Prisoner (Russian Tattoos Book 2) (16 page)

“Don’t interrogate her. Step aside.” Vladimir widened his stance. I could feel his badass vibe reverberating off the tile walls. It was comforting to see Vladimir with his confidence restored, and back in his boss mode. He was
not
wearing a towel.

The verbal warfare between the guys was getting intense, and these two would go to blows if I didn’t defuse the testosterone bomb that was about to go off. “Can you please let me out of here? I’m going to pass out.” I sucked in a shaky breath. “Seriously, I feel lightheaded.”

Boris glared at Vladimir and stepped aside. “Put some clothes on and meet me outside.”

Chapter 22

Cracked

We got dressed and met Boris outside on the patio. Thankfully, he had ditched the towel and changed into a pair of pants. He didn’t bother with a shirt, though, and all that prison ink on his skin served as a reminder of his sordid history of violence. He had probably taken note of the horrified look on my face as I examined his ink, not to mention his broad shoulders, thick arms, and battle scars, and intentionally kept his shirt off to intimidate me.

He motioned for us to join him at a small table with a spread of fresh fruit and nuts, a pitcher of ice water, and, of course, an omnipresent bottle of vodka. “I take it the two of you have decided to kill me? If so, be merciful and put a bullet between my eyes.”

Vladimir didn’t say anything. I kept my mouth shut too.

“
This
is not part of the plan.” He flicked his hand at me and scowled like I was a pile of rotten garbage. “You’re letting your
khuy
call the shots, Vladimir. Let me be clear. The girl is going home when the threat is over. I have risked my life and the safety of our family to protect her and make it possible for her to return to her life in America. You gave me your word, son. She doesn’t belong in our world. I need assurances from both of you that the plan is still in play. Boss?”

He inhaled sharply. My heart pounded and I waited breathlessly for his answer. Going home was what I wanted. It was the smart and sensible thing for all of us, but my heart wanted Vladimir to fight for me, convince me not to leave, or make it possible for us to stay together. If I could rewrite our game plan, Vladimir and I would get married for real, and he would leave the
Bratva
. We would return to America, I would reunite with my loved ones, and Vladimir and I would move on as if all the bullshit in between had never happened. Vladimir and Dad would start up a new tech business, I would get back on track at school, and…

“I love you more than words could ever express, Carter. I want nothing more than to spend every minute of my life with you.” He picked up my hand and met my gaze. “It is because of my undying love and respect for you that I must let you go. Sending you home is my ultimate sacrifice.”

I touched his cheek. “I changed my mind. I want to stay here with you.”

“
Nyet
,” Boris said.

“I can’t go home. What do you expect me to do? Go back to school, date a sweet, docile guy like Benji, and pretend you never existed? What am I supposed to tell my family when they ask where I’ve been? What if your enemies come after me again and someone I love gets caught in the crossfire? What am I going to do without you?”

“Enough. There is no scenario in which you are staying in Russia,” Boris said. “Boss, you must do what’s best for Carter. If you love her, set her straight.”

Vladimir squeezed my hand. “You’ll forget about me over time.”

“Are you going to forget about me?”

“Never.”

“Then change the plan.”

Boris uttered something in Russian that made Vladimir cringe.

He wrestled with his thoughts and then shook his head. “I didn’t ask your opinion. You’re going home.”

“Why are you letting Boris call the shots? I thought you were the
pakhan
.”

My words stung and his expression turned to rage. His eyes were wild with fury and he aimed his finger between my eyes. “Shut your disrespectful mouth.”

I stood up to leave, but he caught my wrist. “Don’t you realize all I’ve done to keep you safe? Have you any idea what could’ve happened to you because of your association with me? If not this time, then the next. Cut your whining and assure my
sovietnik
you are not going to pull anything stupid to ruin our plan.” He squeezed my arm and tried to intimidate me with force.

I knew what he was trying to do—scare me away by convincing me he was still a dangerous man. He wanted me to believe that the
pakhan
was still alive and lethal, but I knew him too well. He was desperate to convince me to leave. The
pakhan
was capable of hurting me, but he was dead, floating face-down in a bottle of vodka.

When I didn’t answer, he squeezed harder. I tried to shake him off. No way could I out-muscle him. I tried to clock him with my free hand, but he caught my wrist and twisted my arms behind my back.

“Get your hands off me.” I let out a whimper when he intentionally twisted my arm to cause me pain.

“You think this hurts? You don’t know pain until my enemies get their hands on you.”

“I don’t feel anything. Put your hands around my neck and really teach me a lesson.” He didn’t let up, so I called his bluff. “Take off your belt, Boris. I need a good thrashing to keep me in line. I’ll beg to answer your questions after a good beating.”

Vladimir shouted something in Russian, released me from his death grip, and shoved me away. I held out my hands and caught the table, narrowly avoiding a nasty fall. When I turned around, Vladimir had Boris’s black belt in his hands. His jaw tensed. He looped it in his hands and snapped it, unleashing a horrendous crack that sent chills through my body.

“When I give an order, you follow it.” He raised the belt over his head and cracked it on the table, sending food and dishes crashing to the floor. “Answer my
sovietnik
.”

I jumped back and shielded my face with my hands to protect myself. I’d faced dangerous men enough times in my life to know that playing the victim and hoping for mercy was a losing game plan.
Find a weapon.

The vodka bottle had survived Vladimir’s initial strike and was standing upright on the table. I snatched it by the neck and offered it to my opponent. “Have a drink, babe. Work yourself up into a drunken rage before you crack that belt on my skin. We don’t want the
pakhan
to miss out on the fun.”

Vladimir glared at me, his face seething with rage. I didn’t believe he would strike me, but his body was trembling and his jaw clenched like the night of The Incident back home. Seeing him that pissed off, I regretted my decision. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.

“You dare mock me? Have you no idea who I am?” His face burned red and he raised the belt over his head.

God, help me.

He slammed the belt down, intent on knocking the bottle out of my hand. I screeched and hopped out of the line of fire. The bottle slipped out of my grasp and crashed to the ground. It cracked in half when it hit the floor and spilled its contents all over the cement. I curled my hand up to my chest, thankful the blow never landed on my skin, and held up my other arm to protect myself in case my face became his next target.

He raised the belt once again and slammed it on the table to get my attention. “Tell my
sovietnik
you are willingly going to go along with the plan.
Now.
I won’t show you mercy again.” He straightened his shoulders, looped the belt in his hand, and stared me down, daring me to defy his order. His chest heaved and he had the crazy look in his eyes I hadn’t seen since Cincinnati.

I held my position and slowly lowered my hands to my side. There was only way to know for sure who the man was standing before me. Was he Vladimir or the
pakhan
? If the two sides of the man I loved were forever entangled, I had to know now. If Vladimir would physically abuse me, even without the alcohol, then I would turn my back on him and never look back. The future of our relationship would come down to his next move.

“Prove to me you’re the monster you claim to be. Hit me with that belt, and I’ll beg you to let me go home.” I slid off my shirt to expose my back, and placed my hands on the table, assuming the belt-beating position. The man I loved would never beat me with that belt. If I was wrong about him, then I would learn a lesson on my own terms—
the hard way.

When he failed to act I spurred him on. “It’s good you refused the vodka. I want you to remember hurting me this time.” I pulled my hair to the side so he could get a good look at my back. “Have you seen the scar on my neck from your attack dog? And the bruises on my back from the latest attack? Every mark on my skin stemmed from you. You may not have done it with your own hands, but you’re responsible for all of it.”

I inhaled a shaky breath. “Take the belt to me, Vladimir. Teach me a lesson. Punish me for loving you.”

I heard the words coming out of my mouth and realized that to a normal person it would’ve appeared that I’d lost my mind. Egging on a man with a violent temper was a certifiable act of crazy. But even as daring and self-destructive as my actions seemed, I didn’t believe the man I loved would crack that belt against my skin. If I was wrong, then the beating would serve as closure to our tumultuous relationship.

The belt buckle clanged when Vladimir dropped it on the ground. He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed the back of my neck where the imprint of Alexander’s canines remained as a reminder of our sordid past. “Forgive me, Carter. You must understand what will happen to you if you stay in my life. Loving me is a death sentence. I have to let you go, sweetheart.”

I turned around and cupped his cheeks. “Find a way to turn this around. I am not leaving Russia without you. I love you, Vladimir. Fight for me.”

“Are you absolutely certain this is what you want? If you stay, you won’t ever return to America. Never see your family again.”

“I love you more than anything in the world. My decision to stay here is final. I’ll do anything you ask to make our forever happen.”

Chapter 23

Flipped

The new game plan—Vladimir and I were getting married for real. When the smoke cleared, I was staying in Russia with Vladimir and my new family. I was willing to never return to America so I could stay with Vladimir, but I hated the idea that my family would never know what happened to me or if I was alive or dead.

When we were out of danger, I would ask Vladimir to find a way to bring closure to my family. I knew it was a monumental request, but ideally I wanted a phone call with Dad. Not to tell him everything, just to let him know I was alive and living a good life. If that was out of the question, then I wanted my loved ones to believe I was dead.

The idea of my dad going through life thinking I was being tortured, raped, sold into the sex trade, or some other horror bestowed upon missing girls was too much for me to bear. If he believed I was dead, he could grieve and move on—like he had when my sister was killed. The unknown was way worse. With all the planning and commotion going on at the house, I knew it wasn’t the right time to bring it up. I would wait until after the wedding.

While Boris and Vladimir discussed business in the
banya
, Dmitri and I played a game of tag with the girls and tossed a tennis ball to the poodles. There were guards stationed around the perimeter and guys in camo positioned on the rooftop. Having a ton of security was a good thing, assuming none of the guys were going to flip like the bastards at the Dungeon Suite.

Pasha and Anya set up a picnic lunch in the garden, and Babushka sat in a rocking chair and smoked a cigar as she read on her e-reader. Spending time with Vladimir’s family felt surreal. I didn’t blame Anya and Babushka for not welcoming me with open arms, but I hoped they would see how much Vladimir and I loved each other and eventually let me into their heavily-guarded circle. When we were engaged the first time, I’d imagined it like this, spending time with his family in a luxurious setting, but the scene playing out was only half of my forever life.

My
family wasn’t here. When Vladimir put a ring on my finger, I dreaded telling my dad that I’d been dating his boss and best friend behind his back—not to mention breaking it to him that we had secretly become engaged. But Dad would’ve gotten over his anger and embraced our relationship. Vladimir and Boris had become part of our extended family.

I smiled as the girls chased after Dmitri and mentally inserted my little sister into the mix. Megan was in kindergarten, which made her a year older than Mari and two years older than Ruslana. She would’ve loved to teach them English and in return pick up some Russian words.

Dad was the outgoing type with an inviting smile and always had a funny story to tell. My stepmom Karen’s greatest joy in life was seeing her family united and happy. Megan had given her a gold necklace that had “Mom” etched across the center, and it became her badge of honor. She hated when Dad and I fought and always did what she could to calm the waters after our epic battles.

Growing up, I never gave her a chance to get close to me, but I was glad Megan and Dad had her to hold them together back home. Dad probably wasn’t sleeping, and even on a normal day he stressed out over every little thing. What if he’d had a heart attack from all the anxiety? Megan was probably terrified out of her mind knowing some bad guys had stolen me from the airport and dragged me away…

Ruslana ran up to me and tagged me. “You’re it!” she said in her adorable accent. Her bright blue eyes sparkled as she waited for my reaction, but her smile faded when she noticed tears in my eyes. “Why are you crying, Mama?”

Mama?
She was only four years old, and naturally, if she believed Vladimir was her papa, then I would be her mama. “Nothing.” I faked a smile. “I’m fine.”

Dmitri came over and told her and Mari to go inside and wash up for lunch. When the girls were out of earshot, Dmitri asked, “Are you okay, Carter?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. I’m just nervous about tomorrow.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

“Is it your
choice
to marry him?”

“Of course. There’s nothing to worry about.”

He stared into my eyes, as if gauging my sincerity. When he seemed satisfied with my answer, he led me to the garden where Anya and Pasha were setting up lunch. I was sure I looked frightful after my showdown with Vladimir, but I just needed to chill and catch some rays to get me though the rest of the day.

Pasha greeted me with open arms and kissed my cheeks. “How’s the beautiful bride?”

Anya side-eyed me and scowled.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait—”

“Leave us,” Anya ordered the guys.

Pasha didn’t argue with his mama, and he and Dmitri left the garden. By the seething expression on Anya’s face, I wished Dmitri would’ve stayed in case I needed protection. She handed me a stack of plates and motioned for me to set the table. “I was about your age when Boris and I got married.”

Anya’s smile was tainted with sadness. “I never thought about the future or the
Bratva
. I loved him and that was all that mattered. He spent ten years of our marriage locked away in Siberia. I woke up every day not knowing if my husband was alive or dead, yet I kept my vow and protected my family, kept us whole while he was away.”

“Is that why you hate me? You don’t think I’m
strong
enough for Vladimir?”

She chuckled bitterly and lit a cigarette. “I begged him not to go to America to help your family—for your own good.” She exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Boris tried to reason with him too. The entire family tried to talk him out of interfering in your life, but he’s stubborn and spoiled, and don’t listen to his parents.”

“He did help my family, Anya. We would’ve lost our house if he hadn’t given my dad a job. I don’t think he meant for
us
to happen.” I smiled at the memory of the night Dad introduced me to his incredibly hot future employer. “The attraction was mutual from the moment we met.”

“Attraction isn’t love.”

“I know that.”

“Something isn’t right, Carter. The tension is strangling my family. One day to plan a wedding?” She scoffed. “My husband won’t tell me a thing, and my sons are lying to me. What is really going on? I want to hear the truth from you. Answer me now.”

A dark gray shadow cast over Anya’s face. She stopped grilling me for information and took a long drag off her smoke.

“Everything okay, Carter?” Boris set his eyes on lie detector mode.

“Yeah.”

He shot his wife an accusing glare.

“The honeymoon, you know, female stuff. I needed to talk to Anya about—” Anya reeled me in and buried my face in her bosom to shut me up.

“You’re embarrassing the poor girl, Boris. Go call everyone to the table,” Anya said.

When Boris was gone, Anya whispered in my ear. “Tomorrow you will become my daughter, and I will love you, but if you do anything that puts my family at risk, God help you.” She pushed me back and glared at me. “Don’t ever cross me.” Her dark, menacing eyes accentuated her verbal threat.

***

After lunch, Vladimir had business in the city and brought me along for a tour of his hometown. Ekaterinburg was an industrial city with an eclectic mix of historical buildings and modern architecture. Boris drove a bullet-proof SUV through a bustling city in the middle of a cavalcade of identical Rovers with tinted windows.

On one side of the street there was a dilapidated building that looked like it had been around since the days when the Romanov family ruled, and across the street there was a modern cylindrical light blue building that had the illusion it was made of glass.

The people of the town waved to our caravan like we were royalty, even though they couldn’t see who was inside. I supposed everyone in town probably recognized the Ivanov
Bratva
entourage. We passed a couple of old wooden churches, turned down a side street, and pulled into the lot of what appeared to be a schoolhouse.

The drivers blocked the entrance with their vehicles and bodyguards escorted us inside the building. Boris led the way with two heavy duffel bags in his hands and handed them to a group of nuns. I knew from experience those bags were stuffed with cash and hoped the nuns weren’t part of Vladimir’s organization. “What are we doing here?”

“Helping our community. This is an orphanage run by the sisters. My family makes sure they have everything they need.”

I knew Vladimir was a generous man and that Boris had belonged to the Russian Orthodox church back home, but I was surprised to see the guys were such good stewards of their community. “What a wonderful thing to do.”

“We take care of our own, Carter. The
Bratva
does more for this community than the government.”

The headmistress kissed Vladimir’s rings and held his hands as she uttered a quiet blessing. Vladimir introduced me as his fiancée, and her expression lifted as if she were in the presence of royalty. Her eyes glistened and her voice trembled as she spoke in Russian.

“Sister Catherine gives you her blessing and would like to introduce you to the children.”

She invited us outside where a group of children were playing on swing sets, kicking around a soccer ball, and playing double-dutch. The sisters gathered the kids, and they sat in a semi-circle in the grass in front of where we were standing. When the sister spoke, the children regarded us with wide-eyed adoration.

Vladimir squeezed my hand and beamed with pride as the boys and girls formed a line and greeted us one by one. As each child approached, he knew every one of them by name and spoke to them as if they were beloved members of his family. Once they said their
privets
and
spasibos
to us, they headed over to where Boris and his men were handing out toys, school supplies, and new clothes to every single child.

It was heartbreaking to know these children didn’t have families, but also endearing to see them happy and well cared for by Vladimir’s family and the loving sisters. Once we were married and I was part of his world, I could make a difference in the community as well. Maybe we could add a couple tennis courts and I could teach them how to play. My little sister loved when I read to her, and maybe I could make it a habit with the children here. I had to make learning Russian a priority. There were so many ways I could get involved, and I wanted to communicate on my own without relying on a translator.

I thought I knew what I wanted to do with my life, but I was excited to reset my game plan and blaze a meaningful trail in my new world. Knowing I could make a difference in the lives of others gave me a reason to celebrate my decision to stay in Russia. Life wouldn’t be carefree with Vladimir, but I would never back down from a challenge.

After a whirlwind afternoon in the city, the activity in the house had quieted by the time we returned home. Vladimir was constantly the center of attention in his family, and it seemed like every action came as a result of something that involved him. It made sense because he was the boss of his family business, so naturally he called the shots. More than that, though, he had a natural magnetism that drew people to him.

Babushka constantly fussed and worried over him getting enough to eat, and Anya watched over him like an overprotective, snarling honey badger ready to take a chunk out of anyone who dared to cross her precious king. Pasha idolized his big brother, and Boris kept constant watch over him, ready to intervene and swoop in to fix his latest mistake.

Everyone was fussing over Vladimir and seemed to be done with me for the day. I escaped to my room and collapsed on my bed, hoping to squeeze in a catnap before a late dinner. With all the drama that had been going down, I was relieved to have a moment to decompress and let the reality of my new life settle in. In a matter of hours, I would become Vladimir’s wife. I played our lives forward and fantasized about our future together, starting with our intimate moments. Having all of my sexy Russian on our wedding night, feeling him move inside me, his warm release spilling across my sex…

I heard a tap on the door and Vladimir entered my room.

“
Privet
,
moy krasivyy muzhchina.
Hello, my handsome man.” I picked up some new Russian phrases so I could surprise Vladimir on our wedding night. My vocabulary was improving, and I made it a point to speak in Russian whenever I could.

His sexy bedroom eyes lit up and he pounced on top of me. “You know what your accent does to me.” He pulled down my shirt and nuzzled my beauties, and his short beard scratched against my delicate skin.

I teased him by stringing together some Russian phrases. I rattled off a sequence of random words that amounted to gibberish and slid in some sexy requests as well. “
Towel, car, table, I want tongue
…”

Vladimir flipped me on my stomach and spanked me playfully. I cracked up as he growled and nibbled on my ear as I babbled away, teasing him with a nonsensical string of words from my new language in between bursts of giggling. He lay on my back and took full advantage of my laughter-induced paralysis and smothered me with kisses.