“I have. Why do you ask?”
“How is she doing now that things have settled down?”
“Good. She’s much more comfortable. Antsy to know if we’ve found anyone for her.” As much as I don’t want to tell Kronid this, I do. Personally, I think the woman needs more rest after the traumatic experience she had with her last husband.
“I’m glad. I think I’ve found a couple of good ones. I’ve done deeper digging this time, and these are the top three.” Kronid hands me three files, and I open the manila envelopes, flipping through them.
I look over the envelopes and the first two don’t impress me much, but the last one, he volunteers at an animal shelter down the street from him and is part of a charity to help mentor teenagers. The man has stated he’s looking for a wife to cook for him, clean, and someone to enjoy life with. How he’s adopted and wants to foster children in the system, so they don’t end up homeless. “Why does a man like this want a Russian bride? He seems normal, happy.” I could go on, but I don’t.
“He’s a lawyer who’s hoping having a beautiful and charming wife will give him the ability to level up at the law firm. He wants to become partner, and the front runners are men who have wives.”
Ah, that makes sense.
“Have you spoken to this man, Mar . . .” I struggle to pronounce his name.
“Yes, I spoke to Marty a bit ago.”
Marty. What kind of name is that?
“And what did he say?”
“He asked questions about where we find the women. He wanted to know about their backgrounds, to see if marrying one would positively impact their life. After reading his application and speaking to him, I think Khristina would be a phenomenal fit.”
“After what she’s endured, she needs a man like this.”
Kronid nods. “I agree, which is why I want you to speak to Khristina and see what she thinks. I’ll only set him up with her if this is something she’ll agree to. The woman has been through a lot and I will respect whatever decision she makes.”
“Of course. I’ll chat with her and let you know what she says.”
Kronid swivels around on his chair and turns his attention back to the computer screen. I exit the office and shut his door behind me, so he isn’t bothered, then make my way upstairs to where the mail-order brides reside. I find Khristina in their living area, watching some trashy American housewife television.
“Khristina, may we speak?”
She turns her head and rises from the couch and proceeds to follow me over to a corner of the room so others aren’t keen on eavesdropping. “Is everything alright, Michail?” She narrows her eyes and must be searching for answers.
“Yes, Kronid’s found a match for you, but he wanted me to check-in and ensure this is something you were ready to try again.”
Khristina sucks in a deep breath and nods eagerly. “Yes, please. I’ve been here for too long, and I don’t want to end up like some people.” Khristina motions with her eyes over to the left, and I know the woman she’s already speaking of.
“Understood. I will let Kronid know you’re open to meeting this man.”
“Thank you, and, Michail, one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“If this man is anything like my ex-husband, I’m not going to stay.”
“No one here would expect you to stay. Not one of us.” I speak the truth with my words. No one here wants any of these women to suffer. We try to take them from harm, not put them in harm’s way.
Chapter Two
Trista
Being in Russia has been an experience I never dreamed was possible. Not only did I come to visit, but I’ve moved into my best friend’s boyfriend’s old apartment after he moved into the house she lives in with her grandparents.
It made sense for him to move in with her since she takes care of them and so I moved in here. From what she tells me, Kronid helps quite a bit, too, especially with her grandfather. She said they play cards and have created quite the bond these days.
As much as I thought I might get a bit homesick, I don’t miss being back in the States one bit. I’ve finally started to find peace in myself and I’m happy with where I am right now.
Well, as happy as I can be. I’m still hiding all I’ve been through from Dema and everyone else I’ve become friends with. Okay, not everyone. Ruslan and Sascha, my neighbors, are the only ones who know.
Ruslan saw the marks when I first came here and questioned me. I didn’t want to tell them, but when you have two men plow you full of vodka, you tend to get a little loose-lipped. They did promise to keep it to themselves after I cried my eyes out and told them everything. The three of us have dinner together several times a week, mainly because they don’t want me alone, and to be honest, I don’t want to be alone. I enjoy their company far too much. They’re great guys.
During the day, I work at Pins and Needles as their receptionist. It’s great working here alongside some pretty amazing people. The bonus is I get to see Dema quite often and the double bonus is the fact Sascha works at the café across the street. I might happen to go over there a couple times a day for a refill on my coffee and a quick mental break.
I don’t know exactly what Ruslan does for a living, but I do know he’s a brute of a man and dresses well for his job. I made a joke one day that he looked like he walked right out of one of my dark mafia romance books. He’d given me a wicked grin while shaking his head.
This morning after getting to Pins and Needles, I sit at my desk looking over today’s appointments and smile. A few of them are coming in to get more work done to pieces they’re in the process of getting. There’s also a couple that’re starting theirs. I love seeing what people’s minds come up with.
I’d asked Dema to come up with something for me to go with what Ally had done for me back in the States. She came up with something phenomenal, and I love it. I proudly show it off while at work since she finished it a few weeks ago. She gave me a diamond above my breasts with two roses on either side. The roses matched the ones on my arms with the woman and sad eyes. When I asked Dema why she chose to go with a diamond she said it’s because I’m a diamond in the rough. I rose above the hardship and became who I am. It warmed my heart how my friend thought so highly of me. If only she knew just how weak I really am.
“Trista, you changed your hair,” Dema says, breaking through my thoughts as she comes inside.
“What are you doing here? I thought it was your day off,” I mutter, looking at the schedule to double-check. I swear she was off, but I could be going crazy.
“It is. I’m here to snag Kronid for lunch,” she says with a grin.
“I’m sure that’s all.” I giggle, rolling my eyes and smile. I love her to death and she can be a nut. No one here realized just how much of a nut she can be until after everything happened with her and Kronid. She’s lightened up a lot since then and I love seeing her happy.
I wish I could have something like this for myself, but I know it won’t happen.
“So, tell me what made you change your hair color,” Dema asks while leaning forward, not bothering to go to Kronid’s office. I’m sure this is ‘cause he already knows she’s here. I swear, though, I’ve never been behind the doors leading to the back. Rumor has it that they have such high tech here they know what we’re talking about. One of the artists told me that, but they might just be screwing around with me.
“I just felt like a change. I’d been tired of the simple dirty blonde hairstyle and wanted something different.” I shrug, not wanting to give her the real reason. Because my ex beat me until I couldn’t see straight doesn’t seem like an answer Dema would want or the fact I’m trying to rediscover myself after being lost for such a long time.
I needed a change and I didn’t want the blonde hair anymore, not after the nightmare that slowly became my reality. Speaking of nightmares, I’ve been having them so much lately. One night I screamed so loudly, Ruslan and Sascha heard me. The dream had be
en about the night I left my apartment back home for good.
You think you can do better than me? I don’t think so. You’re nothing but a blonde whore.
Even now, I hear his words like he’s directly in front of me, and the way he pulled my hair . . . the burning sensation still shoots down my neck at the thought. Everything happened so quickly that night, the way he shoved me onto the floor, the way he sneered.
I won’t let you leave me. I fuckin’ own you, bitch. No one will ever get you from me.
But most importantly, the moment he knelt down next to me and pulled out his knife. He carved JF into my hip, branding me, so everyone knew who I belonged to. It’s what he said, at least, but what he doesn’t realize is I don’t belong to anyone, and I never will.
I’ve tried hard to keep that memory blocked out of my head. Even when I woke up after he left and I cleaned myself up. I felt so dirty after everything happened. I needed to do something. I already got new tattoos and have my nipples, clit, nose, and ears pierced. I could’ve gotten another one, but I’d gone with having my hair changed to purple while I was off yesterday. I don’t want to be the same woman who put up with all that. I want to be a new woman, a stronger one.
Sascha went with me and we’d gone out after. He wanted to make me feel better and though he tried, I still felt dirty. Shit, I could even feel the scar Jacob gave me as if it were just branded into my skin yesterday. I know it’s mental, the same way people who’ve been through war can hear grenades going off. It’s only natural to be feeling it, to have nightmares about Jacob. I constantly have to remind myself everything I’m experiencing is normal.
I’d love to have it covered, but I don’t even know where I’d start. It’s a deep cut and I’m sure I’d have to go to the doctor to even start to get it covered. I don’t want to do that. The last thing I willingly want to do is for someone else to see my weakness.
The door to the back opens and Kronid steps out with Michail behind him. Where Kronid has dark hair, Michail is blond, looking like a sinister grim reaper. Since starting here, he and I have crossed paths on a daily basis since he’s Kronid’s right-hand man.
“Trista, please move Dema’s appointments back a week for me, please. Since she’s here, I can just go ahead and tell her now. We’re going on a short trip and I was going to ask you to look after her grandparents for us while we’re away,” Kronid states, stepping close to Dema and placing his hand on her stomach where she’s sporting a small bump.
“Sure,” I say, nodding and looking at the schedule then back to them, avoiding full-on eye contact with anyone. “I can handle all of that. You two have fun.”
“Thank you,” Kronid says and switches his focus to Dema. “Let’s go. We’ll have lunch before getting on the road.”
Smiling, Dema presses closer to him and looks at me. “I guess I’ll see you when I get back and you can tell me what that frown is for.”
Giving her an eye roll, I grin. “Only frowning at the lovey-dovey BS between you two. It’s gross if you ask me,” I say sarcastically to hide the real reason. I won’t let her find out the truth. Not now, and sure as hell not ever.
When they leave, I look to my computer to avoid speaking to Michail. Okay, so he’s not just sinister-looking. He’s drop-dead gorgeous, and the man is so out of my league it isn’t even funny. Merely at the sight of him, my cheeks flush with heat, so I’ll stick to my work and ignore the tall, dark, and mysterious man looming around the place.
Chapter Three
Michail
Kronid asked me to watch over not only everything upstairs but downstairs as well while he’s away. He isn’t the only one out of town. Katya is in the United States as well visiting family, so there’s a lot of pressure on me to make sure everything goes well. Thinking back, this is the first time I’ve ever been left alone to watch over everything. Usually, if Kronid isn’t here, Katya is somewhere nearby if I need her. Things will go smoothly while they’re all gone, and we’re going to have an easy couple of days.
I’ve already opened the shop with Meghan, Nikita, Trista, and Igor. The rest of those who work for the tattoo shop will be here later this afternoon for the closing shift. As far as the mail-order bride business, and the other things Katya runs downstairs that we don’t speak about, our men are here 24/7. We have too much product here to risk leaving the building unattended.
I’m in Kronid’s office watching the cameras, making sure everything is going well. It seems like a mundane task and slowly the hours pass. Between looking over applications, running upstairs to check on the women who’re meeting prospective husbands and wives today, and making sure the shop is running well . . . I’m fucking exhausted. How does Kronid manage to keep up with this madness?
I finally take a seat back on the stool at Kronid’s desk when a slight movement causes me to glance up at the screen. A man’s standing up with his arm straight out, appearing quite angry. I narrow my eyes and quickly realize this man must be an idiot. Anyone who’d touch one of our employees has a death wish.
I swirl around on the stool and head out of Kronid’s office on a mission. In a quick few steps, I’m in the heart of the parlor and I’m staring this oversized Russian man down. His hand is around Nikita’s neck and he’s glaring at her like he’s thinking about ending her life.
“What’s the meaning of this?” I ask calmly yet keep my tone stern.
“This bitch hasn’t given me what I’ve paid for!” he screams with all his might, tightening his grip around Nikita’s neck.
Her eyes got wider and the fear on her face is evident. I need to intervene now, or it might be too late.
“What did she not give you?” I question him, looking between Nikita and him. I have to make sure she’s okay, that she’s still alive, that he isn’t going to cause her to pass out, or anything bad.
“You know what, this place is a whorehouse and she didn’t even offer anything besides the tattoo. What kind of service is this!?” His voice grows louder, echoing through the parlor and a couple of the other clients who are getting tattoos seem quite uncomfortable. I can’t blame them for such feelings. This man shouldn’t be here.
“You need to let the woman go,” I tell him, not even taking a moment to respond to the claims he made a moment ago.
“You don’t need to tell me what I’m doing!” he seethes, taking a step closer to me while his grip on Nikita’s neck grows even stronger. She’s physically gagging, gasping for air, and now I know it’s time to make things a bit clearer for him.
I reach behind my back to pull the gun from under my shirt, and a movement comes from the corner of my eye. Trista rushes past me and goes up to the brute of a man, hitting him, surely trying to get him to let Nikita go.
“Let her go!” she yells, and my thoughts are confirmed. “Please, please let her go. You’re going to hurt her.” Now Trista’s pulling on his arm, and the man turns, but instead of letting Nikita go, he whips the back of his hand against Trista’s cheek. The strike is so strong it can be heard clearly in the parlor.
Now I’m pissed and I’m not playing Mister Nice Guy anymore. I yank my gun from the back of my pants and go charging up to this motherfucker, pressing the barrel of the gun against his temple. “Release her throat, right now, or I’ll pull the trigger.” There’s no bit of sarcasm in my voice, but why would there be? I’ve had enough of this shit.
The man lets Nikita go, and I speak up, “Igor, come get Nikita and Trista. Take them into the office.”
“I didn’t get what I paid for,” the man seethes, turning his face to look at me.
“You got exactly what you paid for, this fucking tattoo,” I snap, slapping my hand on his shoulder. He flinches, and I don’t give a fuck.
“What kind of whorehouse is this?!” No one should know what we do here. We keep things very hush-hush with the Russian brides, but he’s obviously heard something on the streets. It doesn’t matter. I’ll take control of the situation.
“I don’t know
what you think you know, but does this look like a whorehouse to you? We’re a fucking tattoo parlor,” I growl my words and make no attempts to smooth things over. He crossed a massive line here and he’ll be lucky if I let him walk out of here alive.
“Boss, you want us to deal with him?” Andrei, one of the men who works with us for Katya, questions.
“It’s best you deal with the women,” Vova, another one of our men, speaks up.
I give them a nod, knowing they’re right. I grab Vova by the collar of his shirt and pull his ear close to my lips. “Make sure he suffers far greater than either of them will ever have to.”
I release Vova, and he gives me one nod, a silent promise he’ll follow through on. Vova and Andrei take the man out through the front, and I look to Meghan. “We’re closing the shop for two hours. Can you handle things and make sure our guests are comfortable? We will give them full refunds and make sure they’re happy.”
“It’s not necessary, really. That guy was a nut,” the woman who Meghan was tattooing says, but I look her dead in the eye.
“I appreciate your understanding, but what you experienced today was unacceptable. I can speak for the owners of this establishment when I say they’d want to make sure you’ve been well compensated for the terrible horror you were put through today. Now, Meghan will make sure you’re taken care of. If you’ll excuse me, I have things to tend to.” I walk off and leave the parlor area, walk into the hallway, and head toward the break room. I quickly grab two ice packs and two kitchen towels before heading into Kronid’s office, where both Trista and Nikita are.
Nikita’s neck is red and patchy from where his fingers were applying pressure, while Trista’s cheek is swelling badly. “Here, apply the ice,” I direct both of the women who put the ice packs against their sore flesh.
Blood & Torment (Pins and Needles: Moscow Book 2) Page 2