Unpleasant Business
The whipping wind blew the snow sideways and covered up the double yellow lines on the road. It looked like we would get the full foot of snow the weatherman had predicted. As we sat in silence, I focused on the windshield wipers swiping the fresh snowflakes away, erasing the evidence they had ever been there.
I was terrified of what would happen to Leonardo. I glanced over at Boris. His knuckles were white, body stiff, jaw clinched.
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “How’s your ankle?”
“Fine. Totally fine.”
He made that menacing, dismissive humph noise.
I knew he wanted to hunt Leonardo down and run over him a hundred times. I tried to think of something to lighten the mood, but anything out of my mouth would have irked him.
“Working out a lie to tell the boss?”
“I twisted my ankle on the court. Tennis is a competitive sport.”
“I see.” His tone sounded uncharacteristically placid.
Is he calming down?
When we got to the house, Boris opened the garage door and parked in the vacant spot normally reserved for the Rover. I convinced myself I could walk no matter how bad it hurt, but before I took one step, Boris picked me up, tossed me over his shoulder, and carried me into the kitchen like a sack of beets.
He set me down on a stool, headed straight for the bar, and pulled Old Faithful out of the fridge. He poured a long shot and drank it down. He refreshed his glass and filled one up for me. He threw back another, with his other hand resting on the bottle. My clothes and hair were wet from my trek through the snow, and I felt dirty from having Leonardo’s hands all over me. I took off my soggy shoe and sock from my good foot. I needed to take a hot shower to chase away the chills, but I didn’t want to ask.
Boris ordered me to drink up. I did. Then he poured me another one.
There was a knock on the kitchen door. I jumped. Boris opened it and let in a hunched-over gray-haired man holding a black bag. They seemed to be having a serious talk. They must be business associates. I sat there nursing my drink, oblivious to their conversation.
“This man is a doctor, Carter. He’s going to examine you.”
“Oh.” I didn’t expect that.
The door opened again, and the wolves that hung around out back slunk in through the kitchen door. Playboy, and the other two that rounded out the pack, shook the snow off their coats and stomped their boots on the floor, but didn’t remove them. How un-Russian of them to drag that mess into the house. Vladimir wouldn’t have approved. Animals.
Boris picked me up and carried me past the living room into the guest bedroom where he lay me down on the bed. He had his wet boots on, too. The doctor sat next to me. The goons slid into the bedroom and shut and locked the door behind them.
Five bad dudes surrounded me, as I lay defenseless on the bed.
My heart pounded. “What’s going on?” Did this have something to do with the lesson the pakhan thought I needed to learn after the Friday night fiasco? Where was he, anyway?
The doctor felt my ankle and then moved it up and down.
“Ouch!” I sucked in a mouthful of air.
“Not broken. You will wear air cast for week or two,” he said in a thick accent.
As the doctor wrapped a bandage around my ankle, the goons were looking away—not at me—like they were trying to act casual. Something was very, very wrong.
When the doctor finished, I turned to Boris. “Is Mr. Ivanov home yet?” My words caught in my throat. I felt so tiny and fragile in the midst of the Bratva. There was only one reason I could think of all those dangerous men had closed themselves in the bedroom with me.
I sat up to get away, but the doctor held up his hand. “Need to check one more thing.”
Boris snapped his fingers at the goons. Playboy jumped on top of me and pinned down my wrists. I tried to scream, but the weight of his body pushed the air out of my lungs. In between gasps, I pleaded for help, but Boris just stood there with his arms crossed, watching his patsani terrorize me.
When I felt the other two trying to rip off my sweats, I wrapped my good ankle around the injured one to keep my legs together. “Get off me.” My pants slid down my hips to my thighs. I gave up on defense, switched over to offense, and tried to kick them. The big grimacing dude along with the wiry skinhead with tats trailing down his neck tugged off my pants with ease; they probably had a lot of experience violating girls in their line of work.
I can’t let them take off my underwear. I held my knees together and screamed, “No! Nyet, nyet, nyet.” Playboy lifted his hips and scooted forward. Grimace slid his hands across my bikini line and yanked off my panties.
When my clothes were on the floor, the goons each took a leg and spread me apart. I thrashed and kicked to defend myself, but I wasn’t strong enough to fight them off.
“I’m sorry, Boris. Tell them to stop,” I screamed. “Izvinite! Izvinite!”
The doctor closed in beside me and ran his fingers along my V. I clinched my body tight to keep him out, but he brought in his other hand and spread me apart. Then, he thrust his filthy fingers inside me and felt around. I cried out to Boris once more, but Playboy grasped both of my wrists in one hand and covered my mouth with his free hand to silence my screams. While the doctor violated me, he taunted me in Russian.
Why did I think it was perfectly fine to play around with gangsters? I was naïve just like the boss said I was. My reward for being an idiot? I was about to be gang raped. Did the pakhan order them to do it, or was this all Boris’s sick idea?
I don’t know if it was the shock, fear, or lack of oxygen, but my body stiffened up as if rigor mortis had already set in. There was no way I would be going home after these monsters were done with me. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for a miracle.
“She’s clean—and pure,” the doctor announced. He withdrew his nasty fingers, wiped his hands on the sheet, and left the room.
Boris dismissed the goons, leaving just the two of us alone in the room. No, no, no. I needed to make a run for it, but my muscles were shredded, I could barely breathe, let alone move. Boris sat beside me and tapped my cheek. “Next time, tell the truth, so we can avoid this unpleasant business.”
Gently, he sat me up, slid my arms into a plush pink robe, and tied it around my waist to cover my naked body. “I had to be certain. Everything out of your mouth is a lie.”
I struggled to fill my lungs with air.
“Take a deep breath.” Boris patted me on the back. “Calm down. Breathe.”
I flinched away from him, and then managed a few short breaths. My heart was thumping so violently, it felt like I was about to burst.
“You need to bathe before dinner. Need any help?”
I shook my head.
“I sent a runner out for your cast. It will make getting around easier.”
Where is Vladimir? He wouldn’t have let this happen. He protects me. He always protects me.
“That vile drug dealer is lucky the big boy showed up. If I found out he’d touched you—”
I wrapped my arms around my legs to stop from shaking.
He softened his demeanor. “I will send my men to clean up mess at your house.” He moved to the bathroom and turned on the water to draw a bath. He came back, scooped me up off the bed, and set me down on the edge of the tub. I couldn’t look at him. “I will set some clean clothes out for you. Want me to stay?”
I shook my head.
“Not a word about this to boss.”