Caught by the Sinner (Russian Torpedo Book 3) Read online

  “I’m not going to ask you if you’re okay. It’s clear that you aren’t,” he announces.

  Turning my head, I look over at him. “I am now,” I lie. “I’d like to go home.”

  He tilts his head to the side, his eyes searching mine for a moment, then he shakes his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. He watches me for far too long, and it becomes a bit uncomfortable. I shift in my seat, wringing my hands together, when he finally says something.

  “No, you aren’t. Seen that look before, know what it means. You stay here until Kazimir says you leave.”

  CHAPTER 2

  KAZIMIR

  I watch Eriks take Natasha to my office, knowing that she will be safe there. Then I turn my attention to one of my other men. I had the two men taken away, discreetly and swiftly. Now that I know Natasha is safe, I can deal with them.

  “You have them?”

  Ruslan nods his head. He’s my newest Torpedo, but he’s not completely on his own yet, so he helps me out here when I need him. He’s good, especially in a situation like this. Jerking my chin toward him, I give him a grin.

  “Let’s handle them, then.”

  He chuckles. “Yes, let’s.”

  Together, we make our way toward the back of the club where those fucks were taken. I own the building next door, and I use it for various things. Teaching assholes lessons is one of them.

  The men are both hanging from hooks that I have strategically placed in the ceiling when I make my way into the lesson-teaching room.

  The building is kept dark until we’re in here working. Turning on the light to the room, I look around to ensure that the windows are still covered.

  Nobody knows we’re here. Nobody will hear these assholes scream either. The club is too loud for that, not to mention that this room is at the very back of the building, isolated from anything else.

  “Who are you?” I demand.

  The men lift their heads, their eyes wide with what I can only describe as crippling fear as they watch me, unspeaking, unmoving.

  “Who are you?” I ask again, keeping my voice calm and smooth.

  The one who boldly had his hand between my woman’s legs whimpers, then tears stream down his cheeks. I would maybe feel pity for him, except he made Natasha cry as well, so I feel less than nothing.

  “I’m Rodger,” he whimpers.

  “Do you know who I am?” I ask.

  He shakes his head.

  “I own Vecherinka,” I inform him.

  They nod their heads simultaneously, their eyes becoming even wider. “We’re so sorry. We heard that the women were open to whatever there. We just thought…” Rodger rambles until he stops, no doubt seeing the anger from his words rise in my face.

  Ruslan clears his throat behind me, but he wisely doesn’t say anything.

  “You thought that you could grab and touch any woman in that club simply because she was under my employ?” I ask.

  They don’t say anything, so I turn my head slightly. “Ruslan?” I call out.

  “Pakhan,” he rumbles, taking a step forward to stand beside me.

  “Have you heard such rumors?” I ask. “That any woman working at the club is as they say, up for grabs?”

  There is a moment of silence as if Ruslan is thinking, though I know that he has his answer already, it’s comical almost to see these assholes sweat. Licking my lips, I take my phone out of my pocket and send Eriks a text, checking on Natasha.

  ERIKS: She is on the couch. Says she’s fine.

  IS SHE?

  ERIKS: Not even close.

  BE THERE SOON.

  “No, Pakhan, I’ve never heard that before.”

  I do have women that offer their services for extra money, that don’t mind being paid for their time. Some are waitresses, some are just entertainment for the club. None of them are, or have ever been, Natasha. And none of them are just up for grabs.

  “Seems you’ve taken these rumors out of context. Though, none of that really matters,” I say.

  “Why?” Rodger asks, tears streaming down his cheeks again.

  Pathetic.

  “Because you’ll never get the chance to make the mistake again.”

  What I want to do is cut his fucking hand off for daring to touch Natasha, but since he’s hanging from a hook, I don’t get the opportunity. Holding out my palm, I wriggle my fingers and Ruslan places a knife in my hand.

  Gripping the handle of the field knife, I press the tip against Rodger’s chest right below his rib cage. He cries out for help, then he whimpers as I press the point against his skin. The first drop of blood forms and I smile, tilting my face up to look at him.

  “Touching women that do not belong to you is an unwise decision. You never know who they truly belong to. I hope that you realize that now, though it doesn’t really matter since you won’t survive this,” I murmur before I slam the knife into him and drag it all the way down his torso to his pelvis.

  Taking a step back, I watch the inside of his body spill out and land on the floor with a splatter.

  It smells.

  He’s fucking disgusting.

  The goddamn asshole that he is.

  The man next to him, the one who hasn’t said a word, the one who held Natasha’s arm down, screams bloody fucking murder. My lips curl up into a grin and I jerk my chin toward him.

  “You’re next.”

  NATASHA

  I stay sitting on the couch, Eriks watching me as if I could burst into flame, or poof, vanish in front of his eyes. Neither happens. Tilting my head to the side, I arch a brow and ask him if he can go and get my purse from the locker beneath the bar. If I had my phone, at least I could text someone or play a game, or something.

  Eriks doesn’t even verbally answer me. Instead, he just shakes his head slowly from side to side. “Pakhan will be here soon,” he says, his voice a deep rumble.

  “It wasn’t even a big deal. I don’t understand the fuss,” I say.

  It was a big deal. My mind went totally freaking blank. I don’t even know what really happened, and honestly, I’d like to keep it that way. I’m good never knowing. I’m good just going on with my sad existence, never thinking about this night ever again.

  I open my mouth to say just that when there is a knock on the door and Kazimir announces his presence. Eriks takes a step toward me, then turns around and flips the lock. I notice that his hand is resting loosely, but actively on his gun at his hip, ready to start shit, if shit should arrive.

  This should make me feel safe, but this only reminds me that I am not safe.

  Kazimir walks into the room, I shift my attention back to my hands in my lap as Eriks slips out. I hear the door close behind him, then it clicks, and I hear the lock behind shift into place. I’m here alone with Kazimir, the one place that I really don’t want to be.

  There is a moment of silence, I expect him to sit down next to me, but he doesn’t. He clears his throat, then he demands, albeit gently, for me to look up at him. Slowly, I lift my head, my eyes sliding up his body, but pausing on his chest.

  “You’re covered in blood,” I whisper.

  He hums, “I am.”

  Two words should not seem so simple. He offers me no explanation, but I don’t need one, do I? I already know whose blood this is. I know everything and yet, at the same time, I know nothing.

  Shifting my gaze up the rest of his body, I stop when my eyes connect with his. “Kazi,” I breathe.

  He doesn’t say anything. His ass is leaning against the front of his desk in that way that men do that is so extremely sexy. He’s covered in blood, his beautiful suit no doubt ruined, but he looks completely unbothered.

  “You went somewhere else tonight. You stopped fighting, and you went somewhere else. What haven’t you told me?” he asks.

  I almost laugh. His question is kind of funny. I haven’t told him a hell of a lot, he hasn’t asked either. Not that I would even offer it up. I’m not ashamed of what happened to me, but I thought that I had moved past it.

  Turns out maybe I haven’t. But I also don’t want to revisit it in a conversation with Kazimir. A conversation with a man who doesn’t want me for anything other than what is between my legs.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be fine. May I go home for the night?” I ask.

  “Are you so angry with me that you can’t talk to me?”

  My eyes don’t leave his. I hold them for a few breaths before I speak. “I’m not angry with you, Kazi. We want different things, that’s all. You want your wife that will be on your arm for the public and a woman who will give you what you need in private. That’s fine, a lot of men in your position want and have that. But I can’t be her.”

  “Can’t you? What do you want, Natasha?”

  I hate the way he says my name. I prefer he call me pchelka. His little bee. But I don’t say that. If I said that then it would just reaffirm that I want to be his.

  “I want a man to love only me, Kazimir. I want to be the queen to his king. Not the whore.”

  Standing to my feet, I start to walk toward him. Lifting my hand, I place my palm in the center of his chest. I know that I’m touching another man’s blood, but I don’t mind. He avenged me. It’s sexy as shit. No man has ever cared enough for me to do that before. I know that if I told him about all of my demons that he would slay them as well.

  “Tell me where you went tonight?” he demands.

  Shaking my head, I suck in a breath. I don’t want to tell him anything. I don’t want him to feel sorry for me, to pity me. So what if I was raped as a teenager? A million other women have had the same thing happen to them. I am not special. I am not different. In fact, I thought that I had moved on from that, until tonight.

  “I think I need to find a new job,” I breathe.

  “Nyet,” he barks. “You need to tell me what the fuck happened to you.” His voice is a roar, it’s so loud that it vibrates throughout my entire body.

  “I was raped before I came to the United States. One of my mother’s men.”

  The words tumble out and I don’t realize that tears are streaming down my cheeks until he lifts his hand and wipes them away with the backs of his fingers. “It was a long time ago,” I breathe.

  He doesn’t say anything right away. His eyes hold mine. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but he shakes his head once.

  “You got a name for me?” he asks.

  My lips curve up into a small smile and I shake my head. “Some customer of hers, far away, in Russia, in another lifetime.”

  He grunts, leaning forward and then I feel his lips press against mine. He doesn’t deepen the kiss, but he does speak.

  “I ever find out who did that to you. I’ll tear him apart piece by piece. Anyone ever touches you again and they’ll meet the fate of those pieces of shit tonight.”

  God, his words should not be as sexy as they are. They definitely should not turn me on, and I should not allow him to kiss me covered in other men’s blood. But I’ve never been a normal girl, I’ve never claimed to be.

  “I need to find a new job,” I breathe, trying not to respond to his sexy as shit declaration. If I do, then I’ll no doubt find myself riding him in just a few seconds flat. I can’t do that anymore, not with him. It hurts too bad when it’s finished.

  “You will work here where I can watch you.”

  Tears fill my eyes, but they don’t fall, I can’t let them. “That hurts too badly.”

  Admitting it, saying it out loud is better therapy than anything else. Because it’s true. It crushes me a little more each time I see him. Each time that he walks away from me. It just hurts.

  Dropping my hand, I turn and walk away.

  I hesitate at the door, hoping that he’ll call out to me, but he doesn’t. He lets me walk out of his office, and as the door closes behind me, softly clicking into place, that is when my heart officially shatters.

  Eriks is waiting for me. Wordlessly, he takes my elbow and guides me toward the bar, then he guides me toward my car, and without a second thought, he takes my car keys, and drives me home.

  I close my eyes, breathing in and out, trying to take calming breaths as Eriks drives me to my apartment. I don’t ask him how he’s going to get home.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Nothing matters right now.

  The man that I love, he doesn’t want me for anything other than sex and it hurts, because I want him for everything. He would kill for me. He has killed for me. But he won’t love me, won’t keep me, and that is heartbreaking.

  CHAPTER 3

  NATASHA

  Once Eriks reluctantly leaves my apartment, I sit on the floor in my bedroom staring at the empty space on the wall. I stare at that spot all night long. I go through the events of earlier, but there are a few things that I can’t get out of my head.

  Kazimir only wants me as his whore, but he’s the one who ran down to the club floor, to the bar, to protect me. He’s the one who was covered in the blood of the men who touched me, who violated me. He’s the one who demanded to know what had happened to me, who is ready to kill that man who hurt me as a girl.

  It was him.

  He could have very easily called one of his men to do that. Eriks looked pissed enough, I think he would have killed those men just the same. Kazimir could have had Eriks take care of those men, ban them from the club, rough them up a little. But that’s not what he did. He’s completely confused me.

  For someone who just wants to use me for sex, he sure did a whole lot to these men tonight for me. I should probably feel disgusted by his actions, appalled even. But I’m not like the regular girls, like the regular people who walk down the street to their good, clean jobs.

  I was born and raised in the underbelly of society. The Bratva. What I consider normal, nobody else does and vice versa. But what Kazimir did tonight, that’s something you do for your woman, your wife, not some girl you used to fuck that you don’t care about.

  Forcing myself up off of the floor, I stand and walk over to my bathroom. Starting the shower, I let out a heavy sigh.

  I need to wash the night off of me.

  I need to wash the sensation of their fingers on my body away. I need it like I need to breathe. I’m no longer sitting in shock. Now I feel disgusted. But not disgusting, because it was not me who acted vile, and I refuse to bear the weight of that shit.

  But I do need to wash them off of me.

  Every freaking part of them.

  Stepping into the shower, I let the hot water cascade over me. I scrub every square inch of my body until it’s bright red, then I scrub a little more. Once the hot water runs cold, only then do I turn it off and grab a towel.

  Wrapping the fluffy white towel around me, I step out of the steamy bathroom and into the bedroom. I already know he’s here. I don’t even have to look up to see him. But when I do, I’m taken aback by how sexy he is.

  Kazimir is sitting on the end of my bed wearing suit pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He’s clean of any trace of blood and his dark-blond hair is combed back and still damp as if he’s just come from a shower.

  “Kazimir,” I whisper.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says, his voice low and sexy.

  Why? Why does he have to be sweet right now? I need to get the fuck out of here. He needs to get the fuck out of here—desperately.

  Nodding, I pull my towel tighter across my chest. “I’m okay.”

  I answer him, hoping that it will get him to leave sooner. His gaze holds mine. He watches me for a moment but doesn’t say anything. Then he stands. I assume that he’s going to leave now that he’s seen that I’m okay, but he doesn’t.

  Instead, he walks directly up to me. He lifts his hand, wrapping his fingers around the side of my throat, and he pauses before he dips his chin, his mouth just inches from mine. Sucking in a breath, I hold it for a moment, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stays there and it’s too much.

  “Kazimir,” I exhale.

  He hums but still doesn’t say anything right away. I can smell him. His scent is almost better than sex, it’s so good. Closing my eyes, I allow myself to have this moment, this last smell, this last bit of closeness. This last everything.

  “I don’t want you to quit your job at the club. If you’re not there, I won’t know you’re safe.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Kazi,” I breathe. “I can’t move on with my life if I see you every single night. If that wound continues to be opened, night after night, I won’t be able to try to move on. And when you find your bride, it will hurt far too badly.”

  “There will be no bride,” he grunts. “Not anytime soon. I thought that I had love once. That was enough.”

  Another nail in my coffin. Kazimir has already had love, past tense and spoiler alert, it wasn’t me. I’ve asked him about this woman before, but he refuses to talk to me about her. All he says is that it was many years ago. That it didn’t work out, but there are no details. I don’t mind it. It was a lifetime ago and has nothing to do with me. Plus, I am clearly not his woman.

  Considering he’s twenty years older than me, he has somehow decided that anything in his past is not relevant to us. Though, I understand that sentiment a bit better now, as he never really thought of us… as an us anyway. I also did not tell him every detail about my past, something that I was acutely reminded of tonight.

  “I want love, Kazimir,” I murmur.

  He doesn’t say anything, instead, his lips touch mine with just a light brush before he takes a step backward. His eyes focus on mine. He watches me for a moment, as if attempting to memorize me.

  “I’ve deposited some money into your account until you find another job. Don’t do anything risky. I’ll be watching you, pchelka.”