After waiting for Eight to hand over a frail material I clutch like it was my mother’s, Nikolai nudges his head to one of the many couches in the living area, requesting for me to join him there.
As we pace toward the living area, low-ranked members of his crew and whores disappear in all directions. Nikolai didn’t specifically ask for privacy, but his facial expression is telling enough. Once we’re alone, he asks, “What do you remember?”
“Nothing about a car accident,” I mutter under my breath, unable to take my eyes off the nightgown I’m wringing around my fingers like it’s capable of healing the stupid-ass lisp and limp I got from my injuries.
It dawns on me just how far Mikhail’s deceit went when Nikolai’s brows stitch at my mumbled comment. “That’s the script they’re running?” When I jerk up my chin, his tightens. “We were advised to let you formulate your own response to your memory loss, not make up gimmicks.” He plops into the first single sofa before lifting his eyes to mine. They’re still icy and dangerous, they’re just not as dark as they once were. “What do you remember about K?”
“That she smells like the rain…” An unexpected grin tugs on my lips when I mutter, “… and pig shit?”
Nikolai isn’t as surprised by my comment as me. “Jim said you were under. Didn’t believe him until now.” After gesturing for me to sit across from him, he hands me a single print out. It’s a photograph of a slender blonde with big blue eyes and ruddy lips. It’s hard to tell from this image, but she looks around sixteen.
“Anything?”
I shake my head, disappointed. Other than my pulse thumping in my ears, her face doesn’t register as familiar. Don’t get me wrong, her perfect nose, plump lips, and gorgeous face make my cock twitch. Its spasms are just barely felt over my skyrocketing blood pressure.
“What about him?” Nikolai places a second image onto the first one. Although he’s older than I remember, I immediately know who he is.
“What does Achim Novak have to do with any of this?”
My eyes snap to Nikolai’s when he says, “He’s her owner.”
“He owns K?” When Nikolai nods, I scoff. “That can’t be right. He’s married to India—”
“Who looks remarkably similar to K when she’s not dirtied up by the sex-trafficking industry?” Nikolai interrupts.
The picture he hands me this time around sends blood rushing to all regions of my body. My cock, my heart, my ears, they all get slammed by an overzealous pulse, not the least bit turned off by the grubby-faced blonde with bird nest knots in her matted hair.
As my nostrils flare like I can smell K’s scent off her image, I stray my eyes to the open side door of Clarks. It’s dark out, however, all I’m seeing is a mess of saturated blonde hair clinging to the face of a blue-eyed woman. She’s just as beautiful, if not more, than the woman in the first photograph Nikolai handed me, and she doesn’t have an ounce of makeup on.
After a few minutes of silent deliberations, I blubber out, “I took her to Jim’s.”
Because I’m not asking a question, I don’t look at Nikolai to get confirmation. I’m too busy staring at the rain, confused as to why the sight of it has me the hardest I’ve ever been. My cock is pressed against the zipper in my jeans, standing to attention like it refused to do only an hour ago.
It tells me everything I need to know, and exactly what I must do. “I want her back.”
In the corner of my eye, I spot Nikolai shaking his head. “That isn’t possible—”
“I don’t care what’s possible. I want her back!”
Nikolai works his jaw side to side, frustrated by my roar, but the stupid lisp my words arrive with halves his annoyance. He’s looking at me more in pity than anger, and I fucking hate it. “She’s the reason you were attacked, Trey. She’s the reason you almost died.”
Even having no real memories of K, I shake my head. I let a woman play me for a fool once, so there’s no fucking chance in hell I would have allowed it to occur a second time. If I let K in, I must have trusted her. Furthermore, if Nikolai truly believes she’s to blame for what happened to me, she’d be dead by now. Woman or not, he wouldn’t have let anyone get away with entering his turf to fuck with his crew for no reason.
When I say that to Nikolai, silence transcends, proving I hit the nail on the head.
“Don’t you want the man responsible for hogtying Justine and forcing her to watch me being tortured be brought to the courts?”
Nikolai’s brows furrow as tightly as mine. “You remember what happened that night?”
As I slide my hand over the ridges in my skull, my chin dips. The memories slowly trickling in my head are hazy but filled with enough anger to know even if K is partly responsible for what happened to me, nothing will stop me seeking justice on Achim. “Alexei was doing the torturing, but he wasn’t the only man in the room.”
When my eyes drop to the stack of photographs, Nikolai says, “Are you sure, Trey? Justine and Eight only saw Alexei. Could your past be fucking with you?”
I immediately shake my head, doubling the throb of my brain. “We were in a shower stall in the bathroom.” I lick my lips to give my brain a couple of seconds to work through the drudge coating it. “K overdosed?”
Unsure if that part of my memory is true, I peer at Nikolai for confirmation. Even though he nods, I know he’s holding back. He wants me to sort through the shit like he made me do three years ago, aware when your trust is low, you don’t believe anyone but yourself.
A few more minutes pass in silence before clarity breaks through the fog. “Eight only counted four pills.” I feel my pupils dilate when another revelation hits me. “I was tasered…” My jaw tightens so much I’m afraid it will crack when I growl out, “… by Achim.” After dragging my hand down my face, I lock my eyes with Nikolai. “How do you not know any of this? This place is wired to the hilt with surveillance.”
