CHAPTER ONE - “Spy”
KATYA
In ten seconds, my life could be over. At least, that was what the Russian giant who caught me snooping had said.
He wanted the truth, but that wasn’t possible. I had to stick to the lie - that I was rummaging through the restricted area of the underworld solely to find my missing necklace.
My mind began the countdown.
Ten… nine… eight…
It was unbearable. My feet already trembled uncontrollably from being tied to opposite ends of the dark cell, and my hands, cuffed with a cold cold chain hanging from the ceiling, felt like they were no longer part of my body.
Seven….
I was being held in an infamous Bratva torture room for a crime I didn't commit. s**t, maybe I did commit a crime, but it was just trespassing. Why torture someone for accidentally walking into the wrong room?
Six…..
Okay, maybe it wasn’t accidental. I’d gone looking for the Bratvan archives because I knew it was the only way to find the Russian bastard who slaughtered my family.
Five….
The steel door swung open, cutting off my mind's frantic rambling.
I could feel death swagger into the room, flanked by heavily armed guards. From the way this new guy carried himself like a god, I knew I couldn't look into his eyes and give him some bullshit excuse about a necklace.
“Alexei,” his voice was a throaty growl. It was very sexy for a… s**t, Katya, shut the f**k up! I licked my dry lips, struggling to keep my mind alert.
The Russian giant who chained me stepped out of the shadows. “Pakhan.”
“Svet (Lights).”
I was instantly bathed in blinding luminance. My eyes blinked rapidly, stinging as they adjusted to the extreme brightness. God knows how long I’d been kept in the dark, or what time of day it was.
My eyes darted around the room. There were no windows or second entrances, just a steel table lined with blades, pliers, and hooks. My stomach lurched.
Seeing how the vault-like door sealed noiselessly behind him, nobody outside was ever going to hear me scream.
“Name.” That throaty growl came again.
I had been too busy analyzing the room to notice he had walked right up to me.
My eyes scanned upward from his sparkly loafers to his well-tailored pants. His left hand was tucked neatly in his pocket, and his right sleeve was folded back, revealing a darkening forearm. A nasty, infected wound he must have there.
Alexei stepped forward and gripped my jaw, forcing our eyes to meet. “Speak, bitch.”
“Katya. My name is Katya.”
“Katya,” the Pakhan repeated my name, sounding like he was testing how it felt in his mouth. “You don’t sound Russian. Where are you from?”
“Brazil.”
“You’re a long way from home, don’t you think?”
Alexei was right in my face, but past his shoulder, I caught the Pakhan running his finger over a heavy ring.
There was something unnervingly familiar about him… no way we had met before, right? I shook my head, clearing my tight throat. “I… I came here for work.”
Well, if you could call dancing half-naked for old geezers work.
“And that work led you to my archives, yes?”
I knew it. This guy wasn’t just dangerous; he was a cunning motherfucker. “No, no! I swear to God, I’m not a spy. I’ve only been in Russia for two weeks…”
“Alexei,” the Pakhan cut me short.
“Pakhan.”
“Stvol (Gun)”
My heartbeat tripled as Alexei handed him a gun. The Pakhan pulled back the hammer and pushed Alexei aside. I raised my eyes to his, my mouth falling open.
Suddenly, a flash of recognition sparked in his gaze. His hand faltered.
A gasp escaped my lips as the memories came flooding back all at once, hit after hit.
The crowd roaring after my dance… the handsy bastard who reached into my bra to fondle my t**s… me snapping the motherfucker’s wrist… a manager reprimanding me for assaulting a VIP, then handing me the access card to a presidential suite… the wild, breathless s*x with a gorgeous client who had now turned out to be the Pakhan of the Russian mafia…
Jesus, Katya. You are so dead.
He steadied his aim, regaining his stoic composure almost immediately. Of course he thought I was a spy. I was caught snooping around a no-go area minutes after sleeping with him. Even I would suspect me.
“You’re here on purpose” He spat distastefully.
“I’m not a spy!” I cried, tears finally spilling over. “I’m telling the truth!”
“SHUT UP!”
My entire frame rattled at the command. He closed the space between us in three long steps, leaning directly into my ear. The expensive scent of oud and tobacco overwhelmed my senses. “I’ll give you one chance, so think carefully. Who sent you?”
I shook my head, whimpering. Sweat and tears clashed on my cheeks and trailed down my neck as he turned and walked away from me.
“Konchay eyo (Finish her),” he ordered coldly.
No. I didn’t come half-way across the ocean to get killed like chicken. Frantic, my gaze fell on his hand.
“I can treat your arm!” I screamed at his retreating back.
He stopped dead at the door.
“Your arm is rotting!” I yelled, the words tumbling out of sheer panic. “If you don’t get it cleaned, you’ll lose it. I can treat it. I can treat your men, too! Please, just don’t kill me.”
He didn’t turn around, but I could see the rigid line of his shoulders shifting as he contemplated. Finally, he glanced back at Alexei. “Take her to Hell’s gate.”
