THE MEN IN FRONT of me shake with fear, except for Agent Wilson. I find that it’s not very satisfying. Wilson might be fun to break, but the other two are already scared pieces of shit.
What’s the point in torturing someone that’s already broken? Then I think back to the bruises on Quinn, the fear in her eyes, and I know that no matter how scared these assholes are—it will be satisfying.
“So, you three have quite a little racket going. Care to tell me who you’re selling these girls to?” I ask, shoving my hands into my pockets as I rock back on my heels.
“Fuck you,” Parker shouts.
“No, thanks, but I do fuck your daughter—and often,” I grin.
“How’d you like her after I broke her in?” Johnson asks. My eyes cut to his smug face.
I don’t bother saying anything. I grab a hammer that’s sitting on a table behind me and walk up to him. His eyes widen as I lift my arm and smash the hammer down on his kneecap. His scream of pain brings a smile to my face.
“Anything else you’d like to say about my wife?” I ask, lifting a brow.
“Wife?” Parker asks. I slowly lift my chin and look over to him.
“Wife.” I confirm. “Who do you sell the women to?” I ask, taking a step back from Johnson’s blubbering.
“None of your business,” Wilson spits.
“Oh, but it is. You made it my business when you took my woman.”
“She came freely,” Johnson whimpers.
“She did, but it was under false pretense. Who the fuck are you selling these girls to?” I growl.
None of them answer me right away, so I walk back over to the table that Timofei set up with all of the torture tools, and I grab a knife. I’m all about torture, and I will; but right now, I need to make a point, and I need that point to be clear.
Parker may be Quinn’s father, but he’s a weak link. He probably isn’t privy to what I want to know, and I need to make myself clear. I need these pieces of shit to know I’m dead fucking serious.
I walk up to Parker and shove my knife in his eyeball. The men next to him gasp and groan, but I’m focused on fat man Parker. Once I pull the knife out, I stab him in his other eye. Then, with his mouth open, I shove the long knife down his throat. It’s bloody as fuck, but I don’t care.
“You’re fucking sick,” Wilson whispers. I turn my head and grin.
“I may be fucking sick, but I’m not completely depraved. I don’t sell woman to be abused,” I shrug. “Now tell me what I want to know or your death will be much more painful than your friend’s.”
“I don’t know who buys them. It’s all done over email. I leave them in a hotel room and he picks them up. I never see them,” Johnson rambles.
“I would buy what you’re selling, if I didn’t know how this business worked.”
Johnson hangs his head, in what can only be described as defeat; but when he lifts it, I see defiance swimming in his gaze.
“Fuck you,” he growls.
I shrug, grabbing the hammer again. Without warning, I bring it down on his other kneecap.
“Want to save your son at all?” I ask, turning to face Agent Wilson.
“Fuck him and fuck you,” he growls.
“Timofei, how about you show him how we fuck, yeah?”
Wilson’s eyes go huge, and I can only imagine what he thinks is about to happen. Timofei lifts his chin and grabs three half inch galvanized metal pipes. Wilson’s eyes widen and I can’t help but laugh.
“I hear you like to train your girls to take multiple cocks in their ass and pussies?” Timofei asks, walking up to Wilson.
Wilson jerks his head, and I wrinkle my nose when his pants change color where he’s obviously pissing himself. Big bad FBI agent, human trafficker, pisses himself—it’s almost comical.
Mika walks up behind Wilson and starts to untie him, ignoring his pleading and crying. I watch as he drags him to the ground and places one knee in the back of Wilson’s neck while the other is in the middle of his back. Timofei quickly yanks the fuck’s pants down—well, as quickly as possible, as he’s flailing all over the place trying to get away.
In one swift move, Timofei shoves one of the pipes in his asshole, and he lets out a blood curdling scream. It’s beyond anything I’ve heard before. I’m fairly impressed.
“Oh, fuck,” Johnson whispers with his head turned to face his father.
“Just wait,” I grunt.
Timofei shoves the other pipe in, and Wilson screams but passes out in the middle of his second scream from pain. It’s not as satisfying as it should be. Yet, when my eyes shift over to Johnson’s and I see the horror in them, the pure, sheer, terror, it makes me smile.
“The Cartel. They pay us for girls. I break them in and then hand them off. I don’t know his name. I only text him when I have a new girl. We do the exchange at a hotel,” he blubbers as tears roll down his eyes.
“His information in your phone?” I ask, arching a brow.
“Yeah, under John,” he mumbles.
I lift my chin to Timofei, who grabs Johnson’s phone out of the pile of shit we emptied from their pockets, and he tosses it to me. I scroll through the names to find one listing for John.
“How much he give you per woman?” I ask, looking at the familiar area code.
“Fifty thousand per girl, depending on her abilities. I list them on the site, and he contacts me when he sees what he wants,” he explains.
“What about the girls he doesn’t purchase?”
“Other men buy them, friends, powerful men,” he shrugs. “Private buyers.”
It makes my stomach turn, but I’m not interested in the sick perverts that are scattered around the country. My focus is this fuck in the Cartel.
“Timofei,” I call out.
“Yeah, boss?”
“Finish them,” I announce.
“Wait, wait, wait—I gave you everything you wanted,” Johnson cries out.
“You hurt my wife. No matter what information you gave me, you were never going to live,” I rumble.
“I’m the District Attorney. You can’t just kill me,” he yells.
“I’m a Pakhan for the Russian Bratva. I can do whatever the fuck I want to.”
I walk out of the warehouse, ignoring the screams that come from Johnson as I do. Pulling out my phone, I call Oliver.
“Dorosh,” he rumbles.
“I have a number I need you to research. Supposedly, he’s Cartel,” I explain before I find John’s number and recite it to him.
“I’ll get back to you tomorrow sometime, hopefully,” he rumbles.
“Thanks, Oliver,” I say before ending the call.
I start Mika’s SUV, knowing he can go home with Timofei, and I head back to my building, to my condo, to Quinn. I need to see my wife. I need to feel her chest moving with her breath. I need to fuck her and know she’s alive. I need to hold her.
It doesn’t take me long to speed through the city to our condo from where our warehouse is located. It’s late, after midnight, and although there are still some cars on the road, there aren’t many, and they’re even sparse in most areas.
Once I arrive at the condo, I park and leave Mika’s keys on the floorboard of his SUV, locking the doors with the keyless entry panel on the side. I send him a quick text, letting him know what I’ve done, and jog inside of the building.
I wake up, my heart pounding in my chest, and I look around for whatever startled me—not seeing anything, but hearing the shower going.
I slide out of bed and stumble toward the bathroom as my eyes adjust to the darkness around me. The light is bright when I open the bathroom door, and I have to cover my eyes with my hand for a moment.
After I blink a few times, I look around to see a pile of bloody clothes on the floor. My eyes widen in surprise at the blood, and then my head snaps over to the running shower. I can see the outline of Ziven through the steamy glass, and I wonder if it’s his blood on his suit, or someone else’s.
The water turns off, and I watch as the towel that was hanging over the shower door disappears. A few seconds later, the door swings open and he’s standing in front of me, water dripping from his body and hair, looking like an absolute dream.
“Quinn,” he rasps.
“Whose blood is that?” I ask, keeping my eyes focused on his.
“Your father’s, Agent Wilson’s, and Oswald Johnson’s,” he says point blank.
His expression shows zero remorse or any emotion at all. He watches me, as if waiting for some kind of response. Perhaps I’m supposed to cry? I’m not sure what he wants from me.
“Do we need to burn them or something?” I ask, referring to his clothes.
“Nyet, one of the men will collect them and do as such tomorrow,” he shrugs.
“They’re dead?” I ask, arching a brow. Ziven nods with a jerk of his head. “Are you coming to bed?”
Ziven doesn’t say anything else. I watch as he drops his towel where he was standing and starts to walk toward me. I don’t even get the chance to take one step back before he picks me up in his arms.
The t-shirt of his that I’m wearing rides up as I wrap my legs around his waist. I feel his hard cock rub against my center, over my panties, with each step he takes.
I shouldn’t be turned on knowing that Ziven killed three men, but I am. Perhaps only because of the men themselves, the vile, disgusting men that they were. Maybe it’s the fact that underneath it all, he avenged me; he protected me in a way where I’ll forever be safe now, at least from them.
Ziven doesn’t even make it to the bed. As soon as we’re out of the bathroom, he turns and presses my back against the wall.
“Ven,” I rasp, letting my head fall back so that I can see into his face.
I wrap my hands around his neck and feel his soft hair on my fingertips.
“Nobody hurts you, Quinn. Nobody touches you, katyonak; nobody but me,” he rumbles.
“It’s over now,” I whisper, looking into his eyes.
“It’s only just begun,” he whispers ominously, “but for you, yeah, it’s over.”
I don’t understand what he’s said, but it doesn’t matter. I soon forget, for in the next breath, he presses his lips against mine and slides his tongue into my mouth.
He consumes me, he takes over, and nothing else in the universe exists because he’s kissing me; he’s making love to my mouth with his, and it’s warm and inviting; its sweet and soft; and its intense and impassioned, like nothing I’ve ever felt from him before.
One of his hands leaves my thighs and travels to my panties, shifting the center to the side as his fingers run up and down my center, two of them dipping inside slowly before he starts to pump in and out.
“You’re so wet,” he rasps against my neck as his lips and tongue travel down to my collarbone and then back up to just behind my ear.
“More, I need more,” I shamelessly beg.
“You’ll get it, don’t worry,” he groans as his fingers work me a little faster.
I roll my hips, searching for more, and needing it all at the same time.
“Greedy—you’re so fucking greedy for me, aren’t you, katyonak?”
“Yes. Oh, god, yes,” I moan as my head rolls from side to side.
In his next breath, Ziven removes his fingers and fills me with his cock. He stretches me in that way only he can, filling my body, but also my heart and soul at the same time.
He feeds every part of me. When he’s inside of me, I feel whole. I move my hand to wrap it around the side of his neck, my other one holding onto his shoulder as he slides completely inside of me to the root.
“Here, this is where you belong,” he murmurs before he pulls out slightly, his hands on my ass cheeks, spreading them apart before he glides back inside.
“It’s where I stay, right here with you, Ziven. Always with you,” I whisper, my breath hitching as I do.
We don’t speak another word as he thrusts into me over and over again, his head tipped slightly to watch the connection of our bodies.
My nails dig into his shoulder and his neck simultaneously as he takes me. He stills his body and then starts to move only me. He fucks his cock using his hands on my ass to glide me at the speed and depth he wants.
I don’t bother even trying to take over—he’s in complete control, not just of himself, but of me, too.
“Ziven,” I whisper.
His head pops up, his eyes glazed over, and his mouth slightly agape.
“You going to come on my cock, katyonak?” he rasps.
“I don’t want to. I don’t want this to ever end. You feel so good,” I admit as I bite the edge of my lip.
He plants himself deep inside of me before he turns and walks us over to the bed, without uttering a single word. My eyes widen when he sits down on the edge instead of laying me down. My knees are on either side of him, sinking into the mattress, and his hands slide from my ass to tangle in my hair. I feel my shirt going up my torso as his hands continue to glide up my body, then he throws it somewhere behind me once it’s completely off.
“Ride me, Quinn. Take your time. Enjoy it,” he murmurs gently, wrapping his hands around my waist.
Hesitantly, I lift up slightly before I slide down on his cock, letting out a moan when I do. One of Ziven’s hands moves, and his thumb presses against my clit as I continue to slide up and down on his cock, feeling every inch of him inside of me.
“You feel so good, katyonak—so warm and so tight,” he rasps.
I lean back slightly, pressing my hands to his thighs and arching my back as he strokes my clit. His lips wrap around my nipple, and he nips it with his teeth, gently tugging and sending heat throughout my body.
I start to move faster, bouncing on his lap a little harder as I climb toward my release. I’m searching for and chasing my climax, not caring about anything else in the entire universe.
“Give it to me, Quinn,” he rumbles as he strokes my clit harder and faster.
I come with a cry, my body freezing and my eyes opening wide with surprise.
Ziven doesn’t let me relish in my climax for more than a second before he wraps his hands around my hips and again uses my body to fuck him.
I’m sensitive, and each thrust makes me gasp, my hands flying to his shoulders for stability. He pulls me down, rooting himself deep inside me with a groan, and I know that he’s come as well.
“Fucking hell, Quinn,” he mutters as his hands slide up and cup my cheeks.
“What?”
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, katyonak. My woman, my wife, and fuck,” he murmurs.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, wrapping my hands around his wrists.
“I can’t get the image of what almost became of you out of my head,” he admits.
“It’s over now. It’s all over now. You’ve protected me, every step of the way, you’re protecting me, Ziven,” I say, trying to convince him that I’m safe; that he’s the reason I’m safe.
We don’t say anything else. I wait for Ziven to explain more, about my father and the other men, about anything—but he doesn’t. Instead, we quietly clean up and he wraps me in his arms once we’ve settled into bed.
“I love you, katyonak,” he whispers against my neck.
“I love you, too, Ven.”
I don’t mention the prostitute who came to visit him. It doesn’t matter. He loves me and I him. I choose not to ask anything about what happened tonight. His bloody clothes should be enough for me to know that those men will probably never be seen again.
None of it matters. Not anymore. The only thing that matters is us. Just us.
I don’t care if it’s selfish, and I know that it probably is, but I’ve never lived a life where I mattered for more than just what I could gain somebody else—not until I met Ziven.