The Beast

by Jaden Wilkes

  The Beast

  a novel by

  Jaden Wilkes

  Copyright © 2014 by Jaden Wilkes. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Basically, don’t be a dick. I work hard as an independent writer, and it sucks every time I come across some douchey pirate site with my books on it. If you seriously can’t afford the very low price to buy my book, then email me and we’ll talk about it. Most likely I’ll send you a copy if it means you aren’t downloading it for free online somewhere.

  And if you do download this for free from some rip off site, just remember, karma is like 69, you get what you give. It’s coming for you, asshole. Enjoy your shitty luck.

  ****WARNING****

  Please understand that this is a book of fiction, but I describe some very dark things, terrible things, sexual things and scenes of violence and abuse. This is not a typical love story, but more a story of two imperfect beings coming together to find each other in the darkness. I won’t give the plot away, but know that not everyone’s journey is the same, and theirs may trigger some deeper things for you. I hope you love this story as much as I do, and are able to carry some small piece of it with you long after you finish.

  ----------------------------

  Stalker links:

  author.jaden.wilkes@gmail.com

  https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJadenWilkes

  https://www.goodreads.com/JadenWilkes

  https://twitter.com/JWilkesAuthor

  http://authorjadenwilkes.tumblr.com

  Dedication

  I suppose I’m reaching that point in my career where I need to thank a few more people than my ever suffering and patient family. Of course I do thank them, without my unbelievable husband and my eye rolling, demanding children who do occasionally leave me alone to write, none of this would happen. So thank you, love you all, let’s order in tonight, Mommy’s too busy to cook. Mr. Wilkes, I still owe you a blowie.

  That being said, thank you to the people I’ve met who have supported my egotistical, whiney ass. Karen for being there since LF, encouraging me and patting my hand when I’m being an asshole.

  Miranda for deciding that she was my unofficial PA. I never knew I needed one, now thank god you keep me off Facebook when I should be editing or NONE of ya would be reading this right now!

  The fabulous groups and blogs who help me out all the freaking time.

  I apologize if I leave anyone else out, it’s not intentional. I have just been so damn lucky to find a huge community of people who read my work, like it and keep wanting more. I write these books for you! So keep sharing my books, tagging the hell out of me, putting up with my cranky days and laughing at my stupid jokes. xoxox

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One - Dimitri

  Chapter Two - Columbia

  Chapter Three - Dimitri

  Chapter Four – Columbia

  Chapter Five - Dimitri

  Chapter Six – Columbia

  Chapter Seven – Dimitri

  Chapter Eight – Columbia

  Chapter Nine - Dimitri

  Chapter Ten – Columbia

  Chapter Eleven – Dimitri

  Chapter Twelve – Columbia

  Chapter Thirteen - Dimitri

  Chapter Fourteen – Columbia

  Chapter Fifteen – Dimitri

  Chapter Sixteen – Columbia

  Chapter Seventeen – Dimitri

  Chapter Eighteen-Columbia

  Chapter Nineteen – Dimitri

  Chapter Twenty – Columbia

  Chapter Twenty One – Dimitri

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three – Dimitri

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Excerpt from Therapist

  Chapter One - Dimitri

  It could be any penthouse apartment in any city in any country in the world. Except that it wasn’t. This particular apartment comprised the top two floors of the most expensive building on Vancouver’s waterfront. The architecture was modern, three hundred and sixty degree views offered sweeping vistas from the ocean to the mountains, and everything in between. The furniture was custom by the best interior designer money could buy, flown in from Paris on the owner’s private jet and given free rein, money being no object.

  After the apartment was completed, its sole occupant moved in and took over the twelve thousand square feet of luxury. His world existed in about fifteen hundred of it, the dining room, the gym, the master bedroom with attached spa bathroom, the library, the pool and the rooftop deck. The rest was closed off, opened once a month to be cleaned thoroughly by a small army of maids who never saw the owner, who made a hundred times their normal rate, who only collected their money on the way out and who never asked questions.

  Saying the owner was mysterious would be an understatement. Groceries were delivered, laundry laundered, sheets changed and the main living quarters cleaned once a week by a loyal staff that had never seen him in person.

  The only people who saw him were his medical team and his concierge. His concierge was his closest friend, and handled everything else for him, including the very occasional high paid escort who would be flown in from out of country, ushered in after midnight, blindfolded, used and sometimes abused, and left panting and bruised in the middle of a windowless room in the center of the penthouse. The concierge would come in, take off the blindfold, unbind them and pay them to keep quiet and leave. They never used the same girl twice.

  The owner never left the apartment. He hadn’t left it since he moved in three years prior. He was a recluse, content to spend his days online, reading in his extensive library of first editions and rare books, working out obsessively, scanning video footage from the security cameras strategically placed around his penthouse, and hiding from the world that nearly killed him.

  The first thing people would notice, given the chance to catch a glimpse, would be his size. He was over six and a half feet tall, an imposing man in any situation, but even more so now. He had always been naturally well muscled, but given his self confined existence, he’d bulked up until he was a mountain of flesh rippling over bulging muscles, most of it smooth and lightly tanned.

  The second thing people would notice would be the scars. He was alarmingly maimed from his hip to the top of his head along the left side of his body. Escorts were blindfolded and bound just for this reason, he couldn’t bear to see them recoil from him, to watch them fight against their disgust when he unveiled his scarred and terrible face.

  He had once been a handsome man, when he was known as The Enforcer. Now he was Dimitri to himself and his closest friend, although he knew most of the people who had once known him referred to him as The Beast. The staff whispered about him to one another, he sometimes caught small pieces of their conversation on his surveillance system. Each “burned over his entire body” or “they call him the beast because he is no longer human” served to validate his choice to remain far from society.

  He was also safer hiding from those who had attempted to take his life the first time. When he had simply been Dimitri Sokolov, all those years ago, he wouldn’t have garnered much interest from these kinds of people. Slowly but surely over the last fifteen years he had scraped and pulled his way to the top of the Solntsevskaya Bratva, the most dangerous criminal organization the world had ever seen. Based in Russia and filled with men who had no compunction when it came to killing or fucking...or both. It was more than just a secret crime syndicate; the members were as close as a family. They were men who were single minded on one purpose, to further themselves and their organization.

&nb
sp; He never saw the attack coming, considering his mentor and father figure, Sergei, had been the one behind it.

  He had just returned from a very productive meeting with some high level Triad members in Hong Kong. He’d spent a weekend making alliances, and then hopped a helicopter to Macau for a week of gambling and sex. The alliances were formed and he had enjoyed his first vacation since joining the gang as a petty thief at age fourteen. There had been one delicious Malaysian girl in particular that kept him spending most of his time in his room, she’d been one tough little fuck and could really take a beating, always with a shy smile on her face. Dimitri’s cock swelled at the memory of it, her blackened eyes and bleeding lips, begging him for more. He’d almost gone over the edge that time, almost taken her too far, but at the last minute the thought of losing her tight, hot cunt made him soften his blows and care for her wounds.

  She would never have to sell herself again with the money he left. Or she would, he wasn’t her investment banker, who knows what a whore in Macau would blow their cash on?

  Before flying back to Moscow, he had stopped over in Paris. Sergei’s little girl, Iryna, was turning twelve the day after his return. He was her Uncle Dimi and completely wrapped around her little finger. He had promised her the best gift ever, and had gone shopping on the Champ-Elysees, clothes, dolls, furs, and couture...she was a little girl with very expensive tastes. He knew he made a ridiculous sight while shopping. A gigantic muscular man, an obvious criminal in spite of his expensive custom tailored suits, soft-spoken manner and billions tied up in legitimate investments. The French had a nose for such things. He didn’t care though; Iryna’s smile would make every bit of his side trip worthwhile.

  He’d landed in Moscow in the evening, giving him a night at his apartment, time to clean up and relax after his trip. The next day he called his driver, collected the wrapped gifts from his concierge and made his way out of the city to Sergei’s country estate.

  The party was in full swing by the time he got there. Sergei had spared no expense for his precious little girl, he’d hired acrobats, some American pop star, a small circus, and every corner of the five-acre lawn had something happening.

  Iryna was radiant, at twelve she knew she was loved for her looks and the fear her father commanded in everyone around, everyone except Dimitri. He hadn’t feared Sergei for years, and now he looked upon his mentor with kindness, but with none of the trembling terror so many had for him.

  Dimitri met Sergei when he tried to pick his pockets outside the Moscow Opera, a performance of Carmen if he recalled correctly. He thought he had gotten away when he felt an iron grip on the scruff of his neck and looked up into Sergei’s cold, grey eyes. He had been taken back to Sergei’s pied a terre and beaten within an inch of his life. Only Sergei’s mistress had intervened to save him. He wished he could remember her name, but there had been so many over the years. Sergei decided to agree with her, he also liked the spark of defiance in Dimitri’s eyes and spent the next twenty years trying to squash it, to rein him in so to speak.

  “Dimitri, my friend, I need to see you about something,” Sergei had cornered him within an hour of his arrival. He should have known something was up, but Sergei was famous for never mixing business with pleasure, especially when it involved his little girl. Dimitri now blamed the alcohol, the few beers he’d consumed before Sergei dragged him off, for not catching on that something was wrong.

  They’d walked the length of the estate grounds and ended up at the shooting range just beyond the hedge maze. Sergei had a small club house set up there, his “man cave” he called it, borrowing an American expression. It wasn’t a place for playing pool and watching the game though, it was Sergei’s base of operations while he was in the country. They’d gone inside and Sergei’s bodyguards had flanked the door and closed it after them.

  “I have heard some disturbing information about your time away,” Sergei said, never one to mince words.

  “What information would this be?” Dimitri had asked confidently, knowing full well there was nothing he’d done to warrant this interrogation.

  “You were trying to undermine my authority with Triad,” Sergei told him point blank.

  “Of course you know I’ll deny this,” Dimitri had replied, “I have no reason to act against you.”

  “Yet, but I have had you on my radar for over a year now. You’re dangerous because you have no respect, none for me, and none for yourself,” Sergei explained.

  “Are you dismissing me?” Dimitri had sneered.

  “Nobody leaves the family, you know that.”

  “So what are we doing here?”

  Sergei pushed a button on the desk and the door opened almost immediately. The two bodyguards entered, along with a third man. It took Dimitri no time to recognize his old nemesis, Mace Walker.

  “Mace,” Dimitri nodded at the younger man, an American no less. He started to make the connections, tried to piece together the series of events that lead up to this moment.

  “Dimitri, I’m sorry about this,” Mace had said with a smirk.

  “I doubt that, old friend. I’m quite certain you are not sorry about any of it,” Dimitri replied slowly, buying a few moments of time to assess the situation.

  “Oh, you misunderstood me. I mean I’m sorry I won’t get to spend my time torturing you, giving you what you deserve,” Mace sneered.

  “Oh you’re still not over that little kidnapping your family incident,” Dimitri said and smiled, “it could have been worse, I could have made Junior watch as I fucked his mother right before I slit her throat. I was merciful though. I returned them both unharmed. You can’t blame me if she couldn’t stop crying out my name every time you fucked her after that.”

  He had taken Mace’s wife and six-year-old son last year, to send a message from Sergei. He’d crept into their house in Southern California, knocked them out and driven them to a Bratva safe house for three months until Mace gave up his grip on the drug trade along the West Coast. Mace’s wife had been a sweet little thing, and really had enjoyed her time spent on the receiving end of Dimitri’s physical affections. He suspected by the time he sent her back she had been half in love with him. He’d taught Mace a valuable lesson though, never relax your security and never try to fuck over the Solntsevskaya. At this point in time it seemed Mace hadn’t realized the value of said lesson.

  So why was Mace now working with Sergei? He could tell his little speech had worked. Mace was unnerved and overly emotional. Dimitri would be able to take advantage of this. He laughed at Mace and added, “She just couldn’t get enough of my cock.”

  “Don’t you ever fucking talk about my family again,” Mace growled and took three long strides to Dimitri’s side. Dimitri regretted his decision to leave his weapons in the car, never expecting to be ambushed during a child’s birthday party. He vowed then and there that if he made it out, he would never be without his knife strapped to his midsection again.

  As Mace swung, Dimitri stepped to the side, out of the way. Mace was thrown off balance, and fell to the left, giving Dimitri a chance to slam his fist into the man’s kidneys. Mace went down with a whoosh of exhaled air and landed hard.

  Dimitri turned to the two body guards, one of them was edging around the outside of the room, hoping to come at him from behind, the other was approaching him head on. He dropped the guard in front of him with a sweeping high kick to the face, the man grunted as his nose broke. Dimitri immediately lunged for the guard heading behind him, taking him by surprise with the speed and ferocity of his attack. He smashed the man’s face with a left handed uppercut and landed a blow to his abdomen with his right hand. The guard doubled over and Dimitri took advantage to rain blows down in the back of his head and neck. The man fell to the ground and Dimitri added a few well-placed kicks to the stomach to keep him down.

  The first guard had blood streaming down his face and he had lost a couple of front teeth. He circled Dimitri, his arms outspread and a grin on his bloo
dy mouth.

  “That all you got, Enforcer?” he asked mockingly and spat a clot of blood to the floor, it landed with a clatter, obviously containing teeth.

  “Come on, my friend, this doesn’t have to end like this,” Dimitri said, imploring the guard to stop his assault out of respect for Sergei’s daughter. The only reason Dimitri was alive at this point was the ban on firearms for everyone the party, including his guards. Sergei hadn’t really thought this attack all the way through. Dimitri continued, “If you stop now, I’ll show you mercy.”

  The guard roared, bloody spittle sprayed from his mouth, and he lunged at Dimitri. With one smooth movement, Dimitri slammed the palm of his hand into the guard’s nose and pushed upwards. The force of the guard’s rush added to the pressure and Dimitri heard his nose break with a satisfying pop. Dimitri grabbed the man by the back of his head and shoved the broken nose farther along into the brain. He felt the guard go limp and let his body drop, blood started to pool on the floor around his head immediately.

  Dimitri had been covered in blood, none of it his. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve, leaving smears of bright red blood on the fabric. He turned slowly towards Sergei’s desk, half expecting to see him holding a gun, but he was sitting still with a smile on his face. Sergei started to clap slowly and said, “Bravo my friend, well done.”

  “What are we going to do now?” Dimitri demanded.

  “We are going to do nothing,” Sergei replied, pushed his chair back and stood up. His hands were flat on the desk; it was metal and looked new. Something went off in the back of Dimitri’s mind, an alarm. He looked around and noticed a lot of new improvements to Sergei’s space. The room was now lined with grey brick, and all the carpeting had been removed. “What I am going to do is try out a new toy,” Sergei had continued with a grin.