Repo (The Henchmen MC Book 4)

by Jessica Gadziala

  He'd dropped her off, safe and sound, and a little sad-looking (his words) at The Cranford Inn the night before.

  A little more hopeful, we made our way there. Bribing worked immediately to the man at the front desk of the inn and, a little after one-thirty the afternoon after she went missing, we made our way down the long hallway to the room she had booked.

  K knocked and called her.

  I knocked and called her.

  Then, stomach churning painfully, I reached for the key the guy at the desk had been all-too happy to hand over. The door beeped and opened and we stepped in.

  To an empty fucking room.

  But it wasn't just an empty fucking room.

  Her shit was still there.

  And there had been some kind of fight judging by the mess and broken items thrown around.

  "Fuck," I shouted, slamming my fist into the wall beside the bed, feeling all hope drain away.

  I looked to K, hoping to see something there, some hope or plan or something.

  But all I saw there was devastation and a hint of determination.

  Seventeen

  Maze

  When I still hadn't been able to get in touch with K, I felt sick to my stomach. I didn't want to have to make the call to Xander. I didn't want to focus on the realization that something really awful must have happened to him if he was leaving me completely on my own.

  I went over to the sink and rinsed my face with cold water, trying to focus, trying to calm myself down. That stinging in my chest hadn't gotten better with sleep. If anything, it felt amplified, like it was trying to overtake my entire chest cavity.

  Stomach growling, I grabbed my knife and slipped into my boots and went to the door to see about grabbing lunch. There was a bagel shop next to the hotel. I could sneak in and out and no one would pay me any mind. Then when I got back, I promised myself that I would call Xander and get in touch with Ellie.

  When I pulled the handle for the door, I hadn't expected it to be pushed violently forward, catching me off-guard and sending me flying backward, tripping over my bag and sending the contents scattering around the room and sending me flying onto the bed.

  "Kotyonok," Ruslan's deep, rough, sexy voice greeted me, sounding almost amused. "I had no idea you wanted me that bad."

  And all I could think right then was: no, nope, hell to the fucking no.

  I'd been through enough.

  There was no way I was going to get assaulted by my former employer on top of it all.

  I rolled off the bed onto my feet, reaching for my knife as Ruslan moved inward and closed the door with a quiet click.

  He looked as good as ever. Still handsome. I don't know. I guess I had figured that knowing what he did for a living and knowing he was a garrote-wielding killer would somehow take away his good looks to my more keen eyes. But that wasn't the case. He was still tall and broad with his great bone structure, deep eyes, easy smile, and strong body wrapped in his usual jeans that he had paired with a simple v-neck white tee.

  "No need for the knife, Maisy," he said, holding out his hands wide as if he meant me no harm.

  Unfortunately for him, I was through blindly trusting anyone.

  "Sure there's not," I said, trying to find an escape. He was approaching me in the only walking space. My only choice was to climb across the bed. Making my decision, I flew at it again before he could get any closer to me.

  I got, say, in the center before his hands snagged my ankles and pulled my feet out from under me. I flew backward, my stomach dropping out as my back slammed against the mattress. I had barely landed before Ruslan was on me, straddling me at the waist, his hands slamming down on my wrists and pinning them to the bed.

  "Relax, kotyonok. I'm not going to hurt you."

  "Is that a garrote in your pocket or are you planning to rape me?" I spat, feeling his unmistakable hard-on, trying to plant my feet and buck upward like K had taught me. But the mattress was too soft and I couldn't get the footing I needed.

  "Maisy," he said, shaking his head. "You think I'd do that?"

  "I didn't think you'd sell women, Ruslan. I was wrong about that so I don't know what to believe anymore."

  He sighed, making some kind of ticking sound with his tongue as he released my wrist so he could wrestle my knife away. He took it, throwing it toward the wall where it hit and landed with a clatter that filled me with hopelessness.

  "I sell no one," he said, his voice harsh.

  "Oh, bullshit. I'm not stupid and I..."

  "Viktor."

  "Don't insult me," I shot back. "You're not innocent, Rus."

  "Innocent, no. But I don't lie to poor women in the homeland and promise them handsome, rich men who will treat them like gold. That is Viktor. You know him. You've seen him with women. He's cold. He's... he's..." Ruslan's face scrunched up slightly, struggling for the right phrase. "He's soulless."

  "And yet you went along with it."

  "Past. That's the past, kotyonok."

  "I'm not your kitten," I snapped.

  "No, but you wanted to be. Don't try to deny it."

  "I'm not denying it. I'm claiming temporary insanity."

  To that, he sat back on my pelvis, releasing my wrists and letting out a deep chuckle. "Was this spirit always under there?" he asked, shaking his head, but he was smiling like he enjoyed it.

  "Are you planning on killing me or what?"

  "My job was not to kill you. I am to retrieve you so Viktor can find where the files are. He says you're too smart to have only made one copy. He had a lot of respect for you until you betrayed him."

  Huh.

  That was news.

  I always felt like an ant under his shoe.

  He'd certainly never made it sound like he was pleased by me, let alone respected me in any way.

  "So we're still here, why?"

  "Because I know what Vik will do when he gets the information he wants."

  "He'll kill me."

  "That," he said with a casual nod, then looked away for a moment. When he looked back, he seemed sad. "Maybe. But Vik is nothing if not an opportunist."

  "Opportunist?" I croaked, already knowing to dread the meaning there.

  "You're young, Maisy. You're beautiful. Vik makes a fortune on young beautiful women."

  "I'd never do that willingly," I objected, shaking my head.

  Rus leaned forward slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "There are men who will pay more for women who aren't willing."

  I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to keep it together. Losing my shit wouldn't help.

  "Maisy," he said, his voice as soft as such a deep, rough tone could be.

  "What?"

  "I'm not letting that happen."

  "You've been too chicken shit to do anything about it before. Why the fuck should I believe you now?"

  "I've had enough, kitten," he said, the word sounding unnatural off his tongue and he gave me an almost sheepish smile as if sensing it.

  "Enough of what? Watching women get hauled off to live out a nightmare?"

  "That, yes. And Viktor. And having to follow orders like a fucking dog. But you, malysh, that was the... final straw."

  "Why?"

  "Because I can't watch him toss you to those wolves like a gutted pig. They'll tear you apart."

  "And you care because..."

  "Because, Maisy, we both know something was developing here," he said, gesturing to the air between us.

  And, well, he wasn't wrong. I'd certainly had a crush. He had, at least, shown interest in taking me to bed. I hadn't possessed the vanity to believe it was more than that. But maybe it was. Maybe that was why he was always hanging around the office, not to be a slacker, but to be around me. It was certainly within the realm of possibilities. It was also something I could work with.

  "But I betrayed you," I tried, making my tone a little softer, making it more how it used to
be before K got a hold of me and taught me how important it was to speak with conviction no matter what I was saying. It spoke of confidence, of power, of someone who you shouldn't fuck with.

  "You gave me a chance to get away from that life," he countered. "It was the push I needed. By this time tomorrow, he will know that some of his coffers are a bit more empty than they were the last time he went in to admire them."

  "You stole from Viktor?"

  "More than enough to get us out of this godforsaken place."

  "You want to... leave the country?" I asked, stiffening a little.

  Still sitting on me, he felt it. "What is left for you here, kotyonok? Come with me. We will get somewhere and live like kings, fuck like teenagers, and grow old together like generations past did."

  "Rus, that's all nice and all... but I can't get out of this country. I have no passport. Not in my real name or my alias."

  "That is easy enough to fix. We will leave here. Vik will be here soon. We need to go, find somewhere safe to disappear until we can get documents for you. Shouldn't take more than a couple of weeks. Then we can go anywhere. Where do you want to go? Islands? Europe? Anywhere."

  "Rus, I..." I said, shaking my head. Honestly, I wasn't sure I could offer a good lie right then with my head spinning.

  "Okay," he said, holding up his hands. "Okay. Too much. All you need to know is that we need to go. Now. Can I let you up?" he asked, genuinely waiting for an answer.

  It hurt to nod my head. Literally, it made it feel like my neck was fighting the motion. But I needed to not piss him off. I needed him to think that I was going to go along with him, that I wasn't a captive but a willing partner in crime.

  If I kept my head and managed to be convincing, I could make him trust me. If he trusted me, I could get a chance to get away or get alone long enough to contact K or Xander.

  When Ruslan's weight lifted off me, I took a slow, deep breath, trying to ease the fluttering of my pulse and the dread in my belly.

  "Come," Rus said, holding out a hand as he stood off the side of the bed.

  "Can I get changed first?" I asked as I took his hand and let him pull me to stand in front of him. "I, ah, crashed last night without changing after all that traveling yesterday."

  "That depends," he said, giving me a smirk as he ducked his head a little to look me in the face.

  "On?"

  "On if you're looking for another weapon to stab me with."

  "Want to frisk me?" I challenged, cringing a little at my snippy tone.

  But apparently Russians, like badass bikers, liked their women with a little spunk and he laughed. "Much as I'd enjoy that, Maisy, I don't want it like this."

  "What like what?"

  "Malysh," he said, taking a step closer and reaching out to tilt my chin up. "You, I wanted to see all of you the second I walked through the office door that first time. But I don't want it out of pride, fear, or some misguided power play. I trust you."

  With that, he dropped his hand and moved toward the door, turning away from me and giving me what little privacy I could have in such a small space. I quickly dashed around to grab clothes, falling twice and knocking over the freaking lamp when my leg got caught in the cord.

  "I guess I had no worries," he said, sounding amused.

  "About what?" I asked, watching him closely as I grabbed the cell and quickly tucked it into the pile of clothes.

  "You being some kind of danger to me. You're more of a danger to yourself."

  I small-eyed him because he couldn't see me, but did feel my lips quirk up a little. It just reminded me so much of the teasing he used to do when coming into the office.

  "Can I change in the bathroom?" I asked.

  He turned slowly. "Whatever you want," he said, but I was pretty sure I saw a little disappointment there, like he was upset that I didn't trust him to not look.

  "Thanks," I said, ducking my head a little as I dashed into the bathroom and closed the door. I chose not to lock it, trying to inspire him to not get suspicious of me as I stripped out of the clothes from the day before and into the black skinny jeans and white wifebeater I had grabbed along with fresh undies and my boots.

  I checked the phone with still no contact from K, the pit in my stomach growing. I made sure the sound was off, then powered it down, knowing that whatever battery life I had on it was going to need to last until I got somewhere I knew we would be staying long enough to warrant some kind of rescue or whatever. I tucked it into my boot and tied them up tight so it couldn't be spotted, fixed my crazy hair into a tight top-knot, and opened the door.

  Rus was standing against the sink vanity inside the door holding my stash of cash and fake IDs. "These are yours," he said, handing them to me. "You need anything else?" he asked, waving toward the disaster of a room.

  "Um, I'm just gonna grab a sweater," I said as I took and stashed the IDs in my pocket and the cash into the boot that didn't have my cell. At that, I grabbed a sweater and turned back to him with a small shrug.

  His head tilted to the side as he reached to open the door, looking at me for a long second. "I kind of like the hair."

  With that, I followed Rus into the hall then down to the streets to a pickup that wasn't familiar to me. It was either rented or maybe bought outright with whatever obnoxious sum of money he took from his and his brother's stash. It was a late model black truck with a cab and short bed. He walked up to the passenger side door, opening it for me and actually helping me inside.

  Then I tried to force myself to calm down as I watched us drive out of Philly to God-knew where. And, well, with nothing to do but think, I did a whole helluva lot of that.

  First, I was present enough to try to assess the situation with Ruslan. And, well, the only real conclusion I could come to was that he was genuine. If I had been paying closer attention to the details back when I worked for them, I would have seen how deeply unhappy Rus was anytime Vik sent him off to do some job. I would have seen the way Viktor talked down to him and the way Ruslan's jaw would clench like he was struggling to hold back his words. For someone as laid back and even-tempered as Rus, that really said something. He'd wanted out. Maybe it was just the money that kept him there for as long as he did. Granted, he didn't seem to spend it as lavishly as his brother, but Rus had some nice things. He had a nice apartment. He took lavish vacations. He ate at nice restaurants to impress the women he fucked. So maybe that had been enough to hold him there.

  I wasn't delusional or naive enough to think that Viktor was the only violent one between them. I was sure there was blood on Ruslan's hands as well. But maybe whomever he had been told to beat or eliminate had been men who had, in some way shape or form, deserved it: people who tried to steal their business, people who tried to take them down, people who threatened what they had worked for.

  While a part of me still cringed away from the idea of torture and murder, having grown up in a relatively non-violent cushion of the world, the older, more worldly part of me understood it. Fact of the matter was, some of the men I had come to love and respect were men with blood on their hands. First, K. He never expressly admitted to killing anyone, but it was alluded to. Still, he was the most selfless, giving, skilled, amazing man I had ever met. Then there was Reign who the reports proposed he had done his fair share of murder and mayhem. Hell, Wolf was a wild animal when he felt the occasion called for it. Cash had killed and he was sweet, good-natured. Christ, even Shooter. He was a fucking contract killer but the most easy-going, charming, sweet person I'd ever met.

  Then of course, there was Repo.

  At the thought of his name, the stinging sensation in my chest amplified until I had to rub my hand over my heart again to try to ease it.

  Repo had admitted to killing men in awful, violent ways.

  But Repo was a good man.

  There was no question in my mind about that fact. It was in every thing he did. It was in him cooking for me. It was in the way
he took care of his brothers. It was in the way he made sure I understood where I stood with him. It was in the fact that he shared all his ugly details with me, without even hesitating. He didn't hide himself. He didn't lie. He was upfront. He was loyal.

  And, well, let's not forget that whole 'I don't come until you come' rule with sex.

  So it wasn't hard for me to accept that while Rus might have hurt or killed people, it didn't necessary make him a bad person.

  The selling the women thing though? That was never going to sit right with me.

  I didn't care what they tried to convince themselves that the women willingly signed up and it was a mutually beneficial situation, that it was a new type of arranged marriages. I called bullshit. They knew better.

  It was human trafficking plain and simple.

  It was no better than stealing a woman off the street and selling her.

  But, yeah, I was pretty sure I was okay with Rus. At least for the short-term. He could have easily beat or raped me back in that hotel. Granted, I'd have put up a hell of a fight, but chances were... he would have overpowered me.

  He didn't.

  Not only didn't he even attempt to, but he had seemed insulted about the whole frisking thing.

  He would only want me willingly.

  And, well, there would be no willingness from me.

  But that was just another hand I had to play.

  I trained for it.

  I trained to make and keep a cover.

  The fact that I let those rules slide a bit with Repo was beside the point.

  It would not be a problem with Rus.

  I just had to sit tight and wait for my chance at getting away.

  "How does Miami sound?"

  It sounded like a seventeen fucking hour drive was what it sounded like.