Chapter Four
As Finley sat in the back of Viktor's town car, she had to will herself not to shrink into the corner and away from Viktor. She kept his jacket around her like armor. The material felt silky and expensive, and the jacket smelled like him. A spicy masculine scent.
Viktor's mouth was set in a grim line and he was looking at his phone, largely ignoring her. She figured he was trying to figure out who he needed to go kill.
The bodyguard was in the front, gun in hand scanning the streets as they raced along. His arm was still bleeding, but he didn't seem to notice.
He looked back at her and gave her an insolent smile as his gaze raked her up and down, in an assessing way, not a sexual one. He had a surprisingly cocky look considering he'd been shot. Finley might have given him a look back, but right now she didn't have the energy, or maybe she just had a better sense of self-preservation than she would have given herself credit for after her little stunt tonight in the alley. She was riding around with three mobsters, with no phone and no idea where they were going.
Finley really wanted to asked where they were going, but she didn't dare. Maybe if she made herself small enough and silent enough, they'd forget she was even in the car. She'd been trying to get close to Viktor for weeks, and had failed. Apparently, all it took was a little drive-by shooting to do the trick.
She'd wanted to beg Declan not to let Viktor take her. It had been instinct. She knew Declan, she had grown up in his orbit. Been part of his extended family. It was natural that she would gravitate to him in a crisis. At least that is what she told herself. She tried not to think about his hard body covering hers or the way he felt when he pressed against her. She was definitely not attracted to Declan. Fear, chaos, and being shot at could do weird things to you. That's all it was. At least that was what she was going to tell herself. The other possibility was too frightening to even consider. Which seemed to be an especially absurd thing to be thinking since she was in the back of Viktor's car, and Viktor was probably a ruthless killer. Then again so was Declan. And, her father. She wondered what normal and healthy really were. Would she even recognize them?
But forget those stupid thoughts. Declan had let Viktor take her without a word or a fight, even though she'd practically begged him not to. Once again Declan didn't want her. He was probably glad to be rid of her. She'd just been standing there frozen like a helpless idiot. Until tonight, Finley might have said she was good in a crisis. Tonight, had proven that was clearly not the case. She wasn't even really sure why Declan had saved her.
Right now, she had bigger problems like why she was in Viktor's car and where they were going. Why had Viktor taken her with him? Was it to keep her way from the police?
She looked over and Viktor was watching her intently. She forced herself to meet his gaze. He gave her a tired smile, like he knew what she was thinking. She wondered what it would be like if everyone was terrified of you. Would anything ever be real? How would you know? Did they do whatever they did out of kindness and loyalty or out of fear. That would always be the question. Finley thought it must be a lonely life.
Speaking of which, a sliver of fear went through Finley. What if Viktor took her because he thought she had tipped off the shooters. They had shown up after her break. What if Viktor thought she had gone outside and called them? What if the knowing look the bodyguard had given her had more to do with the fact she was about to be tortured to death just to make sure she wasn't a mole, than the fact he thought she was Viktor's new plaything.
Viktor's voice startled her out of her spiral. "My manners, they are bad, yes. My doctor will check you out and then you go home." Viktor shook his head. "This should have never happened." Frustration was evident in his voice.
Finley didn't know what possessed her to do it, but she reached over and placed her hand on Viktor's arm. He seemed sincerely distraught that she had been caught in a drive-by shooting that had been meant to kill him. She thought it was odd, that fact didn't seem to bother him at all. Maybe when you grew up the way Viktor had, it was just something you accepted. Maybe that is how her dad had felt. He had been one of Liam McShane's most trusted lieutenants, and maybe he always accepted one day he'd get gunned down too. Maybe the idea of revenge or justice or whatever she wanted to call it was pointless. Maybe it had just been the excuse she had used to justify why she was a misfit.
Viktor reached over and covered her hand with his big warm one, giving it a little squeeze. "I hope this doesn't cause you to quit." Viktor smiled at her, and she couldn't help but smile back at the absurdity of the statement. She wasn't entirely sure, but she thought he was making a joke.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, with Viktor holding her hand.
As they pulled through the gates and drove up the winding driveway, Finley barely even registered the massive house, and the fact that Viktor was taking her straight to the heart of his operation. She'd been trying to get close to Viktor for weeks, and now he was taking her to his home. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and a wave a fatigue had taken over. Finley knew she should be excited about getting a glimpse inside Viktor's life, but she just couldn't manage it.
Viktor helped her out of the car and ushered her inside. She registered the massive dual staircase made of white marble and black wrought iron. The absurdly high ceiling and the ornate chandelier. Somehow she'd never pictured hell being quite so beautiful. The sound of her heels clicking on the marble sounded inordinately loud as Viktor led her upstairs. She wondered if blood stained marble, or if it would wipe right up. Maybe that's why there was so much of it everywhere.
He pushed open a door revealing a cream-colored bedroom that was probably bigger than her entire apartment. Unease pulsed through her as he sat her down on the edge of the bed. Finley knew she was in an incredibly vulnerable position. No one knew where she was. She didn't even have a phone. Maybe she would just be one of those women that disappeared one day never to be found. An involuntary shudder worked its way down her spine.
Viktor went into the bathroom and she heard the shower turn on. He came out a minute later and put an expensive looking silk robe on the bed. He crouched down in front of her and pulled off her shoes. The relief was instant. Finley was grateful to be rid of those hateful shoes. She must have made a noise, because she saw a look of confusion pass over Viktor's face as he examined her feet.
"The shoes are bad, no?" Viktor asked.
Finley just looked at him blankly for a second. Viktor Petrov was crouched down in front of her, massaging her foot asking about her shoes? She felt slightly hysterical.
"Yes."
"Then why do you wear them?" He sounded like he thought she might actually be stupid or maybe just a masochist.
Seriously? Viktor wanted to know why she wore crappy shoes that hurt like hell. That was his big question of the night. The one thing about the entire crazy night that seemed to genuinely perplex him. Forget the whole near-death experience of nearly being gunned down in a drive by. Nope, it was the shoe question.
"They're part of the uniform." Finley finally said.
Viktor nodded. "We should change that I think." Viktor moved to her other foot. He was surprisingly good at massaging feet Finley thought. For a monster.
He mumbled something in Russian as he absently rubbed her feet. Viktor seemed far away with his thoughts for a minute.
After a couple of minutes Viktor stood. "Shower and then come downstairs." It was a command not a suggestion. Viktor left, closing the door behind him.
Finley just stared after him.
With a great deal of effort, Finley finally mustered the energy to stand and strip off her clothes. She laid them on the bench at the end of the bed. Her feet ached, her arm ached, and her head was starting to pound.
Finley took Nikko's card and memorized the number, then she tore it into little bits and flushed it down the toilet. She wasn't sure why, but she didn't want Viktor to know.
Finley stepped into the massive shower under the hot spray and let the water wash over her. It burned her arm, but relaxed her tense muscles. She would have liked to have stood there forever, but she knew she should hurry. The last thing she wanted was Viktor to get impatient and come get her. She scrubbed her body and her face with one of the dozen luxury bath products that smelled like heaven, taking care not to dislodge her wig. She wasn't thrilled with scrubbing off all of her make-up and letting Viktor get a better look at her face, but she knew she didn't have much choice. At least she still had the wig and the contacts.
Finely stepped out of the shower and pulled a towel off the heated rack. Maybe if she ever won the lottery, she'd get one of those she thought as she snuggled into the warm towel for a minute. She quickly dried herself and slipped on the robe when she was done. She hoped her arm didn't bleed all over the thing. It was a beautiful silk robe in deep green adorned with peonies and butterflies. It was amazing with a luxurious drape that made it feel decadent. The only problem was the thin fabric didn't leave much to the imagination.
She padded out to the bedroom to fetch her bra and underwear, and stopped short. Viktor's jacket and all of her clothes were gone. Lounging in the chair was the bodyguard. Arms resting on the sides of the chair, legs splayed, taking up way too much space. Finley noticed his arm had been patched up, but he still had that cocky look, like he didn't even realize he'd almost been killed. His gaze raked up and down her body, and his eyes locked with hers. He gave her a smirk.
He'd changed out of his bloody dress shirt into a black t-shirt that looked painted on. He clearly spent a good amount of time in the gym. The t-shirt showed off his various tattoos. He had a rose wrapped in barbed wire, with a dagger through it on his forearm, stars and other symbols that she could see including an impressive looking skull. His brown hair was long and hit just above his shoulders. It looked silky and imminently touchable, which seemed out of place. It reminded her of Fabio, but she figured she'd keep that to herself. His features were strong but balanced, and he was sporting just more than a five o'clock shadow along his sculpted jaw. Apparently the bratva had a great dental program. He had straight white teeth that looked ridiculously perfect. He was surprisingly attractive, for a snake.
Irritation rolled through her and she glared at him. She couldn't help but cross her arms under his intense assessment. That fact was not lost on him. The smirk remained fixed but his eyebrow went up. Point one for the mobster she thought.
He stood up. The fact he had a gun in his shoulder holster was not lost on Finley.
"Come."
Finley just stood there and raised her eyebrows. She was not a dog. She didn't come and she didn't fetch. She was rapidly getting to the end of her rope, and she was done with tedious games. If they were going to kill her, they were going to kill her and there wasn't much she could do about that, but in the meantime, she didn't need to be ordered around.
He rolled his eyes. "Pozhaluysta."
Finley just continued to stare at him. She had no idea what that meant, but her money was on bitch.
"Please." He gritted through his perfect teeth. She almost laughed. Apparently, he said please so rarely he couldn't think of the word in English
He held out his hand to her. Finley would rather pet a rattlesnake than take his hand. She stepped around him.
She heard him sigh. "Put your slippers on." His accent was far more pronounced than Viktor's.
Finley gave him a blank stare.
He shrugged. "The floors are cold." He said by way of explanation.
Well surely, they wouldn't worry about her feet being cold if they planned to torture and kill her she thought, and went to get the slippers. They were silk brocade with felt lining. Viktor lived well; she'd give him that. He also seemed to have a lot of women's clothes, which seemed a little weird.
Of course, this whole night was shaping up to be weird. She really hoped the slippers were as weird as the rest of the night went. She had no illusions that Viktor could do anything he wanted to her tonight and there wouldn't be anyone to stop him. Finley swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and her rising panic.
She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt the guard's hand settle on her low back. It felt like a hot coal burning through the thin silk of the robe as he guided her downstairs to what looked to be an office. She gave him credit though. His hand never once strayed to her ass.
Inside was an older man with gray hair and dark rimmed glasses. He had an old fashioned black medical bag with him. She figured he must be the mob doctor.
The guard guided her over to sit on the sofa, and then stepped away to wait by the door. Finley wasn't sure if that was to give her some privacy or make sure she couldn't escape. Not that she thought she would get far, if she even made it out of the house.
"I understand you have a wound on your arm." The doctor said and gestured to her to let him see.
Finely looked between the guard and the doctor and back to the guard.
The guard rolled his eyes again. "For fuck's sake I've seen tits before." Exasperation was clear in his voice. He sounded a little like he thought it would have just been easier to shoot her.
Finley just stared at him with a look that said you might have seen tits, but you haven't seen mine, and unless hell just froze over you never will.
He narrowed his eyes at her and they stared each other down for a beat. The doctor nervously cleared his throat.
"Blyad'" He snarled. That one didn't actually need any translation Finley thought.
Finally, the guard stalked over to the chair and picked up the throw and walked over to her and handed it to her, and stalked back to the door, shaking his head and muttering in Russian. He stood by the door and turned his head to avert his gaze.
Finley shrugged out of the robe and the doctor took a look at her arm. He cleaned it and probed around just enough to make her want to scream. The doctor used steri strips to close the wound and told her to leave them on until they fell off in about a week. He gave her a shot of something that she hoped was antibiotics and not arsenic and left.
Finley pulled her robe back on and kept the throw. Finley and the guard stared at each other in uncomfortable silence for a couple of minutes.
"Thank you." She finally said. She wanted to ask his name, but she figured what was the point. If she made it out of Dracula's castle, she didn't plan on ever seeing him again anyway. Finley was rapidly starting to rethink the crazy notion of revenge against the Petrovs.
He just nodded, but she thought he looked a little less pissed off.
A couple of minutes went by. "Do you need pill?" He asked. "For pain."
Finley shook her head. "No, it doesn't hurt that much." Besides the last thing she wanted was to be loopy on some pain meds around Viktor.
"Liar." She would have sworn she saw a ghost of a smile before he looked away.
The door opened and Viktor walked in. Finley's pulse kicked up a notch, especially when he dismissed the guard. Finley wasn't really sure what it said about her, that she felt safer with the guy with the good teeth and the gun in the room.
Viktor had changed his suit, which struck her as beyond odd. Maybe he was going back out? People to torture, people to kill, money to launder. You know things like that probably required a fresh suit.
Viktor looked over at Finley. She was a remarkable looking creature, full of contradictions. Without her make-up he could tell she was much younger than he had originally thought. Maybe mid-twenties. She was pale and very thin, bordering on frail looking until you really looked at her. Then you could tell her core was all rigid steel. He had no doubt that she possessed a strength of will that would rival his own. She had a determination about her that you missed because you were caught up in that innocent doe eyed expression. He would have to remember not to underestimate her. Her innocence and beauty could be a deadly distraction.
He had no doubt her presence in his restaurant wasn't an accident. She paid too much attention when she thought not one was looking, and tried too hard to be a distraction. All that shimmery, glittery stuff on her cleavage tonight had almost been his undoing. It had taken a considerable amount of willpower not to stare at her breasts. Not to become distracted by the creamy globes thrust in his face and miss the fact she was memorizing everyone and everything at the table.
Her reaction to Declan had been the most interesting. She'd looked startled, almost like she knew him. Maybe she worked for Declan, but he got the feeling her surprise was the one honest emotion he'd seen from her all night. Maybe she worked for Nikko, but then again those two had seemed more intent on other pursuits than business. He'd been afraid she'd seen his obvious reaction in the car as he watched the footage of the two of them in the alley.
He had a feeling everything about her was an illusion designed to distract. He doubted her hair was actually jet black. It didn't go with her pale, milky skin. Was it a phase or a disguise? He really didn't know. What he did know was that she was hiding something.
The only thing he did know, was she hadn't tipped off the shooters and neither had Declan or Nikko. That left him with one disturbing possibility. Someone in his own organization had betrayed him.
Viktor wondered how far she was willing to go for information. Her encounter with Nikko hadn't looked like a fact finding mission, no that had looked like pure lust, but that didn't mean she wasn't willing to trade that perfect body for information. Viktor wasn't above toying with her or even taking whatever she offered. He smiled to himself, he might even like the interrogation.
Of course, on one hand, she seemed to want to get close to him, on the other she seemed entirely repulsed by his touch. Except for in the car this evening. When she had put her hand on his arm, it had felt genuine, and just for a moment he'd forgotten he was a mobster and she was a spy.
Viktor would toy with her, but not tonight. Not even Viktor was quite that cruel. If young Finley wanted to play, then they would play, but tonight he'd call one of his regular girls to take care of his needs. After his encounter with Ms. Plum in the supply room, the only woman he was fit to be around was one that was well paid to take his cruelty, and wouldn't mind the marks he left on her body or be surprised by the depraved things he would do to her.
He had absolutely meant to intimidate Ms. Plum and scare her. He wanted to let her know she was powerless and at his mercy. To deliver a clear warning, and remove any wires, tracking devices and weapons she had brought into his restaurant. The fact she had brought weapons and cameras into his restaurant to spy on him had enraged him. But his reaction to her had enraged him more.
It had taken him a minute, but Viktor had realized Nikko's bodyguard was Ms. Plum's husband. Viktor hadn't been sure if he was there backing up Nikko or his wife. Viktor thought Manoso had seemed surprised to see her. From what he had learned, they kept their businesses almost entirely separate, so it was possible it was a coincidence, but Viktor had never put much stock in those. Manoso was definitely the one with the shadier connections, so maybe he had been working for Nikko. Nikko had seemed nonplussed by her presence one way or the other, and Nikko had saved his sorry ass. For now, Viktor would assume Nikko was dealing in good faith. He certainly hoped he was. Nikko would be hard to kill, and Viktor was pretty sure Nikko had connections that went even beyond his or Ivan's.
Viktor had wanted to make the point that even with her precious husband in the next room, he could get to her, and do anything that he wanted. Viktor suppressed a sigh. But he hadn't meant to go quite so far or be quite so affected by her. He definitely hadn't expected her to respond to him or challenge him. He had expected her to whimper and beg. Instead she had relaxed in his grip and stared at him with those beautiful defiant eyes. Shooting daggers at him, calling him out when he had crudely touched her. It was almost like she was chastising him for being the monster that he was. That somehow she expected something else. She'd expected better from him, even though she knew what he was.
There were only so many ways to search for weapons and trackers, which she had so richly deserved. After all, she was the one that had blatantly brought them into his restaurant. So, why did he feel like shit? He could have been a little more clinical. He'd say it was guilt, but that would imply he had a conscience. No, the problem was he liked her, maybe even respected her. She hadn't shrunk away from him and cowered in fear. She hadn't even run from her own darkness. No, she'd owned it, and she'd owned him. This was a woman that could be his equal. She could be a formidable opponent or possibly an ally.
He'd tried to manipulate her and intimidate her, but in the end Ms. Plum had gotten the upper hand, and he had made a bargain with the devil in the blue dress. She intrigued him. She challenged him. His growing obsession with her would no doubt eventually be his downfall. As beautiful and intriguing as she was, he knew he shouldn't trust her, but if someone in his organization was trafficking women, that needed to be stamped out. So for now he would play her game.
Viktor forced himself to unclench his fist. He was bratva, and that came first. He would need to do what was required. He didn't have the luxury of having a soft spot for Ms. Plum. Viktor really hoped he didn't have to kill her, but the fact she was there surveilling him, told him there was already more scrutiny on him than he wanted.
"D'yavol" Viktor muttered to himself.
Viktor looked over at Finley. He could see the exhaustion and stress pulling at the corners of her mouth.
"Would you like whiskey or tea?" Viktor asked her.
"Whiskey." She replied.
Viktor turned his back to her and poured two fingers of whiskey in a glass. He poured in a sedative, swirling it around, before turning back and handing her the glass. Viktor told himself that it was because he hadn't decided what to do about her and drugging her would make it easier to control her, but he knew the truth. She was exhausted and she needed some rest before she hit the wall. Viktor was very afraid he had a soft spot for the little waif.
Finley tossed back the whiskey and felt it burn down her throat and into her stomach reminding her that she was alive. A couple of minutes passed as Viktor made himself some tea. She wanted to remind Viktor that he said she could go home after the doctor checked her out, but her tongue felt too big for her mouth and her eyes were heavy.
She wondered if maybe Viktor had poisoned her, but that seemed like a lot of effort when he could just shoot her instead. She tried to focus on Viktor's face, but it was starting to blur.
He came over and crouched in front of her taking her glass. "Rest moy rebenok." She felt him pull her into his arms and stand up with her. She was powerless to resist.
Her head was spinning so she rested it on his chest. He felt solid and warm. His scent filled her nose and she let her eyes close. She knew she should be afraid, but the way he was holding her made her feel safe. Her brain was too addled to register the absurdity of that feeling.
He carried her up the stairs. She felt him lean down and heard the rustle of fabric, and then he was laying her down on a soft bed. He pulled her slippers off, and she felt him tuck the blanket in around her. A minute passed and the light went off and the door closed. Finley let sleep take her.
Viktor stopped outside of the bedroom. Something was definitely wrong with him. He'd gone soft in the head. When he'd picked her up, she had felt good in his arms. When she'd rested her head on his chest and sighed, he felt something shift. He felt protective of her. Viktor shoved that down. Caring about anyone or anything was a weakness he couldn't afford. Especially when he knew little Finley would probably stab him with a letter opener given half the chance.
He should interrogate her. Find out who she was working for. Why she was in his restaurant, but the thought of hurting her, made him feel a little sick. Viktor blew out a frustrated breath and stalked off. He needed to go work out his frustrations until he didn't have stupid thoughts like that anymore.
Viktor walked into his bedroom, pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. A woman was lounging naked on his bed. He didn't know her name and he didn't particularly care. She smiled at him. His eyes raked over her. She had had shoulder length brown curly hair and a generous mouth. Viktor figured if he turned the lights down, she'd do.
Viktor took a pull of his Zhigulevskoye beer. Then his eyes went from the bottle to her and he gave her a cruel smile. Viktor drained his beer and threw the bottle on the bed. He planned to make use of that later. Viktor heard her whimper as he closed the door. Apparently, she recognized a monster when she saw one.
After, Viktor flopped on his back staring at the ceiling. She'd been disappointing, but at least she'd stopped screaming after a while or it would have been a total waste. Need still crawled through him.
He'd been rough with her and she was bleeding all over his sheets. He should feel pity, but all he felt was disgust. "Just get dressed and leave. I'll double your fee." He told her.
Viktor got up and walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He knew she'd be gone by the time he got out, and that was a good thing. Given his mood, he knew he might badly injure her or even kill her.
Viktor stood under the hot water thinking about Stephanie and then about Finley. What was he going to do with them? They'd both gotten under his skin in different ways. Both of them had the power to destroy him, if he wasn't careful. The problem was, he almost didn't care. He thought it might actually be worth it to him, just to see them look at him one more time like he was a human.
Viktor slammed his fist into the wall, drawing blood from his knuckles and bruising them. This was the life he'd been born into, and he damn well better stop fantasizing about a different one. There was no escape from his birthright.