His to Ruin Page 2

  “You’re my weakness. Maybe it’s better off if you don’t weigh me down. Your mother would be happy, knowing I’ve sent you to heaven.”

  Her heart felt like it wanted to break free out of her ribcage. Sweat dripped down her back. Sasha’s gaze slid to the butter knife near her, as if that little piece of metal could protect her. She’d fight him, she realized, even though her hand trembled as it reached for the tiny knife.

  Panic swept through her like wildfire as Maxim narrowed his gaze.

  “What are you going to do with that, Sasha?” Maxim approached her, and she backed away, until her body hit the wall. “I’ll make it painless, I promise.”

  Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes. She could see it in his gaze. Maxim would really make good on his promise.

  “I’ve thought long and hard about this,” Maxim went on. “Each time I leave you here, I worry someone will take you from me. Better I do the job myself, instead of thinking about you in someone else’s hands.”

  God. He was crazy. Oh, Sasha knew he had a few loose screws, but he’d finally come unhinged. Did it have to do something do with stress from his job? She’d never know. This man had become a stranger to her ever since her mother had been murdered.

  “Please, don’t do this,” she whispered, shakily pointing the tiny weapon at him.

  She had good memories of her father, back before Maxim became this. Surely, he’d remembered he was capable of being a better man once.

  A heavy thump followed by a cry outside made her jerk her head towards the door. Maxim suddenly yanked her close, his eyes narrowed, gun pointed away from her and at the door.

  “Stay close to me, Sasha,” he said under his breath.

  Confusion hit her. First, he wanted to kill her, then protect her?

  Couldn’t he make up his mind, or maybe he wanted to kill her himself instead of letting someone do the job?

  Heavy silence permeated the air, the kind she hated, a foretelling of bad things to come. It took her momentarily to a place in time when she’d been eleven years old. Even then, Maxim thought hiding her away would keep the monsters at bay. He had shoved into a room for her own safety, and no one told her until much later what happened to her mother—she’d been gunned down while bringing her groceries to her car. Sasha tried twisting out of Maxim’s grip, but he painfully clamped down on her elbow.

  What had just happened outside?

  The front door crashed opened. A titan of a man dressed in all black entered. He remained in the dimly lit corridor, features hard to make out. The stranger stepped into the light, the lines on his face harsh, his hard, green eyes blazing with quiet fury and his hand on the gun rock steady.

  “Who the fuck are you, and how did you get here?” Maxim demanded.

  Everything moved in slow motion. Sasha glanced at her father, horrified to see him fumbling for the trigger. Maxim might have done plenty of hands-on work in his youth, but he had men for dirty tasks now.

  The stranger pointed his gun first at her, then her father.

  “No!” she cried out, but he fired.

  In the movies, guns always made plenty of noise. Pretty distraction. Reality was a lot different. The shooter must have a silencer on. A neat red hole appeared between her father’s shock-reflected eyes, and then Maxim Petrovich toppled over.

  A scream tore out of her throat. Sasha remain frozen in place. Anger and relief whirled inside of her, a confusing mess of emotions.

  The shooter appeared in her line of sight, moving at a speed at odds with his size, then clamped one large hand over her mouth. The other hand he wrapped around her chest, pulling her into a close embrace.

  If this bastard thought she’d go without a fight, he had another think coming. Sasha bit hard on his fingers. He hissed, breath warm against her ear, but didn’t loosen his hold on her.

  “Sorry about this, princess,” he whispered, then delivered a quick blow to the side of her head.

  Her vision whirled. She felt dizzy, slightly nauseous. Before she blacked out, her last image was that of her father, lying in a puddle of his own blood.

  Chapter Three

  Nikolai drove past the Petrovich Tower, not going too fast or too slow. Either way, the car had been a rental he planned on dumping soon. The street was already swarming with cars. Petrovich reinforcements, but they were too late.

  He didn’t get the same high he usually felt when taking a life. Instead, he felt strangely empty, a dead husk. It confused the fuck out of him why nothing went according to plan. Take the girl hostage, and lure Maxim out into the open.

  Everything changed when he’d heard the heated exchange between Sasha and Maxim. Nothing was what it seemed. She was no frigid, spoiled ice princess. Few things surprised Nikolai anymore, but Sasha certainly did.

  I became a woman in this prison and look how fucked-up I’ve become.

  Certainly, his prize was no fragile flower. Nikolai didn’t know what came over him after it dawned on him that Maxim wasn’t the overprotective, doting father he thought. They were both monsters, true, but Nikolai didn’t get his kicks beating helpless women.

  Maxim had been ready to kill her, Nikolai had been dead certain of that.

  Knowing security would be watching the front entrance, he’d taken the service lift, ending the two guards outside without much trouble, then Maxim. The fucker had died too fast, not deserving such an easy death. Nikolai might have acted recklessly, but he wasn’t stupid. The security system would have alerted more Petrovich men, so he took what he came for—the dangerous, sharp-tongued, curvy beauty capable of unhinging him.

  At a red traffic light, Nikolai took a peek at her. Strands of black curls fell across her face. He bound her hands and feet, discouraging escape. Even in restraints, she looked like a fucking goddess. Skin like white marble and curls cascading down her back. With her hands behind her, her generously-sized tits poked out, and her short dress didn’t hide any of her curves or the tempting valley between her legs.

  Focus, he told himself, returning his gaze to the road ahead. It wasn’t like him to be easily distracted, to easily be derailed from his plans. This woman confused the fuck out of him. Nikolai killed for a living, so meticulous planning ensured his survival. Hearing on the microphones as Sasha begged Maxim to be let out had been enough for him to throw all those plans to the wind.

  “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

  Nikolai had anticipated what would happen next. Maxim’s death would create a hole in the hierarchy. Maxim had no other family members save Sasha, so his power-hungry lieutenants would be scrambling for control while the other Bratva families would try to find weaknesses to exploit.

  Only the strong survived in their world, and with their leader fallen, the Petrovich family was done for. Nikolai knew that from personal experience. The same had happened to his own family after his uncle passed away.

  Soon enough, they would realize Nikolai had taken Maxim’s greatest treasure. Any fucker stupid enough to come after him, Nikolai would deal with.

  ****

  Sasha jolted up awake, screaming, the remnants of last night’s horrid nightmares still lingering fresh in her mind. Her throat hurt.

  Uneasy silence. Then she realized she couldn’t open her mouth. Something sticky held her lips firm. Masking tape. Panicked, she opened her eyes, and took in where she was.

  Her cheek pressed up against something soft, but that was the limit of her comfort. A car seat, she realized. Ropes cut into her wrists and ankles, tight but not enough to cut circulation. She couldn’t see the driver, only his huge profile. Fear crawled up her spine as Sasha remembered the taste of acid in her mouth when this stranger had shot her father dead.

  Another scream clawed its way out of her throat, once again muffled by the tape. Tears of frustration prickled at the corner of her eyes.

  “Tears won’t help you, princess. Not this time, not anymore,” said a deep voice.

  The stranger stopped the car and got out. Terr
or washed over her. Trembles ran up and down her body, but she refused to go out like some helpless victim. Think, she silently screamed at herself. Don’t think about what he intends to do to you. Find a way to escape.

  Sasha tried the ropes again, hoping to loosen the knots, but to no avail. The effort only tired her further, but Sasha refused to give up. Sasha knew she had to conserve her strength. Surely, sooner or later, he’d slip up. Men ruled by violence always did.

  The car door opened. She swallowed, breaths hitching. Goosebumps appeared on her arms. Be brave, she told herself, don’t freak out.

  The man, her captor, flashed her a mocking smile. His pitiless green gaze captured her, lacking mercy, or any good emotion that made any decent human being tick. For all her kidnapper’s rough, handsome looks, he hid nothing but darkness underneath. He was massive, every inch of him made of hard muscle. Could she escape someone built like a tank and whose entire body could be a weapon?

  Those frightening eyes pinned her, making her feel like some kind of prey animal, a bird with broken wings, caught in a trap.

  A shiver crawled down her spine. The way he looked at her reminded of the wolves she saw on the nature shows, hungry, patient predators who would stop at nothing to obtain their prize. She scooted far away from him as possible, but there was nowhere to go.

  Princess, he’d called her. She shuddered. This man knew what her father called her and had planted a bullet between her father’s eyes without hesitation. A killer without a conscience. Who knew what he could do to her?

  Nothing good.

  Sasha should have been petrified, but the desire reflected in those eyes, the harsh lines of his face, also triggered another unexpected emotion. She closed her legs together, unsure why she did that, half horrified and half fascinated why his coming close would make her wet. Juices seeped into her pussy. Her chest felt unbearably hot as forbidden images raced through her head.

  What would it be like, to submit to such a man? Not a man, but a soulless monster who took without asking, who could tear her apart with those huge hands if he wanted?

  God. What was wrong with her?

  Then again, ever since Maxim put her in that prison, she’d never grown up right. Fucked-up, those were the words she’d repeatedly hurled at her father.

  “I’m going to take that tape off now, princess. Scream if you want, but no one will hear you. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Nod if you understand,” he said.

  She nodded, wary of him. Sasha kept her guard up, her senses alert. He pried the end of the tape, taking it off slowly, so carefully it didn’t even hurt. Sasha breathed. Her throat locked up. Any sensible human being would scream, call for help, except he’d told her there was no use. No one would come running. Exactly like her dinners with Maxim.

  A brittle, dry laugh escaped her. He narrowed those strange, intense eyes at her.

  “What’s so funny, princess?”

  Sasha didn’t know why she told him. She could have wielded silence as a weapon against him. Sometimes it worked with Maxim, but for some reason, she decided to be honest with him. “No one’s coming for me. Scream all I want. You’re just like him,” she whispered.

  His face twisted, and he gripped her chin. Those words pissed him off. She winced, expecting a blow, but he only thumbed her skin, watching her, observing her.

  He only gave her one warning. “Don’t ever compare me to that fucker again.”

  Then he did the unexpected—stopped touching her.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, hating the fear in her voice, how small she sounded.

  “You don’t want to piss me off, princess. Do you want to know what happens to those who do?”

  The look in those green eyes locked in her place, daring her to defy him.

  “I hate you,” was all she said. “Are you going to keep me all tied up the entire time, or is a helpless woman too much for you to handle?”

  Again, she expected him to hit her.

  He did something worse and chuckled. “Show me you can be a good girl and I’ll reconsider your request.”

  What the hell?

  Chapter Four

  The next time Sasha woke, she felt something wet being pressed to her lips. She pulled away in protest, expecting to feel the bite of the ropes, but he’d freed both her legs and arms.

  “It’s just cold water, princess. You’re dehydrated. Drink,” said a man’s firm voice.

  Her throat did feel parched, so with both hands she grabbed the water bottle he offered and took greedy gulps.

  “Why didn’t you say you were thirsty?” he demanded.

  “I fainted, sue me.”

  Did she imagine it, or did he look slightly guilty?

  “I don’t even know your name,” she finally said.

  Up close, she could see him clearly now. He wore a thin black tee, the fabric stretching across his massive upper body. Scars and ink decorated his arms of steel. Those hands could easily crush her windpipe. She took another sip. Sasha needed to build her strength if she planned to get away from this psycho.

  “It’s Nikolai.”

  Nikolai. She repeated his name in her mind, before risking a look at her surroundings. A whimper clawed out of her throat. They were no longer in his car. A room with fading wallpaper and scratched up furniture looked back at her. Next to the bed was a chest of drawers, but it was the bowl of condoms she stared at. Her stomach turned queasy. If she’d eaten anything, she’d have hurled the contents of her guts out.

  Goosebumps appeared on both her arms. Sasha shivered. He cursed, making her jump on the bed. Nikolai grabbed his jacket from a nearby armchair and tossed it at her. She hesitated, before putting it over her shoulders. Cold crept into her skin despite the thin fabric of the t-shirt she wore.

  Wait a second. She’d been wearing a dress.

  Sasha tugged a handful of the fabric. The tee was maybe three times her size, a man’s shirt. His perhaps? That meant he changed her. Right?

  “You saw me naked?” she whispered, furious. It was silly, demanding answers from a killer when he could have taken advantage of her anytime he wanted.

  “Your dress was covered in blood.” Nikolai seemed to be staring at her tits, no surprise. He was male.

  Sasha clenched her thighs together, aware she had no bottoms on. She didn’t feel sore between her legs though, which meant he’d kept her intact.

  Why?

  Maybe Nikolai was the sort of man who liked his prey lovely.

  God. Bile rose. She found herself slipping out of bed, only to discover he’d looped a rope around her left ankle and tied that to the footboard of the bed.

  “Fuck.” Sasha didn’t normally swear. Her mother had raised her to be a good girl, but Sasha had earned it. Frustration made her clench her fists and let out a ragged little scream.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Nikolai asked, tone dangerous.

  “I need to hurl, unless you want to hold my hair up?” she answered in a biting tone.

  Nikolai mutely untied her. Sasha rushed into the bathroom. Knees shaking, she grimaced when they hit the hard, cold floor. She vomited into the toilet bowl, only to feel Nikolai’s big, callused hands gathering strands of her hair, holding it up while she finished. Would he find her disgusting? She hoped so. That would certainly make him find her less attractive. She let out a hollow laugh. As if that alone would persuade him to let her go.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s clean you up in the shower.”

  She jerked away from him at that suggestion. Nikolai released her hair, watching her the way a hawk regarded its prey. Sasha wished she knew what thoughts went inside his head. Wasn’t that the rule of warfare, to know her enemy? Nikolai was certainly that, captor and enemy, even though the sight of him confused her body, her senses.

  “I’ll wait outside,” he finally said with a sigh, then shut the door behind him.

  Sasha waited one second, several. Certain he wouldn’t barge into her anytime soon, she rose s
hakily to her feet. She smelled of vomit. Sasha would love nothing better than to take a shower, but she had another priority. Escape.

  She looked around the bathroom, lip quivering and eyes tearing when she saw the tiny window. A cat could barely squeeze into that opening. No wonder Nikolai hadn't been worried about leaving her alone.

  Sasha couldn’t stay in here forever either, and he’d grow suspicious if he didn’t hear the sound of running water soon. A man like Nikolai, one used to violence, would drag her out of the bathroom if she refused to come out.

  With trembling fingers, she peeled off her shirt. No underwear underneath. Refusing to think about the fact he saw her naked, she darted inside the shower cubicle and turned on the tap. Her nipples tightened as she thought about the way he’d looked at her, like a hungry wolf.

  Shivering, she stood there until her skin turned all wrinkly. The knock on the door made her squeak.

  “What?” she yelled, teeth clattering.

  “Just making sure you haven’t fainted on me.”

  Did he really think she was that fragile?

  The doorknob turned, and every muscle in her body froze. Would he take her now that she’d cleaned herself and no longer smelled of vomit? Her heart raced, and her breaths hitched. She fisted her hands. If Nikolai wanted to take her that way, then he’d have a fight on his hands. He might be bigger and stronger than she was, but he’d underestimate her will to survive, or so she hoped.

  “I’ll leave this here,” he said.

  She blinked, turning off the shower. Nikolai placed a pile of clothing on the counter, a pink shirt and a pair of jeans.

  “Why didn’t you dress me in those?” she asked, clearing her throat.

  His gaze met hers. Nikolai looked her up and down without shame, as if he thought he already owned her body. Sasha shivered, putting her arms over her breasts and closing her legs together. A futile attempt to hide herself from him, she knew, because he could easily drag her by the hair if he wanted.

  She expected him to do any number of cruel things, finally force himself on her, or worse, laugh. Nikolai remained there.