Nikolai: The Complete Collection

32. Nikolai

32

NIKOLAI

J ustine remains quiet most of our trip. Although the landscape surrounding Clarks isn’t as lush as the rolling turf and edged greenery of the Popov compound, it has its own unique qualities that make it just as appealing.

The rough Las Vegas conditions and I have a lot in common. We are both harsh and rugged on the outside, but we could be something great with a little bit of TLC.

Hearing my ATV rolling over the dirt hill that shrouds Clarks from prying eyes, Trey and an additional dozen or so members of my crew emerge from the main living quarters.

Although I haven’t officially taken stock of the number of men I lost last night, I’m glad to see the morale of my crew is as strong as ever. They’re smoking cigars and drinking whiskey, a regular Sunday afternoon occurrence in this neck of the desert.

After pulling my ATV to the side of the compound, I assist Justine in removing her helmet. Her pupils are massive, nearly filling her entire cornea, and her mouth hangs ajar.

Her response is understandable. Clarks looks like a government agency set up shop in the desert. If she is worried she’s about to have a run-in with the law, she doesn’t need to be concerned. Nothing lawful is done here.

Not a single fucking thing.

I place Justine’s helmet on the seat of the ATV before gathering her hand in mine. My men act as shocked as the Popov housemaids when they saw me walking through the Popov mansion with Justine. Just like the whores who transitioned into housemaids, my crew has never seen me with a woman before—well, not holding her hand, anyway.

Their shock isn’t only from my unusual display of affection, though. It’s from bringing someone I’ve only known for a little over a week into an area reserved solely for people I trust.

Usually no one gets within sniffing distance of this compound without my thorough once-over. And even then, the chances of them gaining access are still low. But Justine has my trust. I don’t know when she gained it or how long she has had it, but I trust her.

Justine’s eyes go wild as we shadow Trey to the back of the compound. My interests are as piqued as hers. I’m not just scanning our surroundings, though. I’m watching Justine, gauging her reaction to a side of my life she has yet to experience. She’s about to see me at my worst: warts and all.

Just like the first time I laid eyes on her, Justine continues to surprise me. She doesn’t bat an eyelid at the obvious drug shipment in the first lot of shipping containers we stroll by.

Her nose screws up at the scantily clad whores entertaining a group of men in a resort-sized hot tub, and her grip on my hand tightens when we proceed through the weaponries room, but not once does a look of disgust cross her face.

I told Rico I got the tiger. Justine just sealed my pledge.

When we enter a bunker in the bottom left-hand corner of the compound, I yank Justine behind me, blocking her view of the blonde Czech woman we rescued last night holding a shard of glass to her neck. She has stabbed the jagged edge into her throat so profoundly that a large puddle of blood is circling the collar of her shirt.

“What the fuck, Trey?” I growl, furious he’d put Justine in this situation.

I’m not worried about Justine’s safety. My men stationed in the corner of the room will take out the blonde in an instant if she moves for Justine, but after everything Justine went through yesterday and last weekend, I don’t want more gore added to her memory bank.

“She doesn’t speak English, and your girl speaks multiple languages, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to know what her demands are,” Trey answers, his rattling tone advising he is aware we’ll have a word after this. Like Justine’s conversation with Malvina, not all our talk will involve words.

“We don’t negotiate with whores.” I lower the severity of my tone when Justine’s nails dig into my palm, her annoyance at my response issued without a syllable slipping from her lips. “We tell them what to do, and they either listen or die.”

My growled reply is slightly exaggerated, but I give it my all since I’m testing Justine’s reaction to my lifestyle. I haven’t dealt with the sex trafficking trade in years. It’s not that profitable, and in all honesty, it’s never interested me.

I don’t understand why men pay for women when there are plenty willing to submit of their own free will. Some even enjoy being smacked around, so they can’t use that as an excuse for opening their wallets.

I stop glaring at Trey when Justine’s singsong voice trickles into my ears.

“What?” I ask, the blood roaring through my veins affecting my hearing.

She licks her dry lips before repeating, “She wants her sister. She keeps saying sestra . That means sister.”

Justine’s brows inch together as she pricks her ears. Although my body is sheltering her from the visual of the blonde attempting to take her life, her repeatedly shouted pledge can’t be ignored.

“Her sister was here last night but vanished this morning. She wants to know where she went,” Justine mumbles a short time later.

“Her sister was here last night?” I double-check, wanting to ensure she’s confident in her interpretation. The blonde is speaking so fast I’m shocked Justine can understand her words.

Justine takes a moment to listen to the woman’s pleas for the second time before nodding, the confidence in her eyes undeniable.

“She’s adamant her sister was sleeping next to her last night, but when she woke this morning, she was gone.”

I wait for Justine to see the gratitude in my eyes before they drift to Trey. Her eyes reveal she’s uncomfortable but has set aside her fear of blood to help both me and the blonde.

“Where is her sister?” I ask Trey.

While rubbing a kink in his neck, Trey shrugs. “I don’t know. Nearly every nationality is covered in this room, but none of the girls speak English.”

“How many women did you bring here last night?” I continue to interrogate, my voice speeding up with annoyance.

I’m not pissed at Trey. I’m annoyed I’ve been left to clean up Vladimir’s mess. This is one of many I’ll face in the next six months. I had no idea how much of a shamble our operation was in until I started looking at the paperwork this morning. It will take me months, if not years, to get things back on track.

“Seventeen,” Trey answers after a quick mental calculation. “Six each in the first two SUVs and four in the last.”

“That’s sixteen.” I glare at Trey, allowing my eyes to issue my scorn. Fucking moron.

Trey’s throat works hard to swallow before he mumbles, “One rode with me.”

I arch my brow, shocked by his admission. Trey would never disobey my direct order, so I know he didn’t keep one of the whores for himself, but the fact he’s segregating one woman from the group is unusual for him.

“She reminded me of India,” he admits softly, his words only for my ears.

The weak, pitiful beat of my heart grows an extra thump from his admission. India is the one girl Trey wanted but could never have. He nearly died trying to make her his. I benefited from India’s family’s stupidity. After nursing Trey back to health, he rewarded my dedication with his full loyalty.

After dipping my chin in understanding, I run my eyes over the room, counting only sixteen women in a space that could house thirty.

I can tell the exact moment Trey reaches the same number as me. His pupils widen as his throat works hard to swallow.

“I told you not to move until I said so.”

My furious growl startles the fifteen women huddled in the corner of the room. The only person who doesn’t balk is Justine. Her pulse raging through our conjoined hands quickens as her warm breath hits my neck.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear my anger turns her on. It’s a pity I know better. I promised her the women we saved last night would remain untouched under my command, and Justine is aware I am a man of my word.

“I didn’t,” Trey replies, the truth in his eyes strengthening his admission. “I told Rory to sit on them until you gave us word on what you wanted done with them.”

I scan the room, seeking Rory amongst my men. He’s nowhere to be found. The tic in my jaw turns manic as anger reddens my face. If Rory has denied my direct order, I’ll fucking kill him, because he isn’t just stopping me from keeping my promise to Justine. He’s making a mockery of me in front of my men. That isn’t something I will stand for. Not in a million years.

“Watch Justine,” I command Trey before pivoting on my heels.

Justine tugs on my arm, but I shrug out of her hold. I’m not angry at her. I’m fighting to keep my crown. In this industry, you’re nothing without respect. If I let one man get away with disobedience, I’ll be dethroned by the end of the week.

Rory’s punishment will warn my crew. They will be punished if they fail to adhere to my direct order. I don’t care if they’re ranked number two or two hundred. If I give them an order, they better follow it or lose their life.

I search nearly every room in the compound before I find Rory. As suspected, he’s holed up in bed with a petite blonde who looks similar to the one holding a shard of glass to her neck.

The anger blindsiding me doubles when my eyes zoom in on a singed spoon and used needle on a bedroom dresser.

“So you didn’t just ignore my directive. You spaced her out on my drugs as well?”

Rory jackknifes to a half-seated position, batting the barely coherent blonde away from his hardened crotch in the process. “Ah… Nikolai. This isn’t what it looks like,” he stammers out, his words laced with fear.

I slant my head to the side and arch my brow. “It isn’t?”

He shakes his head, the terror on his face unmissable. He should be scared, because no matter how many times I tell my brain the woman lying half-lifeless on the bed isn’t Justine, it doesn’t listen.

If the FBI hadn’t been surveilling one of my competitors, Hunter might have never discovered Justine’s auction. Then, if I hadn’t gotten to her in time, she could have been that blonde or one of the other sixteen women sitting scared in the bunker.

Just the thought of her being drugged and treated like a whore has my anger reaching a record-breaking high.

“You not only disrespected me, you disrespected my Ангел. Disrespecting her warrants the punishment of death.” My words are so volatile I don’t even recognize my own voice.

I charge for Rory before he has a chance to blink. He barely puts up a protest when I drag him out of his bed by clutching his throat. Pinning him to the wall with one hand, my other throws back-to-back jabs into his unprotected face.

The brutal connection of my fist to his cheek makes blood gush from his nose and mouth, but I don’t back down. He isn’t merely being disciplined for denying my order. He’s being served the punishment I was unable to give Vladimir.

Vladimir is dead, but his sentence wasn’t severe enough. I wanted him to feel the pain I went through when he ordered my torture all those years ago. I wanted him to experience the agony that shredded my heart into pieces when I saw Justine with a noose around her neck. But more than anything, I wanted to look him in his eyes when he took his last breath so he could see the relief in mine.

I’ll never regret putting Justine’s safety above my need for revenge, but I’ll always regret that Vladimir’s death was painless. He deserved to be tortured. He deserved an inhumane death. He didn’t deserve to go as easily as he did.

I continue pummeling Rory with my fists, my strength growing with every hit I submit. From the way he’s choking on the blood flooding his lungs, I know I’m moments away from killing him, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. The devil within me has been unleashed, and nothing can stop it.

Nothing but her.

“Enough, Nikolai,” commands a voice at my side.

The shakiness of Justine’s words is incapable of hiding her strength. She is so strong that even seeing me at my worst can’t weaken her resolve.

“You taught him a lesson. He won’t defy you again.”

My next two hits aren’t as robust as my prior two. I’m not tired of the fight—a natural-born killer never grows weary of the hunt. I’m exhausted from the mental strain. Staying one step ahead of the game is fucking exhausting, and I’ve been striving to stay ahead for over thirteen years. I’m tired.

“Nikolai…” The plea in Justine’s voice stops my fists midair. “I need you.”

Rory slumps to the floor with a thud when I release him from my grasp to turn toward Justine. The spark her eyes held last night remains resilient as she silently coerces me to her will.

Only she can break through the evil encompassing me.

Only she can make me see sense through the madness.

Justine walks into the room that smells like death and desecration, her eyes never leaving mine. Her face pales with every step, but the fire within her roars. The woman I see behind her shield is thriving, dying to break free.

“Come to me, Nikolai. Meet me halfway,” she pleads, her voice as heavenly as ice-cold lemonade on a scorching-hot day.

I head for her before I even register my legs are moving, my desire to grant her every wish greater than my quest for revenge. Rory’s blood smears on her cheek when I cup her jaw in my quivering hands. I stare into her eyes, reminding myself over and over again that she isn’t the woman lying drugged on the bed. She is here, and she is safe. I saved her from him. Me. I saved her. And I’ll never let anyone hurt her.

“She’s not me,” Justine murmurs, her breath tickling my lips. The dark cloud engulfing me thins when she presses her lips against mine. “They’re not me. I’m here and I am safe,” she assures me, her voice nurturing and without hesitation.

Fuck—no matter what shield I wear, she sees straight through me.

She doesn’t see the mafia prince, the madman, or the boy who wished for freedom.

She sees me.