by Bethany-Kris
He didn’t think so.
“What makes you think you know anything about me, you sorry sack of shit.”
Just like that, Maxim’s rage returned. A wave that crashed against him, unable to keep himself from drowning in it again. He stormed at Roman with his bloodshot eyes narrowed, his chest and shoulders heaving.
“I know too much, that’s the fucking problem,” Roman growled, using the last seconds he had to toss out the final card trick in his pocket. The one thing that might save him, if it mattered. “And you’re wrong—it wasn’t Dima. I don’t know what Dima knows, but Leonid plotted against you with someone named Katina.”
Once again, the name unsettled him. Something felt wrong, even as he said it. And he could tell that he was right to feel that way based on the way Maxim came to a full stop just inches away from him, his shoulders lifting higher as his chin tipped up.
Staring Roman down, Maxim’s words came out slow, and hard. “What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t stutter.”
Not without effort, though.
“Katina—not Dima, Maxim,” Roman said, his voice hoarse now.
Maxim didn’t move an inch. “Katina is dead.”
“He was on the phone with her. I heard what he said—do you have proof of her death?”
Maxim’s breaths suddenly exploded from him in fast bursting pants that sounded like a dog huffing at the end of its chain. His fists tangled into his hair as he snarled under his breath, turning away from Roman at the same time.
The man was just seconds away from losing his shit, and Roman was prepared. What else was he supposed to do now? The only thing he could do with his hands tied—talk. It was the only thing, next to stealing cars, that he was actually good at.
“Do you have proof?” he asked again. “Who is she?”
“Shut up!” Maxim roared at him. As fast as the man exploded, the unsettling calm returned when he added, “Yes, I have fucking proof. She was my oldest daughter. I buried her.”
The two men glared, silence stretching on in the dank, musty basement.
It just didn’t make any sense to Roman. How and why was Leonid speaking to Katina—if she was dead? And if so, then who was she?
Someone with a personal vendetta against Maxim, apparently. Enough to want to see him dead.
Roman didn’t have the chance to think about it for long. That pain he’d been fighting finally took him under, dragging his consciousness with it.
Great.
• • •
Roman came back to when violent shakes rocked him awake. The pain was the first thing he remembered—felt—but the gravity of his situation came back just as fast. More surprising was the reason why he was shaking so hard the chains above him rattled.
Maxim had fished a knife out from somewhere, and was cutting the ropes where they’d been tied to the chain over Roman’s head.
Before he could even ask why, he fell to the floor. Feet first, too, but the impact sent shock waves all through his body, and the weakness in his muscles and bones was too much to keep him standing for long before he crumbled to the floor.
Clenching his teeth to stop from groaning, Roman struggled against the dirty floor to stand as quickly as he could. Even if it was on shaky legs and bent knees.
The feel of the solid floor underneath his feet reassured him. Maybe there was still a chance he’d be able to make it out alive tonight.
By the time he was up and able to breathe—albeit, with pain that he tried to soothe by wrapping an arm around his tender chest—Maxim had retreated to the far corner of the room where he’d deposited his shirt. With his back turned to Roman, he started putting it on.
Roman rubbed his wrists where the ropes were still wrapped, before pulling the ruined constraints off while he did. Raw and red—probably swollen, too, but he couldn’t tell in the low light—his wrists and fingers felt like needles pricking into his skin everywhere as blood rushed through the appendages. The tips of his fingers and fingernails had turned purple, but he figured that would get better now that the blood was circulating again. The pain in his hands was nothing compared to his ribs and the rest of his muscles.
Fuck.
Considering Maxim still had him under his control, why he cut him down was a goddamn mystery, but one he was happy with. Roman’s mind didn’t linger on the questions for long because he was more concerned with the man now pacing in the corner of the basement.
Under his breath, Maxim muttered to himself, face drawn into a scowl. “Katina ... Jesus Christ, I should have seen it.”
Roman stilled, listening closer only to hear Maxim ask, “But when? Fuck.”
All at once, the thing he’d thought was off became blindingly clear to Roman.
If Katee was one of the alters invented by Karine, was Katina—
“I’ll let you live,” Maxim said suddenly, staying in his corner though he’d turned back on Roman in his distraction. “I’ll forgive you your transgressions—I won’t even make you fucking beg for your life. Though I damn well should.”
Roman stood firm, staring the man down because he wasn’t about to start showing weakness or fear now. “For what?”
Because there had to be a trade. He expected nothing different, but he didn’t believe for a second it was going to be something entirely in his favor. Strangely, he thought but I can deal with that, if it means she—and just like that, he stopped his thoughts from running further.
Not that it mattered, he knew.
Roman just wanted to make sure Karine came out safe from this. Safe from Dima. Wasn't it the least he could do? Wasn’t she owed that, considering everything?
He had no doubt—there wasn’t a soul in the city of Chicago that gave a shit about her beyond what they could use her for. Even her own father basically said it—his actions proved it.
Who did she have?
No one.
So, he would. He’d give a fuck. At this point, it was the only thing he cared about.
He wondered if saying that out loud might help his case, but Maxim interrupted him before he could make the mistake. “You’re to leave. Now. Go back to New York—go wherever the fuck you want to disappear to. If I ever hear you mention anything about the Yazovs to anyone, anywhere, I will find your balls and feed them to you. Before I mail your severed cock to your mother, of course.”
Roman swallowed hard, but stayed quiet.
Maxim arched a thick, dark brow. “Do you understand what I am saying to you? No one can know. Not a soul.”
Even just a few days ago—Roman would have laughed at a proposition like that. Nobody told him what to do. Not even his own father. Not his grandfather. Maxim meant fuck all to him. Even if the man had a sliver of Roman’s respect, he didn’t anymore.
But Karine...
She meant more.
More than his stupid pride.
So, he listened to Maxim’s offer. And considered it.
“You’re just going to let me walk away?” Roman asked. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”
“Not alone. You take her with you.”
Roman’s pulse picked up speed, but he kept that calm exterior.
There was no way ...
What was happening?
“I don’t want to hear about her ever again,” Maxim continued, “and especially not about Katina.”
Roman’s brows crossed—something still wasn’t right. “You need to tell me everything you know about your daughter and her condition.”
A bitter smirk formed on Maxim’s face. In a blink, he seemed a whole lot older. Maybe it was the way he pressed the tips of his fingers into his forehead as he shook his head.
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Maxim replied in a sigh, long and tired. “I’m giving you a gift by sparing your life. You fucked her—you can have her. She’s yours. Just get her away from me. And when—if—you think you’ve figured it all out, know that it’s already too late. The agreement is final. There’s no goin
g back. Not fucking ever. If you want to leave alive, then you take her with you, and stay gone.”
Just like that.
Karine was his.
This was what he wanted, right?
Had he really asked for this?
The weight of the choice came to rest so heavy on Roman’s shoulders that his feet felt cemented to the ground from the pressure. And yet, it didn’t really matter about the questions people would have, or the work it would take to keep her safe. She was his responsibility now.
Roman’s choice was made.
His life to save hers.
The two men stood staring at each other in silence for a minute longer. It was all they could afford. Roman didn’t care to know what raced through Maxim’s mind. All he really wanted to do was get out of that basement, find Karine, and get her as far away from the city as he could before dawn broke.
Her father didn’t love her, never cared for her, couldn’t wait to be rid of her. So, fine. She meant something to Roman—she wasn’t worthless to him.
He’d make sure she knew it, too.
TWENTY-TWO
Tonight, there would be no dreams. It was so close, though—the day that would change everything. Katina knew the others wouldn’t be able to handle it, so she shuttered them away.
Karine wanted to sleep.
Katee had to play.
Katina was the only one between the three who wouldn’t disintegrate into a puddle of useless tears knowing they were going to be forced to marry Dima in two days. But not before Maxim paid for it—answered for all of it.
Wide awake and stretched out almost naked under the sheets of her bed, Katina enjoyed the moonlight pouring in on her. A cool stream of light against the backdrop of black shadows. She felt like that, too.
Cold.
Dark.
She didn’t know where Karine was. As the day of the wedding drew near, Karine grew more and more out of it. Lately, she rarely knew what was going on around her. The medications she had tried to stop taking had returned full-force back into her life. She begged and threatened Masha for them—manipulated to get them, even. That wasn’t Karine at all. She needed them again, just to make it through the day.
Katina stepped in to help more than she usually would, or the girl was going to kill herself.
As she stared at the silvery light that filtered through the room from the veranda’s doors, she could almost see him standing there. Roman. Her memory of him was fragmented—pulled from what she knew, not what she’d done. It was Karine who wanted him.
Obsessed over him.
Seduced him.
Katina was just there in the background, not living it, not really remembering it, either. Except, she couldn’t seem to shake off how he made Karine feel. A peculiar feeling. Like she didn’t need to run. Hide. Fight. Survive.
She could just be.
Karine liked the idea of just being.
Katina, not so much.
A knock on the bedroom door didn’t even earn her interest, as she assumed it was Masha. Katina blinked hard, trying to bring back Karine’s voice. Usually, she spoke like her, and responded to Karine’s name, too. That made it less confusing for the others around her. And oftentimes, she had ulterior motives for wanting people to believe she was someone else.
Except Leonid.
That was a different business. They both wanted the same thing, and in two more days—they would have it. The prick could fuck off to do whatever he wanted, then. As long as she got what was due, too.
A proper give and take.
However, instead of Masha, someone else opened and stood at the door. The looming shadow of his tall, broad-shouldered frame filled the doorway, and she knew who it was immediately.
Even though they hadn’t met before.
Technically.
“Karine?” Roman asked, stepping further into the room when she pushed up to her elbows. His voice came off deep, velvety smooth, and masculine, too. The concern still rang through.
Maybe she could understand why Karine liked to fantasize about the man. He was something to look at. She sat up, and stared at him blankly. Waiting, really, for him to figure out what she thought—after Karine’s last meltdown with him—should be obvious by now.
Karine was a lot of things.
People, sometimes.
Katee, yes.
Katina more often.
Herself with him.
Roman searched her eyes as Katina tilted her head to the side, and a smile curved the corner of her mouth. Realization settled over his face slow. She enjoyed watching it, honestly. He recognized her, or rather, he recognized who she wasn’t.
“Katina.”
The breath she let out was relief. There was something to be said about not having to pretend—it certainly made her goals easier to reach.
“And?” she asked back. Just as fast, Katina demanded, “Why are you here—where is Masha?”
Roman raked a hand through the short-trimmed, thick dark hair on his head. A tug started somewhere in the pit of her stomach when she considered what it would feel like to have his beard scratch the sensitive skin on the insides of her thighs while she rode his face.
She could see it now. His appeal. Why Karine was so possessed by him. Why Katee, even though she was just a girl, was so drawn to him, too. Pretty people attracted pretty people.
“Well?” she asked sharply when he said nothing.
Roman let out a hard breath followed by a clipped laugh. It sounded like disbelief. Just as fast, he shook it off to say, “We have to go. You’re coming with me—you’re not staying here.”
Katina almost laughed aloud at that. Who did he think he was—what did this man think he was doing, or going to do, save them? At the same time, she couldn’t help but be bemused at how careful he was not to show that her very obvious, new alter had took him off guard. That was hard to do.
She arched a brow. “Why should I go anywhere with you?”
“Because right now, Katina,” he said, crossing the space until he stood next to her side of the bed. “I am the only person in the world you can trust.”
He leaned over the side of the bed, bringing his face close enough, so she could breathe in his scent. She didn’t think he did it for that purpose, but didn’t miss the opportunity all the same, because he simply seemed to stare into her eyes. Like he wanted her to look back and see the truth.
Despite herself, she wanted to believe him.
Still, she asked, “Tell me why I should.”
“Maxim knows—your shit with Leonid, you.”
Katina stiffened, tipping her chin up to look down at him.
He continued, not letting her have time to respond before he said, “This is what Maxim wants, too. He isn’t going to come after us if we leave now—we know nothing, say nothing, but he wants you gone.”
At that statement, her nostrils flared. The only true show of her anger, but she couldn’t say this man knew her tells.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was so close to getting what she wanted—for Maxim to get what he deserved, and she needed to be here to watch it happen.
Roman slowly straightened up again. “Would he kill you if you stayed? Do you know the answer to that?”
Katina chewed on her inner cheek to keep from screaming her frustration. No. This was not how it was supposed to go. She didn’t need rescuing—she needed revenge.
Seemingly unwilling to wait for her answer, Roman walked back to the bedroom door, stopping at the threshold to look at her again. He wasn’t about to give her a second chance. “Well, you coming?”
Yes, she was.
She had to.
• • •
Katina knew Masha would have to come with them. She liked her well enough, although Karine was way too attached to the woman, as far as she was concerned. Katee called her Maria—an English equivalent to her Russian-given name—and was similarly reliant on her. Katina couldn’t quite say the same, but as she hadn’t been
with Masha for nearly as long as them, she wasn’t sure they would have made it alive without her.
Besides, if they left Masha behind, she didn’t know what Maxim might do to her.
Roman didn’t dispute her on it when she suggested Masha accompanying them. In fact, he’d been quick to agree the woman might be a help to them all. And he said it just like that, too.
Through the reflection in the rearview mirror, she watched Masha sleep in the backseat, her head leaning against the window. Oblivious to the miles of freeway passing them by, and warm under a jacket Roman had offered for her to use as a blanket. Only one thing made her pause about Masha.
Katina didn’t know what Masha did or where she slept when she wasn’t with her. It was obvious the woman didn’t get much rest. She was Maxim’s slave. Yazov property. She never gave her a reason to think she would hurt or act against them, but where did her loyalties lie?
Maxim probably wouldn’t miss Masha’s presence if he was now aware of the plot underfoot in his organization—he’d be even less concerned when he realized how deep the betrayal truly ran, too.
The sun peeked through the sky in the horizon, sending vivid streaks of orange and purple across the backdrop of thin, sparse white clouds. As far ahead as she could see, asphalt sprawled before her. Fields and grazing cattle surrounded both sides of the vehicle. She had never seen such a landscape before, but it was beautiful.
Natural.
Wild.
Free.
The only thing that had ever scared her was how badly she wanted exactly that—to be free.
She didn’t know their destination, where Roman was driving them to, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask, either. She just wanted to keep staring out of the window—like that, sitting there, empty of thought and devoid of feelings. For once, not needing to be on. Sitting beside him returned those feelings she remembered Karine having and obsessing over constantly.
Safe, warm, hopeful.
And then there was him.
Handsome, curious, sinful.