Knowing her name won’t have me understanding her story any better.
Only she can do that.
* * *
We travel the four miles to Clarks in silence. It’s quicker to go over the rugged landscape than around it, but the lapse in time gives me a chance to get my head screwed on straight. Only one time have I acted this reckless. It ended disastrously, so I’ll do anything to skip another shit-fest.
When K’s body temperature notches up a couple of degrees from me pulling my car into Clarks, her unusual scent doubles. I suck in the fear bubbling in her veins like it’s a line of coke while searching for a spot to park. I don’t want to walk far while carrying dozens of bags of greasy food.
Although Clarks is newer, cleaner, and more up-to-date than the compound K was rescued from, I can understand her panic when she drinks in the modern fortress. The men here are as rowdy as they are horny. She has no reason to fret, though. Nikolai put a no-touch order on the women rescued, so unless they have a death wish, the men will follow Nikolai’s command.
“I’m just helping you take the food inside,” I assure K when a growl rumbles in her chest about me snagging the bags from the backseat. “We’ll camp out here until the heat dies down, then work out where we go from here. The rest of the girls are inside, so how about we get them the food before it’s stone-cold?”
In silence, she watches me gather up the rest of the bags before she joins me outside my car. She looks more scared than strong as we make our way inside, but I still see the tiny flicker of hope in her eyes. Her strides are as lengthy as mine, just ten times shakier.
“No one will touch you. I promise you that.” Since my assurance was straight-up honest, it sounded that way. It was also possessive, but we’ll keep that snippet of information between us. With the adrenaline high of a raid having my head teetering between the past and the present, I’ve got a set of fucked-up circumstances fueling my emotions, so a little leeway wouldn’t go astray.
Eight’s eyes lift to mine when I enter the main living area of Clarks with K shadowing just behind me. With a handful of the men sporting bullet wounds, the smell of blood is stronger than the chemicals pumping out of the jacuzzi housing half a dozen topless whores. Well, I assume they’re topless. I can’t see their lower halves, so there are no guarantees. Most of the women get around here naked. It’s how the men like it. They battled hard today, so they’ll celebrate just as intensely.
I’m usually just as eager, but my mind is elsewhere right now. Once I get K settled, I’ll work on getting my head screwed on right.
“Where are the rest of the girls?” I ask Eight, talking loud so he can hear me over the music pumping out of the stereo at his side.
Eight nudges his head toward the sleeping quarters at the back of the space. “Nero said to put them in the bunkers. Is Nikolai staying at P’s tonight?”
P is what my brothers call the Popov compound. Nikolai usually resides at Clarks, but I can see how that would be awkward for his girl with the number of naked women wandering around, and don’t get me started on the horndogs in his crew. They’ll bat one off right outside your door if your hookup’s moans are enticing enough.
I lift my chin, answering Eight’s question before gesturing for K to head in the direction Eight nudged his head at. Nikolai’s order for the girls to remain untouched pops back into my head when I notice a handful of eyes following K’s slow retreat. Bags of greasy food hide her chest from view, but they don’t do shit for the lower half of her body.
Even with her being tiny enough for my cock to snap her in half, the shadows under her nightgown are mighty enticing, and my brothers in arms are more than happy to drink them in.
Generally, I’m happy for them to look as long as they don’t touch, but that isn’t cutting the mustard today. “If anyone needs a reminder about Nikolai’s directive, I’ll be back in ten.”
You’d swear K suddenly turned ugly when numerous sets of eyes drop to the floor. I’m not surprised. The punishment for disobeying Nikolai’s direct order is death. Mine is almost as bad. You’ll be wishing you were dead by the time I’m done with you.
Proof K can understand me is awarded when I tell her to take a left at the end of the hall. Although I’m pleased she has no issues following instructions, unease melds through my veins when her quick pivot causes the hair hanging to her waist to swish away from her back. Blood is seeping into her nightgown. It isn’t coming from the lower extremities of her body—thank fuck. It’s a diagonal pattern across her back, similar to how a sash would be draped if she won a beauty contest.
Rage unlike anything I’ve ever felt pummels into me when reality dawns. Those fuckers didn’t just rape and starve her, they beat her as well. Vladimir was a sick fuck, but this is worse than I realized. I’ve seen a lot of sanctions in my twenty-eight years. None have been this fucked-up. Nikolai has his work cut out for him, even more so when he discovers the full extent of Vladimir’s quirks.
Several grubby faces snap to the door when we enter the dormitory the women are being held in. When they spot the bags of food in our hands, the once-dormant mob activates. They race our way like scavengers discovering a giant X on a sandy island to snatch the greasy food out of our hands.
I let them have it without so much as a fight, suddenly not hungry. K isn’t as willing to give up her stash. She’s more than happy for them to take two of her bags, but she fights to keep the third one.
Grunting, K pushes the women back with the aggression she used to sock me in the face. Although she’s half the size of most of the women, she gives as good as she’s getting.
I discover the fuel behind her gallantry when her victory sees her joining a woman at the back of the pack. It’s the blonde I’m assuming is her sister. She has a similar shaped face and eyes, but hers aren’t holding the fighting gleam K’s have.
When Eight bumps me with his shoulder, I work my jaw through the annoyance of K handing her entire bag of food to the woman she was glued to earlier. “I asked the cooks to rummage up some grub. They should bring more supplies in around twenty.” After following the direction of my gaze, he asks, “Who is she to you?”
“She’s no one.” That was harder to articulate than it should have been, and Eight is happy to call me out on it with a mocking grin.
After backhanding him in the chest, wordlessly warning him to stand down before I rearrange his face with my fists, I instruct, “Come find me when the food arrives.”
I’m not hungry, I just need to make sure K eats. At the moment, everyone in the room is taking advantage of her selflessness, including her sister.
That shit needs to stop.
People become fucked-up when they place themselves at the top of the agenda, but that doesn’t mean the people stuck on the bottom rung have to take their shit. You can rule without being an asshole. Both K and her sister need to learn that, and perhaps the men I once called my brothers, but that’s a story for another day.
