I call out to the door and hurry, pulling it open. I immediately regret not looking in the peephole. There, standing in front of me, is a man dressed like all the men I have ever known, in a gorgeous suit—but he’s got a scowl on his face.
I turn to run back into the apartment, thinking that maybe I can get to my phone in time to call Ustin or Mika. Of course, he’s faster than I am. He wraps his hand around my mouth, and then I feel something sharp sink into my neck before everything goes black.
I see Ustin’s name on my phone and I hit ignore. I’m watching another mark. Today, I’m going to end his life. I don’t have time for whatever it is that Ustin is going to tell me about Oskana. He’s probably just going to go over her schedule, something he does every couple of days. I’ll call him back in a few hours, after I make my shot.
Watching the man in front of me, waiting for the perfect opportunity to end his life, I take the time to really watch him. I see that he’s grabbing a pastry and a coffee. He continues to walk, but not to where he’s supposed to go, which is to work. Instead, he makes his way over to a clearing, a park bench, and sits down to eat his breakfast.
I don’t stop to think about how he’s enjoying the moment of sunshine before he starts his day. I ignore my phone buzzing in my pocket and I walk up behind him, sitting down next to him.
He doesn’t even turn his head to look at me. He sighs, and then I press my gun to his side and pull the trigger—once, twice, three times. I hear him gurgling, and then I wait until he exhales his last breath before I stand and continue walking straight, instead of going back to my car.
I don’t want anybody to suspect it’s me that’s killed this man. I’m just a lowly man on a walk. I don’t think I’ve been noticed, seeing as the area isn’t heavily populated. Plus, according to Sergei’s notes, this park is patrolled by officers who have been paid off by the Bratva, so they won’t even report the body after it’s been found.
Once I’m far away from the life I just ended, I pick up my still ringing phone.
“What?” I bark. It’s at least the fifth time Ustin has called me.
“Oksana is with you?” he growls.
“Nyet, why would she be with me?” I ask as my heart starts to pound in my chest.
“She’s not at the apartment,” he grunts.
“Ustin, what’s happened?” the sweet voice of Ustin’s woman whispers. I can hear her through the phone.
“Fuck,” I bark. “I will be there in just a few moments.”
I jog toward my car, pissed off that I had to go all the way around because I was so busy finishing a job, I didn’t answer my phone. I could already be back at the apartment. Once I’m settled in my car and have started the engine, I decide to call Sergei on my way.
“Is the job done?” he greets.
“It is, but that’s not why I’m calling.”
“What’s happened?” he asks, reading into my panicked tone, I’m sure.
“Oksana is gone. Ustin went to the apartment this morning to get her for the day, and she’s not there,” I say in a rush.
“Opezdol,” he growls. My back straightens, as I think he’s calling me an idiot, but he continues. “I called Ziven, told him where you were. I assumed he’d call Pasha, which is what I wanted, but I made it very clear the both of you were under my protection.”
“Do you think Pasha took her?” I ask as I pull into my parking space beneath the building.
“Fuck if I know. But that was a few days ago, so timing makes sense,” he murmurs.
“Goddammit,” I shout, hitting my steering wheel.
“I’ll be at your apartment in a few minutes. Don’t do anything yet,” he grunts.
I can’t hear him over the blood rushing through my ears as my vision turns bright red. I growl as I run up the stairs, forgoing the elevator. Right now, being caged in feels like certain death.
Once I arrive at my door, I find it open, and I see Ustin and his woman standing in my living room. The rest of the apartment looks as it always does. There’s no sign of a struggle at all.
“Sergei is on his way,” I announce.
“The door was unlocked, but nothing was amiss,” Ustin rumbles. “I searched the entire apartment. Her purse and phone are here.”
“Thanks,” I say, trying to keep from screaming at him. It isn’t his fault. It’s mine.
I should have kept a better eye on her. I should have made sure she had Byki here before I even left.
I hear sniffling, and I look to Ustin’s woman, who is crying on the sofa. She isn’t wailing or being obvious, but I can tell that she’s scared. He doesn’t move to coddle her. He’s on his phone calling men, working, and I even hear him calling the airport.
I don’t have my shit together right now; my mind is not focused, and I feel so fucking useless. All I know is that she’s gone, and I honestly don’t know who the fuck has her.
Honest to fuck—I hope it’s her father.
“I called the airports, boss. A flight took off about an hour ago, private plane, no destination announced. My source says it was headed for New York, though,” he states. I look up to see Sergei walking through the door.
“Fucking Pasha. The goddamn child,” Sergei growls. “At least we know she’s safe.”
“I don’t trust him, not with Oksana,” I murmur.
“It’s her father,” Sergei points out.
“He almost handed her off to a fucking traitor. I don’t trust a fucking thing about him,” I shout, unable to control myself.
Sergei’s brows lift in surprise, and I can’t seem to give a fuck that I yelled at my superior, something that could get me killed, or, at the minimum, demoted.
“He’s unstable,” Sergei nods.
“I’m going back. Is there a plane I can use?” I ask, knowing damn well I can’t travel commercial.
“Do you need Ustin?” he asks, looking to the man standing behind me.
I shake my head. “I’ll have some men meet me there from Denver,” I murmur.
“Best of luck. The plane will be ready within the hour,” he rumbles. “Keep me updated.”
I lift my chin and watch him walk away. Then I turn to Ustin, who has a funny look on his face.
“I will help,” he announces.
“You stay here with your woman. I’ll take care of him.”
“I bring Leonie with me. She will not rest easy unless she knows of her friend’s wellbeing,” Ustin states.
My eyes widen, and I look to Leonie, who is watching with rapt fascination and a small smile tipped on her lips.
“I’ll call Sergei. You two go home and pack. Pick me up on your way to the airport,” I sigh.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” Leonie cries with a huge smile on her face, her eyes still watery.
I’m a complete pussy, especially for a crying woman. Unfortunately, Leonie is a tiny, petite, little thing, and she looks like a fucking fairy. She should never cry.
I walk into the bedroom and begin to pack my own bags. I think about leaving all of Oksana’s things here, not wanting to look at them; but I decide I need to bring them with me.
At least some of them.
I call a Shestyorka and ask him to pack up our personal affects from the house before I give him my address in Denver. He promises to ship them all by the end of the day. I hang up, my bag full of my clothes and a few of Oksana’s things, mostly jeans and tops that I’ve noticed her wearing around. I have every intention of having her back in my bed the day I arrive in the city.
I won’t stand for her father’s antics.
Oksana is mine. She’s my wife, and hopefully pregnant with my child. She is no longer her father’s to barter as he pleases. She’s mine, forever.
I moan, my eyes fluttering open. Without even having to look around, I can tell that I’m on an airplane. I look to my left, then my right before I look forward and come face to face with the man who took me. He doesn’t scare me like he should. In fact, I kind of recognize him.
“Konstantin,” he grunts.
My eyes widen when I look at the crescent shaped scar that is across his face, from the corner of his left eye down to his cheek.
“I remember you,” I whisper.
“I was Inessa’s Byki,” he shrugs.
“You just kidnapped me,” I snap, sitting up straighter.
I remember he’s a bit intimidating, but he seemed kind enough when he was watching after Inessa. Then he took a bullet for her, when some crazy, maniac, rogue Irishman tried to kill her.
“Your father’s orders,” he shrugs.
“Is that where you’re taking me?” I ask as my heart starts to race and my palms grow sweaty.
“It is. We’ll be there soon. You slept a while.”
“You drugged me,” I announce.
He doesn’t respond, but shrugs as if it’s perfectly normal and acceptable that he doped me up. The jerk.
“Konstantin, I don’t know what papa told you, but Mika is my husband,” I whisper.
Konstantin’s dark eyes rise, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat before he speaks.
“I didn’t know you’d married him, but he didn’t have permission. I know that much. Pasha is a Pakhan, a powerful one, and Mika is only a Brigadier. He holds little authority, especially in New York,” he murmurs.
I decide not to say anything else. It isn’t Konstantin’s fault that my father is acting like a madman. He’s just doing his job. Other than drugging me, I’m unhurt, so it’s fine.
I stay silent for the rest of the flight, looking out the window and watching the ocean below. I want to be with Mika, and I can only imagine the hell he’s going through right now, finding me gone.
When the plane descends and lands, I can’t help but stare at the two black cars, one that is longer than the other, that are waiting on the tarmac. I know that one of them contains my father. The longer one is his Mercedes-Maybach S-Class Pullman. I only know the name of it because my father researched them to death and forced me to go with him to order it. The car is fairly ridiculous. I don’t know why he didn’t just get a fucking limousine.
I don’t want to see him.
I don’t want to deal with him.
He’s made my life since losing mama a complete nightmare. As if losing her and missing her wasn’t enough, I had to lose him, too. He’s no longer the loving, generous, soft hearted father I once adored.
“Ready?” Konstantin asks as he stands in the aisle.
“No,” I admit truthfully as I stand.
I don’t bother fixing my hair, my makeup or my disheveled clothes. I don’t give much of a fuck about my appearance right now. In fact, my only goal is to keep the contents of my stomach in my stomach. I’m so nervous and scared. My own father shouldn’t scare me as much as he does, but he’s completely unpredictable these days, and it terrifies me.
Konstantin presses his hand to my lower back and guides me toward one of the two cars. Another man opens the door, and I look inside to see my father sitting there, his focus on me. He doesn’t look pleased. In fact, he looks downright livid.
“Get in the fucking car,” he snaps.
My spine straightens. Konstantin’s hand flexes against my back, and I glance up to him to see that his jaw is set hard.
“Konstantin, you join us, yeah?”
Konstantin presses against me, and I sigh before I bend down and climb into the seat. I refuse to sit beside my father. I choose to crawl to the seat across from him, thankful that he has a car where the seats face each other.
I’m surprised when Konstantin sits in the seat next to mine, across from my father, who frowns when he looks at me.
“You look like shit,” he announces as his greeting.
“Thank you. I didn’t know while one was being kidnapped it was imperative that they look their best. I’ll remember that next time,” I smart off.
“Do not test me with your smart mouth, Oksana,” he growls. I choose to press my lips together in an effort not to tell him to go fuck himself.
“Konstantin, thank you for your quick delivery. As promised, you will again be rewarded for your devotion to the Bratva,” my father says.
I watch as Konstantin dips his chin in recognition and thanks, most likely, for whatever his reward will be.
“Oksana, you have disappointed me,” he murmurs. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he asks.
I think about my words, about what I really want to say verses what I should probably say. Unfortunately, my smart ass mouth opens before I really think of the consequences.
“Well, for starters, I’m grateful that somebody shot that traitorous husband you tried to give me to. I didn’t want to marry him, and you forced it. He was a lowlife piece of shit. Secondly, I’m glad Mika was the one who saved me, who took me far away and married me himself.”
“You married him?” my father explodes. Konstantin stiffens beside me, and I can’t help but stare at my father in surprise.
“You didn’t know?” I whisper.
“Of fucking course not, Oksana. You’re nothing but a good for nothing whore, selling yourself to him that way. For what?”
I blink, his words hitting me straight to my core. I try to blink back my tears. I don’t cry in public. I refuse; and yet, the tears fall anyway.
“He was who I chose from the beginning. I didn’t sell myself at all. For once, I did what I wanted to do,” I whisper. “I did what mama would have wanted me to do.”
“Shut your whore mouth. You don’t talk about your mother, not about what she wanted, because you don’t fucking know,” he snaps. My head jerks, as if his words have physically slapped me.
The rest of the car ride is in silence. Konstantin reaches over and grabs my hand, squeezing my fingers. I look up at him and see that he’s looking down at me with a worried expression on his face. I shrug and shake my head.
I’m spinning my wedding rings around my finger when the car stops in front of my childhood home; the same place my mother was murdered; the same place I met Mika and made love to him several times; and the same place my father declared I would marry Gavril Zima. I have no desire to step foot in this house again. I also have no choice but to do so.
Konstantin helps me out of the car, and my father tells me to get to bed, that he’ll discuss things further in the morning. I don’t respond verbally, as he’s already stomping through the house, probably to lock himself in his office.
“I don’t want to leave you alone,” Konstantin murmurs.
“I’ll be fine,” I shrug as I turn to walk away from him. He wraps his hand around my wrist and halts my movement.
“I know you’ll probably be okay, but his anger, it could spiral out of control. With nobody around…” he shakes his head.
“Then bring Mika to me. Bring my husband to me. He’s the only one who can do anything,” I whisper before I shake out of his grasp and hurry to the stairs, climbing them to go to my bedroom.
I close the door and lock it behind me, thankful for the solitude of my old bedroom, but I don’t hide the snarl at being back in this house and this room. I slide to the floor and curl my legs against my chest. I don’t want to cry. In fact, I refuse to. But if I could, I would, right now.
I feel as though I’m suffocating, that I’m back in hell, and the devil is sitting on his throne, steepleing his fingers and waiting to destroy me, for nothing other than his pure enjoyment.
After catching my breath, refusing to completely break down, I decide to take a nice long shower and try to go to bed. I throw on a pair of sweats and a tank before I climb between my sheets. I’m exhausted, drained physically and emotionally, and I know that my feeling this way is far from over. I squeeze my eyes closed and I send prayers and wishes for my Mika to come to me.
I DON’T SLEEP.
I toss and turn until I decide to take yet another shower and then dress for the day. I open my closet and find that everything is still in its place. Not a single item was packed for my move
with Gavril, which is surprising. I had assumed that my father would have had everything sent to wherever my new home was to be—not that I knew where that was. I wasn’t privy to such information.
I pick a tight, cotton, three-quarter-inch sleeve, burgundy bandage dress that ends right above my knees with a slit up to mid-thigh in the back. It’s high cut in front, but has a deep v in back that makes it to where I have to go braless. I don’t care. If my father doesn’t like it, he can go fuck himself.
I slide my feet into my nude high heels and take another look at my appearance in the mirror. I have on my full makeup and my hair is styled to perfection, not a single wispy piece of hair out of place. I hate it.
Making my way downstairs, I don’t bother even going in search of my father. I know exactly where he is. Since my mother’s death, it seems he’s always been in his office, day or night. I knock once but don’t wait for his answer; I just walk through his office door.
He’s sitting behind his desk, looking at his computer, and shuts the lid to it as soon as I step inside of the room. I used to love coming in here as a child. The familiar smell of cigar smoke fills my lungs, and it makes my eyes teary.
I used to play in here, near my favorite person in the world. I would take books and sit on the sofa. I would gather my Barbie’s and play under my papa’s feet beneath his desk, hiding out from the rest of the house, mainly my brother. I was daddy’s girl until the day my mother was killed. My father was everything to me—then he became a stranger right before my eyes.
“You defied me, Oksana,” he begins as I sit in the chair across from him and cross my legs at my ankles, as I was taught.
“I did nothing of the sort,” I snap.
“You ran off with a man I did not approve for you to marry, and you married him,” he growls.
“I married the man you requested of me. I did so with no fight. He was a traitor and, frankly, he frightened me. Yet, I went through with it, because it was what you asked of me. It is not my fault he was murdered sitting right next to me on my wedding day,” I point out.
Forever my Badman (Russian Bratva Book 7) Page 10