One of Viktor’s Generals wanted to come along just in case it was them. He has a hard-on for one of the Franchetti daughters and the last place he caught a glimpse of her was when he came to pick up the group of women I bought from the auction last week.
She took off before he could speak two words to her, but he’s been pacing around like a caged animal ever since that night, according to my cousin. I’m afraid of what he’ll do if he sees her here. It was already a huge shock for him to discover her involved in all of this. I think what little bit of a heart he had, left his body that night. Not surprising, this shit will harden you up fairly quickly.
I don’t know the details of their story, and frankly, it’s none of my business anyhow. I care about freeing these women, putting a stop to their business and hoping like hell to find Nikoli’s sister somewhere along the lines. Five years and I’m finally making a touch of progress in this whole thing. A month of dealing with Yema is way too long for me.
We follow along, stepping inside the obscenely large home. It’s bigger than my fathers. It reminds me of Tate and Viktor’s father’s place here in Russia. Gizya’s estate is a massive compound with multiple buildings surrounding the main house. It could hold a large portion of Russia if it needed to.
I’m surprised to see the Sicilians have such a large estate here and that the Russkaya Mafiya would allow it. I wonder if Tate knew about this place or if he’s already planning inside to have men overtake it. I wouldn’t be surprised to see the men here cleared out, and the Mafiya claim it.
We’re brought to an enormous room with multiple, plush leather seats, a buffet with a large selection of liquor, and a fireplace roaring with flames. It’s chilly here, but the fireplace is large enough to ward off the coolness in the room.
“You may wait here while I alert the Don you’ve arrived. Mytroshka will get you refreshments.” He nods to a young girl standing idly next to the buffet. Her gaze remains trained on the floor before her. He takes his leave, and the girl doesn’t move an inch.
His men remain behind, standing in various places around the room, attempting to watch us without appearing so obvious. They do a terrible job at it, and we could easily overtake them if we needed to. It looks like they’ve been busy eating too much pasta to move quickly.
Finn approaches the girl. “Scotch, if you will, lass.”
She never looks up at his face, turning quickly and efficiently to pour his drink. No doubt she’s been ‘trained.’ After finding Nikoli’s wife when she was kidnapped, in the terrible shape I had, it’s been harder and harder to keep my mouth shut. I wonder how long this one’s been here.
God, the shit they did to Sabrina was horrendous. I’ll never forget how bad her lips had gotten—they were cracked and peeling, stuck together. I had to paint her up with Vaseline each day just to get her able to speak. The poor women went through hell.
It was amazing I was able to infiltrate their organization in the UK and eventually free her. Of course, there were casualties, but those pieces of shit deserved to die. It was so awful; I wanted to burn the entire place down.
Yema enters the room pulling me away from my dark memories, followed by four additional men. The one in the back is older, more distinguished; I’d say my father’s age. He has a sprinkling of grey through his thick black hair and a natural tan from his heritage. Yema stops in front of us as we all come to our feet. He stares at the man as if he’s a god.
“Gentleman, may I introduce the Don Franchetti.”
The men flanking him carry forty-fives as if it’s a goddamn soda or something. It’s reckless, keeping your weapon drawn like that. It may be pointed at the ground for now, but it takes one person getting pissed off to raise it and shoot.
Our men notice as well and move in closer, ready to protect us if needed. This is the last thing I need to worry about. It’s already dangerous without live weapons drawn.
Viktor steps forward, his hand out to greet another boss in the life. Granted they aren’t Russian, but my cousins will be respectful until provoked. They’d expect the same if the roles were reversed. After their exchange, Tate follows and then me. The others remain silent, not needing to be a part of the conversation.
“I hope Yema has made you comfortable.” His accent is thick, matching his looks. He stands out like a sore thumb in Russia; he belongs in Italy.
It infuriates me knowing he comes to the country I’m from to steal women and children to torture and sell. It angers me in general; but the fact he comes to my country to do it is like driving a knife under my finger nail.
“We’re fine.” Viktor nods. “Where are the women we were promised to pick through?”
Straight to the point—my cousin. I like it. The sooner we get done here the better. I want to get this over with and return to Sasha as soon as possible. I know she’s called, but I haven’t checked my phone. I’ve kept it on silent. Once I see her name on the screen, I’ll be able to think of nothing else. All that matters right now is that she’s safe, waiting for me and I’m one step closer to shutting this asshole down.
“I was under the impression you’d be staying with us for a visit.”
“Whoever told you that was wrong. We came because we’re interested in seeing your stock. Of course, we’d want to see how they’re kept and if you have others available. Unfortunately, we’re short on time. You understand, of course.”
“You want me to show you my hand, in other words,” Franchetti grumbles, glancing at Yema with irritation.
“We like to know exactly what we’re investing in. We’ll make you an even richer man if you work with us a little. If not, that’s fine; we can head back to the jet and stop wasting your time. I’m sure it’s precious as is mine.”
The Don nods. I’m surprised he’s giving in so easily, but I’ve been buying women from him for weeks now; hell, over a month. He has no reason to suspect me. And Viktor, well he’s a straight shooter with one hell of a reputation following him. You don’t get dubbed ‘the Cleaner’ in this business because you know how to spray a bottle of 409.
“I was hoping your father would have accompanied you.” His gaze meets mine, and he confirms my father’s claim to have known him.
Great, old buddy’s reuniting. Not on my watch, pasta eater.
“He’s overseeing a few things in the States.” Like my woman, not that it’s any of his business.
“Ah, a shame, he was always a reasonable man.”
And this guy clearly lies through his teeth. There was nothing reasonable about my father when he was in the game. I’m sure Franchetti’s just happy to have him out of the way so he can control the sex slavery industry. My father would’ve mowed him down had he gotten in his way back then. I’ve heard the horror stories. It’s one of the many reasons why it’s so difficult for me to have a relationship with him.
“My father’s a hard man, we all know this.” He nods, his lips turning up at the ends in nearly a smirk. I’m not going to bullshit him over common knowledge.
“I hear you’ve been enjoying some of our selection already.”
“Then you hear right. I’ve kept one for myself; the others have gone to the men.”
Spartak attempts to appear casual, but I see him scanning each corner and shadow every so often. I doubt Don Franchetti would have his daughter hiding in a corner or having her prance about where we can get to her easily.
“I was curious, is the announcer you have at the auctions available to purchase as well?” Spartak blanches hearing my question, but I’m sure he’ll figure out I’m only asking for him.
The Don grows deathly still. All eyes fall on me as I test him. Will he admit she’s his daughter or will he pass her off as some unattainable employee?
“I understand you two are married.” He gestures to Viktor and Tate and then turns back to me. “But you are not?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Perhaps we can discuss a merger of sorts if you’re truly interested in that girl. Let’s
leave that for later after you’ve seen the product we have here.”
No fucking way he means what I think he does. He can’t expect me to marry his daughter, surely. I’m here to buy women or pretend too, and I just admitted I kept one for myself already. Is he not worried about his daughter marrying a monster?
He’s worse of a man than I originally believed. I’m the enemy whether we come right out and admit the fact or not, yet he’s thinking of using his printyessa daughter to merge the families together. My Russian ancestors must be flipping over in their graves right now with this new turn of events. I’d never put much stock in who I’d end up marrying, but now that I’ve met Sasha it’s a viable subject. Hell, would she even want to marry me eventually? Maybe someday. Clearly, I’m missing her right now to be thinking of this at the moment.
I can feel Spartak’s gaze beating down on me from bringing Victoria Franchetti up, but he can relax. I’m not interested in her in the slightest. Surely he knows that I was merely asking for him and that I’d never marry her.
“Bring your drinks if you’d like, we’ll go see the supply.” The Don gestures, turning to leave the room.
I’m glad Sasha didn’t come along. I don’t want her anywhere near these people. I can’t help but wonder if she would’ve been happy to see him and how she could care for someone like him. He’s warped her into thinking she doesn’t deserve freedom and that her purpose is to serve men’s deranged needs. If she came with us and he were to touch her or speak to her, I’d lose it. I wouldn’t be able to keep it together; it’s hard enough now being in the same room and being close enough to kill him. Thinking back to her pleading to come with us has my blood boiling. I hope I get to put a bullet in his skull before we return home.
Franchetti and his men exit the room, and we follow along. We hold back just a bit, allowing them to lead us through hallways and down concrete steps until we come to a basement. We need to get the layout if there’s any hope of rescuing these women.
There’s a trickle of water echoing, coming from somewhere nearby, accompanied with an uncomfortable silence. Along each wall are concrete type cells that run the length of the room. They’re tiny, and each cage has a gate made of fencing securely locked with a padlock.
I can’t believe with how rich this man is and how big the estate is that they don’t have a better security system in place. I guess he thinks the guards are enough. It’s never good to be too cocky or complacent.
Some women gaze at us, their fingers tangled in the fence to keep them upright. They look weak and drained, probably from not being fed and from being tortured. Or as Franchetti and Yema would call it, being put through their ‘training’ to be sold at another auction. Just looking at them has me wrecked inside. How could someone do this to another human being? I’ll never understand this type of thinking.
Other cells seem empty until we pass by the doorway and you can see the women huddled in corners. They’re naked and absolutely filthy. I’m assuming the dark spots on the concrete around them are from old piss and bile.
Most of them shake; others have silent tears trailing down their faces. It’s too much. I feel like I’m going to explode. My fingertips dig into my palms; the short, trimmed nails are blunt, but my grip’s so harsh I can feel them dig into the calloused flesh of my palm. It’s taking everything inside me not to rip these men apart with my bare hands and save these traumatized women.
I can’t though.
I have to hold my emotions back, beat them down into the cracks running through the floor beneath us. Holding my breath, I scowl, coming off as the annoyed rich boy. My heart is shredding, piece by piece weeping for each new face I find as we walk the perimeter. Somehow, someway, I will get them justice for this.
After a brief viewing of each woman, we head back up the stairs and end up in a library. I’m too irate; I can’t even speak at the moment. I have no words available that will make any sense right now. I thought I knew rage before. I hadn’t a clue what true rage was until a moment ago.
This time it’s Tate that takes the lead; he’s dealt with a lot of this. He’s been cleaning up the Mafiya over the last six years, and he’s come across women in this state several times. I know it affects him, but he’s learned to wear his mask better than I have.
“So? Do we have a business deal? What are your thoughts on the selection?”
“They were fine. We’ll take the evening to discuss it at our place and make you an offer first thing. They need to be cleaned up and fed though, preferably sooner than later. I won’t take them on the plane in that state. They could die on the trip like that and what use would they be to my men if they’re dead?”
The Don’s eyebrow shoots up, not amused in the slightest with having to spend time or money on the women without knowing how much he’ll make off them in return.
“And what guarantee do I have that you’ll even offer a fair price for them?”
“None of this business is fair. I’ll offer you an amount by wire transfer, and then you can give me the location of the next, assuming there are more. This place was too small for the number of women you’ve promised. I’ll buy the others from you as well. How many facilities do you have in total?”
“You’ve seen everything; I would prefer if you stayed the evening here rather than a hotel.”
It’s not a request, and it’ll change the original plans we had. We were supposed to scope everything out and get the location of the women. Also, a guard count and then tonight Tate’s Mafiya guys would hit this place vigorously to take the women to safety and hopefully kill the Don. We were supposed to be on our way to the next location when this all went down. If we stay here, it won’t go as planned. It’s not like we have anywhere to discuss the change either. I want this man six feet under and soon.
“We’re gracious of your hospitality, but we have family waiting for us. This is my country, and I have my personal estate.” Tate stands taller, more imposing to lay it down we won’t be kept here. He is the Big Boss in Russia, not the other way around.
“Of course, then perhaps a few of your men would like to stay to show good faith.”
Tate and Viktor’s jaws harden, knowing the danger they’d be inflicting on the men. Another aspect though, it may be good to have a few men inside. It will also be very unsafe for those men while we’re not around.
“I’ll stay,” Spartak speaks up, and Viktor’s stern gaze flies toward the man he trusts to protect his wife. She would be devastated if something happened to him and seeing her like that would rip Vik apart. I know it’s because he wants the chance to hunt the estate for Victoria. He needs to watch his back, though, or he could end up getting himself killed.
“Boss.” A few of Tate’s men step beside Spar, volunteering as well. They’re loyal soldiers, ready to sacrifice on a whim.
This really could work, having a few on the inside when the others hit tonight. We’re all thinking it. We just need the locations of where the other women are so we can be on the way to save them as well.
“It’s done.” Tate gestures to the guys and Franchetti relaxes, pleased he got some leverage out of it.
“Where are the others?” I ask, finally getting my bearings.
“We’ll get to that after the deal tomorrow,” he responds, and my stomach sinks. We need the info now to go through with the plan tonight. Fuck.
“My fault,” Viktor interrupts. “We need the flight plan now for where we’ll be off to the next few days. My pilots need to know how far the flights are to call in additional if we need them. I take my safety seriously; I won’t have some coked-up men half-ass fly me around the world. I’m sure you understand.”
It’s a challenge to the Don to see if he’ll cave if he’s confident enough to give us the places. It’s a question of trust, and they have no reason not to trust us so far. Well, besides the fact that we’re Russian and belong to different crime families.
“No harm in giving you the cities, I suppose.” He goes to a sid
e table scribbling something on a small piece of paper. When he’s finished, he hands it to Viktor. My cousin glances over it and nods. I can tell it’s not what he wanted, that he’s not pleased.
“Thank you.” Viktor shakes the older man’s hand, and we all follow suit. Yema leads us to the door, and it’s not until we’re in the safety of a moving vehicle, heading for their vacation house, that Viktor lets loose a string of curses in Russian.
He’s livid and already pulling his cell free to dole out orders and change up what we had believed was going to be a foolproof plan. I take my own phone out and notice one missed call from Sasha, but that’s not what worries me…it’s the ten missed calls from my father that has my heart pounding.
They tried to bury us.
They didn’t know we were seeds.
-Mexican Proverb
“Sin?” My father answers on the first ring.
“Da.”
“Thank you for calling.”
“What’s going on?”
“Have you spoken to the dove?”
“I tried calling her back, but she didn’t answer.”
He swears in Russian, clearly upset about Sasha. That’s not good at all.
“I do not like worrying you when you have other things happening.”
“Tell me what’s going on, please.”
“I gave her the phone as you wished and now she’s gone. She stole the money Nancy had for groceries and slipped out. She took Bruno’s car.”
“Shit, she doesn’t know how to drive. She doesn’t know anything about the regular world. Fuck!”
“She knew enough to get away.”
“How did she get past the gate in his car? Where was everyone anyhow? She’s one tiny woman, and she walked right out the door?”
Undercover Intentions Page 16