NIKOLAI (Her Russian Protector #4) (8 page)

What did he want?

The possibilities filled me with dread. Alone
in this cage, I'd had plenty of time to think about what might
happen to me. If I was very, very lucky, the men who had taken me
would ransom me back to Nikolai. He'd move heaven and earth to get
the money to buy me back. If I was unlucky? Well—there was no end
to the horrific scenarios my frightened mind had conjured up since
being kidnapped.

I tried to convince myself that the best
scenario—being ransomed back to Nikolai—would happen. Looking back,
I could see now that vandalizing the warehouse had been a setup.
They'd drawn us to that empty street knowing that we'd be cut off
and exposed.

Was it the motorcycle club my father had
crossed that had attacked us and taken me? Was it the cartel? I
didn't know—and it scared me. If I had some sense of my captors'
identities, I might have been able to come up with a plan or a way
to try to negotiate with them, to make them see me as an innocent
human being.

Snapping fingers startled me. Two more sets of
footsteps echoed in the big room now. They headed right for my
cage. A key scraped in a lock. The hinges of the cage squealed as
the door was opened. A big, mean hand reached into the cage and
grabbed my upper arm. I gasped as the tightly squeezing fingers bit
into my skin.

Like a stray dog, I was dragged out of the cage
and thrown onto the floor. My knees hit the concrete floor so hard
my jaw rattled. I let a whimper of pain escape my lips before
clamping them shut. I didn't dare show them any more
weakness.

A hand curled in my hair and jerked me to my
feet. I hissed but managed to squelch the painful cry that tried to
erupt from my throat. Another hand, this was one softer and
gentler, cupped my chin. Beneath the heavy stink of cigarette smoke
clinging to the mean guard, I caught the faintest hint of cloves.
The man in front of me, the one cupping my chin, smelled of the
spice. He said nothing but I could feel his penetrating gaze raking
over my naked body.

Without warning, the hand curled in my hair
moved to my nape. The bigger hand tightened on my neck and I was
shoved forward. Those awful fingers of the guard dug into my skin
as I was half-pushed and half-dragged across the open space.
Fearful of falling or tripping, I put my hands out in front of me
for balance but they were quickly smacked back down.

A door squeaked up ahead. The echoes of our
footsteps became more muted and I realized I was in a hallway. My
bare feet scurried across the concrete in a desperate attempt to
keep up my captors.

As we walked down the hall, I became aware of
voices—female voices. Amid the hushed whispers, I heard the softest
sounds of crying and sniffling. Were there more women being held in
cages? What the hell was this place?

And then it hit me.

I hadn't been kidnapped. I was being
trafficked!

Because Lena watched the news every morning,
I'd heard all about the sex trafficking busts that had been
happening since the summer. The Feds and the local police had taken
down small trafficking rings and raided mobile bordellos. They'd
freed dozens of young women, many of them underage, who had been
trafficked to Houston from Southeast Asia and Eastern
Europe.

My stomach lurched at the realization that I
was going to be sold and raped and brutalized. Just as quickly, my
survival instincts took hold. I had to get out of here. I wasn't
very strong but I was fast and I could run far without getting
tired. The first chance I had to get away from these beasts, I was
booking it.

Another door opened. The echo in here sounded
different. Was it a tiled room? A bathroom? Squeaking knobs and the
splash of water confirmed my deduction.

The hand gripping my neck propelled me forward.
I slipped on the wet tile and only narrowly managed not to fall on
my face.

"Hands on the tile, cunt." The low Southern
drawl shocked me as much as the nasty word he'd called me. I'd
assumed the trafficking was run by one of the foreign crime
syndicates operating out of Houston. How wrong I'd been.

Not wanting to get hit or zapped with that
awful device, I planted my palms against the tile. Cold water
rushed over my naked body. I started to shake violently as my body
temperature plummeted.

When something rough and scratching slapped my
back, I squeaked with horror. Harsh bristles scraped up and down my
skin and smeared unpleasantly scented soap all over my
body.

"Turn around, whore."

Humiliated and trying so hard not to cry, I
turned around and bared my front to this terrible man. The brush
abused my breasts and belly. With a powerful thrust to my chest,
the brush slammed me back under the cold shower.

The moment the suds were rinsed clean, the
water was shut off and the brush clattered to the floor. The guard
grasped a handful of my wet hair and jerked me toward him. I tried
to gasp in a breath through my mouth as the wet blindfold slipped
down far enough to cover my nose. Breathing through the soaking wet
fabric sent me into a panic.

As if enjoying my fear, the guard clamped his
hand over my mouth. He laughed as I struggled and tried to free
myself. "Look at this little slut dance!"

Cackling, he moved his hand just enough to
cover my nose too. Weakened and starved for oxygen, I pounded my
fists to his chest, but he only laughed harder. "Maybe we should
try waterboarding some of these girls. Look at the way she's
fighting and wiggling."

"John, man, let her go." The other
guard's voice wavered with nervousness. "You know what
he
said about this
one."

He? The man who smelled like cloves? Was he the
one with all the power?

John, the mean guard clamping his hand over my
mouth and nose, finally let go. I sucked in a lungful of air and
sputtered. Still dazed, I couldn’t fight back as John pushed me
against the wall. Sandwiched between his paunchy body and the tile
wall, I could barely move.

"What's so special about you, girl? Huh?" His
dirty hands moved over my naked body. Glad for the blindfold, I
closed my eyes and tried to pretend I wasn't there, that this
disgusting asshole wasn't putting his hands on my breasts. "Is it
true this little pussy of yours hasn't been poked?"

I cringed at the filth coming from his mouth.
When he tried to slide his hand between my thighs, I clawed at his
arm and slapped his face. He hissed with pain and gripped my neck,
squeezing so hard I thought I might pass out.

"John! Damn! Stop!" The other guard rushed
toward us. "You're going to bruise her. You know they hate it when
the pretty ones are bruised. This one is our big
payday."

Their big payday? Oh
God.

John loosened his grip on my neck but snatched
my wet hair instead. He jerked me around so hard I felt hair
ripping free from my scalp. A big boot smacked my bare bottom. "Get
her back in her cage, Robbie."

"Come on, kid." Robbie, the other guard, took
my arm and hurried me out of the bathroom. As we walked down the
hall, I heard the other women again, clearer this time. How many of
them were there? It sounded like so many. Dozens, maybe.

Would I soon be one of them? Would I be passed
around between paying customers? My virginity, the one thing I'd
guarded so carefully, the gift I'd wanted to give to my husband on
my wedding night, would soon be cruelly and despicably taken from
me. There would be no love, no gently spoken words and soft
caresses. I'd be taken roughly and harshly, abused and
beaten.

"Hey, kiddo, it won't be so bad for
you."

Even though I couldn't see him because of the
blindfold, I whipped my gaze toward Robbie. Was this guy
insane?

"You're not going to one of the brothels.
They're going to put you on the auction block. Some rich old
bastard will buy you. I hear they treat some of these slave girls
really nice."

Really nice? I wanted to puke. How could a man
grow so callous? How could he keep all of us locked up here and not
think about what the hell he was doing? Didn't he see us as human
beings? Were we just a commodity to be sold and traded?

Shoved back in my cage, I slid into the far
corner and hugged my knees to my chest. Still shivering with cold
and soaking wet, I rubbed my hands up and down my naked skin. The
door to my cage opened unexpectedly and a towel was shoved against
my hand. I snatched it quickly and hurriedly dabbed at my slick
skin.

But, as I dried my hair, I couldn't help but
wonder if I wouldn't have been better off letting myself die from
hypothermia. Would that have been a kinder, gentler end than what I
faced once they sold me?

The sobs I'd been able to hold at bay suddenly
broke free. I draped the towel around my shoulders in a desperate
search for some warmth and dropped my forehead to my crossed arms.
I cried into the small hollow between my folded knees and
arms.

I'd find a way to make it through this. I
wasn't as weak as everyone seemed to think. Somehow, someway, I'd
survive whatever awaited me.

But not knowing whether or not
Nikolai had survived the attack threatened to crush my spirit. I
desperately wanted to believe he was alive. If any man in the whole
world could survive that nasty beating and stabbing and live to
rescue me, it was Nikolai. He'd do anything to get me back.
Anything
.

I only wished I'd been brave enough to tell him
how much I loved him.

Chapter Six

Fighting to surface through the haze of drugs
and pain proved more difficult than Nikolai had expected. He came
awake in the early morning. The grey skyline visible through the
hospital window had only started to lighten. Try as he might, he
couldn't concentrate long enough to stay awake. The strong arms of
sleep dragged him back down into the silent abyss.

When he managed to surface again sometime
later, Nikolai thought for sure he was dead. There was no other
explanation for the sounds of prayer filling his ears. Blinking,
his vision cleared enough for him to spot the darkly garbed man
sitting at his bedside. Drugged and foggy from the head trauma, it
took him a few moments to recognize the man as Father Semyon,
Vivian's priest.

Why the hell would a priest visit him? A
terrifying thought struck. Was Vivian dead? Had the holy man come
to break the news to him?

Pain tore through Nikolai's gut and punched his
heart. "No!"

"Easy," Father Semyon urged and took his hand.
"You're all right. You must rest. She needs you whole."

Calmed somewhat by the priest's assertion that
Vivian still needed him, Nikolai succumbed to the lull of the
familiar Russian chants of the older man's prayers.

The next time his eyelids fluttered apart he
spotted Ivan sitting next to his hospital bed. His slight movement
drew his friend's attention. In an instant, Ivan was on his feet
and leaning across him. "Kolya?"

His hand trembled and felt as if it weighed a
hundred pounds as he tried to grasp the front of Ivan's shirt.
"Vanya, they took her."

Ivan's harsh face turned sympathetic. "I
know."

"Ransom?"

"Nothing yet."

Ivan's answer stabbed through his gut like a
hot knife. If this wasn't about money…

"We have to find her."

Ivan gripped his hand. "We're looking. Everyone
is looking. Dimitri, Kostya, Santos and the police—we're all
looking for her. Yuri put out a reward. We'll find her. You have to
rest."

"I have to get up." He tried to push himself
into a sitting position but the medications dripping into his veins
left him woozy and weak. Scowling at the IV lines running out of
his arms, he reached over to rip them out, but Ivan's powerful hand
stopped him.

"No. You're no good to her like this. Rest.
Heal."

Nikolai started to fight Ivan but the bastard
hit the dosing button on the medication pump. What little strength
he possessed fled him as the drugs poured into his bloodstream. He
angrily smacked at Ivan but it was no use. Sleep gripped him and
wouldn't let it go.

But the next time he jerked awake, Nikolai
immediately sensed something was different. His entire body
throbbed with pain. The top of his aching head threatened to pop
off at any moment. He hissed as the raging discomfort made his
stomach churn.

Out of nowhere, a hand holding a pink plastic
basin appeared. Bracing his gut with his arm, Nikolai retched into
the basin. His whole body protested with spasms that cut him to the
very core.

"Are you finished?"

Nikolai lifted his bleary gaze to
Detective Santos' stony face. Wiping at his mouth, Nikolai nodded.
"
Da
.
Yeah."

"I know you're in pain and I'm almost sorry for
it, but I had to shut off the drugs. I need you awake." Santos
dropped the basin in the sink across the hospital room. "Can you
walk?"

"I'll crawl if I have to," Nikolai growled and
jerked the sheet from his body.