Chapter 6
Dominik
After I drag Akim down the hall by his throat and throw him out, I slam my office door and go straight to the bar to pour myself a large glass of vodka.
I shouldn’t have lost control like that. He’s one of my own men. But the second he looked at her like she was going to be next on his list of conquests, I snapped.
And it doesn’t help that I’m hard as granite after being alone with Alina in that damn outfit Gavriil picked out.
I chug half the glass even though I know the vodka won’t help clear my mind.
Alina was right. The sight of her tied to a chair shouldn’t have done a damn thing to me. But it did.
And what I wanted to do to her, she would’ve thoroughly enjoyed as well. Even if she refuses to admit it, she would’ve loved having me on my knees before her, worshiping her between her thighs.
God fucking damn it.
She’s not just my hostage anymore. She’s becoming my weakness. Mine.
Between her innocent beauty and her reckless attitude, I can’t help the way she entices me.
And I know tonight, if not sooner, I’ll be taking myself in my hand to relieve the ache she’s caused, all while looking at the sexy photos of her on my phone.
Now. Now would be a good time to alleviate the pressure.
My phone vibrates before I can unzip my pants. Gavriil of course. He wants the photos, which means there’s no more delaying them.
Will he get off looking at them too? Of course he fucking will.
How can I be angry at him for doing the same damn thing I plan to do?
I forward three of the photos to Gavriil with no message, including the one taken from my knees. The one he specifically requested in the note he sent with her outfit.
His reply comes instantly.
GAVRIIL: Absolutely gorgeous. I knew the lingerie would suit her coloring perfectly.
GAVRIIL: I should’ve brought her home with me last night.
My jaw creaks from how tightly I’m clenching it as I think about my answer before sending it.
ME: She’s comfortable here. You’re far too busy to tend to her.
The dots appear, disappear, reappear as he decides if I need to be put in my place.
GAVRIIL: Tell the boy he has 72 hours to turn himself in. If you don’t have him and every cent of my money within six days, she starts working his debt off underneath me.
Working his debt off.
Like she deserves that.
Like she isn’t already dealing with enough all because her brother is a fucking idiot.
I’d raze half this city before I let Gavriil touch her like that. But wanting something and being able to deliver it are two very different things.
I place the phone face down on my desk before I shatter it. Or say something to him that I can’t take back. Breathe. Slowly. Evenly.
Three days for Archer, six remaining days for me. Gavriil lives for impossible deadlines because he likes watching men sweat.
I can live with blood on my hands; it’s what I was born to do. What I can’t live with is the kind of stain that comes from hurting someone who hasn’t done anything wrong.
I open Archer’s message thread of unanswered texts from me, delivered but not read and no replies.
Attach. Attach. Attach.
Alina’s face shrinks into small thumbnails. Archer will have no choice but to open them.
ME: You have 72 hours. Bring the $2,000,000 in cash. You’ll receive a location 1 hour before the deadline. Delay, and she starts paying your debt.
Send.
Delivered.
I add a second message before he can pretend he didn’t read the first:
ME: No cops. No friends. If I see a tail, she bleeds.
A lie, but a necessary one.
I watch the screen while my fingers tap impatiently on the desk until movement at the door catches my attention.
Alina.
Wearing jeans and a blue tee, her feet are bare, and her damp hair is still pulled up as she walks in without knocking. She looks slightly less furious in her normal clothing.
“Have you sent the photos?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Has he responded?”
“Not yet.”
She stands there until I nod toward the chair. “Sit.”
She does without comment. Then, “How long did you give him?”
“Seventy-two hours. Gavriil’s deadline,” I answer to remind her of who is in charge.
“What if he’s not in the country?” she questions, as if we haven’t thought of that.
“There are few places on Earth you can’t get back to New York City from in three days,” I remark.
She exhales. “Right. So, now we just wait.”
“Yes,” I answer.
Her fingers twist in the hem of her shirt, her eyes lowered. “And you sent the photos to Gavriil too, didn’t you?”
“You have a lot of questions for someone who slapped me and thinks that earned her privileges,” I grit out, unable to believe how hard she hit me. My cheek still burns.
Alina doesn’t shrink, doesn’t back down. “I’m not going to apologize.”
“I didn’t expect you to,” I tell her honestly as I lean back in my chair. “Just like I don’t expect an apology for my busted nose or torn up hands either. You’ve endured more the last two days than most could stomach, and you’ve done nothing wrong to deserve it.”
She nods her head in agreement. “I hated it. But I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Archer alive.”
“You only think you will,” I assure her. “Decide now what you’re willing to sacrifice. And ask yourself if he’s worth it.”
“He’s my brother,” she says simply. “Do you have siblings?”
“Yes. An older brother,” I answer.
“Then you get it. Haven’t you done things for him that you wouldn’t do for anyone else?” she asks.
I don’t answer. She already sees it in my face.
So, I give her a truth she’s not ready for. “The Pakhan threatened to make you pay off your brother’s debt with him. Do you understand what that means?”
“He’d put me in his cage,” she states, clearly remembering our conversation from yesterday.
“Yes. And once you’re in there, he’ll break you, mentally and physically. That’s what he does. Is that what you’re willing to endure for your brother?”
Alina swallows hard. “If it keeps him alive.”
Too brave. Too loyal. Too innocent. Archer doesn’t deserve a sister like her.
I reach into my pocket and toss her a small brass key. It’s a small, stupid piece of metal, but it’s the first thing I’ve given her that isn’t a threat.
She catches it, confused. “What’s this?”
“The key to your room. It’s not as fancy as your other keys, but it’s the only one for that door. No one enters without your permission. Including me.”
Alina doesn’t thank me out loud. She just closes her fingers around it like it’s a lifeline.
“Let me know if Archer responds,” she repeats as she gets up to leave.
“When,” I correct her. “I’ll let you know when he responds.”
With a nod, she stands up to leave. “I’ll have Petrov return your tote bag to you too.”
“You have it?” she asks.
“Yes. And your phone. You may have it back…after. And you’ve officially resigned from your job at the hotel, effective immediately. Renat delivered the letter this morning.”
She opens her mouth as if to argue but then nods and leaves silently.
I don’t like what I just heard from her.
She’s growing way too desperate. Desperate people bargain with the devil. Desperate women bargain with Gavriil, and I’m not sure which is worse.
That’s why, once I hear her bedroom door shut, I call out, “Petrov.” He appears instantly. “Double the roof guard and all the exits. Switch rotation to fifteen-minute. Stairwell below us stays doubled as well. Then return her bag.”
“Understood.”
“And Petrov.” He pauses, waiting. “No one looks at her. If you see it, remove them before I’m able to get my hands on them.”
“Yes, sir.”
After he’s gone, I pull my laptop close.
The desktop loads. Names, faces, debts, addresses.
Popeye’s biker crew, the ones who bought what Archer didn’t have a right to sell, sit in their own folder: There are addresses next to three of the four.
The fourth has a city, and a known girlfriend’s name.
I make a note to change “known” to “ex” before the weekend.
My phone buzzes again, breaking my concentration.
Archer.
It took the son of a bitch two hours to finally grow a pair of balls.
ARCHER: Don’t hurt her.
ARCHER: Please.
It’s good to see that he still has a shred of decency left to at least plead for his sister’s safety.
ME: 72 hours. The clock started two hours ago.
Three dots appear followed by a long pause before another text arrives.
ARCHER: I can bring some of the money. Not all.
Of fucking course.
ME: Then bring me the men you sold to. We might call it even.
ARCHER: They’ll kill me!
ME: I’m your only chance of limiting the collateral damage to your sister.
Another pause.
ARCHER: Where do I go?
ME: You’ll get the address an hour before. Don’t be late.
ARCHER: Let me talk to her. I need to hear her voice to know she’s okay.
ME: No. Bring the money first.
Three dots blink and vanish before the reply comes.
ARCHER: Tell her I’m sorry. If she’s actually still alive…
I toss my phone down on the desk. It’s too late for his guilt.
A few minutes later, Viktor appears in the doorway. “Lunch was left outside her door since it was locked.”
“Good.”
“She hasn’t touched it,” he adds.
“That’s her decision.” I grind my teeth together in annoyance. Like a hunger strike will help the situation. God, she’s stubborn.
Viktor nods and disappears. The penthouse settles. I return to my work.
Until the soft pad of bare feet cross the floor again. “Have you heard from him?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“You said you would tell me!” she huffs.
She’s right. I should have told her. “I’ve been busy,” I say, which is the truth. “Archer sends his regrets. For whatever that’s worth. Whether he comes through in time…” I shrug. “That’s unclear.”
“And if he doesn’t have all the money, then what happens to me?”
“It means he’ll hear you cry while he counts his cash.”
Her lips press together. “So, you will hurt me?”
“If he forces my hand,” I lie.
“You told Gavriil you’d protect me.”
“I will.” I meet her eyes. “The rest depends on your brother.” I’m not sure if I could harm even a hair on her lovely, blameless head. I hated ripping off the damn duct tape from her mouth. I should have hated tearing her shirt.
I can stab a traitor in the heart without hesitation, but when it comes to innocent people…I have to draw a line somewhere, even if Gavriil won’t.
Alina studies me—smart, sharp, like she knows that I’m full of shit. Her shoulders finally drop an inch. Then, “I want a phone.”
“No.”
Alina glares at me and walks away. She’s planning. Thinking. Always thinking.
I know she’s not giving up, just retreating until she comes up with a better idea.
She’s becoming more anxious, losing confidence in her brother coming through for her.
No telling what she might try. “If you don’t start bringing in your food trays, I’m taking back the key so they can be delivered directly to your lap! ” I shout after her in warning.
Even one tray going untouched today is unacceptable.
The woman has to eat. It’s not her life that’s ending anytime soon. Just her brother’s.
A few minutes later, the elevator chimes.
Gavriil dropping by unexpectedly again?
I pull up the security feed. Viktor opens the door. A man on the other side gives him a brown bag, and he brings it to my desk without comment and then lurks wordlessly in the space.
I’m one to talk about eating when I only remember to do it if food is shoved in front of me.
And today I’ve been too busy worrying about a woman who refused her tray.
My phone buzzes before I can open the bag.
“Boss,” Viktor says, though I’ve already seen the name. Pakhan.
“Progress?” Gavriil asks in Russian.
“Archer responded. He’s down to seventy hours,” I tell him.
“He’ll try to stall,” he mutters. “You won’t allow it.”
“Of course not. He shows with the money and takes his punishment, or he runs and dies.”
Even if Alina hates me for it.
Her opinion shouldn’t matter.
It does.
“How is our pretty little hostage?” Gavriil asks, amused because he knows exactly where my mind went.
Behind a door locked with a key I gave her. “Calm. Keeping to herself.” Boring is the message I’m trying to convey.
“She’s too beautiful to be hidden away,” Gavriil remarks. “You should’ve sent me a video from her photo shoot.”
“I took the photos you requested.”
“And kept others just for yourself?” he guesses correctly followed by a dangerous chuckle. “Getting so protective already.”
“That’s because she’s innocent,” I snap. “Just a means to an end.”
“Don’t let her make you reckless, Bratishka.”
My teeth meet too hard. The line dies.
I stare at the screen a second longer before setting the phone facedown again. I’ve never been this close to wanting to break it.
“The Pakhan doesn’t share your opinion on the hostage,” Viktor remarks.
“No. He doesn’t.”
“One of you may have to bend,” he says quietly. “It won’t be him.”
He turns to leave. “Petrov says Akim wants back on duty.”
“Roof only. If he looks at her again, he’ll be thrown off it.”
Viktor dips his head. “Renat can sweep exterior cameras, keep eyes on the Pakhan’s estate.”
“Do it.”
When he’s gone, I get up and go stare out over the skyline. My reflection looks back cold and conflicted.
I set an alarm on my phone for sixty-nine hours, counting down Archer’s deadline, then head to bed.
Halfway to my room, I stop. My feet turn me around without permission and I find myself just outside her door.
I don’t knock. I only touch my knuckles to the wood, light enough she won’t hear.
“Sleep,” I whisper. “You’ll need your strength for the coming battle.”
I leave but I can’t sleep because every time I close my eyes, I see her face.
Killing someone’s family isn’t something you can ask forgiveness for. Even if it’s justified.
And knowing Gavriil…
Even if he gets all his money back, he may not let her walk free.
But I’m not letting anyone touch her. Especially not him.