His to Ruin Page 3

  “You know if someone asks you a question, that person expects an answer,” she dared to point out.

  “I wanted to see you in my shirt,” he said. For some reason, that response made her chest all warm. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

  Then Nikolai closed the door behind him again.

  Make him wait? What did he have planned?

  She bit her lower lip and got out of the shower. Sasha made a dive for the clothes, wanting to cover herself up. The shirt and jeans still had tags on them. Did he go shopping while she remained unconscious? The other possibility scared her shitless, that he’d prepared these clothes before her kidnapping.

  Sasha gripped the counter and studied herself in the mirror. She looked a little banged up, but otherwise, she had full control of all her limbs. Since she had no choice but to confront Nikolai, she exited the bathroom only to find him cleaning his gun. Both the dangerous man and that weapon of murder he held reverently like a lover made her wary. An adversary like him needed careful handling.

  Spotting her, he lowered his gun on the cloth he’d spread out on the small table next to the armchair. Nikolai rose to his feet and approached, the motion reminding her of the liquid grace displayed by jungle cats when they moved. Don’t look away from him, she reminded herself. Show him you’re not some defenseless prey. She bit her lower lip when he grabbed the rope hanging off the footboard.

  “You don’t need to tie me up.” Her voice came out shaky, damn it. She tried again, glad she didn’t tremble this time. “I won’t run.”

  He raised his eyebrows at her. Those steel-gray eyes held a look of amusement in them. Damn the cocky bastard. “And you expect me to believe the word of a scared young woman?”

  Sasha plopped on the edge of the bed and raised her foot up, pouting.

  Nikolai chucked, the sound unsettling her because it woke something inside her, an emotion she couldn’t quite name yet.

  “Good girl.” He picked up the rope and quickly looped it around her ankle, secure but not too tight. When she examined herself in the mirror earlier, she noticed she didn’t have any rope burns either.

  “You’re good at tying people up,” she found herself saying.

  He flashed her wolfish smile that made her heart thud. Sweat dripped down her back, between her breaths as he ran his hand down her denim-clad thigh, to rub at her foot.

  “I’ve had plenty of practice.”

  It unnerved Sasha, the way his touch didn’t instantly repulse her. This man killed Maxim, and wanted to do all kinds of filthy things to her, she reminded himself. Yet the more they spent time together, Sasha became dead certain that underneath the facade of a monster, there was so much more to Nikolai. Why else would Nikolai hold her hair back while she vomited or offer her water? He gave her space, let her shower and dress in peace, too. Was this part of some sick game to him? She knew too little about her captor. Sasha had to remedy that now if she wanted to escape.

  The words came tumbling out of her before she could stop herself. “Why did you kill my father?”

  Chapter Five

  Sasha’s question caught him off guard. By now, Nikolai expected her to cry, beg him to release her, to fight him tooth and nail. She’d done none of those things. So what was her game? If she wanted to talk, they’d talk.

  Nikolai sat on the edge of the bed. An inch separated them, but he didn’t cross that line, not yet. Sasha intrigued him, especially after discovering she was no fragile flower.

  “When I was twelve, Maxim stormed into my family home with his men. He gave my mother to his men and forced me to watch while he put a bullet to my father’s head.” Nikolai had never told that to anyone. Only his uncle Aleksander knew, but the dead didn’t speak. Besides, whom would she tell? Sasha had no one now, except him.

  Her eyes widened.

  “What was your father’s name?”

  “Yuri Lazovsky. He wasn’t involved in the family business.”

  Nikolai might have idolized his father when he’d been little, thought Yuri had been a hero for standing his ground, for choosing to live a normal life, but his father had been a fool to think he could escape his fate. Killing Maxim didn’t give Nikolai any satisfaction. It felt like he’d merely executed a task that had been on his checklist.

  Sasha’s look darkened. What was she thinking? Why did he desperately want to know?

  “Talk to me,” Nikolai urged, using a soothing tone. The last thing he wanted was for her to clam up.

  She let out a heavy breath, before speaking again, “The Lazovsky family murdered my mother.”

  It was his turn to be surprised. Nikolai tightened his jaw at those words. He knew Sasha’s mother died when she was little. Nikolai had that on his research file but not the cause of her mother’s death. He made the silent calculation in his head. When Sasha’s mother died he’d been sent away by Aleksander to Moscow. Not that Nikolai had been privy to his uncle’s business.

  Aleksander didn’t trust anyone, not even his own kin. His uncle only saw it fit to train his nephew in the ways of their world and considered his duty done. Nikolai didn’t ask questions, but didn’t have any particular loyalties to his uncle either. Love and affection couldn’t bloom in a place of violence, and all he remembered were his uncle’s beatings when he failed a task.

  After Aleksander died, Nikolai had let the other family members scramble for power. Within a year, the family had been disbanded as other members flocked to or were assimilated into other Bratva families. He took work where it was offered, becoming a contract killer, but he had one goal in mind.

  She started to tremble, to turn away, but he didn’t like that. Nikolai gripped her shoulders.

  “Don’t shut me out,” he told her.

  “What do you want from me?” She sounded furious, frustrated.

  Good question.

  “I don’t know,” he told her with brutal honesty. Nikolai didn’t like seeing her hurting, but he didn’t know how to comfort her either. He put his arms around her, expecting her entire body to tense up. If she shoved him away, he’d pull back, giving her the space she needed, but instead, Sasha let out one of those horrible laughs. Her chest heaved, and to his shock, she curled up against him, fists against his chest. She seemed so tiny compared to him. Sasha sobbed silently, tears sliding down her cheeks, coating his chest.

  He’d done this to her. Fuck. Nikolai could never stand crying women, but her tears wrenched something painful inside of him. Nikolai had thought himself immune to all emotion except vengeance, didn’t think he’d been capable of caring about someone else, until he took her.

  “Let it all out, baby,” he told her, reaching out to stroke her hair, the graceful curve of her spine.

  When it came to sex, Nikolai never had a problem with getting women to sleep with him. Sex had been a quick, dirty way to fulfill his needs. That was all. He’d never touched a woman like this, so he never knew what it felt like, having Sasha’s warm and soft body pressed so close against him.

  Nikolai wanted skin to touch, to eliminate the barrier of clothing between them, but what would that achieve? She didn’t trust him, probably never would, and she had every right to be pissed off at him. Nikolai had pried her away from the only life she’d known, and yet he’d been certain Maxim planned on killing her. He couldn’t have that. Eventually, she quieted against him, raised her head.

  “The cycle of vengeance never ends, does it?”

  He didn’t answer. Nikolai didn’t think she expected one.

  “I’m sorry about your father,” she finally said. “Maxim was my father. For that, I’ll grieve for him, but—”

  She hesitated. Nikolai waited. He finally understood a little why he couldn’t allow that bastard Maxim to murder his own daughter. Being around Sasha felt like standing next to a bright little star. A bitter woman would have told a killer like him that his father deserved whatever he got. Not her. Her emotions felt too raw and genuine to be faked.

  Sasha continued. “Af
ter my mother died, he became a stranger to me. I kept telling myself this was the same man who took my mother and me for surprise dinner dates, who kept my first kindergarten drawing on our fridge. I was only deluding myself.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “Know?” she asked, a look of confusion on her face.

  “I watched you for three days.”

  Alarm swept through her face.

  “I’ve been planning this for years, but after hearing him threaten to kill you through the bugs I planted, something in me snapped.” Nikolai didn’t know why he told her that either. She didn’t need to spill her secrets either, and yet here they both were, not-strangers baring their souls to each other. After a lifetime of keeping his emotions leashed, it felt good.

  “Why? What’s so special about me?”

  Nikolai didn’t answer her. “I didn’t want him to kill what’s about to be mine.”

  That was the first lie he told that evening. This time, she pushed him away, and he released her. She glared at him with accusatory eyes.

  This woman, Nikolai decided, his woman, would someday get him or both of them killed, but it was too late now. They were both headed towards the same path—to a highway to hell.

  Chapter Six

  “You need to eat. I’ll get us some dinner,” Nikolai said abruptly.

  “Fine.”

  “I need to gag you. Can’t guarantee you won’t scream. Not that anyone would come running. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and the only people who come to places like these, know when to mind their own business.” His words chilled her. Of course a man like him would take precautions.

  Sasha didn't fight him when he took out a strip of cloth from his back pocket and tied it over her mouth. That done, he grabbed his jacket, the one he’d tossed at her earlier, then put it on. Before leaving the room, he gave her another glance, expression unreadable, before opening the door and slamming it shut.

  She silently seethed. Nikolai had forgotten to tie her hands. Satisfied, she yanked off the gag, then began working out a way to free her ankle from the rope. Fifteen minutes later, according to the digital clock near the bowl of condoms, she hadn’t gotten anywhere.

  Her fingers felt numbed, but she refused to give up. Sasha eyed the glass bowl. Maybe that would do. Scooting as far as the rope allowed, she made a grab for the bowl. Her fingers barely touched the rim. Gritting her teeth, she lunged again. The rope on her ankle tightened. She hissed at the pain, but refused to give up. At her third attempt, she managed to grab the bowl, spilling the condoms everywhere.

  Happy with her prize, she fell back against the pillows and shut her eyes. Her vision swam momentarily. She couldn’t believe that little act had tired her out so much. Sasha took a couple of moments to breathe in and out. There was no knowing what time Nikolai would be back.

  She sat up again and smashed the bowl against the drawer. Glass shattered. She viciously swore as a sharp shard cut her thumb. Focus, she told herself. The sight of her blood made her wide-awake, more determined to free herself. She picked up a large shard carefully, then used it to try sawing off the rope. Part of the thick rope gave way.

  Sasha let out a little squeal of joy, then painstakingly began the task of cutting it. By the end of it, her hand bled. She cut herself while holding the shard too hard, but she had no choice. At least, she accomplished her task. Sasha rose to her feet, a little shaky. Remembering spotting a first-aid kit in the bathroom, she returned there. She still felt a little dizzy. From the blood loss perhaps?

  She left streaks of blood on the kit but didn’t care. Sasha didn’t have time to lose. Her heart thudded, instinct telling her to get the hell out of there, but if she left her bleeding hand alone, it would arouse suspicion.

  Sasha formed a rash plan in her head. She’d get help. She assumed Nikolai had taken her to some kind of inn. The bowl of condoms and the no-smoking sign in the room supported that theory. She’d go to the front desk, ask if she could use the phone.

  Then what?

  She could call the police. Bad idea, she instantly thought. Sasha shoved her hand under the tap, letting water run over it, before dousing the wound with alcohol. Agony streaked up her arm. She let out a little moan. Her vision swirled. Maybe she was more weakened than she thought. Then again, she’d been kidnapped, tied up, and tossed in Nikolai’s car. She hadn’t eaten anything yet either.

  Focus on the plan, she reminded herself.

  By now, word of Maxim’s demise must have reached his other lieutenants. Sasha was no fool. She’d seen the way they looked at her, and knew deep down if fear of her father didn’t make them behave then, she’d be their new toy. The family had connections to the police, too. She couldn’t trust the local authorities. The family might have filed a missing persons’ report, and what then?

  The police would only hand her over to them, to do what they wished.

  She shivered, quickly bandaging up her arm. Sasha couldn’t linger. She’d think up a plan while on the run. Darting back to the room, she searched through Nikolai’s belongings, finding some cash tucked away in the pocket of a black duffel back, which not surprisingly contained plenty of weapons.

  A gun would be useful, except Sasha had no idea how to use one. She picked up one revolver. Her hands started to tremble. This miserable weapon was the cause of so much pain, her mother, then Nikolai’s father.

  She shut her eyes, recalling their conversation. Sasha had a feeling Nikolai wasn’t the sort of man who easily shared that kind of personal information to a complete stranger. Still, she heard hidden anger in his voice when he spoke about his father. Nikolai had experienced loss, too, and maybe that grief had been the reason that pushed him towards the path of violence.

  “That doesn’t excuse you from taking me and calling me your possession,” she whispered angrily, deciding not to take the gun in the end.

  Sasha ran to the door, yanking it open. Doubts crept in her mind, but there was no time to wonder, to reconsider her plans. She shut the door behind her. Her heart felt like a living thing inside her chest, like a bird straining to spread its wings. This was her first time in the outside world, alone and without needing to fear her father’s wrath.

  She squinted at her surroundings, spotting a dilapidated parking lot with a single car. She looked around her. Her guess had been right. They were in some kind of motel. A neon sign winked in and out next to what she guessed was the front desk. Her gaze didn’t linger there though. She looked at the parking lot again. Beyond that, she glimpsed a road. Still beyond that, a cluster of trees.

  Wind lifted her hair. Freedom.

  She took a few steps forward, realizing she’d forgotten to put on shoes as gravel and tiny stones bit at the soles of her feet. Sasha had been dreaming of this moment for so long, that even the dirty parking lot and the seedy motel made her feel surreal.

  “Hey there, doll. You alone? Where did you come from?” a greasy voice asked. “I haven’t seen you around these parts before.”

  Sasha froze, looking for the source of the voice to see two middle-aged men dressed in plaid shirts and dirty jeans, getting out of their pickup. The speaker had dirty blond hair and a cowboy hat.

  Fear crawled down her spine. His partner gave her an appraising look. A quick look told her there was no one else around. Aside from the pick-up, only a car she presumed belonged to Nikolai was there.

  Nikolai, she remembered. She took a step back. That only seemed to encourage them to come closer. Bile formed in her throat, seeing the blond guy pat the bulge in his jeans. For a moment there, when she’d had all the world to herself, she’d deluded herself into thinking she could tackle the world on her own.

  These two men only reminded her she’d been fooling herself. This was cold reality. She had nothing on her, no cash, nothing to defend herself with. Sasha had no illusions what these men wanted. She saw that look often enough in her father’s trusted men.

  “Aw, don’t be frightened. Why don’t you come with us? We�
�ll show you a good time,” drawled the man’s partner, a familiar glint in his eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  Sasha’s back hit something hard, a wall of warm muscle. She sucked in a breath, hope fluttering in her chest as she looked up. On his face, Nikolai wore a pissed-off look that could scare the dead. He slid one possessive arm around her hip, tugging her close until her ass touched his groin, his grip bruising and reassuring. That wasn’t right either, the way she viewed Nikolai as safe despite knowing what he could do

  Both men halted as if sensing a monster in their midst. Better a monster she somewhat understood, who hadn’t touched her and gave her clothes, than these two strangers.

  “Where did you run off to, baby?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the two men.

  “I wanted to get a fresh breath of air,” she whispered.

  “Fuck off. She’s mine,” Nikolai simply said to the men. She heard a click, and looking down, she saw he carried a revolver loosely against his side.

  Sasha could almost imagine what was going on the heads of the two men. One look at Nikolai’s scarred, ink body and the gun and any sensible person would bolt, too.

  The blond’s partner began to take a step forward. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  The blond had better sense. He grabbed the back of the other guy’s shirt and yanked him back.

  “We didn’t know,” was the blond said. He tipped his hat to her, then tugged his friend back to his truck.

  “A wise choice,” Nikolai said dryly.

  They watched the two men leave, and she collapsed against his hard chest, beginning to shake.

  He held her tightly against him, grip almost punishing, but she welcomed his rough touch.

  Sasha didn’t bother explaining herself, didn’t stop Nikolai from ushering her back into the room. Her encounter with the two men had been enough of a deterrent to try the outside world again. She swallowed, coming face-to-face with her captor.