Chapter 30
ALINA
I had no phone. No money. No identification.
For all I knew, these police officers could be taking me to some black site off the grid where I'd be swallowed whole, out of reach of the law.
FML.
No.
Stop it.
I was letting my love of true crime podcasts get away from me.
The hard plastic seats of the squad car dug into my tailbone as I strained to listen for any more news about Pavel over the police radio.
I leaned forward and tried to get the attention of the two officers. "Where are you taking me?"
The one in the passenger seat turned his head and said something to the driver in Spanish.
They both laughed.
A sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach .
Something didn't feel right about all this.
I concentrated on the passing buildings and each turn the car made, just in case.
Fuck, why hadn't I asked Pavel if he had my phone and wallet?
With a start, I realized it was because I hadn't needed to.
I fell back into my seat as it settled over me.
Somehow, my life had shifted from constantly pinching pennies and considering the buying of brand name bread a "luxury" to one where I hadn't needed my own money…for weeks. Everything I needed had been taken care of by Pavel.
Clothes, food, shelter.
My grandmother.
It was strange to go from being forced to grab naps on the bus between two jobs to spending my days sleeping in, wearing beautiful clothes, working on dream projects like the boutique art gallery with my new friends…
Friends! I had friends now. Real friends. Not coworkers who were forced to scratch through a miserable slog together like army veterans bonded over a shared horrific experience.
If it weren't for the other wives, I might have spiraled over how pathetic it was that I could completely ditch my phone for weeks without worrying about missing a single phone call or text.
I'd been so in my head over the circumstances around how I'd met Pavel and the way he had snatched control over my life that I hadn't really taken the time to truly appreciate the ways he'd made my life better .
All those mornings I was spiteful and irritated when he told me I should just rest and relax (a four-letter word) and wait for his return when I asked what I was supposed to do all day.
I chafed at his dominance and my quiet submission without realizing how badly I needed someone to take care of me for once.
I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror and started.
If I looked past the fear…I looked…healthy.
Gone was the sallow tinge to my skin that came from countless days without sunlight or fresh air.
My cheeks had filled in. There were no more dark circles under my eyes.
Even my hair had taken on the lustrous sheen that only came from eating a nutritious diet and getting decent sleep instead of scarfing expired gas station sandwiches washed down with cheap wine.
Without my noticing it and defying all common sense, my tattooed, violent mafia enforcer husband had somehow forced a happy, balanced life on me.
Sucking in a deep breath, I raised my chin. I was no longer an alley cat eking out a meager existence in the shadows.
I was Mrs. Pavel Motherfucking Ivanova.
Owning the power in my new persona, my gaze narrowed. "I hope you assholes are prepared for the shitstorm my husband is going to unleash on you when he finds out what you've done."
The men exchanged a look before the one in the passenger seat banged the caged wall separating us. "Shut the fuck up, whore."
Whore .
Even the dancers who worked at the Velvet Dream were never called whores by the police. I should know, I'd witnessed enough of them getting pulled in for questioning. And had been sent by Lou on more than one occasion to bail them out in time for the dinner rush.
Something was definitely not right about this.
I forced the panic down.
All of this…whatever this was…would be over soon.
There wasn't a doubt in my mind that Pavel would tear the city apart until he found me.
He may not love me…
I swallowed past the pain that thought caused. Unpacking that emotion was for another day, perhaps one where I wasn't shoved in the back of a police car.
So he may not love me…but he was possessive of me, of that I was certain.
I was his little kitten. His kotyonochek .
He would rescue me.
He would.
If for no other reason than I was his wife now. His wife. And although I was new to all this, I at least knew from the other girls that being his wife meant something in his world.
The squad car pulled past the entrance to the police station and circled around to the back.
The unease in my gut intensified.
When the car door swung open, a part of me wanted to resist but I knew that would only piss them off further.
The moment I exited the car, they yanked my arms forward and slapped handcuffs on me.
"Hey! Am I being arrested? "
The man jerked me forward and pressed his face so close his nose almost touched mine. "I'm not going to tell you again to keep your fucking mouth shut."
I turned my head to the side and prayed Pavel was already on his way.
They dragged me through a scarred metal door to the side of the loading dock. On the other side was a dingy hallway with a flickering fluorescent light. We passed several doors before I was shoved into a small room with only a single table and two metal folding chairs.
They slammed the door shut behind me.
I turned and shouted as I fisted my hands together and banged on the door. "Hey! Hey! Let me out of here!"
No answer. I tried the doorknob. Locked.
The room was small with putty-colored walls, a suspicious brown splash stain on the far wall. I wrinkled my nose at the sour, musky scent.
Not knowing what else to do, I sat and waited.
It only took a few minutes for the door to swing open.
I sprang up. "I demand to know what this is all about!"
Without saying a word, the burly man in the cheap suit who entered hauled off and slapped me so hard, my body slammed against the wall. The handcuffs rattled as I raised my arms to cup my cheek.
"Shut up, whore."
Seriously, what the fuck was with all these men calling me a whore?
Before I could say anything further, he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me across the room and tossed me into the other chair as if I were a dirty rag doll.
Tears I refused to shed pricked my eyes .
He lowered his bulk into the chair across from me. The metal creaked and groaned. "You're going to tell me everything you know about the murder of Brutus Slinsky."
I blinked. "Who?"
He leaned forward and slapped me a second time. With my cheek already hot and bruised, I couldn't resist crying out.
He pointed his fat finger at me. "Every time you don't answer you're going to get hit. And if you keep being a bitch, I'm going to toss you into the men's holding cell. Maybe a few hours of getting gangraped by the scum of the earth will change your tune."
The horror of my situation washed over me in waves.
I wasn't stupid.
There was no point in asking for a lawyer or demanding a phone call. There was a reason why these animals had hauled me in the back way. Why I hadn't been brought to the front desk for processing. Whatever this was, it was definitely off the books. Which only increased the danger I was in.
Brutus Slinksy? That must be the man Pavel murdered.
My lips thinned as my gaze narrowed. I spoke with the confidence of a woman who knew her man, her protector, was this very moment on his way to rescue her.
I raised my voice in case anyone was listening or could hear me on the other side of the door.
"My name is Mrs. Pavel Ivanova. Call my husband! I want my husband! "
With that, I hauled up a disgusting loogie to the back of my throat and spit right in his face .
"You fucking cunt."
He slapped me again.
Then reached for his belt. "Time to teach you a lesson."