“I think it’s chained,” Erik grunted. The old lock on the heavy wooden door should have given way by now. “We can break some glass or we can break the door. Which one will be easier?”
“We don’t exactly have a battering ram, but it would still be easier to break the door. Much less chance of injury.” One of the men spoke in Russian, voicing everyone’s thoughts. They lined up and started running into the door, ramming it with their bodies.
Erik gritted his teeth. The sheer noise generated by them taking down the door alone was enough to alert anyone in the building. Flashes of light around the corner. Gunshots? Or something else? Erik aimed his gun at the glass beside of the door, startling the men mid-run. Several fell onto the pavement.
“I can’t wait for this. Those may be gunshots!” Erik crossed his arms over his face and pushed through the broken glass. It rained on the tile floor of the bar room and he was in. There was, in fact, no one there. It was almost eerily quiet until gunshot came from upstairs again. A woman screamed, too high pitched to be Jalisa. Nikita.
“I’m going further in. You follow when you can.” Erik barely glanced over his shoulder before running toward the upstairs steps. The employee entrance was busted open and the door swung uselessly on its loose hinges.
“Help!” Another scream. It was definitely Nikita. Erik kicked in the thin, cheap door to the apartment upstairs before jumping back a few stairs. Four more shots fired, all toward the door. Erik was smart enough to dodge them.
Keeping his head down, he made a beeline to the couch. It was cover. A trail of bullets followed him. The stream paused, and then two different people were calling his name.
“Erik!” Nikita and Marie both screamed in relief.
“Erik there's these - Back off, asshole! - men trying to get to me! Help me!” Marie continued.
“Where is Jalisa?” Erik crouched down behind the couch. Standing in open doorways, their bodies shielded by corners, stood the two men that were tasked with taking down Marie.
“She’s fine! Help me!” Marie’s voice echoed before another round of horribly aimed bullets went flying through the air. She was positioned in her room, the barrel of a gun sticking out of the door.
“This woman says she will kill the kid if we do not let her pass,” one of Erik’s men shouted at him.
“You threatened Nikita?” Erik watched as Marie peeked around.
“Will you fucking help me? Shoot one of them for God’s sake!” Marie was getting on Erik’s last nerve.
“Put down the gun!” Erik took a big risk and started walking toward where Marie was holed up. She looked at him with wide, panicked eyes. Marie would have to decide to let him get close to her or to shoot the man who could be her ally.
“Y-You don’t come any closer!” She pointed the barrel of the gun at him. Revolver. Most likely held six shots. She had used up the majority of them shooting blindly at nothing. A box of bullets beside her. There was a chance she reloaded, but probably not.
“I’m your friend.” Erik set his gun down on the ground and held up his hands. “Remember, Marie. You need your friends right now.”
“I guess you’re okay.” Marie bit her lip. “But why wouldn’t you shoot those guys? They’re trying to attack me!”
“Marie. You really do need some sort of help.” Erik sighed before crossing the five feet that separated them in a dive. His body crashed into Marie’s and they stumbled backwards. Erik’s men rushed in, all four of them securing their targets. Erik was right; Marie’s gun had been empty.
“Do you know where Jalisa is?” Erik had to yell to be heard over the sound of Marie kicking and thrashing her body about.
“She’s getting fucked! She’s got a client!” Marie made a disgusting noise in the back of her throat and literally tried to spit on Erik. The gob of gooey spit landed on the floor in front of him.
“What!” Erik was so angry he kicked the wall. “You all protect your targets.”
Spinning on his heels, Erik ran back down the stairs. He knew the room Marie ‘entertained’ her clients in was the first place to check. As he entered the main bar room floor, Stone was waiting for him. Stone sat at a table in the now illuminated bar, smoking a cigarette.
“Well, well, well, look who came to rescue his princess.” Stone leaned back in the chair, the front legs lifting off of the tile floor.
“Where is she?” Erik held his weapon at arm’s length, locking one elbow. “I don’t have time for your shit, Stone. This isn’t a game.”
“Isn’t it? I run; you chase. It’s a nice little game of cat and mouse. I’m almost sorry to see it end, but everything does, I suppose.” Stone leaned his weight forward, the legs of the chair coming back down with a smack that echoed through the empty space.
“I’m not playing your game.” Erik glanced toward the door to where Jalisa should be only to find it open and presumably empty.
“You already are.” Stone was haughty. He glanced over his shoulder, and three other men stepped out of the shadows. Stone had no real friends and these men were not part of the mafia, so they must be hired guns.
Erik took a step back, his jaw clenching. These were not good odds. He took another step back, intending to make a run for upstairs to get help. There was no sign of the two men who were supposed to be with him. Hopefully, they were still alive.
“Not one more step. This plays out my way.” Stone laughed. “Here are the rules. One: you drop your gun onto the ground and kick it behind the bar. Two: you take off that ugly-ass jacket and your bulletproof vest. Those go on the floor, too. No need to kick those. Three: you and me, fists only. Winner walks out of here alive and gets to fuck Jalisa.”
“How do I know you’ll play fair?” Erik jerked his head in the direction of the back-up Stone had called. “You’ll have three guns on your side the whole time. What if they just decide to rip me in half and call it a day?”
“They’ll get paid whether I’m alive or not. There’s a key in my pocket that opens a little lock box with their pay. If I’m alive, then I hand them the key. If I’m dead, then they can fish it out of my pants themselves.” Stone stood up and placed all the weapons on his person on the table. He turned his pockets inside out and unbuttoned his shirt to show he truly meant fists only.
“All right.” Erik set down his gun and kicked it behind the bar. He removed his lumpy jacket and his bulletproof vest next, leaving them in a heap in the entrance. He felt extremely naked as he walked out into the bar floor. The vulnerability of missing his weapon was getting to him.
The two men circled around each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move. They locked eyes like predators in the jungle. Erik could still remember his father’s advice from when he was a teenager getting into his first fights: hit first and hit hard.
Erik lunged forward, aiming for Stone’s face. With a sound that could almost be described as a giggle, Stone moved out of the way, only taking the blow on his shoulder. He returned with his own strike, hitting Erik squarely in the jaw. It was gentle compared to what Stone could have done. He wasn’t using his full strength, drawing this out for his own amusement. Erik rubbed his jaw as he backed up a bit. This would take longer than Erik thought.
“Why are you doing this? What the hell is wrong with you?” Erik snarled.
“Why? It’s a lot of fucking fun, Erik.” Stone lashed out with an open palm, hitting Erik in the chest.
While Stone was close, Erik reached around and grabbed his hair, holding him in place while he kneed his stomach over and over. Stone dropped hard. This wasn’t a damn game, and Erik would not treat it like one.
They exchanged blows back and forth in much the same manner until Stone got angry. Erik had gotten in one too many hits and now that he was in pain, Stone was not happy. He reeled back and hit Erik in the face with all his might.
The first thing Erik felt was cold. The chilly tile floor pressed against his face. Slobber from the hit dribbled out and pooled onto the tile
d. Then the pain. It blossomed like a delicate flower all across his face. Hands pressed firmly to the floor, he pushed himself up. The unmistakable sound of a gun being loaded echoed behind him. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Erik saw the hulking form of Stone wielding a gun pointed right at him.
With a cry, Erik scrambled forward on all fours. He drove towards the exit, fingers reaching out and grabbing his bulletproof vest just in time. Shielding his most vulnerable parts with it, he survived a bullet aimed at him rib cage. The vest shoved against him as the bullet drilled through the Kevlar fibers, leaving a dull pain but not an open wound.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen!” Stone roared. He turned to one of the men watching this unfold. “Give me your gun, stupid asshole.”
Erik scrambled on all fours behind the bar, desperately moving towards his own weapon. Stone shot randomly at the bar, hitting the bottles on the shelves. Glass shards and burning alcohol rained down on Erik. He twisted his eyes shut to protect his vision. More glass and alcohol showering down upon him. Boots moving toward him. The cool metal of his gun in his hand at last.
Carefully listening to the sound of Stone’s heavy boots slowly moving toward him, he aimed in his mind. All he had to do was pop up and pull the trigger. Erik wiped his eyes with his shirt, trying hard to ignore the way they burned despite his efforts to prevent that. He raised above the bar and emptied his clip into the direction Stone’s blurry form was in. The form shook for a moment before falling.
“Holy fuck,” came the whisper from the two men watching.
“Is he dead?” Erik called, still crouched behind the bar. He had no way of knowing for sure what Stone’s instructions to these men were.
“Yeah...you got him all right,” another voice sounded. The first man retched all over the floor as Erik stood up. He walked past the men, keeping his pace quick and opportunities for cover in the forefront of his mind. Washing his face and eyes in the bathroom, he reemerged to see just how much damage he had done.
Brains were splatter in a grotesque red streak across one of the bar tables. Stone lay in a slowly expanding pool of his own blood. He lay face up so Erik could see that three bullets hit their mark: one in the arm, one in the stomach, and one right in the forehead. He wanted to celebrate his luck, but there was still the matter of finding Jalisa and his two missing men.
After ducking in every room and finding nothing, he called one of his missing men on his cellphone. He answered immediately and let Erik know that she was found hiding in the secret basement. The two men stayed with her there, confident in Erik’s way to make his way out of the fight alive. He had many cuts from the bottles exploding, and numerous bruises and aches, but he was, indeed, alive.
The secret basement was stuffy and dusty, but it was full of corners and furniture and places to hide. Jalisa was a smart girl to go there. Erik made his way to a certain crate and found it and the hatch to the basement already open. It was a quick descent down a ladder and he was already hearing Jalisa.
“Erik!” She threw her arms around him from behind before he even got off the ladder.
“It’s over now, Jalisa.” Erik turned around and held her to his chest. “It’s over now.”
Chapter 11
After their heated reunion, Jalisa and Erik made their way upstairs. Only pausing for Jalisa to change out of the lingerie Stone had forced her in, they met up with Nikita and Marie in Marie’s room. The older woman was still struggling against the men Erik had assigned to protect her while Nikita was sitting cross-legged on the bed, clutching a teddy bear and rocking back and forth. Erik’s men sat around, smoking cigarettes and drinking water, the typical calm-down ritual after a fight.
“Sister!” Nikita cried, throwing the teddy bear against Marie’s headboard. Jalisa, now dressed in one of Erik’s oversized t-shirts and a pair of denim shorts, climbed onto the soft bed and embraced her sister.
“Did anyone hurt you?” Jalisa asked. She pressed her hands to the sides of Nikita’s face and looked deep into her eyes, trying to nonverbally communicate how important this was.
“No, no one hurt me.” Nikita buried her face into her sister’s shoulder, inhaling the scent that has comforted her since she was a child. “I was so scared, though. A couple of times I was convinced that I would die. My chest felt like it was on fire and I couldn’t stop shaking. I just had to keep praying and hoping I would I see you soon in heaven.”
“You probably had a panic attack. Hopefully, it will never happen again, but if it does, I want you to take several deep breaths and focus on things around the room. Look at the lamp, describe the shape and color out loud. Sometimes it helps to distract your brain like that,” Jalisa advised her sister. “No matter what, remember that both the Lord and I are with you at all times. You will be protected.
“I’m guess it’s over? What happened downstairs?” Marie looked at Jalisa.
“All I know is that I was in that room waiting for the man to show up when there were big crashes outside. I got scared and hid under the bed for a bit until I heard gunshots coming from somewhere upstairs. I knew I had to get out and find Nikita. I made finding her my first priority. As I was climbing up the steps, some men I didn’t recognize opened the door and were talking loudly about Marie. I dashed to that crate where the entrance to the basement is hidden and went inside, where I hid and began making plans to rescue Nikita from them. I crouched down in some spider-infested corner when the men came in after me. They found me and told me they were with Erik and I had no choice but to believe them,” Jalisa explained, she then turned to Marie. “What’s your side of the story?”
“My side? Are we trying to assign blame here?” Marie huffed. “Very well. My side is that I was sitting here, minding my own business, when this shit storm happened. I was in the middle of trying to distract Nikita by feeding her a snack and asking her to explain that video game she loves so much. I wasn’t really paying attention, but she seemed happy enough-”
“I wasn’t happy; I was humoring you for my own good. I knew that my sister was downstairs about to be forced into sex work. I was planning on boring you to sleep then going to rescue my sister.” It was a fourteen-year-old’s plan, naive and hopeful. Still, it touched Jalisa’s heart that her sister would try to rescue her.
“Anyway! The door was locked so these two assholes had to kick it in. I consider myself a very prepared person so I grabbed my trusty long barrel revolver and looked out. I didn’t know the men out there so I started shooting. They just shouted at me that they were there to protect me - which they were with Erik. I learned a long time ago not to trust men, so I didn’t. Erik showed up; the men tackled me. Yadda, yadda, yadda… now we’re here. It’s not my fault.” Marie pointed at Erik. “It’s Stone’s fault.”
“I agree,” Nikita spoke up. “I was only around him for a while, but he made my skin crawl. He told me that nothing bad was happening and I told him that that was wrong. I said that bad things were happening to Jalisa and that men would hurt her. Did it happen to you?”
“No. Erik saved me. Nothing bad happened to me. What else happened while I was gone?” Jalisa asked. Nikita’s side to the story wasn’t vital, but it was healthy for her to get it out.
“I was eating the ramen noodles that Marie boiled for me and I was talking about video games. There was a big crash and then Marie told me to hand her the box under her bed and she pulled out a gun and I went into the corner. I covered my ears and prayed and rocked back and forth and thought for sure that I was going to be a goner.” Nikita started crying again. “This is Stone’s fault. He should pay!”
“No one is trying to ‘assign blame,’ but if we were, I agree with you. It’s Stone’s fault. He’s a monster.” Erik rubbed the back of his neck, the blood on his hands weighing him down. “I guess my side of it is that I felt that Jalisa was in danger and I did what I had to do to protect her. Also, Stone died in the fight. We have a mess on our hands that needs to be taken care of quickly and quietly.”
“Is anyone going to call the cops?” Nikita asked.
“Listen to that!” Marie cackled so hard she started screeching and put her hands on her stomach, as if she had to physically contain her laughter.
“No, baby.” Jalisa pulled Nikita close. “We can’t call anyone. Everyone here would be in a lot of trouble. You and I are black women who don’t have identification yet, Marie is a prostitute, and Erik is an immigrant. Are you even legal, Erik?”
“I’m working on it. It’s hard to get papers for the government that cover up mafia work,” Erik admitted.
“Erik’s an undocumented immigrant. The police are not on our side. None of ours. If we can handle it ourselves, we need to.” Jalisa looked to Erik again. “I assume your mafia connections can take care of this.”
Erik looked away from her and to his hired men. He spoke rapidly in Russian, giving them orders to contain the scene, fix the glass, dispose of the body, and clean up. The hired men departed at once, obeying Erik without hesitation.
“Now what do we do?” Nikita asked.
“We need to get out of here. Let’s go back to my place. I’ll give the hotel room to Marie and she can stay there the night.” Erik put a hand out and helped the girls off of the bed. After packing up their things and giving Marie the details of the hotel room, they were in Erik’s car and speeding off toward home.
Once they were in, Erik had one of the women he employed take Nikita into the kitchen to cook for her. At such a young age, seeing such violence, she needed a healthy meal high in natural fruit sugar and lean proteins. The woman began to make breakfast for dinner while another woman set up Nikita’s video game.
Jalisa headed upstairs. The stress of everything that had happened was getting to her. The one thing she needed right now was him and his love. She pulled him into the bedroom.
“I need you,” she whispered.
Her Russian Millionaire (BWWM Romance Book 1) Page 11