Debase (Elite Bratva Brotherhood Book 1)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “You can set up right there.” I pointed to her feet.

  He grabbed a stool and started opening his kit.

  “What’s this?” Elena glared at me.

  “This is me keeping my word.” I snapped my fingers. “Eyes up here. How long has Oscar been working the trade with Aldo?”

  She sighed. “Oscar’s old. He needs a family he can trust. The De Langes are a bunch of psychopaths without any leadership, so he went to the first family that had no issues with selling women — Aldo’s.”

  I clenched my teeth. “Who else knows about this?”

  Elena rolled her eyes. “It officially became the family business after Mil De Lange’s death. Aldo has been helping Oscar for the past year and a half.”

  “I’ve been locked in my room for a year…”

  My stomach clenched.

  She didn’t know.

  She asked so many questions, though.

  I let her in.

  I let her into my apartments.

  I let her into my life.

  I let her in.

  I let the enemy inside.

  And handed her the keys.

  Fuck.

  “You look pale, Andrei.” Elena grinned. “Something to do with that beautiful girl who was in here earlier? I must say she looks… extremely familiar—”

  “Keep talking and I cut out your tongue the way I did Aldo’s,” I barked.

  Her eyes widened and then she threw back her head and laughed. “You know, it was a good plan. He sells his sister and she gains access to the whole underworld he’s trying to take from your very hands.”

  “He was here last night,” I admitted.

  “He wants the club. He will kill you for it. Your father promised more money, more clubs. Your father died. So, you either carry out the contract he started or eliminate everyone who wants to take what’s rightfully yours, as boss.”

  I snorted out a laugh. “I keep him alive because I find it amusing that Aldo shits himself in his sleep wondering when I’m going to come back for the rest of his tongue. He lives because I allow it. What could he possibly do to me?”

  She was quiet as Lennie pulled out his tattoo gun and ink. “Oh, I don’t know, Andrei, what could he possibly use against you?”

  I could still taste her.

  Betrayer?

  Was she a De Lange loyal to me? To the Italians?

  Or to her abusive brother and father.

  That was the problem with the De Langes.

  You never knew where they stood until it was too late.

  “Go ahead and get started Lennie.” I looked away from Elena, couldn’t stand the thought of her trying to read my face.

  The buzz of the gun filled the room.

  “What the hell is he doing?” She tried fighting against the binds of the chair.

  “Offering protection,” I called over my shoulder. “Welcome to the club, I think the gentlemen will enjoy very much having some older Italian blood in the mix. Try not to ruin the tattoo before it begins. Oh, and you’ll want to shower before your first customer. I’d start praying you don’t get called to start the bidding this evening. The woman sacrificed is always the one who refuses the men who want her. This isn’t the time to get shy, and I’d pull out everything in your sexual arsenal. Would hate to see you get your throat slit.”

  I shut the door behind me and leaned against it.

  I knew she was screaming even though I couldn’t hear her.

  Just like I knew I needed to test Alice the minute I got back to the apartment.

  Friend or foe.

  Enemy or lover.

  I didn’t know.

  I was too in over my head.

  Shit.

  I sent a quick text to Phoenix.

  Me: We may have a problem.

  Phoenix: We?

  Me: Us. She’s… potentially compromised. Her brother knew exactly what he was doing in bringing her here. She’s either supposed to infiltrate from within or distract me enough to become a pawn in a bigger game. Aldo and Oscar De Lange behind the women. Get Sergio on it now.

  Phoenix: Shit.

  Me: I’ll get some answers out of her.

  Phoenix: And ruin what could be the best thing that’s ever happened to you? What are you going to do? Tie her to a chair?

  Me: Something like that…

  Phoenix: Think this through.

  Me: I’m going dark. And I already have.

  Phoenix: Shit, Andrei—

  I turned my phone off, slid it into my pocket and stared at the apartment door, then very quietly let myself in, shut the door and locked it behind me.

  Alice wasn’t in the living room.

  I made my way down the hall, slowly measuring my steps until I reached her room. She was curled up on her side, sleeping.

  I squeezed my eyes shut.

  Two days ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice.

  Today I was hesitating.

  Making excuses.

  Justifying.

  She was in me now, in the air, in my blood, in my lungs with each inhale, each shuddering exhale.

  I ignored the pain in my chest.

  She was just another object sent to either distract me or bring me to my knees.

  That’s the lie I told myself.

  The lie I wanted to believe.

  To make it easier on myself.

  I left the room and returned with rope and a few cable ties.

  “Alice,” I hissed. “Wake up.”

  She jolted awake her feet made a kicking motion as she pressed a hand to her chest. “Do you often stand over people holding rope while they’re sleeping?”

  Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders.

  I wanted to twist it around my fingers, tug her close, kiss that swollen mouth.

  “Is there a wrong answer to that question?” I wondered out loud. “I need your hands.”

  “I was kidding.” She held out her hands in front of her body palm down. “The whole me being chained to the bed…”

  “Uh-huh,” I slid the zip tie around her wrist and jerked it toward the headboard, pulling it tight against the post so she couldn’t move. I kept her left hand free.

  “Legs,” I barked.

  “Wh-what?”

  “Pull them straight.”

  “Andrei?”

  “Do it,” I snapped.

  She quickly straightened her legs. I wrapped the rope around her knees and kept wrapping tight until I got to her ankles, I made a figure eight and knotted it, then stepped away.

  “Andrei?” She said my name again, her voice shaking.

  “Elena has been taken care of.” I tried to sound bored, but she looked so innocent, so crushed.

  I looked away and shoved my hands in my jean pockets. “She was very… helpful in her information about your family.”

  Alice paled. “Do I want to know?”

  “Maybe you already do?” I suggested. “How would I know? Maybe you were sent here for a reason? Seduction, perhaps?”

  “Seduction?” she repeated, her eyes wild. “Are you hearing yourself? My brother touched me, touched me!” Her eyes filled with tears. “I have next to zero sexual experience, and the only time I’ve ever found pleasure in it was an hour ago and now I’m tied to a bed!”

  I flinched as she jerked her hand against the headboard. “There is another possibility…”

  “What?” I’d never seen a woman look so pissed, alive.

  I loved it more than I should.

  “You’re working with him,” I suggested, circling the bed and finally sitting on the opposite side. “He’s your partner? He wants the club, you know, the money that comes from selling girls. Fact, in one day this club makes more than three million dollars in sales and prostitution, that’s not including drugs or private parties. And he’s just desperate enough to think he can take that from me.”

  She shook her head and looked away. “I would never help him do that. I would never be on board with him owning anything
as evil as this.” She clenched her teeth and stared at me when she said it.

  “A few hours ago you were screaming my name, and now I’m evil?” My grin was cruel. “Which is it? Heaven or hell? You can’t let me give you heaven then damn me to hell in the same breath, Alice, that’s not how this works.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my knife, flicking it open. “I need to know that you’re telling me the truth.”

  “What possible reason could I have for lying?”

  “Money. Greed. Power.” I shrugged. “To name a few.”

  “Fine.” Her lower lip trembled. “If that’s what you really think. That I would live up to the De Lange name, kill me, turn me over to the Italians.” Tears filled her eyes. “It’s not fair.” A tear slid down her cheek. “To give me hope like you did, and then rip it away.” She choked on a sob. “I will never forgive you for this, Andrei. Never.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Put yourself in my position.”

  Her eyes darted away.

  “What would you do?”

  She licked her lower lip and hung her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  Her head snapped up. “Fine! I would torture them for information. I would make sure the people I loved were safe, and I would do everything in my power to keep it that way, even if that meant I had to kill. I would do whatever it took and never look back!”

  I crawled up the bed and straddled her body.

  And then I held the knife to her throat. “Are you working for your brother?”

  “No.” She sobbed, her neck straining. “I’m not.”

  “Were you sent here to get information?”

  “No.” Tears slid down her chin onto the blade of my knife.

  “Were you sent here to seduce me?”

  Her eyes searched mine. “No.”

  I wanted to believe her.

  My past told me she was lying.

  All women were liars.

  All of them.

  Don’t trust them.

  They use their bodies.

  My chest heaved as I stared her down.

  She didn’t look away.

  Her eyes were bright with tears. My hand shook as I pressed the blade against her soft skin.

  Our foreheads touched, our mouths inches apart, as I sliced the plastic binding her wrists.

  I grabbed the tip of the knife and then twisted it so that the hilt was pointed toward Alice. “Take it.”

  “What?” Her chest heaved. “What do you mean take it?”

  “It’s yours.” I searched her eyes, measuring, weighing her reaction. “It would take seconds for me to bleed out,” I pointed to my neck. “Or you could just stab my leg and pray you hit the femoral artery.”

  “You’re insane,” she hissed.

  “Why yes, I am,” I agreed. “You could probably get through the club without anyone asking questions. Hell, you could probably take my SUV and meet up with your family without being stopped. Because I claimed you. Because no matter what I say, I can’t stop thinking about you, wanting you. Because I’m the insane man, who would still want that, even if you stabbed me in the neck right now. That’s how insane I am. That’s how crazy I am. That with my last few breaths I would think to myself… fucking worth it.”

  I didn’t know what to expect.

  That she would stab me.

  Drop the knife.

  Or yell.

  Maybe cry some more.

  She was perfectly still and then she shoved me away from her and fucking drove the knife directly into my right thigh.

  And maybe I was insane.

  Because my first response.

  Was to kiss her senseless.

  Our tongues tangled as she shoved me back against the mattress, I was bleeding all over the white duvet, could feel the tip of the knife lodged in my muscle, twisting the fibers.

  And I still kissed her.

  She pulled back, eyes blazing, lips puffy. “Doubt me again, and I’m aiming higher.”

  I bit down on my lower lip to conceal my smile, then reached for the knife, pulled it quickly out of my thigh, and threw it against the wall.

  The tip stuck above the dresser, blood dripping from the metal making a gruesome red smear down the white wall.

  “You should put something on that.” She suddenly looked nervous, licking her lips, looking down at my leg, when all I could think about was the fact that she’d stabbed me and how erotic it had been.

  The pain, for once.

  Was good.

  My hands weren’t covered in black gloves.

  They weren’t shaking.

  The pain was in my leg, not in my hands as they touched her.

  The pain throbbed, it numbed, it consumed.

  I nipped at her lower lip and flipped her onto her back against the stained mess of the duvet as more blood dripped from my thigh. “Later.”

  “You’re bleeding everywhere,” she pointed out.

  I kissed her harder and came up for her. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have stabbed me.”

  “You told me you didn’t trust me to my face and tied me to a bed an hour after giving me the best orgasm of my life. And then you gave me a sharp object. What did you think would happen? A parade?”

  I barked out a laugh. “Yeah, something like that, only you were supposed to be naked, and the parade was you walking in front of me while I watched and judged.”

  “You’re.” She made a face and shoved at my chest.

  I kissed her again, making my way down her neck, licking behind her ear while she bucked off the bed. “I’m what?”

  “Evil.”

  “Thank you.” I bit the soft spot between neck and shoulder then pulled the simple white shirt over her head.

  “Wasn’t a compliment.”

  “Maybe not to a sane person…” I countered, reaching for her breasts, cupping them, and imagining a world where I could lock myself in the bedroom with her and do nothing but touch, taste, feel.

  My excitement was short lived.

  Because she was suddenly reaching for me.

  I batted her hands away.

  She was persistent.

  “Do we need to get the knife again?” I threatened.

  “Did you want the other thigh to match?” she countered through clenched teeth.

  I smirked. “Maybe.”

  “You like me.” She said it like it was a statement not a question.

  “Yes.”

  “You like kissing me.”

  Where was she going with this? “Yes.”

  “You like touching me?”

  “Is this a test? Am I passing or failing?” I wondered out loud.

  “I like you too. I like kissing you. I like touching you. The only part of the test that’s pass-fail is if you let me make you feel good.”

  “Can’t.” I shook my head. “Your brother… what he did, what you… I can’t imagine a world where you would ever be okay with touching me and not being completely disgusted.”

  “Disgusted,” she repeated. “Do you really believe that?”

  “I know that,” I rasped. “I’ve lived that. I’ve seen it all. Women, the only way they come back from it, the only way is through the fence.”

  “You’re not making any sense…”

  “The American dream, the perfect doting husband, who turns off the lights during sex, buys her a dog, tells her they don’t need sex unless it’s his birthday or even Christmas. There’s exactly one position they do it in, and he almost always gets off within a few minutes while she lays there and mentally counts down the seconds until he’s done.”

  “What are you talking about?” She cupped my face her hands were so soft against my skin.

  “All I’m saying…” I locked eyes with her. “…is that I am not the sort of man who helps you get over your fears in the bedroom. I’m the reason for them.”

  “Lie,” she whispered. “And my brother he never… he tried, multiple times, but he never…”

 
; What exactly was she saying?

  “I’m a virgin.”

  I jerked away like she’d stung me. “What was that?”

  “Virgin.” Her cheeks pinked. “He tried, and he touched me, and he did horrible things, but the actual act of sex, he could never do it. And then he’d blame me for it and call me a whore and other things…” She shuddered.

  “I’m going to cut off his dick and feed it to him.” Damn! I meant to think that not say it.

  She just stared at me and smiled. “Such pretty promises.”

  I knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, just like I knew I was going to bleed even more if I kept jerking away from her.

  Her hand inched up my thigh and then she was unbuttoning my jeans.

  I wasn’t wearing boxers because my jeans were tight and I didn’t want to be constricted.

  So, she had no preparation for me.

  For the size of me.

  For what she thought she was going to do.

  Her eyes widened. “I’ve never felt more like a virgin in my entire life.”

  Makes two of us.

  I leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of her mouth. “I’m currently bleeding out on your bed, you’ve proved your point — son of—”

  She gripped me with her right hand.

  I ducked my head next to her shoulder and tried not to draw blood as I bit down on my bottom lip. Her hands were velvet.

  Smooth.

  She explored every inch of me.

  And I’d never been more at anyone’s mercy than I was in that moment.

  Bleeding all over a girl who wanted nothing more than to pleasure me the way I did her.

  “Alice—”

  “Do you realize you say my name now? No more six thirty-two… even though I was getting really attached to that number.” She squeezed harder. “And the way you said it.”

  “Fuck.” I was dying. I braced myself over her and shook my head slowly. “The knife won’t kill me. This, however, might.”

  “I don’t want you dead.” Tears sparkled in her eyes as she moved her hand back and forth and whispered, “I want to give you life.”

  I growled against her mouth, trying not to crush her hand as she moved, trying not to rush what I wanted to last forever.

  Trying not to think about pulling down her leggings and sinking myself into her.

  I told myself this was justifiable.

  Sex wouldn’t be.

  This was okay.

  This would be fine.