Chapter 17 Blood & Other Stains
Chapter seventeen
Blood & Other Stains
Viktor Zima was an intimidating man. He was not the tallest by any means, a fact which was emphasized by his choice of a military-style buzzcut that barely darkened his scalp.
But he had built himself a body of unyielding stone, and the cold, hard look in his dark blue eyes carried that energy well.
He’d shaped himself into a mountain and was known to show as much mercy.
There could be no good thing that had Viktor Zima, perhaps the nastiest of Pakhan Mikhail’s generation of brigadiers, stepping into Evelina’s office.
The man came to a stop still out of reach of either her or Otto, though he spared no attention to Otto as he raked a cold glare over her seated form. “Miss Nikolaev.”
Evelina let her brow furrow. “You came to me, Viktor. If you have something to say, please, share.”
His wide nostrils flared. “You defile your father’s honor with your actions.”
Anger surged through her like a burst dam.
It was all Evelina could do to contain herself to merely crossing one leg over the other and raising her chin.
“I’m confused. Are you saying I defile my father’s honor by claiming the inheritance he specifically left in my name?
” She paused for a heartbeat. “Or perhaps I’m defiling it somehow by fighting to carry forward his legacy?
” She paused again, and when she next spoke, her tone sharpened.
“Certainly, you don’t think my father never had to draw hard lines. Viktor.”
Something in Viktor’s dark eyes sparked and he took a menacing step forward. “I will not be—”
Otto moved between them, filling Evelina’s view with his broad-shouldered back. “Step back. I won’t ask a second time.”
Viktor spat on the floor, as if that in itself wasn’t disrespecting the pakhan he claimed to be defending, and snarled at Otto. “That whore needs to learn her place. Maybe so do you.”
It really was what she’d expected. She had known Viktor would be nigh-unattainable. But this was not the day for that confirmation to come beat itself into her awareness.
What she was not expecting was the sudden, near-deafening explosion of a gunshot.
Evelina jumped in place, her head spinning to the side as if she might see where the bullet had landed or some invisible trail revealing where it had originated. She almost missed the heavy thud and poorly restrained groan of pain. The half-incoherent cursing.
Otto stepped forward, kicked at something, and the office door was thrown open as Tolya and another man rushed in with handguns drawn.
Confusion doused the sharp edge of the adrenaline coursing through her and Evelina leaned more to the opposite side, trying to take advantage of Otto’s movement in order to better see. At the same time, she couldn’t fully contain her concern. She knew damn well she was fine. “Otto, are you—”
“Fuckin’ pissed,” Otto said, as if through clenched teeth.
“Ah, ma’am—” Tolya called, his gun partially lowered and his gaze bouncing between her and Otto.
“I’ll fucking kill you, Voronin,” Viktor said. The words carried unmistakable rage, but also a strain that sounded like pain.
Otto shifted one foot back, his body tilting slightly with the movement, and Evelina understood.
Viktor was on the floor, not quite flat on his back. It looked like his knee had been blown out. Blood already pooled below him. And the thing Otto had kicked away was Viktor’s own gun.
Some psychotic part of her wanted to laugh as she played it back through her mind. “Otto, why did you shoot Viktor?” She knew. But she’d lost her mind and she wanted to hear the words out loud. With an audience.
Otto blew out a hard breath and lowered his gun.
“Fucker came in here, lecturing you on respect. And then he called you a whore.” His fingers twitched and, for a heartbeat, Evelina thought he might shoot again.
Instead, he turned his back to Viktor and the others altogether and stepped into her space, setting the gun on the desk as he caged her in with his arms. But he didn’t lower his voice.
“And I am fucking done toleratin’ that bullshit.
No one hurts you, no one threatens you, no one fucking spits in your presence from now on.
Not unless they want a whole lot of pain before they die. ”
Evelina swallowed hard, trying to push her heart out of her throat. That was so much more than she’d expected. She’d anticipated an angry word or two. Maybe a declaration along the lines of ‘he insulted you.’ Definitely not … all of that.
Viktor snarled something that carried an ominous tone but wasn’t as sensible as he’d likely intended.
Thinking quickly, Evelina curled both hands into Otto’s shirt before he could step away, simultaneously tilting herself so as to see and be seen around his bulging bicep.
“Gentlemen, could you please dump this trash downstairs in storage? You may want to restrain the upper limbs and check for weapons, just to be safe. I’ll deal with it later. ”
She had a clear view of Tolya’s wide-eyed, reddening face and somehow, the sight made her want to laugh. But she kind of liked Tolya, so she held herself back. It only took him another moment to pull himself together. “Yes, ma’am!”
Viktor resisted, of course.
Evelina allowed Otto to turn and was glad when Otto chose to keep himself close to her.
He let the fingers of one hand curl loosely around the butt of his pistol, which still rested on the desk, and draped his other arm entirely across her lap in perhaps the boldest outward statement he’d made in her memory.
She loved it.
Neither of them spoke as they watched Tolya and his partner manhandle Viktor, the one whose name she didn’t know ultimately choosing to render Viktor unconscious rather than constantly have to fight off his flailing arms. They used Viktor’s own clothing as a rudimentary tourniquet to keep from trailing blood through ‘half the house’—a fair choice—and then, finally, they were gone.
Evelina’s gaze dropped back to the pool of blood that had puddled over the hardwood and begun soaking into the throw rug. She’d never cared for that rug, anyway, but the floor was a different matter.
Otto separated from her long enough to gather Viktor’s gun and shut the door. The gun he tucked away, apparently pilfering it. His head swiveled as he followed the direction of her stare. “Shit. Sorry.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I’ll—”
“Otto.” She didn’t want his apologies, and she wasn’t about to burden him with the responsibility of cleaning up a mess someone else had triggered. “You’re hardly the first person to spill blood on this floor.” She held out one hand for him. “Now come over here … and help me spill something else.”
His eyes heated and he was on her in an instant, claiming her mouth in a hard kiss as his hands tugged on her hair and her shirt.
She met his urgency with her own, all of her wild and flaring emotions coalescing into one desperate sense of need.
Her arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, tugging him closer, and she hooked her legs over his hips.
She wanted him to fuck her there, on her father’s desk, in some sort of psychological or perhaps spiritual re-marking of the territory, and she didn’t even care if anyone walked by the hall and heard them.
She wanted a few other things, too—like his mouth between her thighs, or for him to finally let her drop to her knees for him—but that sort of indulgence probably required more time. Certainly a higher level of comfort.
Otto broke the kiss roughly, pulling her head back with the hair he’d wrapped around his fist. “Fuck, baby. Tell me you want this right now.”
Evelina managed a smile and dragged a hand down his chest, enjoying the feel of his muscles even through the fabric, until her fingertips met the top of his belt. “What I want,” she breathed, “is for you to own me, right here, like nothing else matters.”
He tucked the heel of his hand beneath her jaw, fingers curved around the side of her neck in a steady and strikingly supportive grip.
“Nothing else does matter.” He kissed her again, then withdrew his touch and guided her legs from his hips.
“Now let me see your pretty pussy.” It wasn’t a request, because he didn’t wait for or even allow her to stand.
He dipped his fingers beneath the elastic waistline of her leggings and maneuvered her like she was putty, rolling her leggings and panties down past her knees.
Then he took half a step back, used his own knees to prop hers apart, and rumbled low as he set to work undoing his belt.
Evelina couldn’t help but lick her lips, so aroused she barely even laughed when he nearly dropped the gun he’d tucked at his back only minutes earlier. That went beside the other on the desktop and his pants were shoved down. His cock sprang free, already glistening with precum.
He crowded her once more against the desk, one hand slipping under the rumpled hem of her shirt to settle at the small of her back and tug her closer to the edge. “Wish I could draw this out like you deserve,” he rumbled as he stroked himself between her achy, dripping folds.
She held back a moan and slid her hands up his chest to curl them over his shoulders. “Tonight,” she said. She did her best to part her legs wider in invitation, as much as she was able. “Tonight, you can do whatever you want with me. I’m yours.”
He groaned and snapped his hips forward, sinking deep inside her without preamble.
He caught her outcry with another kiss, sucking her tongue into his mouth and immediately picking up a merciless rhythm.
It was only moments before he broke the kiss in favor of laying her flat on the desk, both hands moving to her hips to better hold her in place as he fucked into her.