When they approached the wall he unlocked the door using a keypad and heaved it open. The chill air washed over her, causing her to unconsciously step closer to her tormentor in a fruitless attempt at finding warmth and security. She was horrified at all the possibilities for his having an underground facility on his property. This would be where he conducted the business that couldn't be done in the house, the less savoury aspects of running an underground organization. A shudder of fear and disgust swept through her and she had to lock her teeth together to force back a plea of mercy. He had none and, even if he took pity on her, she would hate herself for asking.
She was surprised when they started passing row after row of wine racks. He had brought her to a wine cellar? Jane was puzzled, but somewhat relieved until he led her past the wine section and further into the back. There was another door. This one could easily pass for a maintenance closet except it was solid metal. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t where he kept the janitorial supplies. The door swung open to reveal a cell with a narrow cot, a dirty mattress and a toilet without a tank lid.
Sitnikov swung her around and pushed her through the open door into the cell. She barely noticed when he let go, instead standing in gaping shock at the terrifying prospect of her new prison. She turned around to face him, staring at him defiantly. He stood on the other side watching her, his eyes black pools of ice. No emotion flickered in their depths.
“I give you one opportunity to rethink your position on lying to me,” he said calmly. “Otherwise, you can spend the night thinking about it while enjoying your new accommodations.”
Jane stared at him as fury swept through her small body, warming her from the inside out. If he thought he was going to get his way through this bullshit, he didn’t know her very well at all. She was happy to enlighten him.
"You think I'll give you anything, ever, after this?! Fuck you, Sitnikov. Fuck you! You'll get nothing from me. I despise you." She spat at him, stabbing a shaking finger at him.
"Your mistake, malysh," he replied calmly, meeting her eyes with a dead stare, "is in thinking I require your consent for anything. I will take what I want from you when I want it, Jane."
She breathed heavily, nearly gagging on the dank air of his hidden dungeon. "Maybe so, Sitnikov. You're much stronger than me physically. You can and will take what you want from my body. But you won't get a damn thing else. And make no mistake," she snarled, "I will fight you every step of the way until one of us is dead."
He clicked his tongue against his teeth. "You are an innocent, my Jane. A babe among men. This is why you are malysh to me. You think you will die before I break your mind? I can assure you otherwise. You will be completely mine. Every part of you, mine. I will not rest until you obey my every wish and do so with pleasure. Then, I will have what I want. I will make you scream and beg for my mercy. Until that time, I will enjoy the challenge."
"You're a sadistic monster, Vladimir Sitnikov."
"Finally," he agreed, "you begin to understand me.”
He closed the door softly and locked it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Vlad stalked away from the underground bunker, swearing viciously into the emptiness surrounding him. He knew there were men patrolling the land, but they knew better than to interrupt the Boss when he was working in the bunker. They were highly trained and intelligent, which is why they were rarely seen unless he wanted them visible.
He shoved a hand through his hair and contemplated whether he’d made a mistake in locking Jane in the cell where she would be alone in the cold and darkness. He hated the thought of her even knowing that room existed, let alone her becoming a resident. If she weren’t so damn stubborn he wouldn’t have to resort to breaking her down as he might an enemy. Why didn’t the woman just yield to him? Then he could have what he wanted, Jane in his home and his bed, warm and willing. He would shower her with gifts and lavish attention on every delectable inch of her curvy little body.
Yet somehow he couldn’t picture her happily spending her days shopping and racking up his credit cards. Though she enjoyed her piercing and tattoos and getting her nails done, it was more about the rebellion of the act than on beautifying herself for a lover. He stopped short as he reached the back door. Perhaps she was making herself pleasing for a lover when she did these things. A snarl of rage escaped his lips and he turned to stalk back toward the bunker before pulling himself up again.
No, it was impossible that she could have a current lover. Vlad had kept such close tabs on her the past six months that she couldn’t buy a cup of coffee without his knowing about it within minutes.
“blyad!” he swore.
The damn woman had obsessed his brain to the point that he was making up imaginary lovers to torture himself with. He was a goddamn mafia boss. He was the Boss. He didn’t need a woman distracting him from business. Not with ever present enemies waiting to pounce on a weakness, and certainly not with the Bratva sending in Petrov to check on his American operation and report back to Mother Russia.
Boris was standing by the door of his office, waiting for his return. Vlad was in such a foul mood he actually considered shooting his second in command just to get a little peace from the upheaval Jane had caused in his carefully planned life. He would shoot Boris in the foot or someplace else unimportant. It wouldn’t do to take out his muscle and piss off the big man’s insane brother.
Vlad sat heavily in the big, well-used leather chair behind his desk and rolled his shoulders, pulling some of the tension out of the muscles. Wordlessly, Boris poured a couple of healthy shots of vodka and placed one in front of Vlad. Going around the desk, he sat in the other chair, ignoring the creak as it protested his massive weight. Vlad was once more struck by how graceful the man could move despite his size. Boris was often underestimated as slow by people who thought they might be able to best the big man. It was usually the last thought they had.
Picking up his glass, Vlad took the shot of vodka, enjoying the familiar burn in his throat and the warmth as it hit his stomach. He closed his eyes and summoned up an image of Jane in her prison. He wondered if she would be cold yet, or if the heat of her anger still embraced her. She was smart enough to work out what the room was used for. She would likely be pissed off and terrified. Vlad wanted to comfort her and he wasn't used to feeling such emotion. If it hadn't been for Anya, he wouldn't recognize the softer emotions in himself at all. He’d been too used to growing his empire with the use of deadly force and grim determination. He had done things he wasn't proud of, but he regretted nothing. Now he found himself on shifting ground with Jane.
Boris drank his vodka as well, letting the liquor slide easily into his mouth and taking it in one swallow. He set his glass down on the expensive wood of the desk with a clunk.
"She accused me of shooting her," Vlad snarled, breaking the silence. "She must know by now that she is the last person I would shoot."
Instead of looking annoyed on his behalf, Boris chuckled. "She is smart one. She is trying to piss you off so you stop pushing her for true gunman."
Vlad sat in frozen silence for a moment and then hit the desk hard with the palm of his hand. "Son of a bitch, I fell for her cheap deflection. Besotted fool! She went for my pride like a kitten after blood and I responded with anger. As she hoped, my anger deflected me from interrogating her further."
Vlad was part way between annoyance and admiration. "She seems to enjoy pissing me off, this woman."
Boris shrugged. "She was cop, pissing people off probably comes natural. Along with manipulating situation to her advantage."
Vlad stared broodingly into his empty vodka glass. He wanted desperately to go and free her from her prison and then use much more pleasurable tactics to gain the information he wanted. She was a woman and he already knew she responded to him as if made for his body's pleasure. He could get her to talk, if he could manage to get past her defences and his own aggressive response when he was around her.
"The men are talking,"
Boris said frowning.
Vlad nodded. It was as he thought. He couldn't free Jane without making himself look weak. He would have to leave her until morning. With a sigh he dismissed Boris, “I have work to do. Keep an eye on the bunker and make sure your men stay the hell away from it. I will kill, with my bare hands, the man that even thinks of her helpless in there.”
Several hours later Vlad stood in his bedroom window staring out into the darkness surrounding the grounds of his home. He watched the long fingers of shadow creep across the immaculate lawn like Satan’s fingers reaching for the woman hidden in the ground. He imagined he could see the underground bunker, but in reality the shadows concealed it from his frustrated gaze. He turned to pace across the floor and then back. He hated the thought of her out there in the dark, alone. He knew that she was unlikely to come to harm. The bunker was secure – only Vlad and Boris had access. Though the cell was far from comfortable, it had basic amenities. He just couldn't seem to shake the image of Jane alone in the dark, terrified and injured.
His fury had burned out quickly, and almost as soon as he had locked her in, he'd regretted his choice. He couldn't go back for her though. He wasn't in a position to appear weak, especially not in his own home. Not even with his woman. Though discreet and well hidden, Vlad had men everywhere, guarding him and his assets. It was impossible that he would not have been witnessed entering the bunker with Jane and leaving it alone. He had no choice but to leave her in a place he would never have chosen for any woman, let alone Jane. Despite the lesson she needed to learn.
He had no doubt that Petrov would hear of the woman whose near murder he had witnessed being held on Sitnikov’s property, first as his guest and now as his prisoner. The young enforcer, sent by the head of the organization to which Sitnikov had belonged in Russia, had been shaken upon discovering a beautiful woman bleeding out in the alley behind Sitnikov’s warehouse. He had been shocked both by Jane’s suffering and by Sitnikov’s reaction to her. Vladimir Sitnikov was known for his icy control to his friends as well as his enemies. It would now reach interested ears that he was acting abnormally over a woman. Her life would be more in danger than ever.
"blyad!" he snarled and continued to alternate pacing with watching the yard like a hawk.
He moved back into the master room, both because it had the best view of the back of the estate and because he wanted to be near her things. If he couldn't have the real thing in his house, he would take what was second best, her clothes, books and toiletries. He had lain down on the side of the bed she favoured and inhaled her scent from his pillow. He wanted her there so badly he could almost feel her next to him. He’d spent hours watching her sleep while she healed so he could easily recall her features as she rested. He knew he was obsessed. He didn't care.
The moment light began to streak the sky, Vlad left the house. He stalked toward the bunker. He didn't care who saw him. She had stayed down in the cold darkness for long enough. She’d taken her punishment, now he would retrieve her and give her the comfort she would undoubtedly need.
When Vlad entered the cell his eyes immediately searched her out on the small cot. She was curled on her side with her back to him. Her nightshirt was pulled taut against her ass, moulded lovingly to the round curves. Her bare legs were tucked up against her body giving him a peek of her gorgeous thighs and dainty feet. She looked so small and delicate it was hard for him to remember she had ever been in law enforcement. She was shaking with either fear or cold, perhaps both. He felt like an asshole for ogling her body while she was suffering, but his sexual nature refused to back down.
"Jane," he called to her softly. She would have heard him opening the metal door to the room, but she didn't turn or acknowledge him until he spoke.
"Is this the place you take people and kill them?" she asked, her voice small, giving nothing away of her mood.
When Vlad didn't answer she asked, "Is this where you'll kill me?"
He let out an involuntary sound of disgust and snapped, "Of course not!"
"No?" she said. "Then why did you bring me here. This doesn't seem like a place you would bring the woman you want to have sex with."
She rolled over to look at him. Her arms remained wrapped around her middle, protectively. He hated the accusing look in her eyes, tempered with fear of him. He’d wanted to frighten her into talking, but he didn't like the result his actions got. "Jane, I could never bring myself to kill you, despite what you know of me."
"But you would hurt me?" She pushed herself up on the dirty mattress, wincing slightly and pushing a hand through her disheveled black hair, fluffing it around her head like a halo. It had gotten longer in the past weeks she had been with him, it reached past her shoulders now. He liked the severe, straight style she usually wore, but he loved the slightly longer wavy look on her.
He couldn't lie to her, she needed to know what it would be like to live with him and become his lover. "If I had to, I would hurt you,” he acknowledged heavily. “Not irreparably."
She nodded absently, as though he had confirmed something she already suspected. "You can't have sex with me if I'm too beat up."
Dark humour lit his features. "That is a naive view to take. A woman can be broken and still of use."
Anger snapped in her velvety brown eyes, making them come alive and driving the shivering away. "That's disgusting!" she snapped, standing up and pacing toward him.
He shrugged. "I am not known for my softer side Jane, you should understand this by now."
She stood in front of him, her arms straight out at her sides and her fists clenched. She blinked a few times, tears forming in her beautiful eyes. "You left me here, Vlad, in the cold and the dark. You just... just left me to suffer. I can’t even contemplate being with a man that would do this to me."
"I was angry," he said heavily.
He didn’t like that he felt the need to beg her forgiveness and explain his actions. This was not something he did for anyone, including his sister. "You went too far when you accused me of trying to shoot you. You need to learn your place within my household. I will not tolerate disobedience or wild accusations."
"I know it wasn't you who shot me," she admitted staring up at him with widened eyes. His cock instantly responded. "It couldn't have been you, Vlad. You just told me you wouldn't kill me and I believe you. Whoever shot me came too close to killing me. You’re more precise than that.”
"This is good Jane, perhaps now we can have a little peace between us," he said stepping so close to her that her soft breasts brushed against his chest through the fabric of their shirts.
She tilted her face up to him. He could see a faint trail on her pale cheeks where tears had fallen during the night. His gut clenched. He had to remind himself he did the right thing. She needed to learn her place so she wouldn't endanger herself in the future. And it seemed to have worked. She was upset, but far more pliable than he had imagined Jane ever could be. He reached out to tuck a lock of her dark hair behind a pale ear.
"You won't kill me," she breathed out loud as if to reassure herself. "No matter what happens, I won't die by your hand."
"No Jane," he said softly, tracing her lips with his thumb, revelling in how sexy his woman was, despite having spent the night in a prison. "Never. You will not die by my hand or any other so long as you remain under my protection."
"Good," she said stepping back from him.
Her helpless seduction had succeeded well. He was so lulled by her fragile beauty and softly spoken words he didn't see her small but deadly leg fly until her bare foot was planted in his crotch. She danced out of his reach while Vlad dropped like a stone to his knees with an agonized shout. He swore in English, Russian and several other languages as hideous pain radiated from his bruised balls. He swiped his arms out in an attempt to clothesline her and bring her down to his level so he could strangle her until the pain receded, but she was unreachable.
Unfortunately for her, he was blocking the door, her only exit.
So being the feisty woman she was, she launched herself at him in full attack mode. She managed to punch him in the side of the head and bite his shoulder before he was able to get enough of a grip that he could hold her down. Unfortunately, the sneaky little brat had gotten her hands on something sharp and jabbed it into his wrist. He dropped his hand immediately, which gave her the opportunity to drive the sharp object into his side. He grunted and slapped a hand against the side of her head, boxing her ear, which was intended to cause a painful ringing and throw his opponent off balance until he could gather himself.
He succeeded. She screamed in pain and shook her head. Unfortunately for him, she recovered from the slap faster than he was recovering from his groin injury. She brought her weapon up, slashing at his face. Vlad let go of her and rocked backward before she scarred him up even worse than he already was. She took advantage, jumping to her feet and running out the door faster than he would have thought was possible given her healing injuries.
"Jane!" he roared, stumbling to his feet, cursing himself for his stupidity. He had been so blinded by lust that he hadn't taken precautions in dealing with a prisoner. He wouldn't be doing that again. He pushed himself forward, ignoring the continued pain. He touched his side. His hand came away wet with blood, but the injury was shallow. Same with his hand. She hadn't had the strength to drive her weapon deep enough to do real damage.
He followed her through the cellar, stepping over broken bottles she had thrown to slow him down. He winced when he saw a $2,500 bottle of Boërl & Kroff Brut soaking into the concrete. Despite the damage she had tried to inflict on him and his cellar, he was more concerned that she would step on the glass and cut her feet. He snorted at that thought, thinking of the strength behind her kick to his groin. Perhaps a cut foot wouldn't be such a bad thing, slow her down next time. He really needed to stop underestimating the dainty, former cop turned PI. She was tough as nails.
Savage Vendetta (Fire & Vice Book 4) Page 11