Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3)

by Hayley Faiman

  On my way back home, I feel as though somebody is watching me again. Instead of being scared, I’m pissed off. It has to be Kirill, and it angers me. Especially since I specifically asked him not to do that last night. I have had no sleep, I am stressed out, worried, and freaked. He really should not fuck with me today.

  “In a hurry?” A deep voice asks, stepping out from beside my building. I jump slightly before I realize that it is Agent Green.

  “What are you doing here today?” I ask as my eyes dart around, looking for any sign of Kirill.

  I don’t want Agent Green to know that he’s found me. I haven’t figured either of them out yet. I do know that Agent Green has some kind of hard-on for Kirill, and I don’t trust him. Not in the slightest. He’s like a snake, a poisonous snake, lying in wait, ready to strike, and I have a feeling he’s waiting for Kirill.

  “Give it up, Tatyana. You need my protection. You know Baryshev is in the wind. Nobody quite knows where he is; you are completely vulnerable right now. He could snatch that girl of yours up in a heartbeat, and then do you know what he would do to her?” he asks, leaning in and practically touching my ear with his lips. I curl my own lips in disgust at his close proximity. “He will whore her out. Either sell her as a sex slave, sell her for a high ranking man in his army, or simply put her in a brothel to make him money.”

  “You are a liar,” I say, taking a step away from him, my back colliding with the wall of my building.

  “One of his men was given a girl, an extremely wealthy businessman’s daughter. They killed him and her brother gave her to him as some form of payment. Another man directly under him was given an American girl as payment a few years ago. One other guy, his sister wasn’t so lucky; she was sold at twelve years old as a sex slave. Disgusting really. I’ve seen pictures of these girls. Collared and used, just little girls. Kiska is nine. She is probably old enough to sell.”

  I look up at him in complete shock, too surprised to push him off of me. How horrible, and those poor little girls. My stomach aches for them and I feel sick. When Agent Green bends down, I don’t realize his intent until it’s too late. His lips are touching mine and his tongue dives deep into my mouth.

  I plant my palms on his shoulders and push him away, or at least I try, but he’s stronger than I am. He moans in my mouth, and without thinking about the repercussions, I lift my knee right into his balls—smashing them with more force than I need. In all honestly, this douche does not need to reproduce.

  “You stupid bitch,” he moans as he cups his balls.

  I turn to run from him, but he grabs my arm and slams my back into the wall. My head bounces off of the brick, but I don’t have time to register the pain. I’m panicking.

  “Let me go,” I demand.

  “Like hell. I’ve been keeping tabs on you for too fucking long. You’re not getting out of my sight now, not when he’s disappeared and the only reason I can think of is that he’s found you,” he chuckles.

  “It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. It’s been years, Ryan,” I cry out. His eyes dart around, unable to focus. He looks manic and crazy.

  “He’ll come for you. I know it. And I’ll be fucking waiting. I’m going to get him this time,” he growls.

  “Kirill won’t. He doesn’t want us,” I try to plead. I want him gone. He’s such a freaking psycho.

  “I’ll be watching, and waiting. He’ll come. And when he does, I’ll catch him. I’ll get him,” he warns. Then he turns and leaves.

  I let out a shaky exhale, closing my eyes. When I re-open them, none other than Kirill is standing right in front of me. I open my mouth to scream, but his hand covers it.

  “We are talking,” he murmurs.

  I nod and pull his hand from my mouth before I turn from him and walk into my building. I don’t look back to make sure he’s following me. He is. I can hear his fancy shoes on the shitty flooring of the staircase. We climb the stairs in silence, and once I unlock the front door, I throw my purse down on the futon I didn’t sleep in and slump down into the cushions.

  “You didn’t sleep last night,” he announces. I look up at him in confusion.

  He’s wearing a pair of nice, straight legged, gray slacks, black leather shoes, and a black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His tattooed forearms. My eyes scan his body and I notice he has some tattoos on his knuckles and his neck, too. When we met, he had a few on his chest and back, nothing major; but his body now appears to be covered in ink, and, Jesus, it’s hot as hell.

  “I didn’t. How did you know?” I ask, trying not to look and lust after him.

  “I rented the empty place across from yours. To keep an eye on you.” He shrugs and it sends a shiver up my spine.

  “How long?” I ask.

  “A few days. What was that asshole Green doing here? And why in the fuck did you kiss him?” he growls.

  “First, I did not kiss him. He practically assaulted me. I kneed him in the nuts for it. I can’t stand that asshole. Second, he has a hard-on for you. He’s had a hard-on for you for a decade. He thinks he can get to you through me,” I offer with a shrug.

  I’m not hiding anything from Kirill, not really. He said I would tell him what he wanted to know, and I will. There is no reason to hide anything from him. I figured out early on that Agent Ryan Green is certifiable, I was just too scared to try and find Kirill after I left.

  “How do you know him then?” he asks. I sigh.

  This conversation needs to happen. I wish it didn’t, but it does. He needs the truth. He deserves the absolute truth, and then I want my own answers from him. I want to know if Agent Green lied to me all of these years, or if what he’s been telling me is indeed true.

  “I’ll tell you everything, but will you do the same? I have questions of my own. Will you answer them?” I ask.

  Tatyana looks tired— still beautiful, but I know she did not sleep last night. I didn’t either. I couldn’t. I stayed in the empty shithole across from her apartment and I watched her.

  I watched as she paced, as she cleaned and made Kiska breakfast.

  I watched as she told our daughter about me, about meeting me.

  I saw how happy Kiska was and how worried Tati looked. I don’t blame her. I would be worried, too; she should be worried.

  Very worried.

  I ponder her question as I walk over to her shitty futon and sit down. Will I answer all of her questions? Fuck no, I won’t.

  So I lie.

  “Yes, I’ll answer your questions,” I offer, indulging her.

  I won’t answer them truthfully, but I’ll give her an answer if she so desires one.

  “Are you in the Russian mafia?” she asks. I arch my brow.

  “Is that what he told you?”

  She pulls her full lips in, pressing them together, and then she flashes her green eyes at me. I see hesitation in them before she nods once.

  “He scared me. He told me you were in the mafia and that you were dangerous,” she admits.

  I can feel the rage bubbling to the surface. I’m so fucking angry. Not that he told her, but that she believed him and that it scared her. She knew me, the real me, the me that nobody else on earth has ever seen.

  If anybody could trust me, it was Tati.

  I have never loved like I loved her, and she shit on that.

  “I am Russian Bratva. I was born into this life, Tatyana.” I say the words and watch as she nods once before her eyes look down at her twisted hands.

  “I was only eighteen, Kirill. I was young and scared and I believed everything he said. He was the FBI. He knew things. He knew about me being pregnant. I was terrified,” she rambles. I can sympathize with her, but I still call bullshit on her decision.

  “So you left and you pretended to kill yourself? That’s some major fucking strings you pulled, Tati,” I growl.

  “What?” she breathes.

  I don’t respond to her.

  I wait.

  Then I
watch as her face scrunches up.

  “You thought I constructed some elaborate suicide?” she asks. I must give her credit, she looks genuinely surprised. “Oh, my god. Never. Kirill, I didn’t do that. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t,” she says, shaking her head as her eyes fill with tears.

  Then, to my fucking astonishment, she launches herself into my lap. Her arms wrap around me and she buries her face in my neck. I feel the wetness slide onto my skin from her eyes. Tears. I remember this about her. My Tati cried. She felt deeply, and when she did, she cried.

  It has been so long, I had forgotten.

  Without thinking, I wrap my arms around her and bury my fingers in her hair. Its soft, as it always was, and she feels good here in my arms. She shouldn’t. I should push her off, but having her here—it feels too good.

  “There was a note,” I murmur. Her head snaps up and she looks at me with confusion.

  “Never. I didn’t write a note when I left. Ryan told me I didn’t have time. I didn’t even pack a bag,” she informs me. For some reason, the only thing I can focus on is the informal way she used Agent Green’s name.

  “Ryan?” I ask.

  “Agent Green,” she confirms with a nod.

  “When did he become Ryan?” I sneer.

  “What?” she asks as she blinks.

  “Did you fuck him?” I bark, pushing her from my lap as I stand.

  “That is none of your business,” she says as she stands, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Her face is pink, but now it is not in sadness, but in anger.

  “It is. You’re the mother of my daughter. It is one hundred percent my fucking business,” I growl, narrowing my eyes on her.

  “So you haven’t had sex in ten years?” she asks, quirking a brow at me and smirking.

  I want nothing more than to kiss that smirk off of her face, but I’m too angry right now.

  “That’s irrelevant,” I grind out.

  “So it’s irrelevant if you’ve fucked somebody else, but it’s relevant if I have? You’re such a fucking dick,” she mutters.

  Her words spur me.

  I charge toward her.

  I watch as her eyes widen before she backs away from me and into the wall behind her. She’s in between the two windows that face the apartment I have rented. A look of sheer panic is written all over her face. I pick her up by her waist and bring her to my eye level, my nose practically touching hers.

  “It is extremely relevant whose cock has been inside of my pussy. I thought you were dead. You knew I wasn’t. This pussy has been mine since you were eighteen. You didn’t have my permission to give it to another. So yes, it’s fucking relevant,” I growl before I take her lips in a hard, owning, bruising, fucking painful kiss. Her little hands hit my shoulders before they grip my shirt and pull me closer.

  I shove my hips between her open legs as she wraps them around me. One of my hands leaves her waist and wraps around her breast. I squeeze the soft flesh roughly, bruising her, I’m sure; though I don’t give a flying fuck.

  “Kirill,” she whispers breathlessly. My cock goes rock hard between my legs.

  Fuck, her breathy whisper is going to kill me.

  She is going to kill me.

  “We fuck because you’re mine. It doesn’t mean I love you. It doesn’t mean we’re in a loving, caring relationship. It means I own your cunt,” I inform her.

  “WE FUCK BECAUSE YOU’RE mine. It doesn’t mean I love you. It doesn’t mean we’re in a loving, caring relationship. It means I own your cunt.”

  God, Kirill is such a prick.

  A complete fucking asshole.

  Why do I still want him?

  Because I’m powerless when it comes to Kirill.

  Because I will never stop loving him. Not ever.

  “No,” I say.

  I’m not convinced myself, so I don’t know how I’m going to convince him I don’t want him. Not when his hard cock is pressing against my center, and all I can think about is him being inside of me.

  How good I know he’ll feel there.

  How I know he’ll unravel me with just the touch of his fingers.

  “You don’t really have much of a say, Tati,” he murmurs as his lips touch just below my ear. “I’m back now, and you and Kiska are mine. This game is over.”

  “What game?” I ask as my head thumps against the wall behind me. His lips travel the length of my throat, sending goosebumps all over my flesh.

  “You thinking you can do as you wish. The second my baby was planted inside of you, it was over. Actually, it was over before that, you just didn’t know it yet.”

  I open my mouth to ask him what he means, but his lips wrap around my breast from the outside of my shirt and he sucks my nipple, through my shirt and my bra, into his mouth. It’s hot and hard and so good.

  It has been so long since I’ve been with anyone.

  I haven’t been celibate for all of these years; that’s ridiculous. I haven’t slept with Ryan Green or the bartender at the club, either. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t scratched an itch here and there.

  Kirill’s hand leaves the other side of my waist and travels up my thigh and my skirt, all the way to the lace of my panties. He tugs the center to the side before he slams two fingers inside of me and presses his thumb against my throbbing clit.

  “Kirill.” I gasp his name as my hands go straight into his shaggy hair. He lifts his head and his dark gray eyes focus completely on me.

  It’s frightening. He looks terrifying.

  Kirill doesn’t say a word. His hand leaves my breast and I hear his belt clink before the sound of his zipper, then a whoosh of fabric. His hand leaves my body and is replaced by one hard thrust of his dick. I gasp at the intrusion—the size of him. I had forgotten how big he is, how full he makes me feel. How utterly perfect he is.

  “Mine,” he growls as he wraps his hands around my thighs and widens my legs.

  His hips move, pumping in and out of me, his sheer strength pinning me up against the wall. I keep my hands tangled in his hair as my eyes stay completely open and trained on his. He’s expressionless, his eyes void of all emotion, and it makes me so damn sad. Kirill’s eyes always told of his feelings. He was so open with me all those years ago, even if his words didn’t express his emotions, his eyes always did.

  I yelp when his arms slide under my knees and he widens my legs even more, his hands pressing against the wall behind me and his eyes still fully focused on mine, still cold and dead. I shiver when he grinds his pelvis against me, then he stops—fully seated inside of me, his whole body freezes.

  “You belong to me, Tatyana. Your body belongs to me. Your life as you knew it is over,” he announces.

  “You cannot own me, Kirill. I am not your wife. I am not your woman,” I say in almost a whimper.

  I want him to move. I need him to move.

  “I do own you, Tati. I always have. If you run again, I will find you and I will drag you back to me. You won’t like how I do it, either,” he threatens. Considering the cold, dead look in his eyes, he is not fucking with me.

  Kirill begins fucking me with purpose, with strength, and with an abundance of power. I can do nothing but hold on and accept his brutal force. My mind is spinning and my body is climbing toward its release.

  When I come, it is massive. I cry out, screwing my eyes tightly closed as my pussy contracts around his thrusting cock. He comes a few moments later, filling me with his release after he buries his face in my neck.

  I cry.

  I’m unable to control the tears as they fall from my eyes.

  He thinks he owns me, and doesn’t he? I’m in his presence for less than an hour, and I’ve already let him fuck me. The guilt of keeping his daughter from him for nine years is so great that I fear I will let him treat me anyway he wishes. Ignoring my heart, my own feelings, and my own worth just so that he has her and they are happy.

  I have only ever wanted Kiska to be happy. I know with her father in her life, she wil
l be. She will feel whole. I understand the desire, as my father left when I was a small child and a piece of me has been missing since.

  “Do not cry, Tatyana. I may own you, but have you ever known me to mistreat you?” he asks as he slides out of my body and gently places me on my feet. I smooth down my skirt and look up at him before I shake my head.

  “I am angry with you. I will probably be angry with you for a long while. But I will not abuse you. It isn’t me,” he announces.

  “There are different types of abuse, Kirill,” I say quietly. He nods before he pulls his pants up and puts himself back together.

  “Games are not my thing. I don’t want to trick you. You’ll be mine to fuck when I want. Kiska will be under my roof, and we’ll be the family we need to appear to be,” he says. I blink in confusion.

  “And what, exactly, are our roles to each other, Kirill?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

  “You fuck no other man. You do whatever you wish, other than that. There are women you can befriend in my circle.” He waves his hand as if he is dismissing me. I straighten my spine.

  “I don’t think that works for me. What will you do?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

  “Whatever I want,” he chuckles. Then he narrows his gaze on me “You took my daughter from me, Tati. You’re lucky I’m giving you this opportunity. You’re lucky I still want your cunt and you’re useful to me. Otherwise, you would be gone and Kiska would be with her papa.”

  “You don’t mean that,” I gasp in surprise.

  “You knew me as a boy, Tati. I’m no longer a boy. I am a man, and Green did not lie when he said I was Bratva. I am. These tattoos you see, they tell my story. I am not a kind, gentle man. I am the highest ranking member in my area. I am in charge of hundreds of men. I am a Pakhan.”

  His words are full of anger and his tone is daring me to defy him. I won’t. I’ll suck it the fuck up because I did bring this on myself. He’s right. I took his child away from him when I shouldn’t have.