucky had only given me twenty minutes to get to the nearby location so I could find out what was going on, and hopefully divert whatever new danger was headed the nightclub’s way.

  Then I noticed something sitting right out in the open on the kitchen island.

  A keycard?

  Holy shit.

  The gum-popping cleaner had her own all access pass?

  Moving on silent treads, I swiped up the card. Thank god, Boris had bounded down the hallway in search of more goodies.

  Within seconds, I was ensconced in the elevator, headed for the first floor of The Sickle.

  I hoped and prayed the main men—Kirill, his brothers, and Yury—were up in the office above the bar.

  When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, I stood to the side, out of sight. I peeked out into the corridor.

  Empty.

  Exhaling a quiet breath, I hurried to the door of the nightclub.

  I wouldn’t be able to escape through the loading bay. I’d witnessed on many occasions how heavily guarded the area was.

  My only way out had to be through the dungeon-like basement.

  I’d seen Kirill’s suspicious expression when he’d taken me down there, when I’d asked where one of the other hallways led.

  I figured that was where they stashed the black-market guns. They’d have another exit from underground rather than carting the weapons they trafficked through the club.

  Doubted the maid’s keycard would get me into the basement area though.

  Drawing in a last deep breath, I slid out into The Cat and the Sickle and ducked quickly behind the long high bar.

  Thank goodness it was only midmorning.

  I heard voices, but none were too near as I crouched down and made myself as invisible as I could.

  Slinking to the far end of the bar, I waited—hunkered—right there.

  Right next to the door that opened to the dungeon.

  I didn’t have to wait long before a soldier approached, shouting in Russian across the room.

  Laughter followed in his wake, and he keyed himself into the basement’s door.

 
As soon as he entered, I snuck through too.

  I wedged into a shadowy corner on the landing and held my breath.

  He descended the ringing metal stairs then disappeared from my sight.

  My heart stomped around in my chest, just about to burst free.

  Kirill was gonna kill me if—when—he found out I’d disobeyed him.

  Second thoughts churned up my stomach.

  But I could do some good.

  Something good for him.

  Determined, I hopped onto one of the metal railings and slid soundlessly down to the basement floor.

  I hurried along, silent and stealthy. I made it all the way to the room where Kirill had spanked me nearly to orgasm—I couldn’t think about that now. Jesus.

  Rushing to the corner of that hall, I peered in one direction then the other.

  I ducked back, legs shaking, when a heavily armed guard emerged from what had to be the guns cache.

  He murmured something in gruff Russian, then walked to the opposite end of the hall without once glancing in my direction.

  God, I’d really have to learn the language if I was ever gonna navigate this Bratva life.

  If Kirill kept me.

  If he even wanted me the way I wanted him.

  Time was ticking down, and I needed to get a move on and stop thinking about consequences.

  I was wily. Hell, I’d been in and out of tighter jams than this before.

  Expelling another deep slow breath, I headed the way the Russian had come, keeping my back to the wall and moving fast.

  I reached the end of the corridor and laughter bubbled up—laughter I trapped inside.

  Light. Daylight.

  Up a ramp right ahead of me.

  I looked back. Clear.

  I glanced up. No one in sight.

  Sprinting up the incline, I only stopped at the bulkhead.

  I stuck my head out on a swivel, thinking my switchblade—or that awesome freaking sword—could really come in handy right about now.

  Except I wouldn’t hurt any of Kirill’s men.

  I wouldn’t endanger the Bratva.

  I only wanted to help.

  That in mind and the coast momentarily clear, I took the exit and ran to the opposite side of the road.

  Miracle of miracles, the two soldiers on guard outside the back entrance from the basement huddled together on one corner before—just seconds after my clean escape—they marched back into position. They flanked the opening to the tunnel, and a big black van drove up, walling me from their sight.

  I sank against the building behind me, thankful for the deep shadows of an alleyway.

  It took me a moment to get my bearings then I pulled out my phone to text Lucky I was on my way.

  Two minutes later, I’d dashed to my brother’s location.

  The street in this particular part of the city looked completely deserted, and I smeared a hand across the grimy window of a closed-up corner shop.

  I messaged Lucky again, telling him I’d arrived.

  I was just about to get my swearing on with him via text when a truck careened around the corner and slammed on the breaks right in front of me.

  The back door of the crew cab swung open.

  “Lucky. What the hell is going on? I can’t be out here long or Kirill’s gonna—”

  My words dried up when the man who struck out of the vehicle definitely wasn’t my brother—not one of the three of them.

  It was Damion.

  My da’s second in charge since he preferred big brutal thugs over his own flesh and blood.

  Damion.

  One of the many O’Sullivan soldiers who’d taken such revolting pleasure in raping me.

  22

  Jo Part Two

  MY GOD. I WAS so stupid!

  “Ain’t no one here to hear you scream, bitch.” Damion hulked up in front of me, and two more of my dad’s favorite gangsters vaulted from the truck to block any escape before I could act.

  The truck engine revved, and Damion snatched my wrists in his big hand.

  He slammed his repulsive mouth over mine, gagging me with his tongue practically digging down my throat.

  “Yeah! Show that slut whore who’s boss.”

  “Fuckin’ pull her pants down right now and I’ll mount ’er on the street like the bitch she is.”

  His cronies shouted, and my ears rang.

  I thrashed my head, trying to break free of the slobbery, punishing kiss.

  Kicking Damion’s shin, I finally got his face off of mine.

  All he did was twist my wrists together so the bones almost snapped like twigs, and he laughed up at the sky. “Almost forgot how much I missed the fight in you.” He dragged me back to him. “Can’t wait to make that cunt of yours bleed on my cock.”

  Thrusting my knee up, I hit him in the balls with all the hate vibrating through my bones.

  Damion stopped laughing then. Stooping over, he gasped for great big gulps of air.

  Another of the goons took hold of me, and he shoved me into the back of the truck, squishing in right beside me.

  I was completely overpowered when he clamped my wrists back together and clapped his other hand over my mouth.

  The driver shouted at Damion, “C’mon, ya big fuck. Ain’t got time for this right now.”

  Kirill had every right to hate me now.

  I’d gone against his express orders when he’d been trying to keep me safe.

  I’d put myself in the very worst position possible, and he wouldn’t care that I’d done this for him.

  I couldn’t be trusted.

  Tears welled in my eyes, but I couldn’t afford those either.

  Blinking rapidly, I stiffened my shoulders, ignoring the pain shooting through my wrists.

  I’d already given everything to these assholes.

  What more could they do to me that they hadn’t already?

  The rapes.

  The beatings.

  The gloating.

  Damion limped to the vehicle and yanked the bastard with his hand over my mouth from the back.

  He smushed in beside me and, turning to me, he wore the nastiest sneer I’d ever seen.

  Grasping my chin so his fingers gouged into my cheeks, he got in my face. “We haven’t had our share of tail since you up and got yourself abducted. Hope that gets fixed today, and you get fixed up right.”

  He ripped the baseball cap from my head, yanking painfully at strands of my hair.

  The vehicle jetted into motion, and Damion continued to snarl at me.

  At least he wasn’t molesting my mouth at the moment.

  I almost laughed as wild hysteria and utter hopelessness surged through me. Leave it to me to get kidnapped from the kidnapper.

  Except I’d come to terms with Kirill. I’d more than come to like him.

  Now this.

  Because I couldn’t behave. Because I was rash.

  And this was how I’d pay.

  I almost let tears leak again when I saw where the truck stopped.

  At the old compound. The hateful place where Da had given my virginity to Damion. When I was only sixteen.

  All the years after had been one long continuous nightmare until the day Kirill had abducted me.

  Damion and the others hopped out after the truck stopped, and he reached back to lug me unceremoniously to the pavement.

  Lips compressed together, I shuffled in his wake. I had no choice.

  Never had.

  He held my hands in an invincible clamp, almost pulling my arms from the shoulder sockets.

  Inside the building that smelled just as musty and dirty as it used to, I kept my head down. I didn’t want to see reminders of the past that had given me waking terrors.

  I didn’t look up until I smelled that old ugly familiar stench that made my stomach roil. A reek of yellowed tobacco stains and vomited Jameson whiskey.

  “You!” I glared.

  My da rolled his wiry shoulders and stubbed out a cigar
ette beneath his boot. “Those fecking Russkies thought they could take you from me without paying?”

  His hand cracked against the side of my face so fast it blurred.

  I reeled on my feet, only Damion’s unbreakable hold keeping me upright. Only because my shoulders hadn’t dislocated yet.

  I met Da’s hate-fueled glare as he spouted, “My flesh and blood. My property.”

  “What does it matter? You gave me to everyone else free of charge.” I spat a gob at his feet, and my spit rolled off his boot.

  “They paid in loyalty.”

  The O’Sullivan soldiers who’d made free use of my body ringed around in a tight circle. I could almost feel foul heat climbing off of them, and it made my flesh crawl.

  Kirill was the only man who knew me.

  Who’d gotten to me.

  Who’d touched me the way I needed, and only because I wanted it. Wanted him.

  Da lit another smoke, leaving it hanging from the corner of his hard mouth.

  “Knew you’d come. Your good-for-nothin’ brothers always were your only weakness,” he boasted with his chest puffed out, trails of smoke puffing from the glowing end of his cigarette.

  The full horror of my situation descended, and my voice emerged hoarse. “You tricked me.”

  “Sure did. Ain’t no one gonna get one over on me. Not you”—he stabbed the cig in my direction, so close to my neck that my skin could’ve blistered—“not your brothers. And not those motherfucking Bratva bastards tellin’ me what I can or can’t trade in.”

  Of course he’d dragged me here, to this room. With the bare bloodied mattress—my blood—and the bare hanging bulb, and all the pain in the world.

  “Your time is coming, Da.” I jutted my chin forward since I couldn’t move any other part of my body. “Lucky will never let you get away with this.”

  He snorted. “Lucky don’t even know where you are. Got you all fooled good, didn’t I?”

  His easygoing moment ended with a brain-jarring backhand to my cheek.

  My head snapped back. My teeth clattered together.

  I saw dark stars before I could even focus again.

  “Goddamn bitch,” Da muttered. “Just like your mother. By god girl, I’m gonna get my money’s worth out of you yet.”

  He stepped back and, before I could retort, someone else slid from the shadows.