Chapter 4 #2
When he finally comes to a stop, he angles his body just enough that he can see me and still keep her face in his line of sight. He continues to use Russian to ask me, “What happened to her shirt?”
Fuck.
“It was torn when she tried to escape my men,” I lie rather than give him the truth. The less he knows about her fighting back the better.
“I was referring to the blood,” he replies. He moves a step closer to see the stains on the top of her shirt. “Did she injure herself putting up a fight?”
His chest begins to rise and fall faster as he faces her down, clearly aroused by the thought.
“Well?” he demands when I don’t provide an immediate answer.
When he finally glances over at me, really looking at me for the first time since he walked through the door, he sees the bruises on my face. His eyes widen minutely in understanding. “She fought back and busted your nose, didn’t she? Viktor?” He orders my closest friend to speak up.
Viktor doesn’t hesitate before providing the Pakhan with a full recap.
“Petrov and I chased her. She took me down with a knee between the legs, punched Petrov in his throat, and then slammed her foot into my mouth. Dominik grabbed her before she could run again. She kicked, scratched, and fought by headbutting him.”
“I see,” Gavriil replies, wetting his lips. “And her…fight has endeared you to her that quickly?”
“She doesn’t know where Archer or the money is,” I assure him.
He hums as if he doubts her innocence. “The stolen shipment you thought you could hide from me. Have you traced it yet?” he asks.
“Not yet. The buyer is a clown with ambition,” I tell him. “A biker crew out of Newark. They paid Archer in cash.”
“How much money did I hear was made off this endeavor?” He asks the question already knowing the answer but enjoys making me repeat it.
“Two million.”
“Yes. That sort of loss is a bit staggering.” He finally turns away from Alina to look past me toward the bar. “Pour me a vodka on the rocks.”
I don’t move. Renat does. He immediately goes over to the bar. Gavriil watches me not move an inch while my man prepares his drink and then carries it over on a tray like he’s a black-tie server at a gala.
Gavriil picks up the glass and takes a sip. “Archer’s whereabouts?”
“There’s still been no sign of him. My men have eyes on his apartment, old poker haunts, dealers, and bookies. He’s not been seen at any of them in over a week.”
“Of course not.” Another sip. He moves to stand very close to Alina again. Not touching. Still not speaking to her. Making her smell his cologne because he can while speaking in a language she doesn’t understand. “What has your hostage told you?”
“She doesn’t know anything,” I repeat. “Her brother hasn’t responded to any of her messages. They haven’t spoken in nine days.”
“I bet she knows more than she’s letting on, you just haven’t pried it from her yet.” His gaze cuts to Alina again, and then to me. “She’s…oddly calm. Has she cried yet?”
Alina doesn’t flinch at his attention. I hate that I notice, and that Gavriil does as well.
“No, she hasn’t.”
“Good,” he says as if he approves, and hands the empty glass back to Renat without looking at him. He pauses before abruptly changing the subject to try and throw me off balance. “She busted your nose and now you want to keep her. To fuck her. We’re not so different, are we, Bratishka?”
“I’m not going to lay a hand on her,” I grit out, my back teeth gnashing together as I take an involuntary step toward them both.
“You’re avoiding answering my question, so I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” he says. “My self-righteous zamestitel' vora could easily shoot an enemy in the face without hesitation but he wouldn’t fuck a hostage, would he?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” I answer. He’s right. Alina is off-limits. I fucking know that. My job is to keep her here until Archer returns with the money, then let her go.
“I would fuck her,” Gavriil remarks smugly as his tongue wets his bottom lip once more while studying her bare stomach. “I’d have her in my cage, screaming my name right now if you had done as you were told and brought her to me. Take her,” he instructs his guards.
I step in front of them with my hand raised. “She’s staying here, Gavriil. She’s under my krysha.”
Everyone in the room freezes.
Gavriil turns his head toward me slowly, like a predator annoyed someone dared touched his food. “Your… krysha?” he repeats, amused. “You’re invoking protection? For a hostage?”
I don’t so much as blink. “For my hostage.”
He studies my face, the set of my shoulders, the steel in my tone. He recognizes the shift.
“She’s under my roof. My protection. My responsibility.”
Gavriil lifts a brow. “That’s a custom for men who want to be accountable for whores and informants. Not for girls that thieves abandon.”
“That’s exactly why I’m invoking it,” I say as I close the distance between us.
A murmur ripples through the room.
Gavriil’s eyes gleam, fascinated, furious. “You’re sure you want to offer yourself in her stead?”
“I’m her zashchitnik now,” I continue. Her guardian. “She answers to me. Not you.”
I refuse to look at Alina, to break eye contact with Gavriil.
He walks around her, stopping when she’s between me and him. Gavriil’s voice is filled with threat when he says, “You would betray me? Put yourself between me and what’s mine?”
“Not yours,” I say evenly. “You gave me a job to do, and I won’t fail you. But I’ve given my word that she will not be harmed.” While I haven’t said as much to Alina yet, I intend to. And once a man gives his word, that’s not something even a Pakhan can casually break.
Gavriil’s gaze sharpens. A long pause stretches between us, thick with unspoken meaning. “You’re wagering your honor on a girl you’ve known for less than an hour,” he says softly. “That’s a dangerous gamble, Bratishka. I would hate to see you repeat your past mistakes.”
“It was one mistake that you enjoy throwing in my face every chance you get,” I correct him. “And this time is different.”
His smile is razor sharp. “Tell me. How so? Why is she different? Because she is prettier than Daria? How do you know she won’t betray you as well?”
I don’t answer him because the truth is dangerous: Alina fought for every breath tonight. She refused to beg. She refused to break.
And something inside me, something I’ve kept buried for years, rose up and said mine before I could stop it.
Gavriil lifts a hand as if to touch a strand of Alina’s hair falling from her messy bun, the same strand I caressed earlier.
I move on instinct, catching his wrist midair. Not hard. Not aggressive. Just forbidding him.
The entire room holds its breath.
Behind me Viktor curses under his breath.
Gavriil stares at my hand touching him like I’ve forgotten who the hell he is.
“Ah. So that’s where your weakness hides,” Gavriil murmurs. Then he sees the red abrasions I had kept hidden. The ones Alina inflicted on me in her struggle. A dangerous smile curves his mouth. “Well,” he murmurs. “Now it’s getting even more interesting.”
He jerks out of my hold and steps back. Not retreating but calculating.
“You want her under your krysha?” he asks loudly, switching to English so she hears every word.
“Yes.”
“You want to be her protector?”
“Yes.”
“You want her fate tied to yours instead of mine?”
I hold his stare. “Yes.”
He considers this for several long, punishing seconds. Then: “Very well.”
Alina’s breath rushes out when she’s finally caught up on our discussion.
But Gavriil isn’t finished yet.
“She remains under your protection,” he says, “for one week. That’s how long you have to find Archer and my money.
” He then stares at her backside silently for so long, I want to scream.
Finally, he adds in Russian, “It’ll be more fun to take her from you once you’ve grown attached to her.
And that’s exactly what will happen if you fail me again. ”
He moves then so that he’s right in front of Alina, looming over her in a way that she can’t ignore. “Beautiful girl,” he says in English, as if to intentionally provoke her. “Do you understand why you’re here?”
“Yes. You think I’ll be a useful threat to motivate Archer.” Her voice is steady, confident. She holds herself like she has all the power here, not him. This interests him more than beauty.
Fuck.
“For now,” Gavriil says, “you are useful to us for now.”
“Right,” she responds. Then, she does exactly what I told her not to do, she asks him a question. “And you’ll release me as soon as Archer pays you back?”
“We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we,” Gavriil replies, and somehow, it’s both a promise and a threat. “Your brother seems to think he can steal from me with impunity. And that behavior must be punished.”
“That’s your side of the story. I would like to hear his,” she says.
Dammit. Undermining Gavriil would be a very big mistake.
“You want your brother to live,” he says.
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll help us find Archer and convince him to return our money.”
Silence.
Alina doesn’t say yes to cooperating. I can feel Gavriil’s attention instantly sharpen. She just became a rare original Ilya Repin painting. Priceless.
The Pakhan craves disobedience so he can have a reason to punish it. Maybe that excuse makes him feel like less of a monster when he thinks someone “deserves” what’s coming to them.
“I took photos of her when she was restrained,” I say in Russian, before he can decide to make an example of her right here and now. “I’ll send them with a message to Archer now if you want.”
Gavriil looks at me for a long second while Alina watches him with her brow furrowed, as if trying to get a read on him but can’t.
“Show me,” he orders.
I pull up the image on my phone and turn the screen around for him to see, but not her.
“Oh, I think we can do much better than that,” he remarks. “I’ll pick out an outfit for her to wear for more salacious photos tomorrow, then you can send them to Archer. I’ll leave the messaging to you.”