6. Katerina
CHAPTER 6
Katerina
It feels like an eternity that I’m trapped in the closet with Roman Volkova, swallowed up by deep shadows and clenched in his bruising grip. He seems to be enjoying himself. He nuzzles the side of my face and drags his lips along the curve of my ear.
His fingers dig into the flesh of my upper arm and he presses me into him as if he’s truly indulging in how soft I feel against him.
I know, because at one point, I feel something in his pants jerk.
…was that his…?
It was! It was his dick!
I want to scream. I want to thrash against him. Knee him in the balls or head butt him.
As his large hand wraps around my throat from behind and his fingers travel up to feel the curve of my bottom lip, I want to bite them off.
He’s lucky I have an aversion to blood. It wouldn’t be the first time a stray like me resorted to such survival tactics—Rosita told me a story from when she was fourteen and one of her johns tried to get too rough with her. She bit half of his pinky finger off.
No question the Russian Bear would deserve it if I did.
Sure, me, JC, and the others kidnapped him. But that was technically his own fault. He didn’t have to involve himself in our scheme; he wasn’t even who we were after!
We remain camped out in secrecy inside the closet as Finch takes his damn time in the living room. He’s still talking loudly, telling whoever he’s on the phone with about the botched mission that was carried out.
I roll my eyes listening to his criticisms.
“Botched,” he sighs. “They totally fucked everything up. I don’t know why I keep relying on Kat and JC. Half a brain between the two of them.”
Whoever he’s speaking to answers him, because he falls silent to listen.
I can almost feel the nasty grin on the Russian’s face. He’s not only enjoying copping a feel, he’s enjoying listening to one of my counterparts insult me.
He tuts his tongue, bowing his head low beside mine so our cheeks almost touch. “Not so nice. This the man you worked for, devochka? Want me to kill him for you?”
Yes.
My inner voice chooses pettiness. Then my slightly better half cuts in.
No! You do NOT want him to kill Finch! Something tells me if he kills Finch, he’ll kill you too! You forget you’re just as much a part of this kidnapping scheme as he is?!
Finch must finally notice the two very obvious variables about the living room—I’m gone and so is our Russian captive.
He stops in his tracks and tells the person on the other line, “Hang on. Something’s up. There’re busted zip ties on the floor. Kat? KAT?!”
I squirm against the Russian’s hold, almost answering him. My lips even part to do so.
But then I feel Roman Volkova’s muscles hardening behind me. I feel his grip clench tighter on my arms, making me wince. He could literally snap me in half if he wants to. If I scream out to Finch, he could kill me in a second.
And what would Finch even do to help me? I doubt he’s armed, and if he is, Finch has never struck me as someone useful in combat.
There’s a reason he’s usually the brains of our operations while me, JC, and his brother Fozzil handle the more hands-on parts of our missions.
Finch would be of no use. I scream for help, and he comes to check out the noise. The Russian would destroy him and then turn his ire on me.
I’m fucked.
“Kat?” Finch asks, creeping closer. It sounds like he’s left the living room and started down the hall. His footsteps pad lighter, barely audible even in the silent apartment.
“He’s looking for you, devochka,” the Russian whispers in my ear, making me shiver. He squeezes me flush against his front. “Do you want to reveal ourselves? Should we say hello? I can play nice.”
The sarcasm boils me up. He’s truly taking pleasure in mocking me.
Can I even be mad when I got myself into this situation? I should’ve left the moment JC and Fozzil did. They clearly stuck me with the short end of the stick.
“I don’t know where they went,” Finch says. “There’s no signs of a struggle. You think Kat ran off? She’s grimy enough to pull some shit like that.”
“Excuse me?” I whisper, taking half a step forward.
The Russian Goliath tugs me back against him. “Shhh, my bad girl,” he whispers back. “We’re hiding, remember? Unless… you want me to meet your friend. In which case, I’d love to make him regret coming for the sovietnik.”
I still don’t understand what he’s saying half the time, though I don’t answer him.
Finch talks out the situation some more with the person on the phone and concludes he’s not up for trouble.
“Fuck this,” he grumbles. “You’re right, man. I’m outta here. I don’t got time for games. Kat’s on her own.”
He leaves much quicker than he entered. His footfalls thump against the floor right after each other until he’s at the front door and slamming it shut.
My heart drops.
Oh no. What the fuck!?
“He went bye-bye,” the Russian laughs darkly. “You heard him, devochka. You are on your own.”
He shoves the closet door to the side and drags me out alongside him. I twist and jerk, putting up some fight.
“Please… please, just let me go!” I sputter out. “It wasn’t even my idea! I didn’t want to come for you. It was their idea. Don’t hurt me!”
“I like you,” he says plainly. “Ty milaya igrushka? * .”
“I… I don’t know what that means.”
“You are a cute toy,” he translates seamlessly, turning to face me. His grin’s returned, twisted onto his handsome, chiseled face. His dark sapphires for eyes flash ominously. “Ya khochu poigrat’ s toboy? * . I want to play with you.”
I shake my head no while in a cold sweat that has me gasping. “Please, don’t?—”
He slaps his hand to my mouth. This time to smack on some duct tape I hadn’t even realized he’d grabbed.
“There,” he says. “Forgive me, devochka. But I was tired of hearing you talk. It is time to have some fun.”
* ? Ty milaya igrushka - You are a cute toy
* ? Ya khochu poigrat’ s toboy - I want to play with you