by J. L. Drake
When the patrol car rolled up, I met the officer on the front porch with the hood of my jacket over my head and Leonardo’s felonious gym bag slung over my shoulder. No way could I leave illegal drugs, a small fortune, and a fucking gun in Dad’s house.
Shit. I recognized the cop’s chubby freckled face and bushy black hair—Officer Montgomery. She had busted me drinking last summer and drove me home in her cruiser. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am. I was home alone and the power went out. I kind of freaked out.”
“What made you freak out?”
I pointed to my swollen ankle. “I was running to the kitchen to get a candle and kicked the coffee table.”
The officer ran her flashlight down my leg. “Looks like it might be broken.” She raised the light to my face.
“I know. My grandpa is on his way over to take me to get an x-ray. There he is now.” I pointed to the Cadillac. Jeez. He must have been close by.
“Have we met, miss?”
Oh, shit. “Um, not to my knowledge, officer.”
“You live here with your parents?”
“Yes. They’re visiting relatives in Akron.”
Boris made his way up the sidewalk. The police officer eyed his big body up and down.
“Thanks for getting here so quickly, Gramps. Can you take me to the hospital to get an x-ray?” I pointed to my foot and nodded.
His gaze drifted to the driveway and to the tire tracks in the snow from Leonardo’s car. “Good evening, officer. Thank you for checking on my precious granddaughter.” His coat collar was popped up around his neck to conceal his knife tat, and he had on leather gloves to cover up his prison tats. “Let’s go, dear.”
My dad’s ring tone had been erupting from my cell nonstop for several minutes. He must’ve gotten a call from the alarm company.
The officer held up her hand. “Just a minute. Can I see your ID, young lady?”
I fished my license out of my purse and handed it to the cop. As she examined my info, a knowing smile crept up on her face. “Carter Cook. I didn’t recognize you with your hair covered.” She tapped my license in her hand. “I’ve busted you before. You and your feisty little friend, right?”
Shit. “My mistake, Officer Montgomery.”
“Have you been drinking tonight?”
I felt Boris’s villainous glare bearing down on me.
“No, ma’am. Not a drop. I learned my lesson. Can we go now?”
“A pretty girl like you can get into a lot of trouble drinking in mixed company. You’re lucky we busted up your after-hours pool party last summer.” She glanced at Boris then to me again. “Glad you straightened out. Hope your ankle is okay.”
“Thanks.” I reached up and put my arm around Boris’s shoulder so I could hop to the car, but he was out of patience. As I clutched the gym bag, Boris scooped me up, carried me to the Cadillac like an infant, and dumped me in the passenger seat.
I tucked the gym bag at my feet, and Boris drove away like everything was cool. I forced a smile and waved to the officer, still parked in front of the house filling out her report. She squinted at Boris’s license plate as he rolled away.
“I don’t need an x-ray.” I pulled out my cell. “I have to call Dad.”
Boris drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Hi, Dad. I’m fine. The power went out. I accidentally hit the alarm button when I tried to turn on the light…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I did it until the police showed up…Yes, they just left. Everything’s fine.”
Dad had already turned the car around and was on his way home. I convinced him to get back on the road. Dad was sharp, though. “If the electricity is out, you’ll freeze to death. You’ll have to stay somewhere tonight.”
“Okay, I’ll call around—”
“I’ve already got you covered. When I couldn’t reach you, I called Vladimir. He has a generator. Boris is on his way. You can stay with them until the power comes back on.”
I hung up the phone. Boris looked like he was ready to kill someone. I’m guessing that someone would be me.
Chapter 29
Homicidal Rage
“Your lies won’t work on me.” Boris removed his gloves and tossed them on the floor.
“I’m not planning on lying to you, please—”
“Nyet.” He held up a finger to my face. “Who was at the house?”
“Um—”
“No um, just name.”
My fear spilled over into tears. “You don’t have to interrogate me.”
“Sneaky little weasel.” His fist pounded the dashboard. “I take my eye off you for one hour, look what happens.”
The Caddy was swerving all over the road from the icy conditions. “Everything is okay. I’m okay. I promise.” My ankle was throbbing, Ryan was home with a bloodied face, and I had a bag full of drugs and a gun—yeah, everything was cool. How did I get myself into this mess? “Please, pull over. I’ll tell you everything.”
I had to buy some time. If I told him what had prompted the fight, he would hunt down Leonardo and kill him with his bare hands. The guy was an asshole sexual predator drug dealer, but I couldn’t be responsible for his murder. I had to think of a convincing lie. When Boris pulled into the park, he turned the car off and put the keys on the dash—an intimidation technique, no doubt.
“Hurt anywhere besides your ankle?” His prison-tatted hands strangled the steering wheel.
I shook my head.
“You called me for help. You made up a story to police officer. You lied to Papa. You will not pull this shit on me.” He grabbed my coat and growled in my face. “Truth. Now.”
I tried to wiggle away.
“Last chance.”
“If I tell you what happened, I’m afraid of what you’ll do.”
“Who was at your house?”
“Nobody.”
He let go of me and took a deep breath. He was trying to control his temper, and it wasn’t working. Veins were popping like champagne bottles.
“I’m begging you, Boris. Leave it alone. Everything is under control.” I subconsciously rubbed my wrists over the area where Leonardo had pinned me down.
Boris studied my body language, and then lifted his hand like he was about to deliver a backhand to the side of my face. “You disobeyed me?”
“Not on purpose, I swear. I didn’t plan it.”
He lifted his cell out of his coat, tapped the screen, and yelled in Russian. That’s what Vladimir did when I had a problem with Coach. I couldn’t let this happen again. In desperation, I snatched the gym bag, opened my door, and hopped toward the tree line like an injured animal. I needed to find somewhere to dump the evidence.
“Did he touch you?” He removed his gun from the glove box and tucked it in his pants.
“No. Ryan kicked his ass.” I don’t want to tell him this. I don’t want to tell him…“I got hurt playing basketball and needed a ride home, okay? That’s why he was at my house, I swear. Ryan came to check on me after the power went out, and they got into a fight. There’s blood and glass all over the house. I lied to the cop to protect Ryan, not Leonardo.” Unable to keep my footing, I toppled to the ground in a mound of powdery snow. Pain shot up from my jacked-up ankle to every nerve in my body.
Boris snatched Leonardo’s bag out of my arms and unzipped it. Homicidal rage burned in his eyes as he scrutinized the contraband. “Starting a little side business of your own?”
“No, no, no—”
The heat emanating from his eyes could’ve melted plutonium. “On a scale of one to ten, lapsha, how well do you think the pakhan is going to take this?” He yanked me to my feet and dragged me back to the Cadillac.
Chapter 30
Unpleasant Business
The whipping wind blew the snow sideways and covered up the double yellow lines on the road. It looked like we would get the full foot of snow the weatherman had predicted. As we sat in silence, I focused on the windshield wipers swiping the fresh snowflakes away, era
sing the evidence they had ever been there.
I was terrified of what would happen to Leonardo. I glanced over at Boris. His knuckles were white, body stiff, jaw clinched.
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “How’s your ankle?”
“Fine. Totally fine.”
He made that menacing, dismissive humph noise.
I knew he wanted to hunt Leonardo down and run over him a hundred times. I tried to think of something to lighten the mood, but anything out of my mouth would have irked him.
“Working out a lie to tell the boss?”
“I twisted my ankle on the court. Tennis is a competitive sport.”
“I see.” His tone sounded uncharacteristically placid.
Is he calming down?
When we got to the house, Boris opened the garage door and parked in the vacant spot normally reserved for the Rover. I convinced myself I could walk no matter how bad it hurt, but before I took one step, Boris picked me up, tossed me over his shoulder, and carried me into the kitchen like a sack of beets.
He set me down on a stool, headed straight for the bar, and pulled Old Faithful out of the fridge. He poured a long shot and drank it down. He refreshed his glass and filled one up for me. He threw back another, with his other hand resting on the bottle. My clothes and hair were wet from my trek through the snow, and I felt dirty from having Leonardo’s hands all over me. I took off my soggy shoe and sock from my good foot. I needed to take a hot shower to chase away the chills, but I didn’t want to ask.
Boris ordered me to drink up. I did. Then he poured me another one.
There was a knock on the kitchen door. I jumped. Boris opened it and let in a hunched-over gray-haired man holding a black bag. They seemed to be having a serious talk. They must be business associates. I sat there nursing my drink, oblivious to their conversation.
“This man is a doctor, Carter. He’s going to examine you.”
“Oh.” I didn’t expect that.
The door opened again, and the wolves that hung around out back slunk in through the kitchen door. Playboy, and the other two that rounded out the pack, shook the snow off their coats and stomped their boots on the floor, but didn’t remove them. How un-Russian of them to drag that mess into the house. Vladimir wouldn’t have approved. Animals.
Boris picked me up and carried me past the living room into the guest bedroom where he lay me down on the bed. He had his wet boots on, too. The doctor sat next to me. The goons slid into the bedroom and shut and locked the door behind them.
Five bad dudes surrounded me, as I lay defenseless on the bed.
My heart pounded. “What’s going on?” Did this have something to do with the lesson the pakhan thought I needed to learn after the Friday night fiasco? Where was he, anyway?
The doctor felt my ankle and then moved it up and down.
“Ouch!” I sucked in a mouthful of air.
“Not broken. You will wear air cast for week or two,” he said in a thick accent.
As the doctor wrapped a bandage around my ankle, the goons were looking away—not at me—like they were trying to act casual. Something was very, very wrong.
When the doctor finished, I turned to Boris. “Is Mr. Ivanov home yet?” My words caught in my throat. I felt so tiny and fragile in the midst of the Bratva. There was only one reason I could think of all those dangerous men had closed themselves in the bedroom with me.
I sat up to get away, but the doctor held up his hand. “Need to check one more thing.”
Boris snapped his fingers at the goons. Playboy jumped on top of me and pinned down my wrists. I tried to scream, but the weight of his body pushed the air out of my lungs. In between gasps, I pleaded for help, but Boris just stood there with his arms crossed, watching his patsani terrorize me.
When I felt the other two trying to rip off my sweats, I wrapped my good ankle around the injured one to keep my legs together. “Get off me.” My pants slid down my hips to my thighs. I gave up on defense, switched over to offense, and tried to kick them. The big grimacing dude along with the wiry skinhead with tats trailing down his neck tugged off my pants with ease; they probably had a lot of experience violating girls in their line of work.
I can’t let them take off my underwear. I held my knees together and screamed, “No! Nyet, nyet, nyet.” Playboy lifted his hips and scooted forward. Grimace slid his hands across my bikini line and yanked off my panties.
When my clothes were on the floor, the goons each took a leg and spread me apart. I thrashed and kicked to defend myself, but I wasn’t strong enough to fight them off.
“I’m sorry, Boris. Tell them to stop,” I screamed. “Izvinite! Izvinite!”
The doctor closed in beside me and ran his fingers along my V. I clinched my body tight to keep him out, but he brought in his other hand and spread me apart. Then, he thrust his filthy fingers inside me and felt around. I cried out to Boris once more, but Playboy grasped both of my wrists in one hand and covered my mouth with his free hand to silence my screams. While the doctor violated me, he taunted me in Russian.
Why did I think it was perfectly fine to play around with gangsters? I was naïve just like the boss said I was. My reward for being an idiot? I was about to be gang raped. Did the pakhan order them to do it, or was this all Boris’s sick idea?
I don’t know if it was the shock, fear, or lack of oxygen, but my body stiffened up as if rigor mortis had already set in. There was no way I would be going home after these monsters were done with me. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for a miracle.
“She’s clean—and pure,” the doctor announced. He withdrew his nasty fingers, wiped his hands on the sheet, and left the room.
Boris dismissed the goons, leaving just the two of us alone in the room. No, no, no. I needed to make a run for it, but my muscles were shredded, I could barely breathe, let alone move. Boris sat beside me and tapped my cheek. “Next time, tell the truth, so we can avoid this unpleasant business.”
Gently, he sat me up, slid my arms into a plush pink robe, and tied it around my waist to cover my naked body. “I had to be certain. Everything out of your mouth is a lie.”
I struggled to fill my lungs with air.
“Take a deep breath.” Boris patted me on the back. “Calm down. Breathe.”
I flinched away from him, and then managed a few short breaths. My heart was thumping so violently, it felt like I was about to burst.
“You need to bathe before dinner. Need any help?”
I shook my head.
“I sent a runner out for your cast. It will make getting around easier.”
Where is Vladimir? He wouldn’t have let this happen. He protects me. He always protects me.
“That vile drug dealer is lucky the big boy showed up. If I found out he’d touched you—”
I wrapped my arms around my legs to stop from shaking.
He softened his demeanor. “I will send my men to clean up mess at your house.” He moved to the bathroom and turned on the water to draw a bath. He came back, scooped me up off the bed, and set me down on the edge of the tub. I couldn’t look at him. “I will set some clean clothes out for you. Want me to stay?”
I shook my head.
“Not a word about this to boss.”
Chapter 31
Houseguest
I sank into the tub and corralled the bubbles to shield my nakedness. How could I face Boris? He warned me not to rat him out to Vladimir, but there was no way I could shake off the assault and act like everything was okay. Everything was not okay.
After I cleaned up, I hopped to the bedroom, dressed in fresh clothes, and strapped on the air cast left out for me on the bed. Still in shock, I sat on the floor, crossed my legs, and practiced an Ujjayi breathing technique I’d learned in yoga to calm my nerves. I had to stop shaking; I was stuck there. I had no choice.
Dad wouldn’t be home with the family for three more days. In that time, I had to play it cool and hopefully things would go back to th
e way they were before I had been violated.
I willed myself to open the bedroom door and make my way to the kitchen, but I didn’t have enough energy to pick myself up off the ground. I felt like every muscle in my body had been removed, and what was left was a fleshy pile of shlyukha matter. I curled myself up into a ball on the floor, breathing as deeply as I could manage between gasps to fuel my body with oxygen. Someone knocked on the door.
“How is my poor, injured girl?” Vladimir knelt beside me and rubbed my back.
“I’m fine. Just trying to get my blood flowing.” My voice cracked.
He sat next to me on the floor, cradled me in his arms, and rocked me gently to calm me down. If Vladimir had been home when we got back, he would’ve protected me. Absolutely.
“What can I do, angel?” He kissed my cheek and stroked my hair. He hadn’t been affectionate with me since our special moment in my bedroom. I melted on his chest and welcomed his soothing embrace. In his arms, no one could hurt me—not even Boris.
“You’re light as a feather. Let’s get you some nourishment.” Vladimir helped me to my feet and guided me into the kitchen. Instead of eating at the bar, we sat at the breakfast nook by the balcony to watch the snow fall. I picked at the butter-laden potatoes, zucchini in cream sauce, and pickled beets loaded on my plate while Boris lurked around the kitchen, probably to make sure I wasn’t going to nark on him. Since the boss wasn’t crazy eyed, I doubted he had knowledge of the Leonardo stuff or what Boris had ordered that dirty old man to do to me.
If my instincts were correct, Boris had given Vladimir a revised version of The Incident to protect himself. When he came to my house he’d said, “I take my eye off you for one hour.” Hence, the big guy screwed up.
Vladimir eyed my plate. I choked down a few bites to stay off the emotional wreck radar, but I was traumatized and freaked out about sleeping at the house. Boris had the entire lower level all to himself. He could threaten me, spread my legs apart, but if he tried anything in front of the boss, the pakhan would kill him.