Read Prisoner (Russian Tattoos Book 2) Online
Authors: Kat Shehata
Dragged
Twelve weeks later…
Our morning walks had gotten longer, and I stuck to my self-prescribed physical therapy routine to get my body back into fighting form. Not only had I gained my strength back, but my energy had rebounded too. I was ready to hit some tennis balls, but that could wait until we got to Canada.
It was summertime now, and Vladimir planted a vegetable garden behind the house. He handled all the manual labor that needed to be done—chopping wood, handwashing our clothes, harvesting the crops—while I took care of the house, prepared our meals, and pickled our bounty of fresh veggies. Our little abode in the mountains had become our home.
The sunshine, fresh air, and delicious food had helped me recover physically, and Vladimir’s optimism and unconditional love soothed my soul. Once my body healed, Vladimir and I made love every night outside under the stars with the outdoorsy soundtrack of bullfrogs croaking, crickets chirping, and the high-pitched sound bats made as they stalked the night sky in search of their prey. Being in our situation never diminished our love. The adversity we faced made us stronger as a couple.
We never talked much about his family, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Pasha. I hoped he didn’t blame himself for my accident. I never got a chance to say goodbye him, and I prayed he would take the lead from his brother and escape the never-ending trail of turmoil and heartache that stalked his family.
Vladimir hadn’t had contact with anyone, but I surmised the mighty Ivanov
Bratva
had fallen and the remaining members were left to fend for themselves. We didn’t know if Dmitri had escaped from Russia with Mari and Ruslana. I knew without question, though, that he would protect the girls from our cursed way of life and find a way to get them out.
Vladimir had packed up the Rover for our trip and we were ready to leave in the morning. If we stuck to our escape route, we would settle in to our new home in Canada in less than a week. While Vladimir was out back harvesting fresh veggies for our long journey, I rested on the couch and pulled out Dmitri’s notebook, another one of my most prized possessions. I had all the pages colored except for one. It was a sketch of my warrior goddess alter ego standing beside her wolf. All the woodland creatures were rejoicing around them and rays of sunshine broke through the clouds.
I pulled out my yellow, orange, green, and purple pencils to match the lighthearted mood of the scene. Dmitri had told me Vladimir was represented in every single picture he had drawn, but I had yet to find a trace of anything that symbolized him. As I colored one of the trees, I unlocked the mystery. Hidden in the grooves of the bark, I recognized one of Vladimir’s tattoos. I wasn’t sure what it said, but I was certain it was a rendition of a Russian phrase he had inked across his side.
Bravo, Dmitri.
I flipped through the book and found his blue devil tat hiding in the outline of a cloud, the
Bratva
stars on his shoulders and knees were visible on an article of clothing, and our forever heart was hiding in the reflection of a glass window. Dmitri had saved my life and was an important part of my survival story. One day I would share our history with the baby.
I was a little over three months along now and had a tiny baby bump protruding from my stomach. The thought of our innocent child growing inside me was what kept me motivated to get out of Russia at any cost.
I turned to a page in the notebook I had completed at the dacha. My alter ego was in the foreground and in the background there was a tiny house in the woods. In the distance, there was an outhouse. I glanced out the window. The scale of the tree line, the woodshed…
This isn’t a random drawing
.
Dmitri had sketched this page from memory. He had been in this house. Did Vladimir know?
A car door slammed outside.
Vladimir must be putting something in the Rover.
The front door opened behind me. Heavy boots stomped on the wooden floor.
Vladimir would never drag dirt into our house.
“Vladimir, is everything okay?”
Dmitri rushed into the room. “Where’s Vladimir? We must go.
Now
.” He pulled me off the couch and strong-armed me to the door.
“He’s outside. What’s going on?”
“Maksim knows you’re here. His men are on their way. They’re not far behind me.”
“Oh, God.”
Dmitri pointed to a gray pickup truck and yelled at me to get in. He waved his arms at Vladimir and whistled to get his attention.
When Vladimir saw Dmitri, he dropped the vegetables and came running.
I was terrified of the thought that Maksim’s goons were gunning for my husband, but I was relieved we would have a head start thanks to Dmitri. I shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand and frantically searched the horizon to see if I could spot them. In the distance, a fleet of SUVs were barreling toward our house.
“Davai!”
I screamed. I honked the horn and flailed my arms to warn the guys that Maksim’s crew was only a few miles away.
Dmitri met Vladimir halfway and was filling him in on our bleak situation as they sprinted back to the house. Vladimir’s eyes widened with terror as he spotted Maksim’s men closing in on us.
I hopped out of Dmitri’s truck and pulled on Vladimir’s arm. “Come on. Get in. We have to go.”
Vladimir spoke to Dmitri in Russian, and although my vocabulary had improved significantly, he was talking so fast I couldn’t catch more than a few words. Dmitri nodded in agreement to whatever it was Vladimir had ordered him to do. Dmitri pulled an arsenal of assault weapons out of his truck and tossed them in the passenger side of Vladimir’s Rover. Then he jumped in the driver’s seat of his pickup truck and revved the engine.
“What’s going on?
Come on!
” I tugged on Vladimir’s arm, but he wouldn’t budge.
“You’re going with Dmitri. I have instructed him where to take you. They’re only after me. I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.” He kissed me as if it were our last goodbye. “I love you more than anything in this world, angel.” He loaded me into the passenger seat of Dmitri’s truck and shut the door.
Without hesitation, Dmitri sped away, kicking up a brown cloud of dirt as he peeled out down a path in the opposite direction of Maksim’s goons—and away from my husband. I stared in the rearview mirror and watched in horror as we made our getaway and left Vladimir in the dust.
When we got on a main road and drove down the mountain, Dmitri’s knuckles were white from grasping the steering wheel so hard. He glanced in the rearview mirror every few moments, and it appeared none of Maksim’s goons had followed us. His shoulders relaxed when he was satisfied we were out of immediate danger, and he rolled down the window and lit a cigarette.
“Where are the girls?”
Dmitri glanced at me, probably wondering why I cared about them after how insensitive I’d acted toward them at Vladimir’s funeral.
“They’re safe.” He took a drag off his cigarette and inhaled the nocuous fumes.
“Thank God. How did you find us?”
“When Vladimir took you from the hospital, I knew you had to hide somewhere secluded. I told him about this place. The house belongs to my papa. Before he was in the
Bratva
, he worked as a miner. I grew up in that house.”
“Where are you taking me?”
Dmitri kept his eyes on the road and wrestled with his thoughts. He didn’t want to tell me the plan, that was clear, but I was Vladimir’s wife and I deserved to know the truth.
“Vladimir is my
husband
. You need to tell me everything, Dmitri. Vladimir and I don’t keep secrets from each other.”
Dmitri took another drag off his smoke.
“We’re going to the airport.”
That was not what I’d expected. “So, you’re taking me to Canada, and Vladimir is going to meet me there?”
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m taking you home.”
I scoffed. “Home? Where’s home? Ekaterinburg? Canada?”
“America,” Dmitri said. “You’re going back to your family.”
“What? No way. Vladimir would never tell you to do that. He wasn’t thinking clearly. If he said to take me
home
, he meant Canada.”
“He meant America, Carter. He wants you to go home to your family.”
I raised my hands and shook my head, completely thrown by Vladimir’s new game plan. “I can’t go back to America without Vladimir. I’m
pregnant
.” I tried to understand Vladimir’s logic. If Dmitri took me back to America, how could I explain that Vladimir was my kidnapper, my husband, and the father of my baby? “Please, I can’t go home. Take me to Canada.”
Dmitri picked up an American newspaper and held it up so I could see the headline.
The Search for Carter Cook Continues
There was a photo of
me
on the front page. I was wearing my college tennis uniform, holding up a trophy in one hand and my racquet, The Silver Bullet, in the other. I hardly recognized myself. The girl in the picture was a naïve young woman trapped in her own self-destructive body. That wasn’t me anymore—that girl disappeared when her plane touched down in Russia. In her place, a survivor had been reborn from the ashes. A wife and mother with an arsenal of survival skills at her disposal, ready and willing to protect her family at any cost.
Underneath the headline, there was a picture of my dad sitting beside Officer Montgomery, the cop who had busted me numerous times and tried to scare me straight during my teenage years. I skimmed the article, and it said she had headed up a local task force of volunteers. They distributed flyers, answered a 24/7 confidential information hotline, and had raised a hundred grand in reward money for any information leading to my safe return.
I shook the paper. “See? If you take me back to America, there’s no way Vladimir can meet me there. The police will ask too many questions. How am I going to explain how I got dragged into a mafia war in
Russia
?” I scoffed. “Going home is the worst possible scenario. Vladimir and I can’t possibly live together as husband and wife—”
The startling realization hit me like a bullet had been blasted in my brain. Vladimir didn’t make mistakes. He knew exactly what he was doing when he ordered Dmitri to send me back to America. Since Maksim would never rest until he had Vladimir’s head, my husband thought the only way to protect the baby and me was to remove himself from our lives. When he’d said goodbye, he meant he was leaving me forever.
A rush of emotions washed over me. I was angry at Vladimir for giving up on us, terrified he might not live to see another sunrise, and desperate to figure out a way to stop the death spiral that our lives had become.
I slid my hands under my legs, ready to dig into my skin to relieve my stress.
Dmitri stole glances at me, waiting for me to continue my thought. I had to be careful and not let on that I had figured out Vladimir’s intention. Dmitri was a saint for helping us, but if I ever wanted to see my husband again, I had to find a way to stop him from dragging me back to America. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do that, but digging my fingernails into my skin wasn’t going to reunite me with my husband. I brought my hands out from under my legs and rubbed my baby bump, choosing to soothe our baby rather than inflict damage on myself.
“Congratulations on your baby.” Dmitri gave me a weak smile.
“
Spasibo.”
I feigned an emotional change of heart about my homecoming. “My family is doing all this for
me
?” I held up the paper. I was touched by all the measures my family, friends, and complete strangers were going to in an effort to bring me home, but at that moment, I was in survival mode and had to stay focused on my objective—get back to Vladimir.
“Your papa won’t stop looking until you’re home.”
Ouch, that stung.
My dad deserved to know the truth, and I would give anything to find a way to let him know I was alive and well—and that he was going to be a grandpa. “I want to see my family, but I’m so worried about Vladimir. Does Boris know what’s going on? Can you call him?”
He checked his phone. “No cell range. Don’t worry. Vladimir won’t let Maksim win. He’ll find a way out of this.”
America
After a billion hours on the road, we made it back to civilization. I didn’t know the Russian alphabet, but I recognized the sign that welcomed us to Ekaterinburg. My game plan was simple. I had to get away from Dmitri before we got to the airport. Since I had no way to contact anyone, I would get a cab and use landmarks to find my way to the orphanage Vladimir had taken me to.
The sisters would help me contact Boris, and he would lead me back to Vladimir. Boris would never send me home. I was a liability. Since I was pregnant, I had faith he would help me find my way back to my husband. Time was ticking away. I had to make my move.
“I really have to use the bathroom, like, major emergency situation.” I crossed my legs and smiled apologetically. “Is there somewhere we can stop?”
His lips tightened as he thought over my request.
“I need to eat something too.” I rubbed my belly. “I haven’t had a bite since this morning—the baby needs nourishment.”
“The airport is an hour away.”
“I can wait on the food, but I am going to wet myself if you don’t stop. Please, Dmitri. I’ll go super quick. Two minutes, not a second more.” I folded my hands in a pleading prayer position.
He twisted his lips as he thought over my request. “Two minutes, Carter.”
“
Spasibo
, Dmitri.” I patted his shoulder. “I appreciate all you’re doing to help me.”
He pulled into a gas station and parked in front of a pump. “I’ll take you inside. Don’t go anywhere without me. Maksim’s men might still be looking for you too.”
He hooked up the nozzle to the truck, escorted me inside, and pointed to the restroom in the corner of the store. “Two minutes. I’ll get some food for you. Don’t walk out the door alone. I’ll take you back to the truck.”
I nodded and hustled to the back of the store. Dmitri watched me enter the bathroom. I waited a moment and then cracked the door and peeked out. I used the security mirror to keep an eye on him, and as soon as his back was turned, I slid into a storage room, swiped a black jacket that hung over a chair, and made my getaway through the back door by the dumpsters.
I took off in a sprint and kept running until I was at least six blocks away. I had to stay off the main roads, but I also needed to find a ride. People were loading onto a city bus just ahead. I went in that direction, hopeful it was a populated enough area to hail a cab. I was sweating and panting as I crossed the road. I took some deep breaths to fuel my body with oxygen and to cool down from the adrenaline rush.
The sun was setting and I had to find a cab soon. It was definitely not a good idea to be hanging around Ekaterinburg at night. I kept going and finally saw a cab within sight. I quickened my pace and dodged swarms of huffy commuters. The cab I’d set my sights on had picked up a passenger and sped off, but another one took its place.
I ran as fast as I could manage on the busy sidewalk and made it to the car. “
Privet
,” I panted. “Can you take me to, um—”
Shit.
How do you say “orphanage” in Russian?
The cabby squinted at me and lifted his hands. “No English.” He dismissed me with a wave of his hand. “
Ya khochu
. I want…” I made the sign of a cross and pointed to the sky. The orphanage was within walking distance of a landmark wooden church. If I could get there, then I could find my way to the nuns who could help me.
The cabby got irritated and pulled off.
“Wait!”
A man in a suit approached me. “Need help?” The last thing I needed was to dump my drama on an unsuspecting do-gooder, but I was short on options.
“My Russian is not so great. You speak English?”
He glanced down at his cellphone. “Where is husband?”
“What?” Did he recognize me?
He motioned to my wedding ring.
Oh.
Now is not the time to be paranoid. Keep your head in the game.
“I’m trying to get back to him. We got separated in the crowd. There’s an old wooden church in town across the street from a tall blue building—”
“I take you to him.” The man grabbed my elbow and yanked me toward a black limo.
“Get off me!” I dug in my heels and pulled back.
He glared at me like I was a lunatic. “I am driver. Is my job.” He opened his trench coat and revealed a car-shaped badge pinned to his shirt.
He may have been exactly that, a limo driver, but his forehead had beaded with sweat in a matter of seconds, and it was a cool, breezy evening. The sinister expression on his face had “criminal intent” written all over it.
I wasn’t being paranoid. I should’ve gone with my gut instincts.
His eagerness to shove me in the back of his car had tripped a wire on my internal warning system. Something shady was about to go down. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t have any money.”
I tried to shove past him, but he clutched my upper arm and leaned into my face. “Free rides for pretty ladies today.”
I blinked my eyes and slumped my shoulders, playing my part as a powerless victim. An easy target for a big, strong man. When he let his guard down and failed to see me as a threat, I reared my leg back and with all the strength in my body, I rammed my knee into his crotch.
Plan B: Fight dirty, asshole!
He doubled over, momentarily disabled by my survival response. He groaned in agony and dropped his cell phone. On the screen, there was a picture of Vladimir and me. I gasped, terrified at all the measures Maksim had taken to find us. He must’ve alerted every person in the city to be on the lookout for us. I pushed through the crowd and ran in no particular direction, just away.
People started to stare. I’d drawn too much attention to myself. I crossed the street and ran toward a row of fast-food restaurants. A vehicle spun out but I didn’t look behind. I had to get away. Everyone in Ekaterinburg was after me. Maksim was going to win.
“Carter!” Dmitri yelled.
I glanced over my shoulder. He was in the truck with the passenger door open, waving his arm, desperate to get my attention. “
Davai
!”
I shoved my way through the crowd and jumped in the truck. As Dmitri sped away, he stole glances at me, seething with disapproval. “Why do you run away from me?”
“I don’t want to leave Russia without Vladimir.”
“How many times do I have to save your life before you trust me, Carter?” He dragged his hand through his hair. “I am
bodyguard
.” He straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest, owning his role as a position of honor. “Vladimir
chose
me
to protect you. I am following
his
orders to keep you safe. I will not fail him.”
Out of all the men in the
Bratva
, Vladimir trusted Dmitri to keep me safe. It wasn’t his physical strength or badass fighting skills that earned Vladimir’s respect. It was his integrity. “I panicked. Forgive me.”
“Everything will be okay, Carter.” He picked up my hand and gave me an apology-accepted squeeze. “Ready to go home?”
I loved Vladimir unconditionally. I would never have chosen to leave him behind, but from what I’d just experienced, it was too dangerous for me to stay in Russia. Maksim was on a rampage, and I had to do what was right for the baby and leave the country. Vladimir was strong, smart, and resourceful. My job was to take care of myself and our child. His job was to defeat Maksim and find his way back to us.
“
Da.
Take me back to America.”
Seeing my family again would be a monumental win. Knowing my dad, he had been suffering more than anyone, including me. I knew he would be relieved to see me, but explaining where I’d been—and who I was with—would send him into a massive tailspin. Not to mention when I told him Vladimir and I had gotten married and he was the father of my unborn child—a Chernobyl-sized meltdown was about the reaction I was expecting.
When we arrived at the airport, Dmitri purchased two first-class tickets. There were no direct flights to Cincinnati, so we had to stop in London first for a short layover before returning to America. I hated leaving Vladimir behind, and I was nervous about reuniting with my family and explaining the circumstances of my disappearance.
My brain was spinning in circles on an endless loop of “what ifs” about our future together. I couldn’t come up with even one scenario that led us down the path to forever. Even if Vladimir eluded the assailants and defeated Maksim, how would we ever live a normal, carefree life together in America? By his own admission, he wasn’t allowed to leave the
Bratva
. Even if he took down Maksim, Moscow might intervene and drag him back, or worse—teach him a lesson about loyalty.
Once Dmitri and I were seated on the plane, he called Boris. After they conversed for a few moments, Dmitri handed me the phone.
“Are you okay, Carter? The baby is good?”
“We’re fine. Are you with Vladimir? Is he safe?”
“I got word that Vladimir has eluded Maksim’s men. My contact knows where he is hiding out. I am on my way there now.”
“Oh, thank God. Tell him I love him and the baby and I are fine—”
“I talk, you listen. When you land in London you will call your papa. Tell him you are coming home. No police, no FBI. Inform him that you will call back in a few hours to arrange a pickup location. Pasha is on his way to Cincinnati now on our private jet. He will meet you at the airport when you land and take you to your papa. Follow my instructions exactly. You are Russian now, Carter. You don’t talk to police, understand?”
“
Da.
Anything else?”
“Anya wants you to know—”
“I don’t care what she has to say.”
He tapped his rings on the side of the phone. “You are my daughter now. The mama of my only grandchild. Understand I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. Never doubt my actions or intentions again. My job is to protect
you
.”
Boris had many qualities one could categorize as bad, but if he had one good characteristic, it was loyalty. From the day I met him, all of his thoughts, actions, and energy went into protecting Vladimir. Some of his methods were terrifying, but from his perspective, necessary evils. I felt safer knowing he was watching over us.
“
Spasibo
, Papa.”
“Don’t mess this up,
lapsha
.”