by M. Merin
“You alright, Doll?” Flint cupped her cheek, shifting her gaze up to his. The smile Bree gave him was blinding and he pulled her up from the chair, kissing her thoroughly.
Bree waved a hand at me when Flint gave me a nod and led her off.
I headed down the hallway and stopped at Betsy’s door, hearing her cry but not going in to hold her was the hardest thing. I went back to the bar and grabbed a bottle to see me through the night.
Betsy
I hadn’t been up to the cabin in a couple years. Vice had brought me up here once after we first met. Looking around, I can see all the changes they’ve made around here, all for the better. It’s less party house and more bring your family for the weekend, so I’m sure Emma had a hand in this.
“The master bath is a thing of beauty,” Russian says, coming in the door with a smirk lighting up his face. “Rain shower.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about this whole shower fantasy thing you got going on,” I walk over to grab my bag from him.
“What? I can’t have a thing?” he laughs. “Like I know your thing is that you’ll go unpack, you’ll find your girlie bag and put your things out in the bathroom, just so. When we leave, this place will be cleaner than when you got here.”
“If you saw where I grew up, Russian, you’d understand why I can’t stand filth.”
“I filled the hot tub earlier, come on out when you’re settled. Tell me about it then,” he responds, going to unpack the groceries while I go answer the call of my obsessive behavior.
Once everything is neatly put away, I strip and wrap a towel around myself. Smiling and looking forward to the unexpected break the next few days will be, I eagerly join him.
“Oh! The water’s perfect,” I sigh, straddling his lap and wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
“I think it’s the company that perfect,” he leans down to kiss me. “If I’d known this was the reward, I would have gotten picked up months ago.”
“Russian, where are you from? For real?” I hesitantly ask, breaking my longstanding rule of exchanging personal information.
I feel the rumble of a laugh in his chest although he doesn’t make a sound. “You’ve known it all along, Little Bit. I am actually from Russia, last name is Rusanov. Hearing that, one of the old timers hung Russian on me, not even knowing I was from there.”
“And I heard Wrench call you Arty one time?”
“Do that and I put you back on the road,” he growls and pinches my nipple. “It’s Artem. Glad you finally asked.”
“Yeah?” I lightly bite his neck.
“When we’re alone, that’s what I want you calling me from now on,” his arms hold me tighter and I try to push back from him.
“Russ…Artem, I was going to wait to tell you. I’ve been saving up and I think it’s time I move on. I care about you. Jasper and Emma really made the clubhouse a home for me but I have my GED now and I want to see what…” his arms tighten uncomfortably around me as I speak and the words he growl directly into my ear silence me.
“Figure out what you want to do, that’s not an issue with me. Get a job in an office, be a party planner, work at the resort, just fucking know that you’ll be coming home to our bed every goddamn night. Next time we set foot in the clubhouse, I’m claiming you, Betsy. You got that?” He pulls my hair back and the fierceness in his gaze holds me tighter than his arms ever could. I start to think of a thousand reasons why I’d never be good enough for him, until I notice another emotion hiding in his glare. Fear.
I know that look to well. I’ve seen it staring back at me from my mirror since I was a teenager.
Chapter 3
Betsy
Lowering my eyes, I’m suddenly determined to study his chin. “I was brought in to be a club whore, Russian,” I say, refusing to use his given name. “Not like I was much more than that before Vice…”
“Don’t you ever fucking say his name to me again, Little Bit,” Russian hisses. “You got me?”
“What? You want to claim me but I can never speak the name of any guy I fucked?”
“Don’t give a shit about anyone else, just can’t stand his ass and the crap he pulls. I know most of the rest of your story, Betsy. I’d like to hear it from you, but I know the basics.” His voice lowers from the angry tone he used when talking about Vice, to almost shame when he makes it known he looked into me.
“How much? How much do you know?” My eyes well with tears.
“I sat down with Flint. He knew what Wrench had collected on you. About the child you gave up,” he kisses my forehead and the steel hold of his arms melts to cradle, instead of constrain me. “Nothing on the child’s…”
“My daughter,” I correct him on a sob. “She was beautiful. I found her good parents, Russian…Artem. I swear I did my best to find her decent parents.” I grip his shoulders and hold his eyes with my own. Needing him to see the truth in my eyes.
“We can have Wrench track her down, if you want to check up on her?” Russian offers.
“No. No, I promised them. My mom and step-dad were users, pretty bad. I had to get out of that house. I picked the adopted parents on the condition they’d get me a place to live. I got a job at a nearby diner, I did work as much as I could. But when I first talked to them I swore if they gave me a place to live, a little for expenses and a few thousand so I could leave. Jesus Christ, I fucking sold my little girl so I could escape,” I’m full out sobbing but am determined to finish. “My life was hell. He was selling me to his friends, Russian. I have no clue who the father was. She was so fucking beautiful.”
My tear ducts continue to add to the water level in the hot tub and I know they haven’t flowed like this since I was sixteen. Russian holds me as I babble, trying to comfort me but I can’t hear him over the words I can’t stop from pouring out of my mouth.
Once I get myself under control, I make sense of what he’s asking me. “Was it your step-dad? Is that who I’ll be visiting?”
“No, his son,” I reply in between hiccups.
“I’ll need his friends’ names, too.”
I shake my head against his chest, unable to form any other words. That life is so far behind me I don’t want to think about the names attached to the faces I sometimes wake up hyperventilating to.
“You’re mine now, Little Bit. Look at me?” he gives me the time I need to wipe my face. “No one else is ever touching you again, Betsy. You and me, yeah?”
“But your Brothers…”
“Only fuck I give about what’s past is how I’m gonna end your step-brother. Nothing else matters to me.” He seals his words with a kiss. “Now, you gonna accept my claim, Little Bit?”
“Why me?” I ask him. “I mean I heard about you seeing women from the resorts?”
“Scratching an itch time to time doesn’t mean I found something I wanted. I was waiting on you to get over…” Russian’s nostrils flare.
“’He who shall not be named?’” I smile up at him. “I’ve been over that for a while now.”
“I’m not a patient man, Betsy, say the fucking words already.”
“I love you.” Bursts from my lips.
“That’ll do, Little Bit,” his smile stretches ear to ear. “You’re mine now.”
I say those three precious words to a man for the first time in my life and I know I should be upset he doesn’t say them back. But his actions speak louder than any words ever could.
Russian
Without warning, I stand with Betsy still secured in my arms and carry her inside. Heading straight to the bedroom, I toss her onto the king sized bed and bury my face into her core. She’s still soaked from the hot tub and trying to warm herself in the sheets but all I care about is making her cum until she’s jelly.
My jaw is aching by the time she has her third orgasm, so I kiss my way up her trim body until our faces our level. “No more reason to cry after this, Little Bit. Gonna take good care of you. We’ll build a life together. Understand?�
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“You won’t hold any of my past against me?” Her eyes bore into mine and I don’t doubt she carries around more self-loathing than anything I could ever heap on her. Not that I will.
“No. I don’t much want you hanging out with Vice but I haven’t been a fucking angel and as long as you promise you won’t run around on me, I’ll believe you.” I kiss her nose. “I won’t stray.”
“I want you, Artem. I wanted to leave because I never considered you would make me yours and being with all the wrong guys showed me how great you are.” Betsy caresses my face as she speaks. Her eyes lower as she continues. “I didn’t want to be here when you decided to move on.”
“Shhh, none of that now, Little Bit,” I kiss her eyelids, nudging her chin up. I hate that her insecurities cause her to cast her eyes down. “No more tears, remember? Now I have a little confession to make. I texted Flint earlier. You and me? We’re on vacation, a week or two up here. How does that sound?”
“It sounds like I’ll be taking lots of showers,” she quips, although I can tell she’s exhausted. Between the drive up here, her tears, and her orgasms, she’s had a long day.
“Get some rest now,” kissing her forehead, I feel her relax into my body as sleep overtakes her.
Holding her close, I feel relief for the first time in as long as I can remember. The arrest should be weighing on my mind, but the troopers don’t have shit on me so no charges will stick. It’s been so long since I left Russia that I can’t imagine anyone cares about my existence anymore. I’ve stayed off the radar all these years.
Having things nearly settled between Betsy and me is my reward. All that’s left is for me to claim her in front of my Brothers.
*
I must have drifted off to sleep. I wake from a dream I can’t remember and feel my stomach clenching in on itself. Sliding my arm from around Betsy, I head out to the kitchen and see my phone all lit up.
Swiping on the missed call icon, Wrench immediately picks up. “Fuck, Russian. I just got in my truck to drive up there. You okay?”
“Yeah. What’s going on?”
“I swear, as soon as your arrest showed up online I started deleting it. Your name was still on someone’s active list though. Someone from your part of the world got wind of it before I could destroy the flag. I couldn’t get you so I let Jasper, Flint, and Vice know. They want you to destroy your SIM card, stay away for a while.” He talks in his usual fast pace, loudly over the music in the background.
“You at the clubhouse?”
“Dumping this phone when you hang up, didn’t want the signal anywhere less fortified.” His voice sounds rough and I instantly know he’s worried about Amy and their children. About my past reaching out for his own family. But, fuck, don’t we all have messed up pasts.
“Gotcha, Brother. Need some info about someone else’s past, when you get a minute.” I state my request, thinking he has to know that I mean Betsy. Motherfucker never disappoints.
“I checked a while back. Got the guy’s name and whereabouts that you’ll want. About the other thing? Let her know she made the right choice.” Wrench hesitates, and it takes me that moment to realize that he took the liberty of checking up on the child Betsy gave up. “Uh, I mean is this a claim situation?”
“Any objection?”
“Fuck, my Ol’ Lady bet me about this a year ago. I’m gonna owe her, you asshole!” he laughs, but is too smart to mention any names over the line. “To answer your question, I’ll back you. I came from the same type of crap she did. Respect the fuck outta anyone who tries to move beyond it.”
Chapter 4
Betsy
I wake up in a pitch black room. Alone, naked, and starving. I start to jump from the bed but the smell of food cooking and memories of the past eight hours stop me.
Russian, Artem, wants me as his Ol’ Lady.
It nearly breaks my heart, knowing most people in the MC still think I’m waiting on Vice. I know as well as anyone that he’s a man-whore, and even if he did claim me, he’d never make me happy. I’d always have to keep an eye out, watching the next trick that walked in the door, and that’s no way to live.
Last Christmas, Vice pulled me aside, telling me how much he cared about me. I sat on his lap as he told me I was his favorite. Then he pulled out a jewelry box, inside was a leather choker with a silver piece in the middle. The engraving read: Dibs – Vice.
That son of a bitch fucked any and every woman who caught his eye for as long as I’ve known him. He always came chasing after me once he kicked them out of his bed, always told me I was the ONE. But as all of his friends started to settle down, all he wanted was dibs with me.
And I was supposed to grateful for that piece of shit?
I was shaking with rage when I pushed myself off of his lap. Told him never to touch me again and that I hoped his dick rotted off.
“Little Bit?” Russian calls from the doorway. “Midnight meal?”
“I’ll be right there,” I mumble, distracted by memories once again.
I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me. Reaching for his discarded T-shirt, I follow him back out to the main room. Sitting next to him, I suddenly notice how tense he is and narrow my brows at him.
“Some complications,” he grunts, seeing my expression. I feel my face fall, thinking it’s about him claiming me but he wraps his hand behind my head and pulling my lips to his. He whispers, “We’re solid, Betsy. Need your SIM card though. Any numbers you’ll need replaced, you better write down.”
“What happened?” I ask as he pushes a plate of steamed veggies and pasta in front of me.
“Wrench called, we gotta stay holed up for longer than I was thinking,” he pauses, taking a mouthful. A knot is tightening in my belly even though he’s relaxed enough to eat. “I’m guessing my half-brother still has an interest in where I got off to. He’ll be sending men for me.”
“Can you start at the beginning?” I whisper. “I’m a bit lost.”
“Eat up some more, Little Bit. You’re still too thin. Bigger I can get your hips, harder I’ll give it to you,” he winks at me, trying to erase the worry he sees on my face. Knowing how stubborn he is, I take a few bites to get him talking again. Taking a swig of the vodka in front of him, he makes a face after the sip. “Doesn’t taste right here. Had it growing up.
“My mother was nearly seventeen when she had me. She applied for a factory job but she was gorgeous so the plant manager sent her picture to the owner – he was Bratva. His oldest son decided he wanted my mother, Ana, and she was taken from the plant on what she thought was going to be her first day of work.
Her mother dropped her at the front door but couldn’t find her at the end of the shift. No one would speak to her. Not the workers, not the police. Seven months later a sedan pulled in front of the building Baba lived in.
“She was told to pack a bag and was finally brought to her daughter. My father had four daughters with his wife but after raping my mother on the day she was taken from the factory, well… She became pregnant quickly and when the ultrasound showed a son, my mother suddenly had value. He wanted to please her, so he allowed her mother to join her.”
“Fuck, Rus – Artem! People, I mean, that actually goes on?” I push my plate aside and pour vodka from the bottle into my empty water glass.
“I never got to know her. My Baba was a realist and understood the situation. From what I gathered, mother thought he would leave his wife and whores for her. She was young and hoped for a fairy tale. He didn’t. Shortly before I turned five, his wife had a son and my mother killed herself when she heard the news. I was raised in a fine apartment, father would visit a couple times a week and when I was six, a tutor moved in with us. My tutor was French but could speak several languages without accent. I was taught in English with a North American accent and Italian as a third language.”
Russian finishes up his dish and picks up my fork, trying to get me to eat. As if I could, after hearing
this.
“If you want me to finish telling you, go microwave your meal and eat. By the time I finish, you’ll know more about me than anyone else.”
Barely a minute passes before I do as he says. I kiss him soundly as I wait for my meal. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I murmur into his ear. Collecting my plate, I pull my chair closer to him so I can keep contact as he continues.
“I may have tricked you, Betsy,” Russian smiles at me. “The story gets shorter. I was the son in his image. I not only learned the languages he demanded but two more with perfect accents. I excelled at martial arts, boxing, and running. Every accomplishment was another nail in my coffin. His wife’s family was also powerful and knew her son’s position was in jeopardy with each new notch in my belt.”
I smirk at him. “Sorry, Little Bit,” he smiles back. “I was taught a lot of idioms and when I think of that time, they all come out.
“When I was in my late teens, my Baba was dying. She had no doubt about what was coming. That I could challenge my half-brother’s place in our father’s operation. Baba called for an ambulance, had me ride with her. The confusion of the hospital was the perfect place to slip away from our constant watchers. So I did as we had planned. I used fake papers for many years. When I found this place, I actually gave my real name. It wasn’t until Wrench joined up that Flint realized I had given them my real name while I was still riding around with a fake id. They got everything legit. Wrench kept an eye on things.”
“Until your arrest?” I ask, needlessly.
“He went in to scrub the record as soon as he had heard, but there was a lag. My name was still flagged by someone in Russia. So, now, we may have visitors.”
“Why didn’t you change your name? You could have. You said you had papers.” I can’t believe how angry I am at him risking himself.
“Because it was all I had left of my mother, Betsy.” He almost snarls at me and I draw back from him without thinking. He grabs the back of my neck so we’re eye to eye again. “She was raped at sixteen. She lived without any fucking choices. As a present for birthing a son, she got to name me. My mother got to choose one thing and I will honor that.”