When she died, everything came around full circle. I knew at that time I needed to take Mila and get far away from our small town in Russia. I didn’t want the same fate to befall her, and if she stayed, it would’ve happened. Unlike our mother, I wanted Mila to get an education, to be well-grounded, to become something. Even if I had to pay for every bit of it. I know what life in Russia can be like for some women, and the last thing I ever wanted was for Mila to become a statistic.
So, as I sit here on the edge of Trista’s bed processing what she’s just told me, I try to remember the woman that raised me. How it wasn’t her fault, and what I would’ve done for her if I had another chance. It’s the same thing I’ll do for Trista. I’ll torture, shed blood, and kill anyone who dares to ever want to cause her harm.
Balling my fists, I watch the tears slip down her cheeks as she tells me everything, and for a few minutes after she’s finished, I sit here silently. There’s so much I want to say, but know I’ll fuck it up. All I can do is stand and wrap my arms around her small frame, holding her close to me. I never admitted the circumstances surrounding my mother’s death, but there isn’t a better time than right now. “I won’t let him near you, ever again. This is a promise I make to you . . . I am very serious about it. My mother died at the hands of a man like your ex, and I wasn’t able to help her, but I’m able to help you.” I release my grip a tad and take a step back, staring into the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen.
Tears threaten to fall, but I won’t let them. I look into those same eyes and make another promise. “No one should ever be in a relationship like you were, and I will never treat you in such a way. I will cherish you like a queen,” I speak every word with the utmost seriousness. While I’ve never been a man of many words, Trista makes me want to speak up. She gives me the urge to know she understands my intentions.
“I thought I deserved it all,” Trista admits, glancing down at the floor like she always does when she feels ashamed.
I grab her chin between my thumb and finger, forcing her to look at me. “No one deserves to be treated as if they don’t matter. Not anyone.”
She scoffs and inhales deeply through her nose. I release her chin and run my hand over her hair in a soothing way. “I hope you’re hearing what I’m saying, Trista. You’re a beautiful woman with a damn good heart. You didn’t deserve it, even if he made you think you did.”
Men like that always tell the women it’s their fault, and it isn’t. It was never their fault. They just blame the women because they’re pathetic. Any man who tells them this is nothing more than a pathetic waste of space.
Trista sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and the tears come spilling out. I wrap my arm around her and pull her against my chest. “Ssssh, all is okay. You are safe. You are safe,” I repeat these affirmations against the top of her head. I’ll say them however long I need to until she genuinely feels she’s safe.
Whenever I get the chance, I will gut this man like the fish he is and anyone like him.
Chapter Fourteen
Trista
Through the past several weeks, I’ve spent a lot of time with Michail. He stayed with me at my apartment every single night and even joined me over at Sascha and Ruslan’s for dinner on multiple occasions. To this day, it still feels like things are going fast, but I’m not complaining. Neither are my friends. Sascha and Ruslan both agree Michail is a great fit for me.
Ruslan even pulled me to the side the first time Michail came with me to their place.
“Are you sure this is something you want?” he asks in what I’m calling his stern big brother voice.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’m nervous, but for once, I don’t have the slightest doubt filling my head.” I don’t even hold back the smile that beams across my face. Naturally, it helps Ruslan understand I’m perfectly happy.
I ended up confiding in both him and Sascha about what happened the night of the break-in. To say he and Sascha grew even more worried is a drastic understatement. Ruslan and Michail had a conversation about upgrading my security system and ultimately agreed that until Jacob is found, I shouldn’t be left alone.
Hence why I’ve ridden with him to Pins and Needles every day since we’ve started this, what we have between us. I don’t want to call him my boyfriend, ‘cause I don’t want to jinx our connection and how well we’ve been doing, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think of him as my man.
Since the first night we had sex, and every night since, Michail has claimed my body on every surface of my apartment. Each time even more phenomenal than the first. It only makes me wonder if sex, like the kind we have, is normal. I was so used to Jacob before and he was far from pleasurable. Michail even woke me up with his cock deep inside me. It might’ve been around four in the morning, but I didn’t mind it one bit. I find myself craving him more than I’ve wanted anyone else.
Now I’m sitting at work after he went into the back. I’m wishing I had grabbed a coffee before coming in. Sascha works at the café across the street and their location is perfect. I could really see myself getting a hot vanilla latte to warm me up this morning. It’s snowing again, which is something I’m becoming accustomed to.
I figure Michail is headed straight to the back to talk to Kronid about something important. I’m not sure what, but he seemed a bit antsy this morning and I didn’t want to waste time. Glancing across the street, I lift my head to the cameras then look back to the café. God, it’s cold and I haven’t had a sip of any caffeine. If I don’t get something, it’s going to be a long day.
If I just step out for a split second, everything should be okay. The first tattoo client doesn’t come in for an hour and Dema’s off today, so I’m sure Kronid and Michail’s meeting won’t last long. Since she’s pregnant, Kronid doesn’t like for her to overdo it. I don’t blame him one bit. In fact, I’m loving the fact she’s been taking her spare time to work on her art. I’ve seen some of the pieces she’s worked on lately and they’re wonderful.
Getting up from behind my desk, I pull on my parka and beanie. Stepping out the door, I quickly make my way across the street over to the café. Once I’m inside, I walk over to the counter. Several people are already in line waiting for coffee, and I simply go to stand next to the one at the very front.
“I was wondering when you would be in,” Sascha snickers.
“I need my fix, Sascha. Pretty please,” I say sweetly. He knows my order like the back of his hand.
“Hey, how about you wait your turn and go to the back of the line,” the customer next to me mutters in an aggravated and yet somewhat sassy voice. She’s blonde, is wearing designer clothes from head to toe, and has her sunglasses on inside the shop. It’s snowing, for fuck’s sake. God, she’s one of those who love to throw her money around. I can tell.
“Honey, I don’t have to stand in line.” I’m only screwing with her, but the look on her face as my words flooded out. Priceless!
“My sister here doesn’t wait for anyone, you understand, da?” Sascha deepens his voice and gets a bit frustrated with her. Sascha looks her up and down for a few seconds before he goes back to fixing my coffee, but he hands me a bag that holds a container of syrniki. God, these Russian cheese pancakes have become my favorite thing ever. Especially when they’re topped with blueberries. They make American pancakes seem like crap.
I take a sip of the coffee and snag the bag from him. I roll my eyes at the taste of liquid euphoria as I pull the cup from my lips. “God knows you make the best latte in the world. I could seriously have caffeine-induced orgasms from it.”
The customer next to me makes a snarky noise, and I shrug as Sascha smiles. “Get back to work. I’ll see you at dinner.”
Giving him a salute, I turn on my heels and head for the door. At the door, I stop. Fear starts to take hold of me when I notice the person across the street. It’s like a wave of darkness looms over him. Standing in the alley near Pins and Needles is none other than Jacob. The same Jacob that haunts my
dreams and plagues my mind on most days. I catch him smirking in my direction, realizing I’ve spotted him.
Freaking out, I switch the bag with the syrniki to the same hand that I’m holding my coffee in and feel for my cell with my free one. Panic deepens when I realize my phone is on my desk.
Turning back from the door, I move to the counter and wait for Sascha to finish with his customers.
When the last of his customers’ orders have been filled, he comes to me. “What’s wrong?” he demands.
“Jacob, he’s out there,” I whisper as panic rushes through me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
Sascha immediately gets on the phone with Ruslan and relays what I told him. As my heart races, I wait for him to get off the phone so I can call Michail.
Why do I feel like such a wimp right now when I should be able to pull on my big girl pants and walk out of here? Thoughts like this run through my mind on a daily basis, but nothing is wrong. There isn’t anything wrong with me not wanting to end up in the hands of such an evil man. Not when I’ve finally found happiness, and for fuck’s sake, I deserve to be happy.
For far too long, Jacob made me feel inferior, and I’ll never feel it at the hands of another man ever again.
Chapter Fifteen
Michail
“Katya ordered a lot,” Vova speaks up as we each grab crowbars and start to open the crates that were just delivered. When they’re shipped into Russia, the shipments are classified under artwork, and while it is, in fact, artwork, what’s inside the art is the real deal.
“Da, seems like she’s preparing for something,” Andrei comments, but I don’t listen to either of them. It wouldn’t do me any good. Katya is in the business of making money. Fuck, her dead husband got her in this industry. Just because she’s a woman, it doesn’t mean she won’t do things like Sergei did when he was alive. They’re only starting rumors because they’re bored. Idiots.
I turn to look at them both and cock a brow. “And you’d say that to Katya like you say it to me, hmm?”
Both Andrei and Vova’s eyes go wide at my statement. “Exactly what I thought, so shut your fucking mouths about matters that don’t concern you. Katya’s business is Katya’s business, understand?”
Both of the men nod, and I glance up at the television monitor we recently added. It’s in the corner of the downstairs area we’re in and shows the cameras Kronid has up all over Pins and Needles and the few on the outside.
From the corner of my eye, I spot a well-dressed man walk into the tattoo parlor. He goes in straight past the receptionist’s desk, where I don’t see Trista sitting, which is odd . . . but I push the thought to the back of my mind and watch him. Meghan ends up stopping him and they strike up a conversation. Everything seems to be going well and she nods, points him to sit down in the waiting area, and as he walks off, she goes to Kronid’s office. Figuring things are taken care of, I get back to business and look at the cameras once again to see if Trista is at her desk. She isn’t, but it’s not odd for her to go in the back break room where we don’t have a camera set up and chat with the artists before they start their shifts. She’s probably fine. She’s probably chatting with one of them. Even though I know the likelihood she’s in danger is slim to none, worry still continues to storm through me.
The crashing sounds of the guys hitting the stone statues with hammers fills the air and I too begin to take part, pulling out some shipping material. Only a moment later, Vova curses under his breath and his angry tone is easily sensed. “The fuck, they put grenades in here? How fucking stupid is it for them to put grenades in this! We could’ve blown our fuckin’ heads off!”
Shaking my head, I’m not surprised by anything that’s done anymore. Not when we have to smuggle product in through so many hoops.
Vova and Andrei end up getting into a small tiff, like always, and of course, I break it up. By the time I’m done, I leave the room and let these two assholes have the luxury of working together by themselves. Only, as I walk in front of Kronid’s office, he calls me in.
“Michail, I need you to come here.” I do as Kronid asks of me and head into his office, shut the door behind me, and look at him. The man seems perplexed as if something’s weighing heavily on his mind.
“Something the matter?” There’s no point in beating around the bush. I need to know what’s going on.
He presses his lips together in a firm line. “Marty, the man who was set to marry Khristina, his ‘friend’ came to see me just now.”
“Oh?” Well, how interesting.
“Mhm. Seems he last heard his friend was coming here, but I explained to him we haven’t seen him in weeks. He never came to speak to Khristina again after they saw each other that day and we assumed he left to go back to America by himself.”
“Did he believe you?”
Kronid immediately shrugs his shoulders. “I’m not sure.”
“Before Marty died, he said something to me, something I can’t remember if I told you.”
“You told me. I believe he told you someone would come, correct?”
I nod. “Yes, someone would come for us.”
“He said nothing else?” Kronid’s asking me.
“No, nothing else.”
From what I could see on the video, the man who came into the parlor appeared to be in his early fifties, was clearly broad-shouldered and muscular, and he looked rich as fuck. If it means anything, it only confirms he’s trouble.
“He doesn’t believe you. If he did, he would’ve alluded to that fact.” Hell, the way I’m speaking, it sounds an awful lot like Kronid.
“I know, and Marty, he said he was American, didn’t he?”
“Yes. It’s what his application said, and he never once spoke in an accent, even near the end.” If he was faking his citizenship, he might’ve let his true identity slip before he died. A coward would let it slip, or even a man who had a vendetta, but Marty didn’t appear to be either of those things. If you ask me, he was more of a hired hand. “Why do you ask?”
“The man who came in a bit ago, he was Scottish.”
Both Kronid and I furrow our brows, even more confused than before. If he knew something about the Scots having some sort of issue with the Russians, he would’ve made it clear. But he hasn’t, and I’m sure we’re both at square one right about now.
Chapter Sixteen
Trista
Ruslan showed up not long after Sascha called. Actually, he waltzed right over to the café from Pins and Needles. I didn’t have any idea the man worked so close.
My mind gets overrun by my imagination and I inwardly snicker at the thoughts going through my mind. Imagine if Ruslan’s a hitman or something like that. Does he work at Pins and Needles or for Kronid specifically? Kronid’s the head honcho in charge, the general manager, while a woman named Katya owns the place. Michail is kind of like the assistant manager when I think about it, but all of the men who work there seem a bit scary if you ask me. Maybe they’re in the bratva.
Shaking my head, I don’t let my mind wander any longer. Shoot, in all honesty, I wouldn’t even care if they were a part of something like that. I know nice people can do bad things and I know bad people who do some serious, not nice things. If they’re like in my books and were a part of something, then it’s whatever as long as myself or the people I love don’t get hurt in the process. Otherwise, I don’t give a flying fuck.
“Come on, let’s get you back to work,” Ruslan says from the door of the café.
“Is he still out there?” I ask, peeking around him, scanning the streets for some sort of glimpse of him. I’m terrified to see him, his evil eyes, or that damn near frightening sneer he’s always sporting . . . but I need to know it’s safe.
“I didn’t see anyone, but if he was, he’s not there anymore,” Ruslan tells me as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. He rubs his hand along my shoulder cap in a soothing manner, trying to reassure me I’m safe with him. God, I’m so lucky to have
a friend like Ruslan. Without him and Sascha, I don’t know what I’d do. Hell, I’m lucky on all accounts when it comes to my friends.
Guiding me across the street, he walks me into Pins and Needles. We walk past the receptionist area and I suck in a deep breath at not being close to the front door. Meanwhile, Kronid and Michail are both coming through the door to the back area.
“Ruslan, what’s going on?” Kronid asks before Michail gets the chance.
Michail looks between us and at the contents in my hands.
“What happened?” he asks, wrapping an arm around me as I step away from Ruslan.
I’m too shaken up to speak, so Ruslan takes over for me. Thank goodness. I don’t know if I even have the courage to speak up.
“Sascha called me from across the street and said Trista saw Jacob standing in the alley. I went over to walk her back here so she’d feel safe. Wanted to make sure the fucker didn’t try anything either,” Ruslan mutters.
“Thank you,” Michail says tersely and tightens his arm around me even further. Ruslan nods and walks toward the back of the shop.
Okay, so maybe my imagination is correct.
“You okay, kukakla?” I nod, biting my bottom lip, not sure what else I should say right now. Nothing in life really prepares you for your crazy ex to start stalking you or doing whatever the fuck he is right now.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re upset with me. I should’ve waited for you or called you. I just . . . I was too afraid. I told Sascha and froze up,” I whisper, casting my gaze to the floor in complete shame.
“Trista, look at me,” Michail gently says his command. I do so and out of the corner of my eye, I notice Kronid watching us. “Don’t fear me, kukakla. Remember, I would never hurt you, even when you do something you shouldn’t. Just . . . next time if you want to do something as simple as go across the street to get coffee, say something to me. I will take you, and I will make sure you’re protected.”
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