by Vi Carter
He cracks his knuckles and walks towards me, I’m waiting for the blow that will finish me. My body buzzes with shivers, but nothing happens. Opening my eyes, I’m faced with an empty room. A sob pushes against the tape on my mouth.
He arrives back in with a basin of water. I close my eyes as he straightens the chair up. I’m ready to spew everywhere but force it down.
He leans over me and separates my hair without a word. Returning with a cloth, he’s gentle as he cleans my head. I recoil from his touch, and he holds me still with one hand pressed firmly on my shoulder. The basin of water soon turns red and he gives up.
The knife in his hand could be a blessing. Is he going to make it quick? Did Victor order him to keep me here and kill me? I know this isn’t the job of The Collector. He didn’t take people home.
The duct tape falls away from my waist and legs.
“You broke my chair.” It’s the first time he’s spoken since arriving back in the room. Dark eyes that hold nothing, focus on my face. His long fingers clutch the duct tape. “This is going to hurt.” He gives me a warning before he tears the tape off my face along with a layer of skin.
I wince in pain. The burn continues long after the duct tape is gone. I lick my lips. They feel raw.
“Can you stand?”
I force myself out of the chair and the world tilts sideways. I’m falling, but strong arms and the smell of cologne wraps around me. I turn my head away from his chest as my stomach finally rebels and I empty the contents onto the floor. Once my stomach settles, he exhales loudly and carries me from the room. I keep my head away from him as he carries me upstairs. It’s like we are walking on air. I blink and my stomach shifts again. The steps are made of glass. Who has glass steps? I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Don't sleep.” His warning has me opening my eyes, but I realize the worst that could happen has happened, they’ve found me. I close my eyes and don’t open them again until my back is cushioned by a bed.
I’m in a double bed, the sheets a deep gray under my hand. A door to a bathroom is open and The Collector returns with a washcloth. Blood stains the end of his rolled-up sleeve. I roll my head so I face the window as his huge frame makes the bed dip and he starts cleaning my head. Hitting my head doesn’t seem very wise now, the ache is growing, but at that moment, I had wanted the memories to stop.
His hand parts my hair gently and a part of me wants to see his face. It’s a dangerous part of me that has recognized how gorgeous he is. The devil always wears the mask of an angel. The Collector works for Bratva bosses who are ruthless. He is no better than them.
He gets up with no explanation. His footsteps are light for such a huge guy. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus. I know the rules, I know how this works, so why am I here in The Collector’s house? Based on the fact that things are different, I need to try to escape. I don’t have to be a sitting duck. But no one outruns The Collector. Yet, I never heard of The Collector taking his jobs home. Does he know who I am? Does he know what Victor did to me?
I swallow more saliva and keep my eyes tightly closed as he re-enters the room. “Don’t fall asleep.” His warning this time has me opening my eyes and glancing at him. A dangerous shiver rattles my bones and the idea of escape breaks apart and turns into a mist that dissolves completely.
He sits back down, and my gaze roams over the tattoos that coat both his arms, fingers, his neck and as far as the shirt will allow me to see. There isn’t a blank space on his tanned skin.
“Face the window.” His accent is a mingle of Russian but toned down to something Irish. I want to ask him, but I turn away. Getting friendly with The Collector isn’t wise. Not that he would answer my questions. My thoughts cease as a sharp needle enters my flesh. My stomach heaves with the tug on my head. I try not to picture a needle and thread in his hands.
I open my eyes and focus on the sky, clouds move past and reshape but I can’t make a picture out of them like I could when I was a kid. Spending hours lying in the lush green grass with my brother would be how I’d pass the time. I squeeze my eyes tightly as a final sharp pain erupts at the back of my neck. I automatically go to rub it.
“Don’t touch it.”
My hand falls back to my stomach and The Collector stands up. “Don’t sleep for a few hours.” The tips of his fingers are coated in blood. His eyes hold no warmth as he steps into the bathroom. The sound of running water has me sitting up. The ache in my head has me slightly worried. What if I have an internal bleed? I’m itching to touch my neck, but I keep my hands resting on my stomach.
The Collector leaves the bathroom, his heavy eyes land on me and I sink deeper into the bed. The room shrinks quickly and I’m tempted to close my eyes. He dries his hands on a small navy towel as he stares at me. When he’s finished, he doesn’t speak but leaves the room. The key turns in the door and I’m not sure if I want to sink into the bed now that he has gone, or cry because I’m alone, once again, with my thoughts.
CHAPTER THREE
NICHOLAI
Opening the windows after cleaning up the vomit, I’m ready for this mission to end. I’m aware of the time that is passing. I have twenty-four hours to get Dimitri. Glancing at my phone tells me I have sixteen hours left. I open my tracking app and have a sense of satisfaction when Mila’s red dot blinks to life in the upstairs bedroom. She hasn’t moved off the bed. After I had stitched her head, I had placed a tracking device into her neck. It’s the only way I could leave her alone and make sure she stayed where I left her.
Showering and changing into a fresh black suit, I leave the house again.
The neighborhood that I pull up in has too many unemployed people loitering on their porches. All eyes swing to my Audi. Drugs, poverty and violence have taken any form of civilization away from these people. I could understand how Dimitri wanted to live amongst them. It reminded him of the Bratva. It was a unit, a law upon itself. It was belonging. No one sits on his porch. I hadn’t exactly expected a welcoming committee. Checking both guns, I place one in the holster around my ankle and the other I stick in the band of my trousers as I exit the car.
The shift in the air is so brief; it’s like the rattle before the crack of thunder. These people recognize me and slowly they make their way into their homes. Locks are turned and soon the street is devoid of life. I move along the white panelling of Dimitri’s home as I make my way around back. The back door is unlocked. I pause for a heartbeat and remove my gun from my waistband. He knew I would come; he wasn’t stupid. I lower the gun and step into a tidy kitchen. My gaze bounces across the washed down counters before jumping to Dimitri who stands in the doorway that leads to the hall.
“You could always say you didn’t find me.”
I grin. I don’t put my gun away but lower it to the ground. “I find everyone.”
Dimitri doesn’t return my smile. “I have a daughter.” His admission adds a layer to him that I don’t want to see.
“You can come with me without a struggle, or I can drag you to Victor.”
His laugh fills the small kitchen. “Have you ever met Victor?”
His question has me raising my gun. I didn't do this. I didn't talk and debate. Debating meant there was room for a negotiation, which there wasn’t.
I didn’t want to shoot him and he was unarmed. Placing the gun in the band of my trousers, I clear the space between us.
“Move.” I order.
His lips curl up. “You don’t have to do this.” He raises both hands like I have a choice.
“Move.” I give the final order and curse him as he pulls a knife from his sleeve. I lean back as the silver dagger swipes the air. It’s a kill shot. He tried to cut my throat. He swings quickly, not giving me much time to recover. I met his arm with my own. The knife vibrates in his fingers before he loses his hold and it sails across the room. His eyes widen but flicker towards the back door. The creak of the hinges has me diving to the ground. I remove both guns and point them at my targets. The guy pau
ses in the door and he hasn’t a chance. I pull both triggers and two bodies hit the ground.
Getting off the ground, I holster my guns before wiping down my suit. The guy who’s face down at the back door, bleeds out on the tiled floor. Using my foot, I kick him onto his back. He looks like one of the porch occupants. Maybe a friend of Dimitri’s. I check his pocket for a wallet but find none. I’m ready to dismiss him as a neighbor when a tattoo behind his ear catches my attention. A small picture of an octopus has been tattooed onto him.
I grab his arms and drag him away from the back door. Going out to my car, I reverse it up the driveway and pop the trunk. Rolling out some plastic, I grab two gallons of petrol. I bring them inside the small house. Dimitri is heavy, but I carry him out and place him on the plastic in the truck of my car. The wound between his eyes leaks and I wrap the plastic around him before returning to the house. I douse each room in petrol and lead a trail out to the driveway. I drop a match and watch the line of petrol burn as it makes its way into Dimitri’s house.
I pull out and see curtains shift as I drive through the small neighborhood. Dimitri’s house blazes behind me, but no one comes out of their homes to investigate.
***
I leave Dimitri’s body in the can and drive back to Gail’s. She’s there when I arrive and I see the disappointment at seeing me.
“You tried to have me killed by one of your goons.”
She stands tall and wraps one hand around the other that hangs in front of her. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
I smile at her as I move closer. “No worries, he’s dead. Both of them are.”
It’s there, I see it in the depths of her dark eyes. She had a thing with Dimitri.
“I didn’t think you would get attached to someone. You know, in this game, we all have to be lone wolves.”
Her laughter is forced. “He kept my bed warm, that was it.”
I move closer, so I’m towering over her. “If that’s all it was, why did you send one of your men to kill me?”
It’s the first time I see the indecision in her eyes. “I didn’t send him to kill you, I only sent him to warn Dimitri.”
I didn’t believe a word she was saying. She was lying through her pearly whites.
“You inconvenienced me.”
Gail holds my stare before raising her hand and clicking her fingers. A young boy comes forward.
“Nicholai would like to be entertained. Give him whatever he wants.”
I grin at Gail. “I’ll take the offer, but it doesn’t erase what you did.” I leave the threat hanging and follow the boy to the back rooms.
“What would you like, Mr. Nicholai?”
I’m picturing a blond with big boobs, only a small blond with blue eyes and small breasts fill my mind.
“Brunette,” I say, as I sit down in the chair. The lights dim and the boy leaves. The box lights up and I wait. I’m kept waiting for a brunette wearing a white thong and nothing else to step into the box. Her gaze meets mine, but I know she can’t see me. She’s meeting her own eyes in the mirror. She smiles before a slow beat fills the space and she starts to move.
I exhale and command my body to relax as the brunette turns around and bends down showing me her ass. Her hands run across the cheeks before she slaps them hard, and my cock twitches. She turns and runs her hands across her chest. I press the button and the glass box rises into the air, she’s startled for a moment, but she descends the steps and walks over to me.
I rise and push my boxers and trousers down before sitting back down on the chair. The brunette smiles at me before she falls to her knees and takes my cock in her mouth. I let my head fall back as her warm mouth encircles my cock. She rides it up and down with her mouth. When she removes herself and replaces her lips with her hands, I don’t like it.
“Suck it,” I say. Her warm breath rushes across my cock before she takes as much as she can in her mouth. It’s not deep enough. Grabbing her hair, I help her move up and down. I need this release, especially after a kill. Dimitri’s dead body flashes in my mind, and I push the brunette’s head down on my cock and pull her up quickly, the pleasure has me moving her faster. My balls ache for release, the sac’s full and coated in the girl’s saliva as I keep her head moving fast up and down on my cock. She gags, but I want more, I want my release. I grab her face with both hands and fuck her mouth hard. I pound into her and can feel the release build up until I jerk into her mouth, three more slams empties me and I release her. She coughs but swallows and wipes her mouth. She doesn’t speak, but stands and walks back to the box. Once she’s inside, I press the button and the glass moves back down. She looks startled as she leaves the box through the door and I pull up my trousers expecting to feel satisfied, but I don’t.
CONTINUE READING THE COLLECTOR:
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0879KC2S3
Contents
The Boyne Club Book 4
WARNING
CHAPTER ONE
WILLOW
CHAPTER TWO
RIAN
CHAPTER THREE
WILLOW
CHAPTER FOUR
RIAN
CHAPTER FIVE
WILLOW
CHAPTER SIX
WILLOW
CHAPTER SEVEN
RIAN
CHAPTER EIGHT
WILLOW
CHAPTER NINE
WILLOW
CHAPTER TEN
RIAN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WILLOW
CHAPTER TWELVE
WILLOW
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
RIAN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WILLOW
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WILLOW
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
RIAN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WILLOW
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WILLOW
CHAPTER NINETEEN
RIAN
CHAPTER TWENTY
WILLOW
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WILLOW
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
RIAN
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
WILLOW
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
WILLOW
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
WILLOW
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
RIAN
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
WILLOW
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
WILLOW
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
RIAN
CHAPTER THIRTY
WILLOW
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
WILLOW
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
RIAN
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
WILLOW
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
RIAN
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
WILLOW
RIAN
EPILOGUE
Seven Months Later
CHAPTER ONE
NICHOLAI
MILA
CHAPTER TWO
NICHOLAI
MILA
CHAPTER THREE
NICHOLAI
About The Author
When Vi Carter isn't writing dark contemporary romance books, you can find her reading her favorite authors, baking, taking photos, or watching Netflix.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
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Reviews are the most powerful tools in my arsenal when it comes to getting attention for my books. Much as I’d like to, I don’t have the financial muscle of a New York publisher.
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Thank you very much!
PITCH BLACK Copyright © 2020 by VI CARTER.
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Edition: November 2020
About The Author
When Vi Carter isn't writing dark contemporary romance books, you can find her reading her favorite authors, baking, taking photos, or watching Netflix.
Married with two children, Vi divides her time between motherhood and all the other hats she wears as an Author.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I’m very lucky to have such amazing readers and Beta Readers. I want to thank the following people who worked with me on this book.