Filthy Animals
It was almost noon the next day when I regained consciousness. I had no memory of how I got tucked into bed in the guestroom—or how I ended up in crisp, clean pajamas. I felt like a steamroller had mowed over me. I groaned as I sat up. When I leaned over to snag my cast, vertigo set in. I tipped off the bed and crash landed on the floor with a thud.
I don’t remember drinking that much.
My body needed more sleep, but my brain urged me to get moving. I slid on my cast and made my way to the bathroom. I undressed and checked my body for damage. I had deep purple and red marks on my collarbone, a bounty of finger bruises dotted my arms and legs thanks to Playboy and his crew, and I was sore down there from my examination.
I replayed what had happened over and over in my mind. I understood—in Bratva terms—why Boris wanted to know if Leonardo had forced himself on me, but why did he want to know if I was pure?
As I considered the thought, I got down on my knees and hovered over the toilet in the morning after ready position. The last thing I remembered was dozing off on the couch. Then the realization hit me—
They drugged me.
I shuddered to think what they’d done to me while I was unconscious. Once again, only one reason came to mind. I dry heaved into the toilet. I had to keep it together. I was trapped there. If I didn’t emerge soon, they would come get me. I had two and half more days there, and it wasn’t in my best interest to conjure up the pakhan.
Live to fight another day.
I got dressed in one of my home-away-from-home outfits, plastered on my game face, and limped to the kitchen. Vladimir was seated at the bar sipping a cup of tea next to a box of pastries and a fresh fruit and cheese display. “Good morning, angel.”
I couldn’t look him in the eye. “Sorry I got up so late. I don’t usually sleep in.” I motioned to the food. “You didn’t have to do that. It’s my job.” My voice sounded hoarse.
“Nonsense. You are my guest. Sit. Eat.”
Boris wore a hat and coat, and had Leonardo’s gym bag clutched in his hand. He stood by the door spinning the Cadillac key ring around his index finger. “Well rested?”
Careful not to let on I knew they’d drugged me, I played dumb. “Best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.” I smiled. “Oh, have either of you seen my phone? I must’ve misplaced it.”
Boris held it up. “It’s been going off all morning.”
I slid over to him, snatched my cell from his hand, and shuffled back to get some distance between us. I had five missed calls—all from Dad and Ryan—and about a hundred texts. Kiki, Rakhi, Coach Erin…Leonardo.
Leonardo: Coming over at noon to pick up bag. NO COPS.
My stomach turned. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants.
“Boss, if you don’t mind, I have an appointment to get to at precisely noon. Do you need anything before I attend to business?” Boris asked.
“No, of course not. We’ll be fine. Do svidaniya.”
“Do svidaniya.” Boris tipped the rim of his hat.
“Wait,” I blurted. “Can you take me to the club? Coach Erin asked if I could stop by today so the trainer can check my ankle. She’s leaving early for the holiday weekend.”
“It’s up to boss.”
I have to get out of this house. “We can go downtown when I get back. There’s a Christmas display at Fountain Square and ice skating and a nativity scene with real reindeer and a band—”
“We will do all of that and more.” He laughed. “Don’t be gone too long.”
I got a water bottle out of the bar fridge and grabbed a pastry. “Do svidaniya. That’s how you say goodbye, right?”
“Perfect. You see, Boris? She’s one of us.”
Boris shook his head as if the idea of me being like them was enough to make his brain bleed.
I slid on my shoe and followed Boris out the door. When we got into the car, he turned on the music. I turned it off. “What’s the plan? You’re just going to give him his bag, right?”
Boris drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Not possible.”
The patsani that had held me down the night before were waiting for us in a white van with blacked-out windows, the kind murderers drive in movies and true-crime shows.
“Are they going to follow us?”
“Shush. No questions.”
Boris turned the music back on. I whizzed the pastry out the window.
I got the evil eye. “Why can’t you eat like normal person?”
“I don’t feel good.” I squeezed my arms around my legs.
Boris studied my body language. “You drank too much.”
“What did you do to me after you drugged me?” I buried my face in my hands, frightened by my own words.
He grabbed my forearm. “Don’t come up with crazy ideas—not what you think.”
I shrugged him off and turned my back to him.
“Look at me.”
Fearful of backlash, I peeked over my shoulder and met his unsympathetic eyes.
“Filthy animals do things to girls against their will, not boss.”
I wiped off my tears and snot on my coat. “There’s no other reason. Once that dirty old man told you I was a virgin the two of you decided to help yourselves—”
“No one touched you.”
“You mean again?”
By the death glare on Boris’s face, I was skidding dangerously close to the Point of No Return.
“I needed to make certain you stayed put in your room.”
I gasped. “Why?”
“I don’t like giving you freedom to roam the house while we’re sleeping.” He glanced sideways at me. “I’m not a trusting person, you know?”
“It was your idea to drug me?”
“No, dear. My idea was to handcuff your wrists to the bed frame.”
I covered my mouth with my hands.
“Lucky for you, boss didn’t like that idea either. He’s too soft on you.”
The idea of the two of them discussing the best way to immobilize me made me ill, but I believed the motivation behind it. Considering their illegal activity, I was a liability. “Which one of you took my clothes off?”
“No more questions.”
My thoughts turned back to where we were headed. Leonardo was in grave danger. He deserved what Ryan had dished out to him last night, and in my eyes, we were even. As casually as I could, I slid my right hand into my pocket and pulled my phone out just far enough to manage a text to warn him not to go to my house.
Boris busted me, twisted my wrist, and squeezed my hand until I let it go. The Cadillac veered down a secluded road and parked in front of an old dilapidated barn. The murderer van slid in behind us. I unlocked my seat belt and hopped out of the car. I had only made it a few feet before Playboy had me in a chokehold.
“Don’t go to the house I will—” Boris read from my phone.
“I will what, Carter? Give him another opportunity to disrespect you? Want to go have some fun with these bad boys?” He nodded to the barn.
The goons circled around me.
“Please stop. You’re scaring me to death.”
“That dirty Spaniard will be sorry for what he did.”
“I’m sure he’s sorry already. His face was bloody the last time I saw him.”
Boris licked his lips. “He contacted you because he wants something, but failed to apologize for hurting you and for the damage he caused to your house.”
“Let’s make a deal,” I said. “If he apologizes, you call off the wolves. If he tries anything, you have my blessing, okay?” I held out my hand for a binding agreement.
Boris scoffed. Playboy steered me back to the Caddy. Before I could get there, I dropped to my knees and vomited in the snow. Mentally exhausted by my bullshit, Boris handed Playboy Leonardo’s bag and gave the patsani their orders. The white van rolled away and kept course toward my place. Leonardo was going to learn a lesson about the consequences of fucking with the pakhan’s most prized possession—me.