Chapter 8 Viking
CHAPTER 8
VIKING
Viking flew out of the basement like a bat out of hell. He shouldn’t have touched her.
She didn’t say no. She should’ve fucking said no.
Except, he knew it the second he’d touched her, it would happen. Because he was fixated and fucked up like that. He’d imagined a hundred different ways he would take her if he ever got his hands on her again. Deprived, vile ways. Ways that would hurt her and addict her to his body.
His eyes found Baran, who was waiting in the corridor.
“You don’t let her out of your sight,” he barked, then made it up the stairs, heading toward the library.
He passed several soldiers who were there for the Pakhan’s visit. Even though he got a few sideways glances, the men knew not to ask. Not that he would tell anyone a damn thing. Weaknesses in the Bratva got you killed. If anyone smelled blood, they would go after him like a shark. It wasn’t always sunshine and stars, being Kristoff’s second in command. It came with a lot of lurkers on the horizon, eager to replace him. Apart from their inner circle, he didn’t trust any of the men. After all, the history he shared with the twins and Baran went beyond blood, Bratva, and ice-cold cash.
Yuri, who was talking to a newcomer, greeted him, and then quickly looked away. Smart thinking. It was probably written on his face that he was spoiling for a fight. Instead of going a round or two, he decided to go with option B. He needed a smoke, bad.
He went into the rec room and pulled a pack out from a cabinet. The twins were playing pool, and he dropped into a chair next to a window.
He then sent Vicky a message to come over. He lit a cig, put his feet on the table, and relaxed into the chair. Yeah, this was the good life.
Damon put his cue stick on the pool table. “I thought you’d quit?”
“I have.”
“I can see that,” Angel said pointedly.
He scowled. “How did you ever get the name Angel?” The cocky asshole didn’t have an angelic bone in his body, unless he’d been named after Lucifer.
When Angel flopped down on the chair next to him and tossed one leg over the arm, Viking groaned.
“Funny you should ask. See, our mother, who as you know, was a Mohican medicine woman—may her spirit rest in Mohican heaven—”
Viking cut him a look. “Don’t. I already regret asking. Listen up, I need you two to do something for me. It’s about Vicky.”
They had heard about her by now and had given him grief, like he had expected. He’d been the butt of a list of inappropriate daddy jokes, right until the moment he had pulled a gun on Angel to shut him up.
“You need us to take her from here before Sokolov shows up,” Damon guessed.
“Spot on, brother.”
As always, Damon was two steps ahead of him. As their strategic man, it was his job to look out for any threats. Aside from their inner circle, no one knew about Vicky yet. He didn’t want anyone to. Not until he had tucked her away safely. If his enemies didn’t know she existed, they couldn’t exploit his weakness.
Everyone knew you didn’t go after a Vory’s family. But every now and then, some idiot would show up, trying to establish his name by ignoring unwritten Bratva rules.
They had an issue like that once with Katya, when some Bulgarian up-and-comer thought he could abduct her and use her against Kristoff. He’d been wrong, of course. Dead wrong. There hadn’t been any vodka on the rocks in Kristoff’s veins that day. No think before you act. He’d been coated in fire and blood, ready to tear San Fran apart.
“Artist here yet?”
Given who Viking was, his girl would need a twenty-four-hour security detail. No one was better than Artist in that field. Viking knew the man would take a bullet for his daughter.
“He’ll be here in the morning,” Damon said.
“Good. Tell him to go over to your place. Since it’s on the outskirts of town, it’ll be secluded enough. I want Vicky out of here before Sokolov arrives tomorrow.” He’d already spotted one of the Pakhan’s brigadiers downstairs. “Tell me about Sokolov’s brigadier.” His right-hand man was the one they would have to deal with the most.
“Vasili is a beast. Some say he’s a complete psycho. His strength is that he doesn’t seem to have a conscience.”
“Weaknesses?”
“Predictively enough, women,” Damon said, his jaw set.
“Any particular woman?” Maybe he held a mistress somewhere. That could be useful.
“As long as they’re breathing, young, and mature, he doesn’t discriminate. Others say he has a thing for one of Sokolov’s nieces. Speaking of Sokolov’s nieces, I heard you were getting hitched to one.”
Viking scowled. “How did you find out?” He’d only agreed to it a few days ago.
“It’s what I do. Find shit out.”
As their spy, that was true.
Angel jerked a thumb toward Viking. “I think he should ask about the little bird he’s keeping in a cage below.”
Damon nodded. “You’d think he’d want to know why Pedro locked her up.”
“I would have asked by now,” his brother agreed.
“I’d want to know as well.”
They kept on talking about him as if he wasn’t sitting right before their noses. Annoying fucks. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction by asking.
“The little bird is my business. Stay the fuck out of it.”
“I heard Pedro Morelli is looking for her. Offering a sweet prize to whoever delivers her to him,” Damon said.
Angel looked as if he was pondering that idea. “I could use a new Zegna suit. The other one got ripped when I took on that Bulgarian guy.”
Damon shook his head. “Never fight a former wrestler. Once they get you between those meaty sausage hands, they can crack your skull.”
“He called me pretty.”
Viking kept his mouth firmly shut. He knew not to joke about Angel’s trigger. Calling him that was like offering a drip of blood to the twins’ pet shark: it couldn’t possibly end well.
“I’ll be moving the bird tomorrow. After Vicky’s settled at your place.” The last thing he needed was for Vasili or any of his hounds getting a whiff of his daughter.
When he took another cig, Angel cocked a brow. “You got it bad, brother.”
Viking summoned up all the reasons why Elena was bad for him, but his dick didn’t give a shit what his brain thought. It just wanted to go another round.
“You want my advice?”
“No.” He didn’t want anyone’s advice, and especially not from fuck ‘em and leave ‘em Angel.
“I thought you might,” Angel said, ignoring him. “Just fuck her and get it over with.”
Been there. Done that.
Still not over it.
“Shut up.” Viking was about to shove him off the couch when Katya walked in.
She sat on the table, right next to his feet. Her hands were folded in her lap, and her chin held that stubborn line he was all too familiar with.
“I like Vicky.” Her eyes narrowed. “I want to keep her.”
Some women collected jewelry, others designer bags; Katya collected people. “She can’t stay here, you know that.”
She speculatively eyed the stairs on their right. “When are you going to let Vicky see her mom?”
Not much went on in this house without Katya knowing about it. She knew the rules though, and not to intervene. Still, she had a big heart and might decide to go exploring into the basement. Another reason why he should move Elena out.
“Stay out of it, Tinker Bell.”
This earned him a pout. He could see by the gleam in her eyes she wasn’t finished with the subject yet. Time to haul ass.
He pulled himself up, placed a kiss on her temple, and went downstairs.
Vicky was already waiting for him in the foyer. His girl looked a bit lost, with a suitcase next to her and a bag in her hands. From the corner of his eye, he saw Yuri on the left, watching over her.
He sensed the twins behind him before Vicky’s eyes went over to them. He knew she had met several people in the past days, but wasn’t sure how she was taking it all. Days had passed, and he still didn’t know how to talk to her. What subjects did they have to discuss? He didn’t know the first thing about her. But he would. As soon as he’d stashed Elena away and the Pakhan’s visit was over, he was going to get to know her.
He grabbed her suitcase. “Let’s go.”
Vicky didn’t move. “What about my mom?”
“I’ll take care of your mom.”
She crossed her arms and gave him a look. “Take care of her?”
There was a slight tremble in her voice. For a second there, he hated himself for scaring his own kid. He knew what she wanted to hear, but it wasn’t gonna happen. There was no way he was going to forgive her mother. Elena was going to pay.
“Yeah, take care of her.”
“I’m not leaving without seeing her. So you better find her before you ship me off somewhere.”
Stubborn to the bone. She was a real Skarsgard. He tensed when he was reminded she didn’t carry his name. Another thing Elena had stolen from him.
“You’re leaving the city tomorrow.” When she started to protest, he pointed a finger at her. “This ain’t a democracy. It’s my job to keep you safe, whether you want it or not. Don’t worry about your mother. She’ll be fine.”
“I’m not a kid, you know. It’s a bit late to tell me what to do, don’t you think?”
He gave her a look that would have any sane man back off, then run. Hard.
She raised her chin. “I’m not going back to Switzerland without having seen my mom.”
Clearly, his look had no effect on her. Though he was glad she didn’t fear him, he was annoyed as well. Her seeing her mom? Not happening. Not before he’d made some arrangements and come to an understanding with Elena. He couldn’t have Vicky see her mother in that wine cellar.
“You’ll talk to her within twenty-four hours,” he promised. And that was all he was prepared to do.
Elena wasn’t leaving her prison. Ever.
They were just about to leave when Vasili showed his face. Sokolov’s right-hand man was stockily built, with a buzz cut. His greedy eyes immediately went to Vicky. Viking barely kept himself in check. He reminded himself that the old leech didn’t know she was his daughter. And other than wives and daughters, women were free-for-all in his world.
“And who might you be, babushka?”
Viking placed himself firmly before his girl. “The reason I’ll bash a hammer into your skull if you ever look at her again.”
Vasili raised his brows, a scowl marring his face. “Sokolov won’t be pleased to hear you brought your plaything here while being engaged to Annika.”
A finger pricked in his back. “Annika?” Vicky whispered behind him.
This so wasn’t the time.
“I’m sure he’ll deal,” Viking growled. Like Sokolov didn’t know it was the way of their world. An arranged marriage meant nothing, other than securing business ties between the two Bratvas.
Without losing more time, he grabbed Vicky’s hand and pulled her outside.
The ride over to the twins’ place was done in silence. They lived at the edge of town in a two-story building that was surrounded by woods. With Damon’s penchant for privacy, it was the perfect place for them. When the big brownstone came into view, Viking was reminded why he’d chosen this place. The house sat nudged against dense woods that had more woods on the other side. It was a fortress, with enough land to fit in a few football fields. He should probably look into something like it for himself.
“So, who is this Annika?”
Hell if he knew. He’d never met the woman. “No one.”
“She is someone, if you’re engaged to her.”
He stepped out of the car and grabbed her suitcase out of the trunk. When he looked up, Vicky was standing next to him, a mulish expression on her face.
It suddenly hit him she expected an answer. He was the underboss to the Romanov Bratva, a feared brigadier in their ranks. He didn’t answer to anyone besides Kristoff. People knew not to fuck with him or question him. Clearly, Vicky hadn’t gotten that memo yet.
He frowned, letting her gently know she was to drop the subject. “Let’s get you inside.” Without waiting for her, he followed after the twins.
“I still want to know who she is,” she yelled after him.
Fucking hell.
Damon smirked when he threw open the door. “Remember when Angel hit his teens?”
“You’re twins, yet I remember you being worse than your brother,” Viking scoffed and dropped the suitcase in a corner.
Their housekeeper, a stocky Polish woman, immediately picked it up and disappeared out of sight.
Vicky looked around, taking it all in. Her eyes widened when she saw a cage in a corner of the living room.
“That’s, um, a cage.” For a human, her eyes seem to say.
“For our pet-to-be,” Angel answered as he dropped on the couch.
Viking shook his head. “You still keeping with that?”
Damon’s eyes hardened. “No one reneges on a deal with us without paying a price.”
Of the two, Damon was the bigger hardass, though Angel was more unpredictable. Viking almost felt sorry for the hacker who had made a deal with them and then fled after using them for their services. Almost. Onyx should have known better. The Romanov Bratva didn’t lift a finger for you without asking for a hand in return. And he didn’t give a shit that she was on the FBI’s most wanted hackers list and, so far, had managed to evade them for years. Everyone made mistakes and slipped up. And once she did? The twins would smell blood and find her.
He felt their pain. After all, he’d been screwed over by a woman far worse. And just like them, he was going to make his woman pay.