Vik (Shot Callers Book 2)

by Belle Aurora

  And although Pollux looked like he wanted to argue, he didn’t. Instead, he went over to the fridge, took out the milk, and poured a little too roughly, shoving the bowl of cereal in front of me in clear irritation, mumbling under his breath, “Fucking bullshit.” He slapped a spoon onto the counter so harshly I flinched. When he sat at the island and scooped some cereal into his mouth, he spoke around it, “You could have warned us.”

  Roam’s spine went rigid, and when he spoke next, it was tense. “I didn’t realize I had to run things by you.”

  “You don’t,” Pollux returned immediately, knowing he fucked up. “But I can’t do my job efficiently if half the details on the page are blacked out. Maybe, you know, think on that.”

  And Roam stared at the man, unblinking. After what seemed like an eternity, he uttered a rough, “Next time I want your opinion, you best believe I’ll ask for it, friend.”

  He said friend in the same way some would say motherfucker.

  Awkward.

  Pollux ate his cereal in silence. Roam continued reading his paper. And I looked anywhere but at the two of them.

  As I stared vacantly into the bowl of cereal, I heard Roam say, “Eat.” I lifted my head to find him looking right at me, and when he motioned toward the bowl in front of me, I swear to God, his face gentled a touch as he uttered an impassive, “Feed your baby, Nastasia.”

  He continued to stare at me until I lifted my spoon, scooped up some cereal, and lifted it to my mouth, nibbling at it uncomfortably.

  Satisfied, Roam stood and reached for his jacket that hung off the back of the chair. “I’m rather sorry, dear, but I must go.” When I peered up at him, he shrugged into his jacket and uttered a bored-sounding, “I know, I know. I promised I’d stay for dinner, but—” His dark grin was wide and white and absolutely lethal. “—you knew the man I was when you married me.”

  My lips thinned.

  He was taunting me. Sure, because why not? I was only here to entertain him, after all.

  Taking his cup to the sink, he set it down gently before making his way to me. He stood by my side, looking down at me, and I refused to meet his eye.

  “I don’t know when I’ll be home. You know how unpredictable my days are. What will today bring? Destruction? Torture? Anarchy? Murder?” He wasn’t after a response, so I kept quiet, but when his hand struck out, hard and fast, gripping my chin between his fingers, forcing my head up fast, I jolted, knocking the bowl of cereal to the floor.

  The spoon bounced, tinkling until it settled in the mess below. And when Roam brought his face close, I reminded myself that any reaction at all could set this maniac off.

  I remained silent and still, and he tutted, “Don’t be jealous, dear.” He then sneered while letting the caustic words wash over me. “You know I love you so.”

  I closed my eyes and continued to breathe. The theatrics were overkill, and when Roam released my face, he turned and stalked away, leaving me trembling in my seat.

  From the next room, he called back, “Clean that shit up.”

  Pollux’s gaze was locked on Roam’s retreating form, and when he was gone, the man looked at me, a strong frown pulling at his lips. His puzzled question lingered in the air. “What did you do to him?”

  Droplets of milk from my spilled cereal dripped from the island onto the floor.

  My response sounded weak even to my ears. “I have no idea.”

  After the kitchen incident, Pollux walked me back upstairs, but when I noticed he was leading me back to my dungeon, I came to a halt, spun on him, and showed no shame in begging, “Please don’t put me back in there.”

  His brows lowered. “I have to.”

  Oh God. He was punishing me. “I know I got you into trouble, and I’m really sorry, but I can’t go back in there.” My breathing was already starting to turn heavy. “I can’t.” Reflexively, my hand went to my lower belly. “Please don’t make me.”

  After a moment, Pollux’s gaze came to rest on my stomach. “You really got a baby in there, or you think that shit up to get some sympathy?”

  “It’s real,” I swore, then lifted three fingers in a sad attempt at humor. “Scout’s honor.”

  He seemed to think it over. “I have to shower, so you have to go back in there,” but when my eyes widened and I attempted to argue, he cut me off with a terse, “but I’ll come back. Give me half an hour.”

  I knew I was in no position to haggle, but the words shot out before I could stop them. “Ten minutes.”

  And, to my surprise, the man’s brows rose. He followed the move up with a chuckle before he countered, “Fifteen.”

  My lips thinned, but I nodded, and he shook his head, still snickering at the gall.

  Just as the door began to close, I rushed forward and called out a desperate, “Wait. Can’t I come with you?”

  The door clicked shut, and Pollux called out a distant, “Fifteen minutes.”

  I waited patiently as the walls caved in around me. I closed my eyes and worked on steadying my breathing, and when footsteps approached, I scrambled to stand. As promised, the door opened once more, and there was a freshly showered Pollux in light blue jeans, a tight long-sleeved gray tee, and black casual sneakers.

  He looked better, and because he was being nice to me, I told him so. “You clean up good.”

  Pollux narrowed his eyes on me before he jerked his chin toward the door. I didn’t need to be told twice; I left the room and waited for him to lead on. As we walked and walked, I had a feeling that wherever you went in this house, it took a while to get there, and when we took the stairs down toward the front door, I got the insane feeling that he was going to let me go.

  I should have known better.

  Unfortunately, just before we approached the huge double-wide entry, he took a sharp left, leading to the room with the excessive number of sofas. He threw himself down onto one, lying back and getting comfortable. I carefully sat in a lone wingback chair, and when he pulled out a remote seemingly from nowhere, I watched in interest as he pressed a button and the ground began to rise.

  A huge TV rose from the floor, and I gaped.

  Holy shit. That was awesome.

  Pollux scrolled through the channels and settled on a popular reality show. I was well accustomed to the show. I was just surprised he liked it too.

  We watched on in silence until the front door opened, then closed, and another man approached wearing sweats and a hoodie. Pollux looked over at the man, then back at the TV. “Where were you?”

  The man unzipped his jacket. “I was at the gym, which is exactly where you should be, ya lazy shit.” He shrugged off the hood, and I blinked at him, flummoxed. He glared at the man on the sofa. “You’re letting down the brand, Pol.”

  A quick glance from one to the other had my brows rising.

  Oh God. There were two of them.

  Pollux muttered, “As you can see, I’m babysitting,” and his twin finally noticed me.

  But when he did, his eyes washed over me slowly, admiringly, and when he spoke, his voice had lowered a notch. “Damn. I’ll babysit.” He grinned, and I’ll admit, it was quite stunning. He then patted his lap and uttered a husky, “Come on over, baby. Sit.”

  It was funny, and that was the reason I turned to hide my smile, but it was so lame that his brother groaned out loud. “You gotta stop saying shit like that, Caz. You’re letting down the brand.”

  “What?” The man shrugged. “She’s laughing. She liked it. It was funny, wasn’t it, sweetness?”

  “Yeah, well, she’s a hostage, and she’s pregnant,” Pollux said bored-like. “I don’t know how much trust I’d put in her word. And she’s Roam’s, so, you know. Don’t get too attached.”

  Jesus. I did not even want to think on that.

  And his brother’s face turned solemn. “What did she do?”

  I responded curtly, “She did nothing. She doesn’t even know why she’s here.”

  The man blew out a long breath. “Bum
mer.” He came forward and held out his hand to me. After he saw my hesitation, he uttered a soft, “Go on. Take it. I’m the nice twin.” When I looked up into his eyes, all I saw was kindness. He sort of reminded me of Vik. I took his proffered hand, and he squeezed it before saying, “I’m Castor. Or Caz, if you please.”

  “Nastasia.”

  Castor sat on the wingback next to mine, turned to face me head-on, then leaned in and asked curiously, “But seriously, honey. You can tell ole Caz. What’d you do?”

  My gaze lowered to his nose, and I noticed two small silver studs on either side.

  Okay, so…

  Pollux = septum piercing.

  Castor = stud in each nostril.

  An easy identifier.

  I thought about it and answered honestly, “I think I’m collateral.” My eyes met his as I said, “I guess Roam took offense to something Vik said or did—”

  But Caz stopped me by placing his hand up. “Vik? As in—” He made a face. “—Viktor, the fucking Russian? That Viktor?”

  Confusion swept through me as I confirmed weakly, “Viktor Nikulin.”

  Pollux sat up and looked me dead in the eye as he muttered, “Well, that explains things.”

  And Caz’s brows rose. “Oof. Now I know why you’re here. Roam ain’t too happy with your boy.”

  Oh really? I couldn’t half tell. “Yeah. I gathered as much, hence the whole kidnapping business.”

  My sarcasm hung in the air between these two brothers, and while Caz grinned, Pollux snuffled out a quiet laugh through his nose.

  But one question lingered in my mind. Part of me wanted an answer, while a separate part of me already knew it.

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  Pollux did not answer, but his passive face said it all, thus giving me my answer.

  Meanwhile, Caz took his time responding, but his sober reply was far more chilling than his brother’s, because he looked me in the eye to deliver it. “If Roam asks me to.”

  Okay.

  I knew where I stood. Unluckily, it was on rocky ground.

  “What can I do?” I asked quietly.

  And while the brothers shared a look, I looked between them, silently begging for a thread, pleading for a crumb of information that could help me. Castor threw his brother a look, and Pollux shook his head, shooting him a deep frown.

  So, when Castor let out an exhale, starting with, “Look—”

  Pollux cut him off with a terse, “Castor.”

  The man beside me drew into himself, his jaw tight, and when I glanced at him with sadness and desperation in my eyes, he rolled his and uttered a very slow, very deliberate, “I can’t help you, honey. No one can. But if you ever feel like you’re in danger with Roam…”

  “I swear to God, man,” Pollux cut through.

  “…just tell him you’re hungry,” Castor ended gravely.

  That lead to Pollux shouting out an irritated, “Caz. Fuck!”

  The kinder twin began, “If need be, I will put a bullet in your head, baby be damned.” My stomach dipped at the words, but he reached out to pat my knee and finished with a sincere, “But I really hope I won’t have to.”

  With that, he stood and walked out of the room with his brother scowling at him. And when I glanced over at the man on the sofa, his hard stare landed on me with the weight of a truck as he ground out, “My brother has a soft heart.” Jaw tense, he looked away, picked up the remote, and flicked through the channels while he stated, “Unfortunately for you, mine is hard as diamond.”

  Right.

  Unease washed over me as I settled back into my chair.

  Good to know.

  33

  Nastasia

  Pollux wasn’t much as far as company went, but he kept me out of my cage for half the day. Unfortunately, after dark, I was placed back in my prison, and it didn’t take long for me to go stir-crazy. I did what I could to pass the time, going through Roam’s clothing in hopes of finding a weapon, but all I found was stacks of cash, condoms, and a bunch of Zippo lighters, all engraved with the same unique skull logo.

  By the time I was done snooping, I realized I couldn’t remember where everything went. After a small amount of reasoning with myself, I decided to plunk all of what I’d found onto the black leather ottoman bench seat in the center of the closet. After all, I was pretty sure Roam knew I’d be searching his shit. Hence why I found no weapons.

  My hand banged against the door feebly, and I called out, “I need to use the bathroom.”

  And I really did. It bordered discomfort, and I squeezed my legs together as my bladder screamed out for relief.

  I tried over and over again to garner some attention, and it was only when I’d given up hope that anyone was there when I remembered what Castor told me.

  I didn’t expect much, but that didn’t stop my heart from catching in my throat when I said the pathetic words out loud.

  “I’m hungry.”

  Testing the theory, I kept quiet and simply waited.

  So, imagine my surprise when not five minutes later, I heard approaching footsteps. I backed up as the closet door opened, and when Roam stood imposingly tall in the doorframe with narrowed eyes, I stopped breathing. He looked down at me with petulance. I peered up at him with apprehension. Then, he jerked his chin, holding the door open and moving out of the way, and because I was exhausted and didn’t have a lot of energy, I crawled out on my hands and knees, only managing to stand when Roam’s fingers curled around my upper arm and pulled me up.

  It worked.

  Oh my God. It worked.

  I made a mental note to kiss Castor smack on the lips the next time I saw him.

  Roam didn’t release my arm as he walked me down to the kitchen, steadying me as I took slow, precise steps down the stairs. Once we were in the kitchen, Roam left me by the double-wide doors as he opened cupboards, picked up boxes and containers, then sighed out, “Sick and tired of this shit being left in my fucking pantry.” His jaw tightened as he lifted one box, shook it, and said, “Nothing but crumbs.” Then he peeked in another box. “Four crackers left in this one.” He pulled out a box of mac and cheese and examined it before throwing it onto the counter. “Out of date.” He moved to the fridge and opened it, inspecting the contents. “Can you cook?”

  “Not well,” I admitted quietly, my voice rough.

  And he narrowed his eyes on me. “Why the fuck not? Your mom didn’t teach you?”

  In my head, she cackled, and my arms broke out in goose bumps.

  I took a cautious step forward, unconsciously scratching at my arm, shook my head, and offered a reluctant, “She died when I was a kid.”

  I wasn’t looking for sympathy, so I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t get it. Instead, he scowled at me. “What do you plan on feeding your child? Frozen nuggets and Eggos?”

  Firstly, I loved dino nuggies. I started by nibbling their limbs, then their little heads, until finally devouring their delicious bodies. I always kept a box in my freezer for the days I kidnapped Lidi, and whenever I did, I fed her all the things she wasn’t normally allowed to eat.

  Secondly, there wasn’t a child alive who didn’t love Eggos. My child would be so lucky to have Eggos for breakfast. And occasionally, we would. So, sue me.

  This topic of conversation had me feeling more at ease with this unpredictable man. I took another step forward, then another, until I took a seat on a stool at the island. And I had to concede, Roam was right. I really did need to brush up on what little cooking skills I had. “I was thinking of asking Vik’s mom to teach me.”

  “She good?” he asked distractedly as he threw a couple of eggs into a pan.

  “The best,” I revealed with reverence, and as I glanced at this hard man who was cooking me eggs simply because I told him I was hungry, I wondered if light conversation would unravel the first thread of what I hoped was many. He was manipulative, but I could be too. So, I began to talk, carefully at first. “She cooks like she nev
er left Russia.” Then, a little more openly. “Makes meals that make your mouth water. Her cakes are to die for. My mom wasn’t exactly Martha Stewart, so when I went to Vik’s and saw the kind of mom he got, I was jealous. I always felt more at home at his house than I did at my own.” I hoped to appear obedient and passive as I lowered my gaze and uttered, “I want to be that kind of mom.”

  But if I hoped Roam would be moved, I was sorely disappointed. Especially when he uttered an aloof, “Look, I don’t need to hear your life story.” He scooped the eggs onto a plate and slid it over to me. “The quicker you eat, the quicker you go back in your cage and I can get back to work.” He handed me a fork, and as I stretched out to take it, he pulled it out of reach. And I blinked. “You got something to say to me?”

  My eyes were glacial, but I kept my tone even. “Thank you.”

  He held it out once more, and I slowly reached for it. When it was clear he wasn’t going to take it away, I grasped it between my fingers and brought it to my plate before I began to salivate, and not in a good way.

  Suddenly, I closed my eyes, and my breathing turned heavy. A cold sweat swept over my forehead, and I gripped the edge of the island, swallowing hard and letting out a strained, “Bathroom.”

  Roam chuckled. “Oh no, honey. You sit here, you eat, then you go do your business before you go back in your cage. That’s what’s happening.”

  My head swam as the smell of the eggs became stronger and stronger until I pushed my plate away with a clatter and breathed out a shaky, “I’m not feeling very well.”

  “I don’t give a shit. Now, eat.”

  Oh no. Here it comes.

  Within seconds, the tightness in my throat quadrupled, and my body folded. I covered my mouth with one hand, holding my stomach with the other, and then I was heaving. I knew it was the wrong time, but much to my delight, I gloated in the way Roam’s lip curled as he realized I wasn’t faking it. I stood and rounded the island, rushing toward the closest thing I could think of to vomit in.

  The kitchen sink.

  I made it just in time to lose what little I had in my stomach into the wide-bottomed kitchen sink, and the sound of my gags along with the splattering noise that seemed to echo through the room was enough to disgust anyone.