Nikolai: The Complete Collection

13. Nikolai

13

NIKOLAI

“ W e’ve held him off for as long as we can, Nikolai. We can’t delay the inevitable for a second longer.”

I glare at Roman, the playfulness I exuded in the shower two hours ago long forgotten. Wrangling Ms. Aaronson back into her apartment thirty minutes ago already had my mood slipping, and now Roman has gone and fucked it up entirely.

“I have a monitoring bracelet on my ankle. How far does he expect me to get?”

Roman scoots to the edge of his chair in the dining nook of Justine’s kitchen. “You know how Vladimir has been since Rico’s death. He doesn’t trust anyone.” I’m about to say his lack of trust occurred long before Rico’s untimely demise, but Roman continues talking, thwarting my endeavor. “He’s also aware a tracker won’t stop you.”

He’s right, but it doesn’t make his confession any easier to swallow.

What he says next, though, sure does. “And while he’s occupied ensuring your whereabouts are known at all times, we’ll have the opportunity to slip an operation under his nose without his consent.”

Smirking, he slides a manila folder to my side of the table. It’s similar to the one he left on my bed last night, but the target’s name is different. It belongs to the officer who bullied Justine mere minutes before he attempted to goad me into spending the long weekend in a holding cell.

While perusing Officer Prentice’s file, I say, “I thought you wanted to let his ‘mishap’ slide?”

Roman argued that exact point last night when I requested him to compile a file on Officer Prentice. He thought I was starting a war that didn’t need to be fought and assured me he’d find a way for Officer Prentice to learn the meaning of the word ‘manners’ without me needing to get involved.

I wasn’t fucking happy, but with Vladimir already having me burning the candle at both ends and the media circulating a story about the death of a long-serving Las Vegas judge, I gave Officer Prentice a few days of amnesty. He will still be punished, just not until Justine has my charges expunged, which will now be in a legal manner since the media was referencing the judge I have on my payroll— or should I say had?

Judge Santos was found deceased in his home late last night. Reports aren’t saying how he died, but if the photographs I have of him in my safe at Clarks are anything to go by, I’m going to assume he was asphyxiated during sex. He liked things kinky and considering his flavor of the month was usually an unsuspecting male teen willing to do anything to stay out of jail, he’s lucky to have lasted as long as he did.

If he even suggested that type of plea bargain with me when we met shortly before my eighteenth birthday, I would have killed him where he stood. Alas, not all teens are as ruthless as me. They’re also not as smart. They have no clue the judicial system here is so overcrowded, the chances of them spending a night in jail for a misdemeanor are extremely low—almost as low as my mood drops when a handful of photos slip out of Officer Prentice’s file. He doesn’t just bully women. His quirks extend to kids too.

“How old is she?”

Roman’s worldly eyes lift from the photo of a badly battered girl I’d guess to be early teens to me. “Fifteen. These images were obtained during her arrest for soliciting.” He opens a second folder with as many pictures as the first one, although grainier. “These are the ones from a surveillance camera in the alleyway an hour before she was arrested.”

My jaw ticks when he hands me the photographs. The girl barely had a scratch on her before Officer Prentice approached her. Her cheeks only get busted up after he moves her into a shadow in the corner of the frame.

The timeline of images is already enough to get my blood boiling, but what Roman says next utterly annihilates any sense of normality. “I had his plates run through our surveillance system. Excluding the occasional piss in the alleyway, Prentice hasn’t left his vehicle parked on the corner of Malor and West Lucy.”

“West Lucy?” When Roman dips his chin, my blood pressure skyrockets. “He’s here? Staking Justine’s apartment?”

“That’s the thing,” Roman says, his tone low. “He’s not on the roster for any drive-bys or surveillance in this region. No one is. Judge Ryder didn’t request surveillance as part of your house arrest, which means he’s only here for one reason.”

“He’s toying with me.” I drag my hand along my jaw, tracking the tic there when an even more perverse thought enters my mind. “Or he wants to toy with Justine.”

I’ve never heard my voice as hot and violent as it is now. It truly seems as if it was delivered straight from hell. Its change in temperament is understandable. Officer Prentice didn’t just beat the teen he arrested, he did it while forcing her to perform a sex act on him.

If he thinks he’ll achieve the same outcome here, he’s shit out of luck.

I’ll slit his throat before he gets within an inch of Justine.

When Roman spots the grave expression on my face, he slides the file back to his side of the table before standing from his chair. “I’ll call in the crew and get this taken care of.”

By ‘this’ he means Officer Prentice.

I slap my hand down on the file, stopping his hasty retreat. “No. I’ll handle it. This is personal, which means it’s my responsibility.”

Roman glares at me funny, but before he can voice a single smidge of the confusion I see in his eyes, a commotion at the side gains our attention. Justine has been thrust into the kitchen by Viktor. Her eyes are wide and frightened until they lock on me. Even scared, she’s already aware I’ll never let anyone hurt her.

“I found her snooping outside.”

Justine shakes her head, denying Viktor’s claims. “I wasn’t snooping.”

My back molars become friendly when Roman says, “Nikolai is busy, Justine. Go wait in his room until he is ready for you?—”

The confusion in his eyes doubles when I cut him off by slicing my hand through the air. Usually women are forbidden from any Popov meetings, even ones as simple as today. But Justine isn’t like the women at the Popov compound. For one, she’s not a whore, and I’ll kill anyone who dares to say differently, and two, this is her realm as much as it is mine.

Roman’s throat works through a hard swallow when I say, “She’s fine, Roman. Let her be.”

When I stand from my chair to head Justine’s way, a tiny vein in her neck works overtime. She dressed differently than she was this morning. She’s switched out her business attire for a fun, flirty look. The teasing length of her shorts has me dying to see more of her long legs, and her shirt is modest but fitted, meaning I have no issues taking in the way her nipples bud more the closer I get to her.

When I finish bridging the gap between us, I notice a slight alteration to her scent. It’s still seductive as fuck, but it has matured, like our grapple in the bathroom fortified a steel rod in her back. She’s aware she doesn’t belong in the dark and dangerous world I’m endeavoring to pull her into, but she also knows she doesn’t belong outside of it either.

No wonder why I’m so conflicted. Justine’s emotions are as contradicting as my sudden urge to be her knight in shining armor. I want to say my protectiveness stems from knowing she’s damaged like me, but it’s more than that. She has more depth than her outer shell portrays. I just need to get her alone to work out what it is.

Justine is tall for a girl, bringing her only a few inches under my six-foot-two height, but I feel like a giant when I stand in front of her. It isn’t because I’m wearing boots and her feet are bare. It’s from the way she peers up at me with innocent yet seductive eyes. They’re as soft as the clouds angels dance on but capable of provoking the deadly fury of a devil.

I’m tempted as fuck to see if her skin will sizzle under my touch as much as the gleam in her eyes fires whenever I’m in her presence, but I can feel the eyes of my men on me, so instead of touching her like I really want to, I keep my hands balled at my side.

Let me tell you, it’s a fucking hard feat.

My struggles are heard in my words when I ask, “What do you need, Ангел ?”

“Umm...” She scans the room, as overwhelmed by the tension crackling between us as me. With how roasting it is, she says the last thing I’m anticipating. “I was just wondering if you needed anything at the store?” She jerks her chin to a door I’m assuming is a pantry on our left. “There is barely enough in there to scrape together a meal, let alone three days’ worth, so I thought I should go gather some supplies.”

“You’re running to the store?” Hesitation thickens my tone, but Justine seems oblivious to it. As she nods, her eyes flare with excitement, pleased I’m falling for her ruse. I’m not, but I’m happy to play along. “To gather supplies?”

When she nods again, a rueful smirk tugs my lips high. Although I’m dying to taste her, a trip to the store is best for all involved. While she’s out, I can handle Officer Prentice’s crimes without needing to expose her to my heinous world just yet. She has the strength to rule an empire, but I don’t want to frighten her until the fire in her eyes is fully relit.

“Are you going to feed me, Ангел ?”

My nostrils flare when the need in my voice causes Justine’s knees to pull together. Her scent wipes the chaos from my mind, foolishly leading me to believe being her savior will far exceed the losses I will endure—even more so when she whispers, “Yes.” She does a quick swallow to force down her lie before adding, “Food. Only food.”

I let her fib slide with a smile. “We’ll see.”

When I crank my neck to Roman, he tosses me a wad of cash out of the bundle Cliché earned last night. Its rolled-up appearance hides the fact a majority of it was tucked in the sequined panties of over three dozen strippers. The women in my club keep their tips after they’ve been thoroughly cleaned by my crew, and no, I’m not referencing the dirty mitts of my clients. I only have legitimate businesses for one reason—to hide the transactions I don’t want the law to see.

While yanking three one hundred dollar bills out of the bundle, I nudge my head to Viktor. “Take Viktor with you. He’ll keep you safe.”

The playfulness heating my veins gets a second dose when Justine snorts. “I’ll be safer without him in my presence.”

Her sass takes a backseat when I mutter, “Now that he’s aware of who you are, he’d slit his own throat before he touches you again.”

Viktor looks surprised by the protectiveness in my tone, but he nods his head nonetheless, aware of the repercussions if he dared to second-guess me. “Y-y-yes, boss. I-I’ll take her to the store. I’ll keep her safe.”

I tuck the bills into the pocket in Justine’s shorts before returning my eyes to her face. “Go to the store, get what you need, and then come back here immediately.”

The possessiveness in my tone has her jumping to my command. “Okay.”

After a quick grin, she spins on her heels, preparing to leave. She barely gets two steps away when my growl of her nickname has her freezing halfway through the swinging door.

“Are you forgetting something?”

When she cranks her neck back to me, I tap my cheek. Her breathing grows excited as she swings her eyes to my crew. If she’s hoping they’ll jump in and save her, she’s seeking help from the wrong people. My men wouldn’t challenge me on my best day, much less provoke me when I’m the most vulnerable.

As Justine drifts her massively dilated eyes back to mine, her chest rises and falls three times. My cock thickens painfully quick when she stammers out, “Attorneys don’t kiss their clients goodbye.”

She’s once again telling me no, but her body is on the opposite end of the spectrum. Her nipples are hard enough I’m afraid they’re about to break through her shirt, and the syrupy goodness my cock is dying to have coating it doubles in strength.

Fight as she may, not even she is safe from the chaotic storm brewing between us.

I step closer to her, budding her nipples even more. “Then I guess I better get a new attorney… as I’m planning on doing a whole lot more than kissing you.”

It’s the fight of my life not to gorge on her now when the quickest brush of my lips on her cheek buckles her knees. She’s hot all over, her needs as desperate as mine. I’m so eager, if the images I scanned earlier weren’t replacing the teen’s face with Justine’s, nothing would stop me. Alas, this stranger became my everything as quickly as my family became my enemy.

Both were brutal, unexpected events.

I’m just hoping this one doesn’t end as gorily.