I cried a bit more and then fell asleep. Feeling so much was utterly exhausting.
I woke up sensing something different in the air—a stirring in the stillness of the apartment. I was no longer alone. A loud whistle cut through the air, and goosebumps erupted over my skin. That wasn’t Kirill’s voice. I’d know his voice anywhere. The melody was haunting and eerie and growing closer.
“Well, well, what have we got here? Maybe Kirill isn’t as boring as I thought,” a deep, slightly accented voice said.
I twisted my neck to the doorway.A man stood there, not quite as tall and broad as my kidnapper, but close. He was dressed in black—a t-shirt and a leather jacket. There was something lethal about the way he smiled at me. This man was dangerous. I knew it in my gut, with the same instinct that had failed me so badly with Kirill. His skin was tanner than Kirill’s, and his face was traditionally handsome. He didn’t look brutal in the way Kirill could, but there was a deadliness to his features. His eyes looked like black pits.
“Who are you?” We asked simultaneously.
His laugh filled the room up. He looked totally at ease, finding a woman tied to a bed.“Jinx. Ladies first,” he said, moving further into the room.
I tried not to flinch away.“I’m Lori. Lori Wilson. I’m being held here against my will.”
The man raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes perusing my body from head to toe. “Kinky. I like it. I’m Nikolai. You can call me Niko.”
“Well, Niko, can you call the police for me?” Was I going to call the police on Kirill? Fuck yes, I was if I got half a chance.
Niko tutted and shook his head.“The police don’t tend to investigate Chernov wrong-doing. We pay them too much. My brother is the keeper of secrets in this city, and no one will get in his way if he wants to tie a woman to his bed or cut her up and eat her.”
I paled at his statement. “You’re his brother? I didn’t know Kirill had a brother.”
“Stop. Now you’re hurting my feelings,” Niko said in a jovial tone. The man was unsettling. He approached the bed. “The question is, Lori Wilson . . . why would my brother care enough to tie you up? As far as I know, he doesn’t invite women here. You must be something special.” His eyes raked me from head to toe, and he frowned. “But I don’t see it. Maybe it’s under the clothes.”
“I know him . . .knewhim from before,” I blurted before this lunatic could look under my clothes.
Niko stilled, and an incredulous look crept over his handsome face. His hotness only made him more disturbing.“Don’t tell me you’reher. The one who got away. The one he’s been looking for. Now, that does make you special . . .Lori Wilson.”
“Can you untie me? I can’t feel my arms.”
“Let me think about it,” Niko said, sitting on the bed beside me. “I met Kirill shortly after you left him. Poor thing. He was injured. On crutches and pathetic. He tried to look for you, not that Viktor would allow it. Personal connections outside the family are weaknesses, blah blah. That didn’t stop him. I lost count of the times he tried to run away and find you. I bet he still has a scar for every time. Father doesn’t spare the stick when teaching his sons how to mafia.”
My curiosity overcame my fear for a moment.“Your father is . . .” I already knew, but accepting it was proving to be more difficult.
“Viktor Ivanovich Chernov. The don of the Russian bratva in New York. The head of the snake, and twice as mean. Kirill never told you? He must have been pretending he could be an ordinary Joe. An all-America track star.” Nico barked a laugh.
“Head of the bratva,” I repeated, trying to get the new reality to sink in. “What did he do to Kirill?”
“Nothing. He just awakened his true self. He has the blood of great men and natural-born killers in his veins. Viktor showed him that. He made him the man he was destined to be.”
“So – what about you?”
“Me? I’m the competition. The black sheep.” Niko chuckled. “I might be the only person to hate Viktor more than Kirill.”
“You both hate your father?” I couldn’t keep up with this conversation. There was too much I didn’t know. Too much I didn’t get. Huge blank spaces where I needed information.
“Doesn’t everyone?” Niko asked and pulled a small sharp-looking knife from his pocket. He started to clean under his fingernails.
I stared at the blade, transfixed.“How do you feel about your brother?”
“If you’re asking am I going to hurt you and carve you up for Kirill to find, the answer is . . . I haven’t decided yet,” Niko said with devasting calm.
“Please don’t.” I stilled as Niko brought the blade to my lips and sealed my words inside.“Shhh, don’t beg. If you knew me, you wouldn’t tempt me so.”
I swallowed my protests and pleas and stared at him.
“To fuck up Kirill’s little toy or not, decisions, decisions . . .”
“I vote for not if it counts,” I muttered.