Russian Roulette (Russkaya Mafiya) (56 page)

I’ve met many people over the years when I’d go out to dinner or wherever with my father. I can’t remember three quarters of them or their faces when I think of it. I was always in my own little bubble, daydreaming about something, reading a good book or worrying about what my sister was planning for me next.

“No ma’am, you do not know me, but I know you.” He shifts, partially blocking my exit. His voice is Russian with a slow southern twang to it. I’d guess he’s used to being in Russia but when he comes to America, he only visits the deep south.

I raise my brows to him, my stomach tightening and go to move past, when he catches my arm tightly. The platter wobbles slightly, the cutlery inside clinking.

“Excuse me!”

He leans in close enough to my ear to growl out a threat. “You make a sound and I will have my men open fire on all these lovely guests out front. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Are you crazy? Now let go of my arm and you will live.” I can’t help the entitled rich girl coming out; I’m too used to having my father or Nikoli by my side to handle any repercussions.

It didn’t happen often, but occasionally a boy would get a little too brave, and one of them would step in quickly to school the fellow on acceptable manners.
I guess I really have been sheltered more than I’d like to admit.

The man chuckles, amused, his deep timbre causing goose bumps to rise on my arms. The hairs on the back of my neck stand as he grips me even tighter—definitely not the response I was expecting. Doesn’t my voice sound serious at all? I probably sound like a pissed off squirrel.

“You’re hurting me; please stop!” I whimper, tightly holding onto the platter so I won’t drop it.

“Oh Sabrina…I’ve only just begun to hurt you,” the man whispers cryptically before my head goes fuzzy. I think I hear the plate crash, but all I feel for sure is the strong pinch at my side and the immense feeling of wanting to sleep.

“Nikoli?” I desperately cry out.

“You don’t belong here beauty, you belong to someone else. No more hiding from him.” I’m thrown over his shoulder and everything goes black.

****

You know those times you wish you could go back? You think why didn’t I scream or kick and thrash to free myself? There was a small window of opportunity when I probably could have gotten loose. If I had dropped the platter and taken off in a sprint when he first said my name, there’s a slight chance I’d have gotten away—at least far enough so I could have screamed and gotten someone to help me.

But that’s the problem with getting too comfortable, especially when you’re involved with the Mafiya, because when it comes down to it, no one’s ever safe.

Nikoli

“Well, shall we get the girls and have some dinner?
Maybe a drink or two? It was a great afternoon, but frankly I’m worn out. I’m ready to get my love and chill for a while.” Tate suggests right before he yawns.

“I think Sabrina would enjoy that. She and Emily worked so hard on putting this together. We can go to a town over, yes?”

“Sure, I don’t see any problem with that. I’ll let the driver know the change of plans.”

“Thanks, Boss.”

He nods and walks towards his temporary guard. The temp guy is good; I know because I hand-selected him to protect Tate prior to me leaving. Sabrina is my main focus, but Tate’s safety will always be one of my priorities. It’s pretty much been my life’s work to keep him alive and well, I won’t be stopping that anytime soon.

Viktor’s man he left in charge, Lev, approached me, shortly after Tate left, looking as if he’s seen a ghost.

“Nikoli, a word?”

“Da?” Grumbling, I step off to the side with him, away from any remaining guests waiting on their cars to come pick them up. The wedding’s over, they’ve been fed, Viktor and Elaina left, and now I’m ready for everything to go back to normal.

“I believe something’s happened. I walked Miss Mishka down to the tent because she forgot her scarf thing. I offered to fetch it for her, but she insisted she wanted to go for a walk. Well, we get to the tent and there’s cake and the little bride and groom thrown all over the entryway. A large crystal dish was a few feet away on the ground as well.” He adjusts his tie nervously, then continues, “Mishka flipped out and thought someone ruined it, but then one of the men said they had seen Sabrina walk down there a few minutes prior. Please tell me you’ve seen her since then and she’s okay?”

“I don’t understand. Bina would never ruin those things and leave them there; she adores Elaina. I’ll go to our place and check for her. I hope she didn’t injure herself or anything, she can be clumsy sometimes, and she could have fallen and hurt herself. Maybe that is what happened.”

That’s a reasonable explanation, considering she was so adamant on getting the damn things in the first place. I hope she’s okay. Where were the damn guards and why didn’t anyone help her? Or did someone help her and she’s alone with them? At least Spartak is gone with Viktor or fuck if he wouldn’t be with Sabrina trying to speak to her alone.
Idiot.

Lev shrugs, peering at me worriedly. “Mishka said its Uncle Victor, whatever that means.”

I let loose an angry growl and storm towards our loft. Their Uncle Victor better pray it wasn’t him bothering her. Former Bratva King or not, he will be mine if he did anything to harm her. These old men don’t know how to just sit back and let the next in line take care of things. They’re always meddling in their kids’ business.

Arriving at the barn, I notice that Sabrina’s shoes are thrown carelessly to the side of the front door.
Typical Bina.
Whenever she has too much wine she throws her shoes, and I’ve gotten used to it. I’ve even had to duck down on occasion—she has quite the aim.

In a rush to make sure she’s okay, I slam through the front door, calling out, “You in here, Bina?”

I get nothing in return, not even a chirp from a cricket. Maybe she’s in the shower?

“Sabrinaaaaa!” I shout and hurry up the stairs to our bedroom.

Every damn night I sleep next to her but have to keep my hands to myself. It drives me fucking insane. I swear I must be a saint to show such self-restraint and the dreams, good God if I don’t have delicious dreams about her all night long. Sometimes I even wake to her cuddled up to me. Those are the days I have to hightail it downstairs, because my cock is so hard it would probably poke her eye out if she were to see the effect she has over me.

When I arrive, the room is empty and exactly as we left it: her pajamas thrown on the floor, makeup stuff scattered over her dresser top, the bed unmade. A search of the other rooms comes up empty.

She’s nowhere.

My heart rate increases as my chest tightens at the thought of not being able to find her.
I have to get to her.
I jog down to the beach, over by the gazebo, then through each of the tents and around the back sides of the buildings.

The last place I scour is Viktor’s cabin, but she’s not fucking there either and I feel like I can no longer breathe.

“Nooo!” I cry out, defeated and angry, kicking the cabin’s back door for good measure.

My mind can’t seem to process her just disappearing on me and not knowing where she is. We’ve gone for months of basically being attached at the hip and now it’s like half of my lung has been stolen from me and I can’t catch my breath.

Fuck. When did I start needing her?

Tate comes barreling around the side, appearing anxious and concerned, “Hey man, are you okay?”

“Fuck!”

Am I okay? He’s lost his mind asking me such a foolish question. Of course I’m not fine. Sabrina is nowhere to be found and I’m flipping the fuck out. I’ll be okay when she’s back in front of me where I can yell at her for scaring me like this.

“What’s up? Talk to me.”

“Sabrina is gone.” I spew out angrily, “Lev and Mishka find mess by tent. Now I look everywhere and nothing. I do not know what to do, Tatkiv.”

I can’t calm myself as I replay it to Tate. Instead of assessing the situation and thinking up a plan, I go ballistic, punching Viktor’s door over and over, my chest compressing more so that it feels like I’m having a heart attack.

“Stop!” Tate yells, but I ignore him, continuing in my pursuit to beat the door off the hinges. It may not solve my problems, but it feels damn good to explode on something. “Nikoli! Stop! Damn it, you won’t be able to use your fucking hands if you don’t calm down!”

Ignoring him, I pound on the hard surface, looking to destroy it. The pain steals away the thoughts of her being taken or harmed in any way. I hit it even harder, gritting as I feel the bones in my knuckles start to crunch and become numb.

Tate hunches down, turning so his side is faced towards me, then he drives into me with his shoulder like when we used to play football. It works, and his momentum knocks me off my balance, throwing me off my course of self-destruction and away from the door.

“Goddammit Nikoli! I said enough!” He shouts and I grow quiet, lying in a heap on the floor. “Calm down. You can’t track her if you don’t chill the fuck out.”

“She is lost.”

“No she’s not, you’re being dramatic. You found her before, and if needed, you’ll do it again.”

“What if I’m too late this time? I can’t let anyone hurt her and it almost happened this last time. I don’t get it; who’s foolish enough to come into the Mafiya, let alone a Bratva wedding? It’s like a goddamn hornet’s nest here today.”

Lev speaks up, “I think I may have an idea of where to start.”

Tate and I both turn to him, not realizing he’s been witnessing my meltdown the entire time.

“Speak,” I grit out sternly, on the cusp of blaming him for this mess, since he’s the one who discovered the mess in the first place.

“Yeah, so ummm, well, Viktor had an issue earlier. His uncle, the old King, Victor, showed up here. Alexei and Spartak know the details, I just had to watch the old man get shoved in a car and carted off the property.”

Tate barks suddenly, “Fuck! Viktor told me he needed to speak with me after the wedding. I got so tied up in everything and the guests, and I never got to talk to him. I bet that’s what he was going to say to me. Fuck! Alexei and Spartak left with them on security detail for the honeymoon too.”

“What an utter fucking mess. I made sure there were no issues at your wedding, Tatkiv; the Bratva cannot do the same?”

“It wasn’t the Bratva’s fault, Nikoli. We will get Sabrina back. I’m going to call my brother now and I’m sure as soon as he gets off the plane in Russia, we’ll hear back.”

“So I sit here, twiddling thumbs until he arrives after his fifteen-hour or more flight?”

“No, you call the tech guy; tell him to start a search. You didn’t have her chipped or wearing a tracking device?”

“She is no dog Tate; of course she is not fucking chipped.”

“Whatever, Niko. Emily is chipped, because I love her and want her as safe as possible in this lifestyle.”

Standing angrily, I answer with a grunt and pull out my business cell, ready to call into tech and find my woman.

FIVE

SABRINA

USELESS INFORMATION

Words have no power to impress the mind

without the exquisite horror of their reality.

–Edgar Allen Poe

Waking, i’m chilled to the core. something’s not
right; I usually wake up way too warm from Nikoli’s body heat burning me up.

“Welcome, welcome!”

There’s that voice again—the creepy one from my dream. Am I still in my dream? No, I’m waking up because I’m absolutly freezing. The dry, musty smell hits me and my eyes shoot open, my body finally registering that something’s definitely not right.

I run my gaze around the room, taking everything in—it’s dark, cold, and concrete. It stinks like wet cement, piss, and a weird rusty smell. It reminds me of how I would imagine blood to smell. I begin to ask where I am, but only a croak comes out.

The man laughs and my body locks up tight as a freezing burst of water hits my stomach.

“Aghh-hhh!” A broken whimper escapes as a million tiny ice cold needles hit my body.

“Drink up sweetheart, you won’t get anything later.”

The frigid spray continues to soak my body but I manage to wet my fingers and suck the liquid off to help refresh my dry throat.

My teeth chatter and my body shakes, goose bumps taking over everywhere and ruining the nice shave job I had worked hard on for the wedding. “So-so cold!” I swear I can feel my leg hairs sticking up and it pisses me off more than the water.

More eerie laughing ensues and my head begins to throb so much that it feels like it may explode.

“Please?”

The water stops immediately. “That’s a good girl. Remember your manners; it will help you in the end.”

His cryptic half sentences give me no help, along with a pounding head and being frozen, my body aches like I’ve been run over. I’m assuming I ache so badly from sleeping on the hard concrete floor; no wonder the cold has seeped into my muscles.

“I’m so-so cold.” My jaw shakes, causing my teeth to chatter harder.

A painful screech rips from me as a hard boot connects with my back harshly.

Holy fuck that hurt! What is happening to me?

“No one enjoys whining. It’s my job to make sure you’re worth keeping. Complaining will get you nowhere, now shut up.”

Biting my bottom lip, it takes everything in me to not lash out as the tears begin to fall. I want to so badly just scream ‘fuck you’ to this fucker. How on earth can anyone be expected to not complain in conditions like this? Not only am I now a human icicle, but my back has a huge piercing pain shooting through it, and he doesn’t strike me as the type of man who hands out painkillers to go along with the abuse.

Will he kick me each time I say something he doesn’t like?
Tears trickle down my face onto the concrete as I realize that I would give anything in the entire world to be waking up too warm next to Nikoli right now.

Nikoli, I love you.

Nikoli