“I swear I didn’t. I had no idea. I realize now how stupid I was.”
“What do you know about him?” Ravil asks.
I nibble my lip, trying to remember anything that might be helpful. “He went to Illinois State for college. I think he was a wrestler. He works at the gym where I take kickboxing.”
“Where does he live?”
I try to think if he mentioned anything. “I-I don’t know. Our dates were casual. No, um, hook-ups or anything.” This time I do sneak a look in Dima’s direction, but the anger I see on his face makes me quickly look away, the knot in my stomach growing tighter.
“What else can you tell us about him? When did he first start working at the gym? Has he been there all along?”
Oh, God. All the red flags were there. I rub my temples. “No, he just got the job about a month ago. He asked me out for coffee after class a few weeks ago. And then we had dinner last week.” Why did confessing this make me want to hide under my chair?
Oh yeah, it was the glower coming from Dima’s direction.
Ravil sends a glance in Dima’s direction then blows out his breath. “Well, Natasha. I need you to make this right. You will go with Dima to the cabin to nurse Nikolai back to health. You’ll stay there as long as it takes, no complaints.”
I have no idea what “the cabin” is, but I nod, making myself agreeable. I’ll have to cancel the few massage sessions I have booked, but it’s not like I have any choice, here, is it?
Ravil’s always played the part of the benevolent dictator to our community—the Russians living in his building. Our rent is low—probably one-quarter what it should be for such a beautiful building and highly-prized location. In return, we offer our loyalty. If the cops come asking questions, suddenly no one speaks English. When Ravil tells us no strangers are allowed in the building, we obey his rules and bend to his will.
My mother didn’t want to accept his generosity because she knew what he was, but she was drowning in debt from getting her Nurse Practitioner licensing to practice midwifery in the United States. She moved into the Kremlin for me—so I’d have a fighting chance at affording college—but she always cautioned me to keep my distance from the tattooed men who serve as our self-appointed protectors.
Ravil turns to look at Dima. “I’ll let you sort the rest of it out with her in private as you see fit.”
My stomach flip-flops as Dima turns an assessing gaze on me.
Does that mean he’ll be punishing me somehow? In a way that requires privacy? I resist the urge to swallow, knowing he’ll see it.
Dread mingles with something else. Something more...intriguing. A heat coils in my core now, thawing the ice that was clogging my veins.
“Yes,” Dima agrees, his blue gaze on me stony and hard. “I will deal with her.”
Dima
I watch Natasha squirm under my stare. I hated when she shook and trembled over answering to Ravil, but I don’t mind it so much now that I’m the one in charge of her.
Ravil just remanded her into my custody. Part of me wanted to refuse—I can hardly stand to look at her after the way she played me—but the thought of her having to answer to anyone else makes me want to punch the wall in.
If she’s going to be punished for her sins, it will come from me.
Not that I’m the sadist in our bratva cell. That would be Pavel, through and through. I suspect Ravil and Maxim also get a little kinky with their wives—and Gospodi, yes, I wish I didn’t know that, but living in the same suite makes some dynamics a bit hard to hide.
I don’t have big plans to torture Natasha. I’m still too pissed off to even speak to her at the moment, but having her managed by anyone else would only enrage me further.
“Is there anything else you need to tell me?” Ravil asks Natasha. “Anything you’re keeping from me?”
Blyad’.
Based on the way she goes a little pale and starts scratching at her fingernail, I know there is something.
What now, my beautiful traitor?
“Um… I have a cat.”
It takes me a moment to assimilate her words, and I have to ignore the way my heart flip-flops in my chest.
She has a cat. That’s her last big secret.
There is no way this girl is a mole. She’s far too innocent. She’s not working with the Feds. She got played by a guy and then played me to make him happy. I fight the urge to forgive her for everything.
She rushes on, “I know we’re not allowed to have pets in the building, but I found him abandoned as a kitten, and he needed nursing back to health, and then… I just couldn’t let him go.”