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Cursing in Russian under my breath, I bury my fist in his stomach hard enough to make him double over. Then I quickly glance around to make sure no one saw. Lenka and I finish dragging him to the cigar room, and we close the trap door before heading down the stairs.
This time, it takes all my concentration to get our prisoner where he needs to be. I don’t have time to dwell on the fact that I’ve helped bring men to suffer the same fate as Sascha. The guy Lenka and I are handling is putting up a considerable fight.
I’ve worked up a sweat by the time we make it into the torture chamber, and our guy gets chained directly next to the tray of cruel-looking tools that await him. His eyes roll in fear, and a scream rips up his throat, muffled by the cloth trapped between his teeth.
As soon as his wrists are secured to the chains above his head, I wipe my brow on the back of my hand. And I look at what I’ve done. Five men, bound and gagged, at the mercy of the cruelest clan in Boston.
What have I become?
“Lenka, go move the van,” Rasputin commands. “Orlov, tell the Pakhan his guests have arrived. We’re ready for him.”
I nod, grateful for an excuse to be out of the torture chamber, even momentarily, and wishing I weren’t expected to come back to the place where my brother was killed. Following Lenka up the steps, I close the trapdoor behind me once again. We go our separate ways as soon as we hit the hallway, Lenka heading back outside while I turn toward Sergio’s office.
As I do, the door to the kitchen swings open, and a moment later, Alina steps out. She looks beautiful with her hair down, wearing a soft, loose-fitting sweater of copper brown and black leggings that hug her long legs. She’s barefoot, her feet padding silently across the floor.
“Mishka,” she gasps, faltering as she spots me.
Her eyes flick down the hallway behind me, and I glance back to make sure we’re alone.
“Hey,” I murmur, my chest aching with the need to approach her. My eyes cast toward the Pakhan’s office before returning to her once more.
I should be focusing on finding Sergio, but right now, all I want to do is speak to the woman I care about more than anything in this world. Because, rather than the radiant smile she normally gives me, Alina’s face falls at the sight of me. Her eyes fill with pain and anxiety, and her shoulders droop.
She seems more upset than ever, and it twists my gut to know that I haven’t had a chance to speak to her all week. By the look of it, whatever was bothering her at the club must have gotten worse, and though I tried to get a confession out of her that night, she wasn’t ready to talk about it then. Hopefully, she is now.
“How are you?” I ask softly, knowing the question doesn’t even begin to account for the emotion on her face. That look punches a hole through my chest, leaving me anxious even though I don’t have the first clue as to what might be bothering her.
A silence lingers between us in which I yearn to approach her, but I’ll be walking right past where I’m supposed to go if I do. That won’t look good when I’ve been given a direct order to tell the Pakhan about our new arrivals.
Still, as my question goes unanswered, I can see Alina’s inner struggle.
Her lips part as if she’s finally found her voice.
Then, to my horror, she starts to cry.
37
ALINA
Ican’t hold in my anxiety, my overwhelming sense of abandonment, any longer. The tears come fast and hard. I struggle to keep them silent, knowing it won’t look good by anyone’s standards if they find Sergio’s daughter crying in the presence of one of his soldiers. But I can’t staunch the flow of emotion pouring from me like a waterfall.
Mishka tenses visibly, his expression stunned. Then, his typically hardened, stoic expression melts into deep concern. Before I can pull myself together, his long strides have carried him down the hallway to me.
My heart skips a beat at his sudden proximity. His masculine scent combined with the hint of salty sweat that tells me he’s been working hard envelops me, making my stomach quiver.
Why do I have to want him so desperately?
Glancing behind himself one last time to ensure we’re alone, he grasps my shoulders and pulls me across the hall from the kitchen and into the billiards room. He quickly closes the door behind us and traps me against the wall, his strong arms caging me between them.
Stormy-blue eyes peer intensely down at me. “Please tell me what’s wrong, Alina,” he pleads.
I shake my head, unable to take in enough air to speak.
“I know something was bothering you at the club, and it’s clearly bigger than you should be taking on alone. Talk to me. Maybe I can help.” His tone is agonized, his shoulders curving protectively around me, even though he doesn’t know what he’s defending me from.
God, I love him so much it hurts. And that’s what makes this so utterly terrifying.
I wanted him so desperately that I was willing to put his life on the line, and yet, letting him go might be the only way I can protect him. I should do what’s right and push him away. But the thought of saying goodbye tears me apart.
