152

Adrian
Crazy girl making bad fucking choices.
What was I supposed to do? Let three guys date rape her right there in the warehouse? Bozhe moi, there were hundreds of people there, and no one else saw what was happening? I’m the only guy who stepped in to stop that bullshit?
I seriously hate this world. My gender. All humans.
I don’t know what those guys gave her, but Kat is already giggling, and she hasn’t even kicked up a fuss about me carrying her out of there in such an undignified manner. Honestly, I’d be surprised if the drugs even kicked in yet. I think this is just her natural reaction. I’d put her down, but now I’m all in. I’ll just have to move my timetable up and kidnap her tonight.
The cargo ship doesn’t leave for two more days, which means I’ll have to keep her in my rented cottage until we leave. It’s not ideal. Not at all.
Maxim, our bratva’s fixer, taught me to think through a situation for all possible angles. Anywhere you could get caught or leave a trail. The ship offers a great deal of safety. I arranged passage through the local bratva. No questions will be asked about the girl.
But keeping her prisoner here in the city?
A lot of things can go wrong.
“Okay, big man. You are very heroic. You can put me down now.” I like her accent. Ukrainian plus English. It’s very cute.
I ignore her, trying to think. How will I even get her on a bus against her will? Why in the fuck didn’t I rent a car?
But then, how would I have followed her? No, I just have to slow down.
She’s just been roofied or whatever they gave her. I might not have to take her against her will.
The idea of tricking her turns my stomach, but it seems like the best option. It’s not like tricking her is any worse than putting a bag over her head and strong-arming her out of here.
She squeezes my butt. “Where are we going, big man?”
Big man. Very cute. I’m not that big. Not like Oleg, our bratva enforcer.
I drop her to her feet, and we stare at each other. I should think of something slick and suave to say, but I already fucked it up by throwing her over my shoulder. Besides, slick and suave aren’t my things. I have to work hard just to make my English come out right.
She’s prettyheartbreakingly pretty. She reminds me a bit of Oleg’s girlfriend Story. Classic beauty underneath the counter-culture getup.
“What in the fuck did you think you were doing?” I demand.
Nope, not slick or suave. That was the opposite of charming. Blyad’. I probably will have to throw her back over my shoulder and walk all the way back.
But she seems to like my outburst. She smiles and leans into me, her hands molding to my chest. “Sorry, Daddy,” she says.
Excuse me?
My frown grows deeper. “What is fucking wrong with you?”
She laughs. “Take it easy, big man. I didn’t need your rescue, as gallant as it was. I can handle myself with men.”
White hot rage runs through me. Not toward her, but toward all the men on Earth because I know with total certainty, she can’t handle them. Bad things happen to girls like her.
Horrible things. I live with the aftermath of what can happen every day.
“You have no idea!” I snap. “Do you even know what they gave you? Did you swallow it?”
“It was molly. It’s fine. I’ve taken it before. Nothing bad will happen other than me feeling like crap tomorrow for my history test. You know, I might as well go enjoy it.” She pushes back from me abruptly. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to take care of me. I’m going back.”
I catch her arm, and she rubberbands back to me, bumping against my chest. She’s almost a foot shorter than I am and soft in all the right places. I resist the urge to settle my hands on her waist like a lover. “No, you’re not.”
She grins like she loves me getting bossy. That’s when it dawns on me. I admit I was slow, but it’s coming together: the outfit. Calling me Daddy.
Kateryna is kinky as fuck. As kinky as my bratva brother Pavel and his slave girlfriend Kayla. She’s into role play and cosplay and all that shit. I pivot with this new knowledge and think fast.
“You’re going home,” I tell her imperiously.
Yep. I was right. She loves it. She leans into me. “Are you taking me?” she purrs.
“Da. I’m fucking taking you.” I shrug out of my leather jacket and drape it over her slender shoulders. Crazy girl coming out with no jacket in January. Although I can see whyit would’ve been hard to dance with it on, and there wasn’t exactly a coat check at the door.
“Let’s go before drugs kick in.” I left out the article again. In my head, I hear Ravil, my Chicago Bratva boss, correcting me. Before the drugs kick in. I pull her along, heading for the bus stop.
She falls into step beside me, stealing a sidelong glance and hiding a smile. “Are you always this grumpy when you play hero?”
“I’m not the hero. I’m the villain, dietka.”
“What is dietka? I understand some Russian, but I don’t know that word.”
“It’s like…kid or babe.”
“In a sweet way or a mean way?”
“What do you think?”
She looks over at me again. “Mean, probably,” she grumbles. I think she’s pouting.
It’s obnoxious and annoying, and the fact that she’s beautiful makes it damn cute. I’ll bet it works with all the guys.
Good thing I’m not one of them. I pity any guy who drops into her big pot of hot mess crazy. She was one night away from disaster. The way I see it, I’ll be doing her a favor by pulling her out of this existence.
I know I’m trying to justify what probably can’t be justified. Kat is as innocent as Nadia. She doesn’t deserve me using her as a pawn no matter how horrible her father is. But that can’t be helped. She is the only lead I’ve had on the guy in over a year. She’s my one ticket to evening the score for Nadia.
I don’t have a clue about the bus schedule, but Kat leans against the bus stop sign like she expects one soon, so I fold my arms across my chest to wait with her.
“How did you know I took the bus?” she demands. She may be reckless, but she’s not stupid.
Noted.
“I was on the same bus as you.”
“You were?”
“Da.”
“What’s your plan?” she asks.
I must be feeling guilty because for a moment I think she knows she’s my prisoner. But no. She just means for tonight.
“I take you home. Put you to bed. End of story.”
Or something like that. Take her home. Tie her up in her bed. Figure out what the fuck to do next.
“That means you’re coming in?” She twirls a braid around her finger. “So you can put me to bed?”
“You have roommate? A roommate?” I correct my English.
“Nope.” She pops her pink lips on the “p,” drawing my attention to her mouth. Now that I know she’s kinkyshouldn’t she be too young to be kinky?–I’m picturing her with those pretty lips stretched around my
Gospodi. I need to stop.
I really fucking wish she was the way I pictured her. Some quiet, shy, sheltered girl. One I would frighten a little but not harm in order to make her father suffer.
This girl, though?
She throws me off my game.
I didn’t expect her to be hyper-sexual. Flirty. Wild and reckless. She’s going to be harder to handle.
Or maybe easier, I can’t tell yet.
Really, this is a gift. She wants me to take her home. Maybe she wants me to screw her. Wouldn’t it be better if she were willing?
No! It’s not.
I rub my forehead, scowling at the bus as it pulls up.
I wanted her unwilling.
I planned to take photos of a frightened girl, tied up in compromised positions. I was going to tell Leon Poval I was doing every single terrible thing to his daughter that was done to Nadia, and if he wanted to see her alive, he would have to come and get her from me. In person.
So I can kill him.
I don’t really know what to do with a girl like this. Letting her think, even for a night, that I am anything but vengeance seems like a cruel betrayal. For some reason, it seems worse than just stuffing her in the trunk of a car and telling her what’s up from the start.
Dammit. I should’ve just let her suffer her own fate tonight at the party.
But no. I could never do that. What those mudaks were doing to her was a problem. She was about to be gang-raped in a corner from the way it looked to me. I may be willing to make Leon Poval believe I’m raping his daughter, but I’m not actually going to stand by and let it happen to her. That’s a different thing entirely.
We climb on the bus, and I pay both our fares. I sit down, and Kat climbs onto my lap, making the other passengers on the bus look at us. Damn her. I don’t need anyone remembering us. I firmly grip her hips and maneuver her to the seat beside me. “Be good,” I admonish, trying to play her game.
She puts one fingertip up to her lips with a pout. “I thought I was being good.” Her fingernails are short and unpainted, which seems at odds with the rest of her, which is done up. But then, my sense was this was a costume, not the real girl.
I pull my knit cap down and slouch in my seat. “Not on bus,” I tell her gruffly.
For some reason, she eats it up. Maybe the molly is kicking in.
“You feel okay?”
“Aw.” She reaches up to stroke my face, but I jerk back to forbid it. She goes on like nothing happened. “Somebody cares.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “You’re on my watch.”
“For how long?” She takes the end of her braid and tickles my ear with it. This time I don’t jerk away because it’s obviously what she wants.
“You’re going to get yourself spanked, little girl,” I warn.
Her knees clap, and she sits higher in her seat like she just squeezed her buns together. There’s no doubt in my mind now. She fucking loves domination.
I can work with this.
I think.
Hell, I don’t know. I’m out of my depth, but I’m not going to stop or turn back. I’m also not gonna ask for help from Ravil or the cell. I know they’d give it to me. Advice, money, contacts, anything I needed. They’d probably get on a plane and fly here to lend their fists and muscle if I wanted.
But I don’t want to involve them. This isn’t a bratva war. It’s personal. Poval is mine, and I intend to be the one to take him out. If there are repercussions, I’ll be the one who suffers them. Alone.
“This is my stop.” Kat tugs my sleeve.
I pretend to be surprised and follow her off. She holds a hand to her stomach, then turns and pukes in a bush.
Gross. But it gives me a chance to get control of her phone. I’d love to shut it off, so it can’t be tracked. I take my jacket off her shoulders then divest her of the backpack purse, like I’m being helpful. I find a napkin in the pocket of my jacket, which I hand to her then slip my hand in her purse to shut down the phone.
“It’s kicking in,” she tells me cheerfully, as she wipes her mouth with the napkin, like puking is the gateway to fun.
I guess it would be.
“I wish you had some, too.”
I grunt in response. I’m trying to figure out if I should just take her back to my place or go ahead with hers. Maybe I don’t have to grab her tonight. Maybe I take her home and leave-just pick her back up in a couple of days when the ship is ready to sail.
I don’t like that idea, though. She’s seen my face. I need to control everything that happens beyond this point. No letting her tell her dad she met me or somehow looking me up. From this point forward, she’s my prisoner.
Except the line seems fluid. From which point? Do I tie her up right now?
No, she’s tripping. She won’t be able to cause me any trouble now, and tying her up when she’s rolling could make it a very bad trip. I know because they kept Nadia drugged most of her time, and her psychiatrist said it made the trauma worse because her reality was mixed in a dream-like state.
Okay, that’s the plan, then. I’ll take her to my place, make sure nothing happens while she’s tripping, then tie her up in the morning.
“Hey, my place isn’t far from here.” I try to make my voice sound casual.
She bats her lashes at me. Literally. Bats them on purpose. “Are you inviting me over?”
“Yeah.” I tip my head. “This way.”
I take her to the small but bougie cottage I rented. I didn’t need fancy, but it has all the things I requireproximity to Kateryna’s apartment and a ground-floor private entrance, so I could stay low-key. Dima, our hacker, set it up for me using a wire deposit that can’t be traced.
She comes in and looks around. It’s a studiothe kind where the kitchen is just one wall and the bedroom is another, but everything’s done in fine materials. Hardwood floors and granite countertops. I band an arm around her waist and pull her back against my front. “How do you like to be put to bed?” It’s supposed to sound sexy but comes out as more of a gruff growl.
She rubs her soft ass against the front of my jeans. She smells like cherries and warm oatmeal cookies. That can’t be right, but that’s the impression I get. And underneath it, just pleasing female skin.
I bite her neck, and she shivers. She’s dancing again, her lush body squirming and undulating in slo-mo like she’s still up on that platform at the rave, turning on every guy in sight.
“Mmm,” she hums softly.
Good. Her eyes are closed. She’s not taking in the fact that I’m living out of a suitcase here.
Nothing to alert her to the fact that she just walked into the jaws of the trap I set for her.