154

Adrian
I wait until Kat is sound asleep, then I grab her purse and search it. She has a bottle of CBD gummies. That could come in handy. Especially for getting her onto the shipa problem I haven’t solved yet.
I take the phone out of her bag and bring it to the kitchen with the laptop Dima gave me. I text Dima for assistance. He calls immediately. I pick up in a hushed voice, but Kat doesn’t even stir.
“I have the girl,” I tell Dima in Russian. He’s the only one I’ve been in contact with about my plans, and that’s because I need him. I don’t want to involve the rest of my cell. This isn’t their fight.
“I thought you weren’t grabbing her until tomorrow.”
“Plans changed,” I say simply. “I have her phone shut off to avoid tracking. What do I do now?”
Dima walks me through disconnecting the location tracker then opening the phone up to search for any additional trackers. I don’t find any, which seems careless on Poval’s part. “All right, now connect the phone to the laptop, so I can access all the data.”
I do as Dima instructs.
“Turn it on, and I can grab everything.”
I power the phone back up and watch the screen run through a series of download commands and lists of files scrolling rapidly. While it’s working, I thumb through her contacts.
“She has Papa listed in her contacts,” I tell Dima.
“Beautiful. Let me see.” I hear the clack of keys as he accesses the information. “I’ll try to trace it to a location. It might be a while.”
The upload to Dima’s system ends. “Now what?” I ask.
“Now you destroy that phone.”
“How will I send him the message that I have her?”
“I can send messages using her number that will route from random servers across the globe. Are you ready to send one now?”
I consider. I took a photo of her when she was hiding her face and crying after her orgasm. It showed her bare, reddened ass red and without context, definitely looked non-consensual. Like she was suffering, not riding the high of orgasm.
I glance over at her sleeping form on the bed. I could easily get some more photos that appear compromising right now and send them over.
But the moment I send them, the hunt for Kat will begin, and I can’t get on that cargo ship for thirty-some hours. It will be harder to keep her hidden here, so close to her home.
“Not yet,” I tell him. “Can I just text the message to you when I’m ready?”
“That works. Listen, Adrian…”
“Da?”
“Ravil wants you to report. He said you’re not answering his messages.”
I grind my teeth. Disobeying my pakhan feels wrong, especially after all Ravil has done for me. I try to explain. “I don’t want to involve the cell. This is personal. I only asked for your help because, well”
“Yeah, I know. You can’t do this part alone. I think the point is that you can’t do any of this alone. Ravil will have your back, too. You know that, right?”
“I can’t involve him,” I say fiercely. “It’s not right.”
“Well, you need to tell him that yourself. He doesn’t like being blown off.”
“Yes, I will.” It’s a lie. I’m not going to contact Ravil. The less he knows, the better. “Thank you, Dima.”
“Of course. You’re a brother, Adrian. Whatever you need, I’ve got you.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. The bratva didn’t take my soul, like it does to most men. It returned me to humanity.
Searching for Nadia turned me into an animal. I used up my money to get to America, where I only had a thin lead on Poval. I knew Maykl from my home townhe was a friend of a friendand I made contact.
Ravil instantly brought me into the fold. Gave me a place to stay and put me to work. Made me a brother. Maxim, the bratva fixer, trained me to be the cleaner. The guy who wipes a scene of all traces of violence, all clues to the crime. No, the work isn’t legal, but I didn’t care then and I don’t care now. I didn’t plan on operating within the lines of any law.
Ravil helped me find Poval and eventually Nadia. When I was arrested after burning the factory to the ground, he paid for the best defense attorney in Chicago to defend me. I owe him everything. I’ve pledged my life to the bratva and have zero regrets.
“Thank you,” I say and hang up.
I retrieve the zip ties from my suitcase, but I can’t bring myself to wake Kat by putting them on her yet. Instead, I lie down beside her to catch a few hours of sleep before everything turns rancorous between us.
Adrian
In the morning, I zip tie Kat’s wrists together and then attach them to a chain of zip ties around the headboard. Using a strip off one of my t-shirts, I tie a gag around her head to cover her mouth. Kat sleeps through the whole thing.
I get out my phone and take some more photos. Leon Poval will lose his shit when he sees them.
Kat will probably lose her shit when she wakes up, too, which can’t be helped. I knew it would be hard to carry out, but it’s worse than I imagined. I never planned on actually having sex with her. Only staging photos to look like she’d been abused.
Not that I fucked her. I didn’t even come. I keep telling myself that to make myself feel better.
The truth is, I’m sick as hell over this shit.
But I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I vowed to do my best to keep her comfortable and unharmed.
She wakes up and screams. I snap another photo because her terror is too genuine not to pass along to her dear father. Then I tuck my phone in my back pocket and walk over to her. “Hush, dietka. Be a good girl, and you won’t get hurt.”
That only pisses her off. Calling her good girl might have worked last night, but she’s definitely not into it now. She kicks her heels and writhes on the bed, making her short skirt ride up her waist even more. Her panties are still off, and I have to force myself not to look at that pretty pussy she let me taste. She sports a neat trim over her mons, the rest waxed bare.
Fuck. Why did I have to taste her? Why did I mix business with pleasure?
It was a monumental mistake because I have this huge urge to try to make everything better for her now, but of course, I can’t.
She shouts something from behind the gag. Fear is kicking in, and her panic appears to be overtaking the anger.
“Listen.” I sit on the bed beside her and cage her throat in my hand. She fights against me, trashing, eyes wide with terror. “Listen to me, dietka.”
She stops moving and hyperventilates against the gag, the whites of her eyes showing.
“I’m taking off the gag. You’re going to keep quiet. Don’t make me squeeze.” I pulse my fingers around her neck, so she understands what I mean.
She continues her wild, frantic breathing.
“Okay? Are you going to keep quiet?”
She nods her head jerkily.
I grab the remote control by the bed and turn on the large flat-screen television mounted to the opposite wall, cranking the volume in case she tunes up again. The moment the gag comes off she spits, “Pervert! You sick bastard. Did you take a picture of me like this? What in the”
I clamp my hand back over her mouth to shut her up. “I’m not a pervert. This is business.” I deliver the words in a business-like manner. Emotionless, the way Maxim or Ravil would.
I test removing my hand again.
“What business? Pornography? Prostitution?” Then terror replaces the anger again. “What are you going to do with me?”
“Nothing. I don’t rape women.”
“No, you just tie them up and take dirty photos for other perverts like you?”
Fuck.
I should put the gag back in. Walk away.
Better yet, I should keep her drugged until we get on the ship. That’s what they did to Nadia.
But I don’t know anything about drugging women. What if I fucked it up? She still has the MDMA in her system from last night. I don’t know if there are drug interactions that might occur.
But I don’t gag her or walk away. I’m an idiot. Instead, I pick up the glass of water beside the bed and hold it to her lips. She has to be dehydrated.
She takes a swallow, then spits the water in my face.
“Okay, you’re done.” I wrap the gag back around her head. When I lean forward to tie it, she headbutts me in the nose.
I rear back in pain, blood gushing down my shirt.
“Help me! Hel”
I clap a hand over her mouth to cut off her screams. My other hand wraps around her throat. “Shut up,” I snarl.
She fights me.
I tighten my fingers around her neck. I’m not cutting off her oxygen, but I show her that I could.
After a moment of trying to shake my grip, she breaks, sobbing against my hand.
“Not a fucking sound,” I warn her. I’m bleeding all over both of us.
She keeps crying.
All right. It’s fine. I expected tears. I steel myself against them, making my expression ugly. “Scream again, and I’ll stop your breath. Understand?”
She nods against my hand. I release her mouth and use the hem of my t-shirt to staunch the flow of blood from my nose, one hand remaining caged around her throat.
She’s still crying. Not quiet, sniffling cries, but out-of-control sobbing. It seems like she’s winding herself up rather than getting something out.
I have plenty of experience with female tears. My sister soaks her pillow nearly every night with them.
“You’re okay. Listen to me, Kateryna. If you do as you’re told, you’ll get out of this unharmed.”
She focuses on my face, taking deep, gulping breaths. “G-get out of what?”
Blyad’. I should just keep my mouth shut. The less I tell her, the better.
“Wh-what are you going to do with me?”
I bring the sides of my thumbs to my nose to feel if it’s crooked, but it feels okay.
“I’m going to be sick,” she moans.
It might be a trick, but I believe her. She puked last night in the bushes and hasn’t had anything to eat since. Plus, she’s completely overwrought.
I curse and cut the plastic zip tie holding her wrists to the headboard with my penknife.
She pukes down the front of herself before I can get her up.
Fuck.
“All right,” I say, pulling her off the bed and onto her feet. Her wrists are still manacled together with another zip tie, but considering what she’s already done with her skull and her voice, I brace myself for anything she might try.
She seems docile now, though. More upset about the vomit down the front of her than her current situation.
“Let’s clean you up.”
I would put her over my shoulder, but I’m afraid she’ll vomit down my back. Instead, I propel her to the bathroom, holding her wrists with one hand and guiding her back with the other.
In the bathroom, she goes right for the toilet, dropping to sit on it and peeing as she cries softly. I grab some toilet paper and shove it up my nostril to stop the bleeding then wet a washcloth and wait for her to finish. She uses her bound hands to get some toilet paper.
“Does this turn you on?” she demands as she attempts to wipe herself using both hands. Her skirt gets in the way, so I lift it for her.
“Nyet.”
I flush the toilet for her and tug her up to stand, so I can clean her up.
“Let me go. Please.”
“I will let you go when my business is complete.”
“What business? What was the picture for?”
I mop her white blouse with the washcloth, turning it translucent. She has mess down her cleavage, and I work the washcloth between her breasts. They’re full and soft. The asshole in me wishes I’d seen them last night. Before we turned adversarial.
She grabs my wrist and brings her knee up, trying to nail my balls.
I sidestep and snatch her by her throat, pressing her up against the wall. “Don’t,” I warn.
She tries to knee me again, and I have to really cut off her air. She chokes and gasps, eyes bulging.
I hold her another moment to really instill fear in her, then I relax. “Knock it off, or you’ll spend the next two weeks tied spreadeagle to a bed.”
She studies me, her cornflower blue eyes ticking back and forth on mine. “Why two weeks? What’s happening?”
I release her throat and pull her away from the wall. “Back to the bed. You’re being a pain in my ass.”
“You’re being a royal dick,” she shoots back.
She’s not wrong. I take her back to the bed and reattach the zip tie that pulls her wrists over her head and connects them to the headboard.
I take each of her ankles and attach them to the foot of the bed spreadeagle. Then, because the sight turns my stomach, I take another photo. If it makes me sick, it will definitely destroy her dad.