Nikolai: The Complete Collection

11. Nikolai

11

NIKOLAI

M y blood boils when the winded grunt of the bottom-feeder I have nailed to the brickwork of Justine’s apartment registers as familiar. It’s pathetic and weak even with its owner being a direct descendent to one of the longest-serving criminal entities this side of Russia.

Sergei may have Popov blood, but he will never be a true Popov. He’s too weak, too трусливый. After what he did to Rico, his limbs should be feeding fish in the bottom of the ocean, not lurking outside of my attorney’s apartment.

I revel in the feeling of his pulse weakening for several long seconds since his snoop lost me the chance to refute Justine’s fabricated statement before loosening my grip on his throat.

When I fully relinquish him from my hold, he falls to his knees to suck in some much-needed breaths. His lungs are heaving as much now as they did when I stunned him with a quick left-right-left combination before ramming him into the brickwork outside of Justine’s bedroom. I should have killed him, but there were too many onlookers to pretend his death was in self-defense.

“What are you doing here, Sergei?” I sound calm even with my insides engulfed by fury. He was right there, peering through the glass door of Justine’s balcony, closer to her than I was.

That’s unacceptable.

After another three wheezy breaths, Sergei says, “He sent me to check on you.”

“He?” I know who he means, but I just want to test where his loyalties lie. If they’re with Vladimir, he’ll die even with witnesses. If they aren’t, I’ll save his death for a few more days.

I can’t say weeks as that’s not a guarantee I can give a man as worthless as Sergei.

Sergei’s life is spared for the night when he mutters, “Vladimir. He doesn’t believe Trey’s recollection of events. He sent me here to check.”

“What did Trey tell him?”

He gasps in another breath before releasing it with a half-truth. “That you’re hiding out until Terry Lennox’s homicide dies down.”

It takes me a few moments to recall who Terry Lennox is, but when I do, I can’t help but smile.

Dion must have had plans because Officer Lennox’s death was even quicker than I anticipated.

I fold my arms in front of my chest, fighting the itch to kill while also acting ignorant to the numerous pairs of eyes on me. My face is well-known in this town. It’s almost as infamous as my reputation. “Why didn’t Vladimir believe Trey’s story? He encourages silence after punishment.”

I know this firsthand. It’s what he did after sentencing me to be beaten to death at the tender age of sixteen. Ignorance is very much Vladimir’s strong point.

When Sergei kicks the monitoring bracelet on my ankle, I work my jaw side to side. “Daniil is on Vladimir’s payroll.”

I’m not asking a question. I’m stating a fact.

Sergei is too dumb to know that, though.

“Yep. Had him trace the device when you failed to show up at the compound after dusk.”

Now I’m even more grateful at my inability to deny my cock its every wish. If I hadn’t, Vladimir might have discovered the Popov compound isn’t the only facility I’m working. He doesn’t know about Clarks, my off-site complex. No one outside my inner circle does. Not even Sergei, and he’s technically family. His mother and my mother were cousins.

I say ‘were’ because they’re both dead, victims of the same man. Vladimir.

“How long do I have?” When Sergei appears stumped by my question, I simplify it for the dumb fuck. “In other words, how many lap dances do I need to organize for you at Cliché before you run back to Vladimir with your tail between your legs?”

When he smirks, I’m enticed to lower his grin by several inches. “Come on, Niki, even I know she’s worth more than a handful of lap dances.”

Calling me ‘Niki’ already has me wanting to slit his throat, not to mention the gleam his eyes get when they rocket to the glass sliding door of Justine’s bedroom. Since her curtains are made of lace, and her bedroom light is on, we can see her moving around her room, preparing to go to bed.

If hate weren’t holding my emotions hostage, I’d smile at the flimsy chair Justine notched under her door handle. Alas, it’s rare for pleasure to come before business, even with my night starting out as a bit of both.

After stepping to the left, blocking Justine from Sergei’s impish glare with my brooding frame, I ask, “If you don’t want the star treatment at Cliché, what do you want?”

A gleam I know all too well shines in his soulless eyes when he rubs his hands together. If he thinks he’s getting a slice of Justine, he’s dead fucking wrong. I don’t share my favorite whores, so there’s no chance in hell I’ll share Justine. For one, she isn’t a whore, but even if she were, I’d never share her with a ублюдок like Sergei.

My outer appearance doesn’t give away my shock when Sergei growls, “Nina,” a few seconds later, but my insides sure do.

Nina was my favorite whore— was being the prominent part of my reply. I haven’t tasted Justine yet, but I have no hesitation in saying she’ll make Nina’s loss worthwhile. I wasn’t lying when I said my cock grew bored years ago. Nina is the equivalent of every Russian man’s wet dream. However, my dick doesn’t twitch at the thought of her lips circling it. Justine’s pillowy lips, though… I’m hard now just recalling how delicious they tasted, much less the idea of them sliding down my shaft.

“Consider Nina yours.”

Sergei steps back, shocked, aware Nina was once off-limits.

This is different.

I’m not sharing Nina.

I’m giving her to Sergei.

“I’ll have her delivered to you within the hour. But…” I step closer to him, chest to chest, eyes to eyes. “If she shows up dead tomorrow, you’ll be buried alongside her tomorrow afternoon.”

His smirk reveals how stupid I am being. I’ve always believed it is better to risk everything than walk away with nothing just to play it safe, but it isn’t solely my life at stake here. It is the woman I’m endeavoring to protect after she’s already been hurt, the one who doesn’t appear to trust anyone.

It’s all about the angel who walked through the gates of hell unscathed. Because if she can do that, perhaps she can show the devil the right way out.

I wait for Sergei to enter the elevator at the end of the outdoor corridor before yanking my cell phone out of my pocket. It’s cracked like an Easter egg, compliments to my arrest, but it will get the job done.

My boiling anger dulls to a simmer when Trey answers my call two rings later. “If you’re hoping to send me on a grocery expedition like Roman, you’re shit out of fucking luck. I’m not your lackey.”

I twist my lips to hold back my smirk. “The title is negotiable.” Once his laughter lessons, I advise him the real reason for my call. “I need Nina delivered to Sergei within the hour.”

I hear the groan of a woman on the brink of orgasm before Trey says, “You’re loaning Nina to Sergei?”

From the ruffling of sheets and a faint ‘come back to bed, baby,’ I can only assume he is being entertained at either Clarks or Cliché.

“No.” I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “I’m giving her to him.”

“Fuck.” More ruffling, most likely Trey tugging on a pair of jeans. “Vladimir didn’t buy my excuse?”

I smirk, not surprised he understood my request without me needing to spell out all the details. He’s good like that. Always one step ahead.

“No, he didn’t.”

“Need decoy?”

I stray my eyes to Justine, who is pulling back the sheets on her bed. “No. I need you to deliver Nina to Sergei. Her delivery will give me a couple of hours?—”

“And gain you more blood on your hands…” Trey’s words trail off when I growl. “Sorry, Nikolai, but this is Sergei we’re talking about.” A car door creaking open booms down the line. It’s quickly chased by the rumble of a motor. “He swears he doesn’t have a thing for necrophilia. I don’t believe a fucking word he speaks.”

He’s not the only one.

“I told him he’d be buried with Nina if he killed her.”

“Do you really think that’ll stop him?” he huffs out with a grunt.

He isn’t technically asking a question, but I answer him anyway. “Probably not. That’s why you’re going to deliver Nina, then make yourself comfortable.”

I can’t see Trey, but I can imagine his smile when silence resonates down the line. “Sergei has been seeking a way into your crew for years.”

“And you’re going to make him believe he’s in with a shot. Greed is Sergei’s drug of choice. He’d choose it over lust any day of the week.”

“Should you be encouraging him down this path, though, Nikolai?” He sounds worried. Justly so. Sergei is even more unhinged than me.

I scrub at the stubble on my chin as my eyes once again stray to Justine. She’s in her bed now, sleeping on top of the bedding since it’s too humid to slip beneath them. Even with my attention being shot down more than welcomed, my thirst for her is undeniable. I crave her like I already know what she tastes like.

The fucked-up thoughts in my head should frustrate me more than they do, but for some reason, they don’t. A life without challenges is boring and convincing an angel to side with a devil is far from tedious.

I watch Justine for a few more seconds before shifting my focus back to my conversation with Trey. “I don’t have much choice. Vladimir has already walked us down this path. At least this way, I get a few hours of reprieve.”

“True.” Trey’s big exhale rustles down the line. He’s not one hundred percent convinced, but since he is minus a better solution, he’s going to run with mine. “If Sergei falls for it, what do you want me to do with Nina?”

I take a moment to consider a reply. It’s nowhere near long enough considering the short period of time I’ve known Justine. “Offer her an out. If she wants it, buy her a one-way ticket to LA. If she doesn’t, make sure she is aware our agreement is terminated.”

“Look at you, acting all grown up.” My swollen chest shrinks when he adds on with a laugh, “If only you could get rid of your fiancée just as easily, eh?”

Yes, I’m engaged.

No, it’s not up for discussion.

It was a stupid mistake I made years ago while high, and I’m still fucking paying for it. I’d cut ties now if it wouldn’t cause severe implications to plans I’ve had in the works for years.

Alas, even princes have to occasionally do shit they don’t want to do to keep the wheels turning.

“With all the weaponry trade we’ve conducted the past six months, have you found a vanishing potion yet?”

Trey’s reply is more honest than deceitful. “Yeah, it’s called a bullet.”

After talking shop with Trey for almost twenty minutes, I make my way back into Justine’s retro apartment. Our conversation didn’t stray far from the ones we’ve had many times the past six months, except this time, I requested my personal life to be included in our efforts to keep Vladimir in the dark about my business proposals. There will be less chance of an ambush if we watch Vladimir as closely as he forever watches me. I hate needing to be cautious, but I prefer it over being dead.

I dump my cell phone onto the table housing the letter opener Officer Prentice almost had a meeting with before heading for Justine’s bedroom door. I know her door isn’t locked. Not only did I fail to hear the locking mechanism slide into place when she slammed it shut, but the barrel of the lock is drilled out. It makes the perfect peep hole, which I look through not even two seconds later.

Justine’s strengths shine when I notice the rise and fall of her chest. She’s sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of the chaos homing in on her.

I could let her rest, but I can’t execute a perfectly laid-out plan with patience.

I also need to shut her blinds before anyone gets a sneak peek of the luscious thighs exposed by the high rise of her skirt.

The rusty hinges on Justine’s door would buckle under the force of my boot in no time, but then I’d run the risk of waking her, so, instead, I carefully apply pressure to the door handle until the mechanism stopping it from twisting warps.

Just before the foldable chair Justine placed under the doorknob collapses with a bang, I push open the door enough I can catch it in my hand. Word to the wise—if you want to keep a bad man out of your room, don’t barricade your door with a foldable chair. You may as well leave it open and pretend you locked it.

Once Justine’s curtains are closed, I move to the side of the bed she’s sleeping on. She stirs when I track my finger over a mottled scar on the back of her right knee. It doesn’t replicate any of the burns and marks my body holds. It’s angry and stretched as if her skin was shredded by an immense amount of force.

The span of her scars and their odd shape keep me fascinated for several long minutes. I’m not surprised. Scars tell a million stories, and I’m dying to hear hers.

“You’ve just got to be brave enough to share them with me, Ангел .”

While staring at her angelic face, I count backward from ten, knowing I should leave when I reach zero, but aware that’s unlikely to happen. Vladimir is already watching, so now I must watch too. I watch the way Justine’s lips part when she takes in shallow breaths and the paleness of her cheeks since she is unaware she’s caught my eye. I watch a red blush creep from her knees to her nape when the desire to touch her becomes too much to bear, and how her breathing grows along with her body’s hue when she senses my touch. Then I watch her some more just for the hell of it.

I should wake her so I can finish what I started on her front door. I should spread her thighs wide, snap off her no-doubt still soaked panties, and eat her cunt as if I’ve never been fed. I should fuck her until her body is so flushed with heat, her scars will fade in its fiery-red coloring, but I can’t. Not only must I remain alert in preparation for Vladimir’s next move, but there’s also something so surreal about seeing an angel in the flesh, I can’t act on any of the inane thoughts in my head.

Rico said years of misery would be undone by a reward I’d never anticipate. I assumed it would be of monetary value. I had no clue it would be in the form of an angel.