Chapter 10
VIKTOR
Finding Tati casually having lunch in a cafe might have meant nothing if I didn’t know that Nikolai was keeping her locked down. It’s funny, I agree with Tati’s assessment that it’s a barbaric punishment for her crimes, but who am I to judge? She’s his daughter and his responsibility.
We walk together through her father’s door and she splits off from me, walking to the stairs without a word to me or even an announcement that she’s home. I watch her perfectly round peach-shaped ass as she walks up the stairs, then I turn to leave myself.
“Viktor. I thought I heard the door open.”
I turn to see Nikolai walking toward me from the living room.
He glances up the staircase where Tati just was.
Before I can tell him anything, he says, “So it was you who found her this time.” He nods sagely, his aged face looking a little longer than usual.
“Good. That girl has been a thorn in my side since Yanov brought her back. I’m considering putting bars up on her windows at this point. ”
I have nothing to say in commiseration, so I simply nod and just say, “Well, she’s back. I’ll be on my way.”
“Before you go,” he says as I start to turn around, “let’s chat. In my office.”
He turns and walks down the hallway past the staircase. I follow and glance upward just as I catch a flash of Tati’s pink curls as she pulls away from sight. Why does this suddenly feel like I’m walking into a trap?
We walk into his office, which is a large room with bookshelves built into the walls and a picture window overlooking the expanse of his property. He walks in and sits at his massive oak desk, waving at the leather chair opposite him. “Have a seat, please.”
I do. The vague scent of Nikolai’s cologne and the acrid smell of the cigarettes he enjoys stain everything in this room. Every time I sit in one of these chairs, I walk away smelling of the room.
“I’m sure that you’ve heard the troubles I’ve been having with my daughter by now,” he says as he reaches in his jacket pocket and pulls out his silver cigarette case. He pulls out a papirosi and sticks it in his mouth.
“She’s a good girl,” he says from behind his cigarette. It flaps up and down against his lips as he talks. He pauses and pats himself down, looking for his lighter. I pull one out of my pocket and stand up slightly, lighting the cigarette for him. He takes a drag as I sit down and nods. “Spasibo.”
I sit in silence as he smokes his cigarette for a second before continuing. “Despite her transgressions, she’s still the bright young girl she was when she left for Europe. I’m afraid living abroad has corrupted her.”
I don’t dare make any expression to that. I’ve never gotten a single indication from Nicki that their father thought very much of his daughter. After all, Nicki was the prize. Tati was simply the child who came after.
“She needs some time to get herself back on track,” he says. “Until she does, I need someone to keep an eye on her.”
He pauses, and my mind starts to list off all the lower-ranked Sixes who could do such a job. “I may know someone who could watch over her,” I say. “I’ll need a little time to consider—”
“I don’t want an untested vor or Shestyorka whose balls haven’t dropped yet to watch my daughter.” He says it in a matter-of-fact tone. Cool, calm, direct, and without malice. As if he’s reading a headline from a news article. “I want you to do it.”
I blink. “Me, sir?”
“Is that a problem?”
Yes. It most certainly is. I’m not a babysitter. I’m an enforcer. A Byki by name. I’ve only been trained to kill my Pakhan’s enemies, not watch his children. I take a breath to keep myself from saying all that aloud. Instead, I say, “It’s unexpected, sir. It’s not exactly in my job description.”
He scoffs. “Your job description is to do whatever I tell you to do. Tatiana has developed a nasty habit of disappearing. That habit has the potential of leading her into places that are unsafe.” He narrows his eyes at me as tendrils of smoke from his cigarette encircle his head.
“I need more than just a babysitter, Viktor. I need a protector. You are the most qualified for that job. Do you understand?”
“Of course,” I say. “I meant no disrespect.”
He smokes his cigarette and nods at me. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. In light of her need to wander so much, I’m going to offer her a chance to come and go as she pleases, as long as she is being accompanied by you. I’m trusting you to keep her out of trouble, Viktor.”
I nod shortly. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. You’re dismissed.”
I get up and leave. As I’m walking out of the house, the faint, soft scent of Tati’s rose scent greets me. I turn and look up the staircase to see her watching me as I go. She stands like a beacon of something I can reach out and touch, but miles out of my reach.
Keeping up with her is going to be a challenge.
“I need panties.”
I get the call a day later from Viktor. I’m to take her ‘shopping’, or so Nikolai said. Clearly, he wasn’t aware of the details.
Tati spouts that off the moment she’s in the passenger’s seat. I raise an eyebrow at her. “Panties? You don’t have enough of them?”
“I don’t have any,” she says, crossing her arms. “I never got to get my things in my apartment before I was dragged back here. My father had clothes brought in for me to wear, but apparently, he thinks women just grow underwear or something.”
I blink, still trying to compute that information.
It leads me to wonder about the clothes she’s wearing now—a simple blue T-shirt with white sleeves and tight blue jeans.
As I glance down, I immediately see that she’s without a bra.
Her perky nipples are pressing against her shirt, begging to be noticed.
I can’t tell whether she’s flirting or not. Either way, she can’t walk around in public like this. “All right,” is all I have to say as I put the car in drive.
The drive to the mall takes less than twenty minutes.
The entire time, Tati sits in silence, watching the world whiz by, the little smile that’s always playing at the corner of her mouth gone.
I’m sure she’s about as pleased to be watched over like a hawk as I am to have to do it.
Her father has really put us both in quite the predicament.
I know better than to try and commiserate with her. Whatever I might be feeling about having to be her babysitter, I’m sure it can’t compare to being the one who’s being babysat.
The only sign of life I see before we get to the mall is when we pass by the old department store a mile or so away from the mall.
It’s been in a state of constant disrepair for years, looming over the trash-ladened parking lot with almost every window busted out from who knows how many vandals.
Her eyes widen slightly the moment she sees it, then she looks down at her hands solemnly.
The mall is moderately busy at this hour, so finding a parking space is easy enough. I put the car in park and say to her, “I expect you know where the store is.”
“I knew where it was,” she says. “Remember, I’ve been gone for the last six years.”
I sigh heavily. This is going to take longer than I was expecting it to. “Fine. Stay in my sight at all times. I want you right next to me or in front of me. Never behind me. Got it?”
She looks up at me with those big, innocent eyes and says, “Got it.”
“Good. I’d like to do this quickly, if you don’t mind, so don’t make me have to come find you.”
“Da, ser,” she remarks in a sharp tone and gets out of the car.
Into the mall we go. We’re walking side by side through the first department store, and she pauses here and there to look at the clothes on the rack before turning her nose up and walking away. She mutters something about ‘hating’ the store as we follow the path out and into the mall proper.
We pause at the map kiosk by the escalators. She studies the color coded blocks for a few minutes before pointing at one of them and saying, “Selah’s Confidential. Second floor.” She glances back at me. “Onward.”
As we ride up the escalator, I grimace at the heavy cinnamon smell that seems to be pumped in through the very vents of this place.
I know it comes from the little store somewhere that makes giant, tasteless cinnamon rolls, and it’s probably part of the reason I’ve stayed out of malls since the nineties.
That mixed with the perfume mist from the makeup kiosks along the main path is enough to make anyone nauseous.
The store, ‘Selah’s Confidential’, looks exactly like I would expect an underwear store to look.
The decor is colored with pastel pink and blue walls while every rack carries lacy bras and panties of every size on little hangers.
Barely dressed mannequins stand in the middle of the aisles and in store windows, advertising lingerie that’s as sexy as it is impractical.
I hang around the front of the store as she goes in, content to keep vigil from here.
Glancing at the lingerie on display, I realize how little I’ve ever been interested in lacy panties…
but then as if by suggestion and quite against my will, I start to imagine Tati wearing some tawdry thing, her heart-shaped smile daring me to rip the fabric off her body.
I consider myself to have a solid wall of restraint when it comes to temptation… but I’m having trouble explaining my lapse of that restraint on the night that we had sex. And even now as my mind spins webs of her body in some combination of white and pink lace…
I need to get my mind off sex when it comes to her. I look away from the mannequin and glance around to find her. A moment ago, she was just off to my left, looking through the rack at the underwear, and now…
Now, she’s not there. I look around the store and quickly realize that I don’t see her at all. Shit. I walk into the store and straight to the cashier. Before she can greet me, I say, “I’m looking for a woman with curly pink hair, about five foot five? She was just here a second ago.”
The cashier’s smile drops and her eyes harden. I must look like a psychopath.
“She’s my sister,” I lie. “She was just here. Have you seen her?”
She nods, her expression softening a little. “She’s just…” She goes to point over my shoulder, then she trails off and looks around the store, her brow furrowing with confusion. “She was just there.”
Dammit. How did she get past me?
“You said she had pink hair?” A customer speaks from behind me. She’s an older woman holding an armful of bras. “I literally saw her slip out as you were coming in. She was hunkered down by the clearance aisle.”
“Thank you.” I turn and rush out of the store, but the moment I’m back out into the perfume and cinnamon air, I realize that I’ve lost sight of her. Shit. Where did she…?
She couldn’t have gotten far. Not this quickly. Maybe she left. But if she left, where did she go?
It hits me as I leave the mall. Even though it feels like a long shot, I figure it’s the closest place to look, so I’d better try there first.
The way she looked at the old building when we passed it flashed through my mind when I was searching the mall for her. It would have been nothing for her to rush out, grab a cab or a car service, and get to it. Though, I don’t know why she would want to be there out of all the places in the world.
As I pull into the lot and past piles of trash, old car parts, and broken bottles, I spot her silhouette standing in the shadow of the building. She’s wandering the lot with her head down, meandering around like she’s lost. I park my car as she kneels down and picks something up from the ground.
She hasn’t noticed me, which is odd in itself.
She’s transfixed with the building as she walks up to it, her hand clasped around whatever she’s picked up.
Then with a loud grunt, she swings her arm back and throws it toward one of the few windows still intact.
The crash it makes as it shatters echoes through the empty building.
“Tatiana.”
She doesn’t answer me. She looks around, finds another rock, and chucks it at another window. This time, she misses. The rock clacks against the concrete wall.
I walk toward her as she picks up another rock. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Leave me alone,” she says. She chucks the rock. This one breaks out the window underneath the first one.
She’s scowling. Her bottom lip is trembling as if she’s trying not to cry. “Come on,” I say to her. “Let’s go.”
I go to grab her arm, but she slips out of my reach. “Were you drunk the night Nicki died?”
“What?”
She stops and stares at me, hands on her hips. “The night my brother died,” she says, raising her voice. “Were you drunk?”
The hairs on the back of my neck bristle. I don’t know who she thinks she’s talking to. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Answer me!”
I grab her by the arm and yank her to me. “Watch. Your. Tone,” I growl at her. “I’m not your fucking friend, Tati. I could break you in two without a thought.”
Her bottom lip stiffens. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me, Princess.” We stare at each other for a long moment, and I realize that I’m starting to get hard. Something about her being this close, her mouth pursed in defiance, is getting to me. I bring her around and push her toward the car. “Walk.”
She stumbles but walks toward the car obediently. “I should have known you were just another one of my father’s lapdogs—”
I grab her by the shoulders and drag her the rest of the way. “Enough,” I growl as I push her into the passenger’s seat.