by Jenika Snow
Alexa lifted her head and stared at the redhead. She saw two of Vasilisa right before another wave of dizziness slammed into her. She turned her head, thinking she might throw up, but she just dry heaved. Vasilisa grabbed her arm and tried to help Alexa stand straight, but doing so had the dizziness intensifying.
“Something’s wrong,” Alexa said, but her voice didn’t sound like her own.
“I’m calling for help,” Vasilisa said, and Alexa knew it wasn’t the official kind of police help … but the Bratva help.
Alexa tried to think of what was wrong, but with each passing second her mind felt like slush filled it. Vasilisa was in front of her saying something, but Alexa couldn’t make out the words.
“What?” Was that her voice? Distorted and woozy sounding?
“I’m going to get hold of Yvgeny.”
It was hard to make out the words Vasilisa said, but she got the meaning well enough.
“Just get me home. I think I need to sleep this off. I shouldn’t have had that last beer.”
That last beer.
Realization hit her. She realized that guy in the club had given her last beer to her. Had he slipped something into it? She tried to think of the events in detail, but it was hard with her mind feeling like it was in slow motion. But then she thought about him dropping his wallet, and her picking it up. She had taken her eyes off the drink, and that had been her mistake.
“Yvgeny, we’re at Odin-Dva, and something’s wrong with Alexa—”
Alexa tried to focus.
“Shit, the phone cut out.”
“Need help?” the male voice behind her was deep and slurred.
Alexa tried to turn around, but her body was so heavy.
“No, we’re fine,” Vasilisa said, her voice seeming distinct.
Alexa did see him then … the guy who had knocked into her then bought her the beer.
“No,” she said, but the word was thick, and she didn’t know if she’d thought it or actually said it.
“She doesn’t look fine,” the guy said again. “Need help to a car or something?”
Before anything could be said or done, the guy had hold of her arm and was walking her toward the parking lot. Alexa looked at Vasilisa, and she looked hesitant, keeping next to her, with her phone by her ear.
“Where’s the car?” he asked.
“Over there,” Vasilisa said, pointing in the distance.
But as they passed by the alley that was behind the club, he tightened his hold on Alexa’s arm and yanked Vasilisa toward him. Alexa struggled, trying to scream, but she couldn’t form a word. Her throat was too thick. She looked at Vasilisa. He had a hand on her mouth, and as he dragged them down the darkened alley, fear took root in Alexa.
She struggled, using all of her strength, but knowing it was fruitless.
“I’m not into redheads,” he grunted out as Vasilisa kicked and tried to get out of his hold. He let go of Alexa, but by then her legs were filled with pudding and she couldn’t stand. She fell to the ground, throwing up as the dizziness became too much for her to bear.
Alexa tried to stand, tried to go to Vasilisa, but a second later she heard the sound of slapping, a hard thump, and then Vasilisa was beside her on the ground. Her lip was bleeding, as was her nose.
Alexa tried to stand, but he had her off the ground.
“Oh, no you don’t. We’re just getting started.”
Alexa felt herself pressed against the side of the building, and then she felt a wet mouth latched onto her throat.
She tried to push him away, tried to scream, but nothing came out.
“I saw you in the club and had to have you,” he groaned against her throat. He smelled of cigarettes and alcohol, an even further nauseating stench. “You taste so good, baby.” He ran his tongue up her throat and kissed the side of her mouth.
“No,” she managed to say. She turned her head and tried to push him away, but her arms were far too heavy to lift.
“Stop,” she said with more force than she thought she had. She even brought her leg up, trying to get him in the crotch, but he blocked it and pressed his body more firmly against hers.
“Careful. I don’t want to hurt you like the redheaded bitch.” He kissed the side of her neck again.
It was like she was there, experiencing it, but then again she wasn’t. Her mind knew what was happening, but she couldn’t bring her body to stop it, to fight back. “Stop. You’ll be sorry,” she managed to say.
His fingers pressed painfully into the flesh of her side, and she cried out in pain. One of his hands held her head immobile while the other snaked its way between her breasts, over her belly, and stopped right before he got between her thighs. Her arms felt like lead plates, and coupled with his strength, she knew what was bound to happen, knew she couldn’t stop it.
And while all this happened she wondered if Vasilisa was okay. How badly had he hurt her? Alexa needed to get help, but how?
Another wave of dizziness and nausea swept over her. She was on the edge of passing out. She knew it, could feel it.
Just as she heard the zipper of his jeans being pushed down, as fear took root in every part of her body, she opened her mouth to try to scream. But then he was off of her. She instantly slid to the ground, not being able to hold herself up any longer. Her vision was shit right now, and all she could see was blurry shapes moving in swift actions in front of her. She blinked a few times, tying to see what was going on, but she was too intoxicated by whatever he’d drugged her with.
She heard Russian being spoken by several males, and a wave of relief washed over her. She started crying, but she knew she wouldn’t last long. She was already fighting unconsciousness, and it was a losing battle.
“Zvyozdochka.”
She heard Yvgeny’s voice close to her, then felt a hand on her cheek. She flinched, heard teeth grinding, and before she could ask what was going on, and if Vasilisa was okay, she felt the darkness finally claim her.
Chapter Nine
Yvgeny’s rage was tangible, a living entity in his body. He picked up Alexa’s limp form. He clenched his jaw, looking down at her face, and knew he’d spill blood tonight. He’d make sure the one that hurt her knew what real pain was.
He turned and faced his men. They held in a tight hold the fucker that had been knocked out. The asshole hung by his arms, his knees bent, his feet barely touching the ground. His head hung between his shoulders, and Yvgeny saw the blood dripping from the fucker’s face and onto the concrete.
“Take him to the basement.” Yvgeny would show this bastard what it meant to fuck with the Bratva and someone they held close. He laid his hands on not just a woman, but Yvgeny’s woman … the one he loved more than anything else.
A lot of fucking blood would be shed.
As he held Alexa in his arms, that volatile need for revenge grew. He knew Alexa well enough to know she hadn’t been drunk, and even if she had that didn’t give that motherfucker the right to come anywhere near her. But what set his blood to ice was the knowledge she had to have been drugged, because even drunk wouldn’t have had her like this.
He found himself holding her tighter. The vengeance in him ran strong. Although he knew Alexa was fully aware of the type of man he was, the truth was he didn’t know if she knew he reveled in hurting fuckers, especially the one that laid his hands on her.
He wanted Alexa in his room, on his bed, and surrounded by his things. He had a room at the club, and it was closer than his other house outside of city limits. The clubroom was necessary since he did most of his business there, and traveling to and from a residence didn’t make much sense most of the time.
“Bring me the car,” he barked out, and only a few moments later a Mercedes was pulling to the back alley. He got in, still holding Alexa, and in no time they were at his club in the city.
Once out of the car Yvgeny went inside and headed through the back hallway and toward his private elevator. Once he keyed in his code for the elevator
and was inside, it ascended. The doors opened soundlessly and he stepped onto the entire upper level that he kept for himself. His room was locked off, and the rest of the area was an open living space.
He allowed no one in this part of the club. It was his private area, the space he could come and not think about the gritty shit of his life. He may live that darkness day in and day out, but for just a second he could sit up here and think, the soundproof walls and flooring allowing nothing to penetrate the silence he needed.
He went into the bedroom and set Alexa on his bed. Seeing her on his mattress, surrounding by his sheets, his scent covering her, should have made him feel possessive and territorial. It should have made him feel fucking incredible. But knowing why she was here, seeing her passed out because some fucker had drugged her, made rage burn brightly in him.
Yvgeny shuddered to think what would have happened if he hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t gotten to her in time. But he’d been at Odin-Dva because of work, and to even think that what had happened to Vasilisa and Alexa could have gone further … his rage grew at the very thought. When he’d gotten a call from Vasilisa he knew something had been wrong. He’d felt it in his gut. The phone had cut out, but not before he’d heard her say where they were. That’s when he’d checked the security monitors, and seen what had been happening.
But fortunately they’d gotten to both women in time. Vasilisa was hurt, but he’d seen Aleczander there. The head of the Bratva had taken a special notice of the Russian girl, and he’d seen the other man pick her up before carrying her off.
Yvgeny just stared at Alexa, the feelings in him volatile, destructive … heartbreaking. Although no one had been on the upper level but him, he grabbed his cell and dialed the physician the Bratva used. He spoke in Russian into the receiver, telling the doctor to come here right away. Yvgeny needed Alexa checked out, and he needed to go to the basement and kill the fucker that had done this to her and Vasilisa.
The effect Alexa had on him was crippling, and he cursed himself for waiting so long to make her his. He’d wasted so much time, but he wouldn’t lose her now, not after she was finally his.
****
It was this floating feeling that encompassed Alexa. She thought she opened her eyes, but everything was hazy, dark. Moaning as her head pounded, she tried to move, but her limbs felt heavy, weighed down.
Someone spoke in Russian close to her. It was a man, and his voice was deep, but she couldn’t decipher if it was Yvgeny or not.
God, she felt sick.
“Don’t try and get up.”
She heard Yvgeny’s voice clearly right beside her ear, and rested fully back, not realizing she’d been trying to get up. A cool rag was placed over her forehead, and she sighed, feeling that darkness settle over her.
“She’ll be fine, but when she fully wakes she’ll feel pretty ill.” A man spoke. “Give her these and it’ll help with the nausea and the pain she’ll have.”
“And you’re sure she’ll be okay?” Yvgeny asked, his voice deep, dark, dangerous. “Because if you say she will be and something happens to her that goes against that I’m hunting you down.”
“She’ll be sick and uncomfortable, but the drugs will go through her system relatively fast since I have the IV running. Just make sure she rests.”
A moment of silence stretched, and then she heard a door open and close. Her mind was so fuzzy she couldn’t remember what was going on, but thinking about it made her head hurt too much.
“Shh,” Yvgeny said, and she felt him smooth a finger along her arm. “Just rest. You’re safe.”
And as if his words were what she needed to do just that, Alexa felt herself drifting back to sleep.
****
He left Alexa to sleep, shut the bedroom door behind him, and saw the physician sitting on the couch, and stopped. “You watch her because your life depends on it,” Yvgeny said. “I have business to take care of. I’ll be back shortly.”
The physician nodded, and although Yvgeny trusted the man, knew he was loyal to the Bratva, this was his Alexa they were talking about.
She came above all else.
“I’ll keep her monitored.”
“You don’t touch her unless absolutely necessary, understand?”
The physician nodded again. There were cameras all over the club, even up here. But they were for Yvgeny’s eyes only. He’d be able to see what the doctor did, and if he was smart enough, and wanted to live long, to follow Yvgeny’s rules.
“I’ll be back,” Yvgeny said and left. When he said he had business to take care of that meant beating the shit out of the motherfucker that put his hands on Alexa.
No, not beating the shit out of him … killing him.
She was his, and any asshole that thought they could get so much as near her would realize what a member of the Bratva did to protect and exact revenge for what was his.
He was in the basement in a matter of minutes, and made his way down the long corridor. The basement held the majority of the liquor for the club, but also housed the illegal guns, even some of the drugs they moved to smaller operations. Guards were stationed at intervals, but Yvgeny kept his attention straight ahead, his focus solely on what he was about to do.
Before he went into the room he knew the fucker would be in, he made a left and headed into one of the secured, guarded doors that held weapons. The armed Russian stepped aside, and once he was inside, Yvgeny looked for what he wanted.
This was going to be hands-on, and bloody, so fucking bloody.
He grabbed his weapon of choice, turned and left the room, and headed to where the little motherfucker was—who would be buried six feet in the ground before the night was over with.
Yvgeny’s blood was pumping through his veins, his heart was racing, and his rage was a living entity inside of him. Yvgeny pushed the door open, and satisfaction filled him at the bloody mess before him. The fucker that had drugged Alexa and hurt her and Vasilisa was on the floor on his hands and knees. Blood dripped from his face, and he looked over at Aleczander to see the other man cleaning the red substance off his knuckles.
“You started without me?” Yvgeny asked with no emotion in his voice.
“I just gave him a little sample of what was to come,” Aleczander said without looking up from cleaning his hands.
“Gun, chains, bat—”
“Brass knuckles,” Yvgeny said, cutting off one of the Bratva men standing in the corner. “Just brass knuckles for this fucker. He’ll get to feel every blow ten times over.” Yvgeny curled his hand into a fist, the brass already on his hand, the metal warming from his body heat. This wasn’t going to be slow, and he wasn’t going to take his time. Yvgeny had too much anger in him right now, and that meant beating the living shit out of this asshole.
“Vasilisa’s okay?” he asked Aleczander.
“She’s bruised and in pain.” Aleczander clenched his jaw, the anger radiating from him. “Alexa?”
“She’s still out, but she’ll be okay. Physically at least.”
Yvgeny rolled his head around on his neck, heard cracking, and felt the tension start to increase when it should have lessened. He was too juiced up for this, too pissed off, and tonight there would be death.
He took his button down shirt off, leaving him only now in his white t-shirt and slacks.
Taking one more look at the fucker on the ground, he tipped his chin toward Ivan and Gregor. The two men lifted up the fucker so he was now standing. “Keep him up for this,” Yvgeny said. “Look at me, you fucking piece of shit,” he gritted out, and waited for the prick to lift his head and look Yvgeny in the eye. “I’m about to make you piss and shit your pants, and only when you wish for death as a way out will I finally deliver it.”
The prick opened his mouth, maybe to say something, but his mouth was all fucked up, and blood started to drip out. Yvgeny looked at Aleczander. The boss was staring at the asshole, his focus controlled, cold, hard.
“Finish it or I’m
going to,” Aleczander said.
And just like that the very thin, nearly frayed line that was inside of Yvgeny snapped in two. He felt this beast rise up in him, morphing him, changing him into the killing machine he was about to unleash on the fucker that touched his woman.
He reared his arm back and slammed the brass knuckles into the guy’s face. This sickening sound filled the room, and satisfaction continued to fill Yvgeny. He slammed his fist into the man over and over again, seeing blood splatter out of the body and land on the floor and Yvgeny’s clothes. He didn’t care if he was soaked in it, and in fact wanted that grisly proof of what he’d done covering every part of him.
He continued to slam his fist into the prick’s body over and over, grunts leaving Yvgeny, blood dripping from the man to cover the ground, pooling at his feet.
When Gregor and Ivan were fully holding the fucker up, Yvgeny took a step back. “Lift his head,” he ground out. Ivan grabbed the asshole’s hair, and yanked his head back. Yvgeny looked into the face of the man that tried to take from Alexa, and all Yvgeny felt was pure unadulterated rage. “You should have never even fucking looked at her.” The words were like acid out of Yvgeny’s mouth. “Now you’ll die for that and more.”
He delivered an uppercut that had the would-be-rapist’s head cocking back, the sound of bone breaking, the sight and smell of blood leaving his body, and the rush of finally ending this. Although the asshole was still breathing—barely—Yvgeny took a step back. Blood dripped off of his knuckles and the brass on his hand. He looked at Aleczander.
“Go at it,” Yvgeny said.
Aleczander wasted no time in punching, kicking, mutilating the man that had hurt two innocent women.
Yvgeny didn’t know how long had passed, but the motherfucker was dead on the ground, the concrete covered in blood, the air thick, heated, filled with violence. Yvgeny breathed hard, looking at the carnage all around him.
Yvgeny told Gregor and Ivan to get rid of the trash and leave. He needed to get back to Alexa, to make sure she knew she was safe, and that no one would ever hurt her again.