Chapter 27

Yaroslav

“I have to hand it to you, Ivan, you’re holding up surprisingly well under torture. If only you hadn’t betrayed me, you could have gone far within this organization,” I state casually, surveying the bloodied and bruised man before me.

It’s true, Ivan was one of my more promising men. Which only makes it all the more disappointing that Sharkozi got to him. Most give up the information before we have to start pulling fingernails, this fucker just lost two fingers and he’s still not talking.

“Fuck you,” he groans, spitting blood onto the floor.

I tut, like a disappointed father. “You know, I can do this all day. But one way or another, you’re going to tell me what I need to know. Even if that means losing all of your limbs.”

“Go ahead, I’m dead no matter what,” he replies softly, his chest heaving heavily, body drenched in sweat.

It seems more drastic measures are going to be needed, however, Sharkozi got to him, it’s clear Ivan thinks he will kill him if I don’t. Not that I have any intention of letting him live. But he doesn’t need to know that…

I pace around him, circling like a shark before heading toward the table filled with implements designed to inflict pain. “Hmm, it seems you’re not all that attached to your limbs, but I bet I can think of one appendage you’d rather keep. Vova, strip him.”

I pick up a pair of rusty shears, and Ivan’s face pales as he realizes what I’m implying. “You sick son of a bitch,” he cries as he tries fruitlessly to wriggle away from Vova.

“You can keep your precious cock, I have no use for it, just tell me what I want to know,” I state casually.

“I bet your whore would have use for it. If you’re granting last requests, I’ll happily give her a real fucking with a cock big enough to fill her gaping hole,” he spits viciously, hitting a nerve.

“Don’t you dare fucking talk about her!” I snap, losing my cool.

His eyes spark and I know I’ve fucked up, he’s sensed a weakness, a way to get to me. “Oh yes, Sharkozi knows all about your little slut. The mighty Yaroslav Volkov, in love with a poor Nig—”

My fist slams into his face before he can finish his slur, “Don’t you fucking dare think about calling her that, you racist piece of shit,” I roar.

A red mist descends upon me as I lose myself, only aware of the feeling of my fists connecting with bone and muscle, the hardness of them giving way and becoming soft as I break bones in my hail of fury. “Did Sharkozi burn down her home to get to me? Is he behind it? If he is, I’ll fucking burn him alive! Answer me!” I demand.

But no answer comes, Artem clears his throat but stays well away from me, knowing better than to get too close when I’m lost to the beast inside me. “Um, Boss, I don’t think he’s gonna be speaking again.”

The mist fades as I calm down, slowly coming to and realizing what I’ve done. Ivan is no longer recognizable, beaten beyond recognition. He’s still and I know without checking that he’s dead. I step back and Artem cautiously approaches, like I’m a wild animal he needs to keep his distance from. He leans forward and takes Ivan’s wrist, checking for a pulse.

“Yep, he’s gone.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, pissed off at myself for losing control and killing him before I could get answers from him.

Artem and Vova share a look, I know they’re thinking the same. It won’t have escaped their attention that I lost control, something I haven’t done since I was a young man, and all because of a girl. But Kimberly isn’t just some girl.

I finally know what I’ve been trying to hide from this whole time. I can’t ignore it anymore. I’m in love with Kimberly.

I’m aware that standing in a torture basement covered in another man’s blood matter isn’t the ideal time to realize you’re in love with someone. But then I never said I was a normal man. The problem is, how do I keep Kimberly in my life without her finding out who I really am? It will be impossible for us to live a normal life, have kids, and get married. She will be in constant danger from my enemies. Knowing would be safer, and fairer to her, but Kim isn’t like me. She isn’t part of this world. One look at the monster behind the mask and she’d run a mile.

But before I can decide what the hell I’m going to do about Kim, I have business to attend to. “Clean up this mess,” I bark at Vova and Artem, they might be my most loyal men, but I still need to remind them who’s in charge, especially as they now know my weakness.

“Yes, Boss. Do we dump the body as usual?” Vova asks as Artem switches on the hose that’s kept in this room for the inevitable clean-ups, the bright red blood slowly washes away down the drain in the floor, hiding my sins.

As much as I’d like to send that fucker’s body to Sharkozi’s door as a warning, it’s too risky, he’s a known associate of mine and the police could easily trace his death back to me. I’d be gift-wrapping my arrest for Sharkozi. “Yes, make sure he’s not found.”

“Considering his teeth are out of his face, he’s missing most of his fingers, and he looks like a Picasso painting, I’d say that the chances of him being identified even if he is found are pretty slim,” Artem quips.

“I never knew you were a fucking art connoisseur,” I grunt. “Speak to the rest of the men, starting with those closest to Ivan. I need to find out how deep this betrayal goes.”

“Speak to them, or speak to them?” Ivan asks, gesturing to the room we’re in to demonstrate his meaning.

“I don’t think we need to torture half the men in my employ just yet. Though we can make it perfectly clear what happens to those who betray me or anyone who has the bright idea to play dumb.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Aw man, I’ve got blood on my new shoes, it will never come out of the suede, and they cost me a bomb!” Artem complains.

“Get some new ones, on me. Though next time don’t be stupid enough to wear fucking suede shoes to an interrogation,” I reply before heading out of the room and across the corridor to the bathroom.

Since torture and murder can be a messy business, I had a state-of-the-art wet room installed down here with an incinerator disposal unit for clothing and other things I need to remove all traces of. I peel off my clothes, frowning in annoyance at yet another expensive shirt being ruined, and step under the powerful stream of water. The water turns from red to pink and finally clear as I wash away all traces of Ivan. I won’t lose a wink of sleep over him, in fact, soon I’ll probably forget all about him. He wasn’t the first man I’ve killed, and he won’t be the last.

I think of Kim, upstairs in my bedroom, no doubt still fast asleep. All of a sudden, I feel the urge to get back upstairs and climb into bed beside her and pretend none of this happened, that we’re a normal couple. Perhaps we can spend a lazy day in bed. I smile at the thought of it. Last night, letting her sleep in my bed with me felt like the most natural thing in the world and I spent a while watching her sleep, even more beautiful when her face is peaceful and unworried.

I yawn as I pull on fresh clothes and check my watch. 7:45 am, it’s later than I expected. I hope Kim isn’t looking for me. With a spring in my step, I head back up the staircase, whistling as I go.

To my disappointment, my room is empty, the cleaners have already been in and made the bed, so Kim must have been up for a while. With a final longing glance at the bed, I head out of the room in search of her. After checking her room, the kitchen, and finally her pottery room, I start to get a little concerned. It isn’t often that she strays outside of these places. Perhaps she’s with David.

David is engrossed in some sort of bizarre painting when I find him, I can only assume Kim has inspired him to do it, though what it is supposed to be, I have no idea. He doesn’t look up when I enter, he’s so absorbed in the task at hand his expression one of deep concentration. To my disappointment, he’s alone.

“Good morning, David. Have you seen Kim?” I ask, getting right to the point.

He shakes his head, still not looking up at me. “Nope, not since yesterday. I’ve been busy working all night on my project,” he replies, that would explain the dark circles under his eyes, David has a tendency to obsess. “Why?” he asks.

“I can’t find her,” I explain.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry. She can’t leave us now, not without an apartment to go back to. This is her home now,” he states happily.

I narrow my eyes suspiciously, “David, did you have something to do with the fire?” I ask.

“She was going to leave us. I had to do something,” he replies with a shrug as though burning someone’s home down is a perfectly logical thing to do.

“David, I know our family isn’t exactly law-abiding. But you shouldn’t have done that. Kimberly was very hurt by it, we only hurt those who wrong us,” I remind him.

“I know, but it was the best thing, you’ll see. She’ll be much happier here with us. And her home was a shithole. We can buy her much nicer things.”

I sigh wearily, David can seem so normal at times and then he makes these kinds of decisions that seem perfectly logical to him but downright insane to most. Mind you, I can’t really talk. I just beat a man to death for calling my girlfriend names.

Did I just think of Kim as my girlfriend? Is that what she is?

I shake my head, pushing the thought out of my mind. I need to find her first, then I can worry about the complex nuances of our relationship status.

“We’ll talk about this later,” I warn, unable to face the conversation right now. Despite how wrong I know it was of him, part of me is a little relieved that it wasn’t an enemy who was responsible, and that it did make Kim stay. “But next time you have any bright ideas concerning Kim, come to me first, alright?”

“Okay,” he agrees, happy to be let off lightly.

Well, that’s one mystery solved. Now to find Kim.

“Good. Stay out of trouble and call me if you see Kim.”

“I will,” he replies merrily. “If you find her first, tell her I want to show her my painting.”

“Will do, Bud.”

As I’m heading away from David’s room, I bump into one of my men, a relatively new one whose name escapes me. “Good morning, Pakhan,” he stammers nervously. “Are you looking for Miss Walsh?”

“Good morning, I was actually, could you tell me where she is?”

“I drove her to visit her grandmother early this morning,” the young man states, seemingly proud to have done a task more important than sentry duty.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, wondering why she would go out so early without wondering where I was.

“Yes, she just said she couldn’t sleep and wanted to go see her. I told her you were busy working,” he says. I take it that it’s already common knowledge among my men that Ivan was being questioned then.

“And you left her there unaccompanied?” I snap.

“She insisted that she was going to be gone a while and that she would get a cab back later today. I didn’t think…” he stutters, horrified at his mistake and my murderous expression.

“If anything happens to her, I will hold you personally responsible,” I growl, stalking off toward the garage to get a car to go look for her.

I just hope that I find her before anyone else does. If word’s got back to Sharkozi about my relationship with her and that she’s a potential weakness to exploit, she could be in danger.