The Nightlife Moscow (Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Suspense) (The Nightlife Series Book 5) (18 page)

His hand wrapped around Black Suit’s wrist. Inhuman strength
squeezed until the man’s wrist popped in Aaron’s grip and his face scrunched in
agony. His hand released Natalya’s hair and she flopped back into Aaron’s lap
face first with a grunt.

“Leave her, or I will break you into pieces.” Aaron squeezed
harder and felt bone, flesh and tendon grind in his hand. He dug his fully
elongated claws into the man’s wrist. Blood seeped through the designer jacket
Aaron had pierced in his sharp grip.

The man couldn’t speak beyond a choice curse in Russian.
Aaron dug through his thoughts to feel the intensity of his pain, to find the
submission he sought. The man nodded his head without a word, his mind full of
surrender. Aaron mercifully let go. Black Suit immediately backed out of reach,
favoring his hurt wrist. Shock, pain and confusion flitted across his face and
mind. Without a word the man turned and exited the restaurant back into the
downstairs nightclub.

Svetlana’s hand rested on Aaron’s jacket sleeve and her huge
blue eyes shone with fear. She opened her mouth, but Michelle spoke over the
top of her. “We need to go. Now. That man had many friends.”

Svetlana nodded her head in emphatic agreement. “Yes, now!”

Michelle whipped out a fistful of hundred note rubles from
her purse and tossed them on the table. In seconds she had pulled Oksana from
the booth and Aaron hauled up a slobbering drunk Natalya who could barely hold
her weight on her bare feet, let alone walk. She had lost her shoes somewhere
on the dancefloor. He wrapped her coat around her in a poor attempt to cover
her nudity, and scooped her into his arms, cradled like a baby.

Michelle led the way out with Oksana in hand and Svetlana
followed close behind. Svetlana spoke urgently into her cell phone to alert the
chauffer. In a moment they were outside, on the street. Svetlana looked up and
down the sidewalk. Her eyes darted to the gorilla guards at the door, and then
to Aaron in trepidation. “The limo will be here in a moment.” Her eyes returned
to the entrance to the club. The woman was deathly afraid of Mafiosi.

“Look at me, Svetlana. We will be fine.”

The limo pulled up alongside the curb and the chauffer
stepped out to walk around to their side to open the door. As he reached for
the rear door latch, a bullet slammed through his forehead and a splat of blood
flew out the back of his skull. The chauffer flopped backwards onto the
pavement, instantly dead.

Three men in black suits with silenced pistols in hand
walked side by side down the sidewalk. These were not the same men in the club,
but they certainly worked for them. Had probably been waiting outside all night.
Mafiosi enforcers, paid to stand by until called upon for the dirty work. They
nodded to the security thugs at the door to the nightclub who dutifully
retreated inside the club, closing the doors behind them.

The black suits had carefully aimed guns trained on Aaron,
Michelle, and Svetlana. The one nearest spoke in a guttural voice with a heavy Slavic
accent. “You took something that is not yours to take.” His gun flicked towards
Natalya unconscious in Aaron’s arms.

Michelle stepped up to the lead gunman, placing herself
between Aaron and the pistol. “You can take me instead.”

He laughed. “We take all of you.” He looked back over his
shoulder at a silver limo that pulled up to the curb behind Dmitri’s limo.
Black Suit turned back to Michelle and flicked his gun towards the silver limo.
“Get in the car.”

Aaron looked at the people standing at the front of the
club, and the passersby on the street. Their eyes saw him, but they said
nothing, did nothing, except watched. What a strange city where no one dared to
challenge such blatant, in-your-face filth and corruption.

Michelle stepped in towards the gunman, smooth and sultry,
her voice low, entrancing. “I can take care of all of you. There is no need for
this.”

The gunman grinned with a grill full of gold teeth and
massaged his groin with his free hand. “You will have plenty of time to take
care of us. Get in the car.”

She moved in the blink of an eye – disarmed the gunman, and
snapped his neck. She tossed his limp body aside and slashed out with her claws,
almost decapitating the Black Suit to her left. Aaron tossed Natalya’s limp
body at Oksana and Svetlana, hoping the girls would catch her, or at least cushion
her fall. The last Black Suit gunman screamed curses in Russian and aimed his
weapon towards Michelle. One shot went wide, and then Aaron’s sledgehammer fist
connected with the man’s head in a resounding thud. Black Suit’s gun clattered
to the ground and his body flew through the air until the back of his meaty
head smashed into the windshield of the silver limo. Blood squirted from his
fractured skull and spread across the splintered glass.

Screams and shouts flowed up and down the street as people ran
to escape the carnage. Flashes of light hit Michelle’s blood-speckled face from
people snapping photos with their smart phones. Aaron ran his hands over
Michelle to see she was unharmed and she swatted him away. “I’m fine! Get the
girls in the car!”

Aaron snatched the burden of his drunken bloodslave from
Svetlana and Oksana. He caught Svetlana’s shocked eyes. “Can you drive?” She
shook her head
no
. He looked to Oksana, “Can you?” She also shook her
head
no
.

Fuck
.

Michelle yanked open the back door to Dmitri’s limo and
jerked Svetlana’s arm to pull her inside. She shoved the squirming bloodslave
into the car and pegged Aaron with an intense look. “You drive.” Seconds later
Michelle shoved a teary-eyed Oksana into the car. The girl murmured prayers in
Russian.

More bright flashes hit from all sides as the surrounding
crowd snapped photos, probably recording video as well.

Michelle grabbed Natalya from his arms and dived into the
back of the limo. Aaron slammed the door behind her and dipped down to dig through
the dead chauffer’s pocket for the keys. He found an electronic lock with
several buttons, but no key chain.
Fucking keyless entry.

He pushed what looked like a start button, and the limo
motor came to life. A second later, sitting in the driver’s seat, Aaron slammed
the limo into drive and floored the accelerator. The thing had balls. The big
block motor growled and tires screamed as the limo shot out into the street.

At the end of the block two grey cars with blue horizontal
stripes screeched to a halt blocking the road. Aaron barely had a chance to
register the whining sirens and flashing lights as he locked up the brakes and
slid to stop inches from the nose of a police car. Two more grey Polizei cars
screeched to a stop behind the limo blocking any retreat. Black clad policemen
wearing fuzzy black caps piled out of their cars with pistols drawn, all pointed
at the limo.

Michelle growled in fury, her fully elongated claws dug into
the plush black leather seats. “Is almost sunrise. Aaron, I must go!”

The weight of the moment hit him square in the gut. Guns
everywhere. Cops everywhere. Michelle was splattered with the blood of the men
she had killed. She would not survive being jailed in Moscow through the
daylight.

He looked into her gorgeous emerald eyes filled with panic
and knew that he would do whatever it took to save her life. Michelle meant
more to him than anything. He caught the fear-stricken faces of the
bloodslaves. These women would never survive a shootout, even if Aaron could.

Resigned to his fate, he grabbed his door latch. “When I
step out of the car – run. Just run Michelle.”

Her eyes filled with tears of blood and she nodded. “Je
t’aime, Aaron.”

“I know. I love you too.”

He stepped out of the car and walked slowly towards the
police with his hands in the air. Yelling threats he couldn’t understand, six
police officers swarmed him with guns in his face.

He heard the click of the limo door and looked back over his
shoulder to see a blur of blonde hair and vibrant green cocktail dress jetting
off into the night. Several shots fired but she flitted left then right, a
lightning fast moving target. He knew they hadn’t touched her, but, if she
couldn’t find a place to hide before sunrise, it wouldn’t matter. She’d be
toast anyway.

Several hulking officers grabbed Aaron and slammed him down
face-first to the pavement. He felt his ribs crack and his nose splattered
blood on the street as his world exploded with pain.

* * * *

“Happy New Years, Aaron, you’re in a Moscow jail cell.
What’s your New Year’s resolution? Get the fuck out of this shithole and never
come back.” Aaron peered at himself in the mirror over the dirty white
porcelain sink mounted into the cinderblock walls of his jail cell. His nose
was still sore, but the break had healed without a scar. After sleeping for
almost two days straight, he decided it was time to clean off all the blood and
quit looking like a mass-murderer.

Satisfied he was as clean as he could get from a bird bath
at the sink, he returned to the concrete slab that passed for a bed in this
rotten cell. He thought of bugging Urvashi again, but all he’d ever gotten from
her was assurances that she was doing everything in her power to set him free.
{{
Trust me, Aaron
.}} {{
Have faith
.}} {{
The situation is not
hopeless, be patient
.}}

He didn’t know what to think, but he did trust Urvashi. She
hadn’t let him down yet. With her assurances he would soon be free, he had
purposely slept away the useless hours in this tiny cinderblock box that stunk
of urine and mold. He tried to stay warm with only his burgundy dress shirt and
black slacks by wrapping up in the tattered old grey wool blanket they gave
him. The ratty thing should have been turned into rags years ago. He folded
over the worn old pillow to pad his head from the cold, hard concrete beneath
him.

They had tried to question him twice, each time dragging him
down to their little cinderblock room with the shitty lighting and the gruff
voiced detectives who reeked of cigarette smoke. His only reply, over and over
–
I’m an American
.

Even when they questioned him in English, he refused to
answer.
Did you know the men you killed? Why did you kill those men? Did you
know these men have families, wives and children? What is your connection with
the Georgians? Why were they shooting at you? If you tell us the truth we will
let you go.

He knew they were never letting him go based on any words he
might say. The only way he was getting out of this fucked up mess was through
Urvashi’s friends, resources, and manipulations.

In the end, they stopped asking questions, disgusted with
his only answer, “I’m an American.”

They shoved him back in his cell and left him alone. He
thought he was stuck in solitary confinement until the guards showed up two
hours ago and deposited a drunk on the concrete slab against the other wall of
the cell. Right away the guy started slurring an old Russian ditty. After an
hour of that shit driving him insane, Aaron was forced to put a stop to it. The
man quieted after Aaron snatched him up by his throat and threatened to tear
his head off and skull-fuck his eye sockets. Aaron didn’t know if the man
understood English, but he’d made his point pretty clear despite the potential
language barrier.

Aaron laid in bed, trying to get back to sleep, when sometime
later, another officer came to unlock his cell door and indicated for Aaron to
come out. He shoved his feet into his jail-issued rubber sandals and followed
the man down the dark corridor through a series of twists and turns and locked
doors to a steel cage visiting room where Svetlana sat alone at a white-painted
metal bench and table. She looked sharp in a pair of black jeans and a heavy
black wool coat and sweater, her pale blonde hair pulled back off her neck.

Aaron sat beside her on the bench as the officer indicated
and tried to smile to match the smile she tried so hard to give him. The
officer who had brought him in the room stepped back out the door and locked
it, leaving him alone with his bloodslave.

That was strange.

Svetlana’s hands jittered with nervous tension as she pulled
up her left sleeve and eyed the camera over Aaron’s shoulder mounted in the
corner of the room. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

She closed her eyes and breathed as though trying to
concentrate. “Urvashi tells me you read minds, the same way Dmitri did.”

He nodded and took her question as confirmation that the
bloodslaves had learned to shield their minds for this very reason, to keep
Dmitri out of their heads.

Svetlana nodded, seemed to prepare herself for something she
intended to say then reached her bare wrist out to his face. “I have a new
perfume I bought just for you, do you like it?” Her eyes conveyed an intense
need. Her arm shook and her lips quivered. Without a word Aaron held her wrist
to his mouth and bit down gently, as though kissing her.

After two days of nothing, he could use a bit of warm, tasty
meal, but his hunger paled in comparison to the psychotic depth of Svetlana’s
craving for his bite. With her blood connection, Svetlana’s mental blockade crumbled
and a series of carefully planned thoughts hit him. As though taking a special
guided tour of her life, Aaron experienced an overwhelming barrage of images,
thoughts and feelings. She was showing him everything she needed to tell him,
things that would take hours to explain, things she’d never told anyone else.

The roller coaster ride of Svetlana’s revelations began with
the image of an insanely pissed off Michelle who had made her way back to the
mansion the previous night and demolished the furniture in Dmitri’s bedroom in
her wrath. She wanted Aaron released from jail,
immediately
, no
exceptions. She had threatened to disembowel any bloodslave who touched an
ounce of otrok while Aaron was still incarcerated. She refused to bite the
bloodslaves. Not one single bite or injection would be allowed until Aaron was
freed.

Svetlana had already been working on the situation all day
long with Urvashi. Michelle’s threats of violence and withholding the thing
Svetlana needed most kicked her into overdrive. Svetlana spent the entire night
downing coffee and struggling to stay awake as she called every mafiosi and
official Moscow contact she’d ever dealt with through Dmitri. She hit every
angle trying to find a way into the system, trying to find the right people to
bribe to get Aaron released.

By the next morning she had her answers.

Aaron was being charged with a quadruple homicide. They
blamed him for the chauffer’s death in addition to the three mafiosi. The
police had been in on the whole deal from the moment Aaron challenged the Black
Suit over Natalya. That’s why the police had responded so fast. They were on
their way to the nightclub before Aaron and Michelle set foot out the door. In
post-Soviet Russia, the mafiosi and police had become inextricably bound
together, scratching each other’s backs, ensuring each maintained the status
quo of corruption and the flow of dirty money into their respective pockets.

Svetlana and Urvashi continued working nonstop all day long.
His poor bloodslave hadn’t slept in over thirty six hours. With Urvashi’s help
Svetlana had amassed a list of police officials, a prosecutor, and a judge who
were dirty enough to take a sizeable payoff and do their part to free Aaron.

The full, unbridled truth of Svetlana’s past hit Aaron in a
cascading avalanche. She was actually
an attorney
. The bastard Dmitri
had snagged one of the sharpest up and coming female attorneys in Moscow and
forced her to become his bloodslave. He’d abducted her right out of her firm’s
parking garage and tied her down in his bed for three nights, biting and raping
her every which way. She had begged and promised him everything he wanted in
order to gain her freedom. When he finally released her, she went straight to
the police, made her detailed complaint and turned in a rape kit full of his
semen and DNA that he’d carelessly left all over her body.

The next day her boyfriend, a fellow attorney, died
tragically in a mysterious drive by shooting. The investigators never found any
evidence
leading to a suspect, but she knew it was Dmitri’s goons.

That night Dmitri was waiting at her apartment, waiting to
give her what she needed, more of his bite. She tried to stop him, but he
shredded her clothes and raped her several more times, biting her everywhere,
marking every inch of her flesh as his property.

She swore a vow that she’d never work for him, never
represent him in his corrupt corporate lawsuits and back alley mafiosi business.
She tried to hide. She rented a new apartment, but he found her again within
twenty four hours. This time she had hidden cameras that recorded videos of Dmitri
smacking her down, biting and sodomizing her, but the recordings she’d made disappeared
from police evidence, along with every rape kit she submitted with each of the
ten different complaints she made.

Eventually, three police officers were fired for attempting
to investigate her numerous complaints. The Moscow police department supply of
rape kits went out of stock for an entire month. Then one night she came home
to find her apartment tossed, shredded, turned upside down and inside out,
every document destroyed, all her electronic equipment smashed to bits. Even
her cat was left in pieces.

Standing amidst the ruin of her life, Dmitri showed up on her
doorstep. She was so desperate, craving his bite, so beaten down by his systemic
destruction of everything and everyone around her, she finally agreed to do
what he asked, as long as he promised to stop raping and beating her. This time
she meant every word of her promise and a deal was struck.

She moved into his mansion, became his right hand assistant,
represented his many companies in their lawsuits, managed all his business
contracts and got a front row seat to the most corrupt bureaucracies and
businesses of Eastern Europe. Dmitri had judges, prosecutors, police,
politicians, doctors, lawyers, city officials, federal officials, and every
kind of businessman imaginable under his control, siphoning off his payroll. He
kept numerous different sets of shadow accounting processes, compartmentalizing
each of his different kinds of black market activities. He had partnerships
with mafiosi drug rings, sex slave traders, strip club owners, and even helped
move conflict diamonds from Africa to various European retailers.

She had learned the hard way she had better do exactly what
Dmitri asked, whenever he asked, or rough sex would be the least of her
problems. Many of the people who challenged Dmitri legally or financially ended
up floating dead in the Moskva River. Dmitri was untouchable. He could not be
prosecuted or discovered for any of his thousands of crimes. He was a shadowy,
wicked hand of influence all across Eastern Europe, and Svetlana knew where to
find just about every dirty secret Dmitri harbored on the officials he dealt
with.

She’d begun to pull out all the stops for Aaron. She had
threatened the judge and prosecutor on Aaron’s case with exposure of video and
photos of their wild nights spent with underage Romanian sex slaves, partying
with Mafiosi traffickers. She’d offered both officials the choice of ten
million rubles each, or a website devoted to images and details of their
debauchery. This was the treasure Dmitri kept locked away in his monstrous
vault. Each drawer of Dmitri’s vault had some kind of dirt on someone in power
in Eastern Europe. Dmitri was a master blackmailer and world class extortionist.

The judge and the prosecutor made the easy decision to
accept the money. Aaron’s case file and evidence was being lost as he sat there
sucking down a few drops of Svetlana’s delicious blood in the visiting room.
The guard that had brought him for this visit had been paid off to give Aaron
these moments of intimate privacy with Svetlana, who was actually his official
attorney, representing him in the case that was about to get dismissed for lack
of evidence.

The photos and video of Aaron and Michelle’s curbside
massacre were being removed from any internet server that housed them,
including news media, social media, cell phones and blogs. Svetlana had paid
thirty million rubles to a local group of elite blackhat hackers to scour the
web and strip away or shut down any postings related to Aaron and Michelle’s
incident
.

Aaron dropped Svetlana’s wrist from his mouth in utter
shock. Her drugged, glazed eyes smiled at him with genuine pleasure as she
wiped the blood off her wrist and covered the bite marks with her coat sleeve.

Aaron leaned forward and kissed her once on the lips. “I
don’t know if I can ever repay you for this. You’re simply amazing. You’re a
genius.”

She blushed and tried to pull her hand away, but Aaron
slipped his fingers in between hers and held on. “I’m serious, Svetlana. I owe
you my life. I know that the things you’ve done for Dmitri leave you feeling
horrible inside, all that twisted corruption, but I think you’re one of the
bravest women I have ever met, and I hope to call you a friend.”

Her eyes glistened with tears and she nodded. “Yes, I would
like that very much. It’s been a long time since I had a friend.”

* * * *