Bad Boy Savior: The Bad Boy Series: Book 4

by S. E. Lund

  Whatever he did to me, whoever he let do things to me, I didn’t remember much of any of it. Thankfully. I remembered waking while lying face down with Sergei – or someone else – grunting over me. When I cried out, he pressed my face against the floor.

  "Zakróy svoy rot, súka!" Shut your mouth, bitch!

  I had fallen back into unconsciousness as pain overtook me once more.

  Now, I lay on my side and licked my lips, tasting coppery blood. I ran my tongue over my teeth and was glad that they were all still intact, at least. My lip had been cut, though, and was swelling, the flesh raw. Nothing else seemed broken, so I'd gotten off lightly.

  The door opened, and light flooded into the room, illuminating it for the first time since I arrived there. It was filthy, with a rotting mattress on a platform, stained from who knew what. I didn’t want to think.

  A man stood in the doorway, his face hidden in shadow.

  Now what?

  More rape? More pain?

  "Get up."

  I struggled up to a sitting position and hid my eyes from the painful light. A man came into the cell and I closed my eyes, waiting for whatever hell he was going to administer, but he only slipped his hand under my arm and lifted me, pulling me to a standing position. I wobbled on my feet, dizzy, my muscles aching.

  "Your boyfriend is coming to rescue you," the man said with a chuckle. "Too bad. I could use you in one of my brothels. Some men like to fight with a woman before they fuck her. I get extra money for ones like you. He's going to have to pay a lot to get you back."

  He dragged me out of the room and up a set of stairs. We entered a warehouse with brick walls, duct work, and hardwood floors. Shelves of boxes filled the space. It looked like some kind of storage unit. He threw me back down and I landed on my knees, my hands preventing me from hitting my face, but only just.

  "Take her," he said to another man who stood a few feet away. I glanced up and took him in. Younger, dark haired, goatee. Prominent tattoos on his face and neck and wrists.

  Bratva. Vor. The Brotherhood of Thieves. I'd read those terms before – the Russian mafia in the U.S.

  "Should we clean her up first?"

  "No," the man said. "Let him see what happens to his women when he crosses me."

  I glanced back at him, wondering who he was. He had the same dark hair and beefy face as Sergei, and I wondered if he wasn't Sergei's son or some other relation.

  "Go, pizdá. It was fun. Maybe some other time if your boyfriend doesn't cooperate, we'll meet again. You got nice tits."

  I stood and saw there was an open door leading outside. Hunter must be out there. Why didn't he come inside and get me?

  I limped to the door, barefoot, wearing only a thin bloodied t-shirt and my jeans, which were wet between my thighs.

  "Hunter?"

  I got to the door and felt exhausted, but hope filled me when I saw him standing in a group of armed uniformed men, their weapons drawn. When he saw me, his face blanched and I could see his body tense.

  "Let me go to her," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

  One of the black-uniformed men pointed a weapon at Hunter's head. "You stay." The soldier turned to me and waved me forward. "You come," he ordered.

  I leaned in the doorway, my legs wobbling, tears of relief in my eyes.

  "Hunter," I whispered and fell, my legs finally giving out. Hunter pushed past the soldier and came to me, kneeling beside me, hooking his arms under mine and picking me up. He kissed my cheek, my forehead, and I sobbed, so relieved he was there. I slipped my arms around his neck while he carried me down the stairs and tucked my face into his neck. He took me to the waiting SUV where James stood, his hand on the door, holding it open. His face was grim, his expression one of horror.

  I must look pretty bad.

  Hunter placed me gently into the back seat and I lay down, lacking the strength to do up my seatbelt. Hunter did it for me, adjusting it so I could recline. He got in beside me, and I lay my head in his lap.

  "Let's go," he said. I caught a glimpse through the darkened windows of men holding up their weapons, the warehouse disappearing as we drove off.

  "Where to?"

  "Mass General emergency."

  "No," I said, shaking my head. "Take me to your safe house. I don't want doctors poking and prodding me."

  "You need a rape kit, x-rays, blood tests," Hunter said and stroked my hair. "Don't argue with me."

  I didn't have the strength to argue and so I closed my eyes and tried to let everything go.

  I was safe now.

  Hunter had come to rescue me.

  "What did he make you do?" I managed to ask.

  "Shh," Hunter said and stroked my cheek. "Don't you worry about anything but recovering."

  "He made you do something bad," I said, unable to keep the man's words out of my mind. "Tell me what I cost you."

  "I'd pay anything," he said softly. "You have to know that. Anything."

  I finally relented, and tried not to think of what had happened to me. Instead, I thought about being safe – finally safe.

  I was taken right into a room in the ER when Hunter carried me inside and told the triage nurse I'd been raped and beaten.

  A nurse came in with us and did a preliminary exam, then an ER doc came in and did his assessment, telling me I'd be getting a rape kit, x-rays to check for broken bones, and a CT scan of my head to check for concussion. I was taken immediately for several x-rays and the CT scan, after they checked my blood pressure to make sure I wasn't bleeding internally. When that was finished, a special nurse did the rape kit, which I had no idea would take so long and involved plucking out dozens of pubic hairs, swabbing me, examining me, and taking photographs. She explained everything to me and advised me to get some counseling because of the trauma I had experienced.

  "Even if you don't remember everything now, you may have vivid dreams and at times, you might remember parts of the rape that you don’t recall now. It will help if you have someone to talk to who knows how to deal with this. We have resources that you can use when you get out."

  I thanked her. When it was all over, I was taken back to my room and a lab tech came to draw blood. Finally, I lay on a gurney in an examining room, Hunter standing beside the bed, my hand in his.

  He leaned down and kissed me tenderly on the mouth. "How are you?"

  "I'm fine," I said and smiled. "Just a bitch of a headache."

  The ER physician came in and stood at the side of my bed, checking my file.

  "You have a concussion as well as some minor contusions and abrasions. Your nose was broken, but fortunately you won't need any surgery. You'll have swelling and two black eyes for a while, but everything should be back to normal in about six weeks. We'll turn the rape kit over to police and you should know soon about any exposure to HIV or other sexually transmitted diseases when the lab reports come back. The nurse talked with you about it?"

  I nodded. "When can I go home?"

  "We'd like to keep you overnight, just to be sure. That's quite a concussion you have so I'd feel better. You can stay in an observation room. It's semi-private, but that's all we have for now."

  I turned to Hunter. He nodded. "You should stay."

  I turned back to the doc. "Can he stay for a while?"

  The doctor turned to Hunter. "Are you immediate family?"

  "Yes," Hunter said. "I'm her fiancé."

  The ER doc nodded. "You can stay, but there isn’t much room for chairs. No more than one visitor at a time and only immediate family."

  "That's okay."

  Hunter turned to me, his eyes meeting mine, a sparkle in his eyes. I smiled, amused that he'd played the fiancé card.

  When the doc left, I turned to Hunter. "So, I'm engaged, am I?"

  "They're not going to kick me out of here," he said and kissed me again. When he pulled back, his expression was serious. "I'm so sorry this happened to you. It’s all my fault. Everything. If only I'd just paid off Graham'
s debt and left it at that, none of this would have happened to you."

  "It's Graham's fault," I replied, shaking my head. "If he hadn't lost all our money, we would never have had to come to you, involve you in our trouble."

  Hunter nodded and stroked my cheek.

  "But then," I said softly. "We wouldn't have met again."

  "No, we wouldn't. You wouldn't have been abducted – twice. You wouldn't have been harmed."

  "We can't go back," I said and squeezed his hand. "No use crying over spilled milk. All I want is for things to go back to normal. Now that Spencer's gone, Graham and I don’t have to worry about him. I'll finish my law degree, and life can go on."

  Hunter shook his head. "Things will never go back to normal, Celia. Not now that Sergei did this."

  "We can try to make them normal," I said, frowning. "Won't the police charge him with my abduction and rape? They did a rape kit. There's evidence."

  "Celia," Hunter said softly. "They're not going to charge him with rape."

  "But he raped me. He abducted me."

  "He's the head of the Russian mafia in Boston. He's not going down on a rape charge. They want to get him on something bigger. Racketeering. Money laundering. Gun running."

  I frowned, angry that despite the fact he'd abducted and raped me, as did his henchmen, they wouldn't press charges.

  "But the rape kit…"

  "It'll go where the majority of rape kits go – on a shelf in the police station. Celia, Sergei is a big fish. They'll wait until they have enough to arrest him and keep him. They'll wait until they have a rock-solid case of racketeering before they take him in. A rape charge, an abduction charge…" He took my face in his hands. "They don't want to waste their effort. Most rape charges are never even prosecuted."

  "That's not fair," I said, unable to accept that what Sergei did to me would mean nothing for him. Then I nodded, realizing what Hunter said was true.

  "I understand." I sighed and closed my eyes, tears springing to them. I was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and couldn't hold it back.

  Hunter slipped his arms around me, holding me tightly while I cried.

  "I'm so sorry," he whispered, kissing my cheek, wiping tears from my face. "I promise you that nothing else will happen to you. I promise you."

  I let him hold me, for his arms were the only comfort I knew.

  Later, Amy and then my Aunt Diane came to the hospital to see me. Even Graham used a wheelchair and dropped by and so my overnight stay in Mass General's observation beds passed quickly. Hunter stayed until after midnight, not letting go of my hand unless he had to leave to let someone else visit.

  Strangely, the police didn't come until later in the evening. I expected it was because of what Hunter told me. They weren't going to do anything. Still, the two police officers, one female and one male, took my statement and then left with a promise to call me if anything happened with the case.

  I knew nothing would.

  "He will get justice, Celia," Hunter said to me before he left that night. "I promise you. He'll pay for what he did to you. He'll pay for everything."

  I nodded and closed my eyes. Hunter leaned down and kissed me, his kiss tender. He lingered over me, adjusting my covers, my pillow, stroking my cheek.

  Then he left me.

  And that was the last time I saw him.

  I woke early the next morning. Hospitals were so noisy, with nursing staff and cleaners bustling around at all hours. Even when they shut off the main overhead lights, there was still activity so my sleep was broken.

  Still, they gave me some Tylenol for pain and I managed a few hours of sleep. A nurse came in the morning and asked if I wanted a shower, and I did. I'd had one after the rape kit had been finished, but I felt like I needed another one. I stood in the bathroom and stared into the mirror, at my two black eyes and swollen nose. Luckily, my nose hadn't been broken too badly and I'd show no long-term consequences. I didn’t want to look like a boxer, and the ER doc assured me I wouldn't, but it would take weeks for the swelling to go down completely.

  To my surprise, Aunt Diane arrived and brought me some clean clothes she got from Hunter.

  "Did you talk to him? Why didn’t he come himself?"

  She nodded. "Yes, sweets, I talked to him. He said to tell you that he had to go out of town for a while. That you should come and stay with me until things get cleared up."

  "What?" I frowned and texted Hunter.

  CELIA: Hey, why aren't you coming to pick me up?

  I waited and waited, but didn't get an answer.

  CELIA: Why didn't you tell me you were going out of town?

  CELIA: Hunter, please respond. Tell me where you are. Why am I staying at my aunt's place? It can't be any safer than your place.

  No answer.

  "What did he say to you?" I asked her. "Tell me!"

  She had a guilty expression on her face, and avoided my eyes. "He said he was going away, and that you were going to have to as well. The FBI is going to come by today and talk to you about moving somewhere safe." Then she turned and faced me. "Celia, the truth is that you're not safe here anymore. Not as long as Sergei is free. You have to move away. Get a new identity. Start over."

  "What?" I sat dumbfounded, on the verge of tears. "I'm not leaving. What about Mom? Graham? I'm in Harvard Law! You don’t just walk away from that."

  "Everything will be arranged for you. New ID, new name and Social Security number. You'll have to have a cover story. You can apply to go to law school wherever you relocate. You were accepted at Stanford so you could always go there. You'll have papers that should help you get in."

  "When did you discuss all this?"

  "While you were sleeping. Hunter talked to his contact in the FBI and he agreed. You're in danger. Sergei Romanov hurt you once and he won't hesitate to do it again. He was likely the one who killed your stepfather. When he's in jail, we can re-establish contact, but there's no way to know how long that will take. He's a big fish. It takes longer to hook them and pull them in. Maybe a year or more."

  I stared at the wall, tears in my eyes. "So Hunter hates Sergei so much, he's willing to send me away so he can catch him?"

  My aunt took my hand and squeezed. "No. He cares for you so much that he has to send you away for your own safety."

  I wiped my eyes, emotion overwhelming me. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to leave Boston, my mother and brother. Harvard. Hunter…

  "Can we visit? Can you guys come out to wherever I live?"

  "No contact is allowed, Celia. Not while you're still in danger."

  "But that may mean a year or longer…"

  "I'm sorry, but I agree that it's for your own protection."

  I closed my eyes and cried.

  Chapter 10

  Hunter

  "You know I'm right."

  Celia's Aunt Diane stood in front of me, her hands on her hips. She had this expression in her eyes that said she wouldn't accept no from me. Of course, she was right. I'd been nothing but bad news for Celia since she had come to me and begged me to save Graham's life. If I had been a man instead of a big piece of suck, I would have paid off the debt and walked away.

  But I hadn’t.

  I would be a man now, when Celia needed me.

  "You're right."

  She nodded and pointed to the exit. "Leave now, and don’t come back. I’ll let you know how she is, but if you care about her, Hunter, you'll leave her for good."

  I turned and left, my eyes blurring at the truth of it.

  I had to leave her.

  She'd have to leave Boston.

  I'd talk to Millar and get him to make the arrangements. Then, I'd extract myself from Celia's life for good. She'd probably be upset, but in the end, she'd thank me when she restarted her life free from the danger that still existed for her here in Boston.

  A few days later, I went to the hospital to check on George.

  "How is Celia?" George asked, sitting up on the edge of his b
ed, dangling his feet to improve his circulation. He was slowly recovering. If he kept improving, getting stronger every day, he would be released in a week. Maybe ten days.

  "She's much better, I hear."

  "You are not seeing?"

  I shook my head, a catch in my throat at the thought I wouldn't see her again.

  "Is for best," George said and squeezed my shoulder as I helped him stand. "You know."

  "I know, but I still don't like it."

  I walked George to his bathroom and waited outside while he took a piss, listening to make sure he didn’t fall. I heard the flush that signalled he was done and then the water running in the sink. The door opened and he came out once more.

  "Should I walk? Get exercise?"

  "Yes, you should. Come on, old man. Get your ass moving or you'll never get out of here."

  We got his walker, and together we walked the hallways, his pace a bit faster today than it had been. He truly was on the mend but his docs said he'd still need to use a cane. The bullet had damaged nerves in his spine and he'd probably be weak on one side for the rest of his life.

  Despite it all, he was happy to be getting up and walking. I was happy to have him back with me, although he would never be the same soldier he had been before the attack.

  That, too, was on me. My fault.

  I should have let Celia remain just a memory, but I couldn't. When she came to me, I couldn't resist her.

  I could never resist her.

  Even though I knew I shouldn't, I spoke with Millar and was filled in on the plans to get Celia a new identity and new location until Sergei was taken down. It would never be entirely safe for her, but once Sergei and his family went down, she'd be able to re-establish contact with her family. Until then?

  She'd have to become lost to us all.

  Millar took care of everything, promising not to talk to me about her until after it was done. I didn’t know where she'd go, and I didn’t know what her name was.