They each return carrying several boxes, and I begin to wonder just how long we’re going to be here. Even though Raze said he wasn’t sure how much longer he thought we’d have to stay, I assumed a few extra days, maybe a week. By the looks of all this stuff, we may as well be moving in permanently.
Once everything is unloaded, Raze and the older of the two men step into the bedroom and close the door, leaving me alone with the other guy. I’m not sure why they need privacy, seeing as how I can’t understand anything they’re saying anyway. At first, I don’t think much of it, assuming they’ll speak quickly about whatever the business is, and then these other men will be on their way. But after a few minutes, the young Russian begins to move towards me with a wolfish grin spread across his ugly face.
Panic swells inside me with each daunting step he takes, and because of the restraints, I’m unable to do anything but lie here and wait. Dropping to a squat next to the couch, he reaches out and rubs the pad of his thumb over my dry, cracked lips.
“Raze is a lucky fucking bastard. He gets to be locked away with a hot piece of ass, passing the time by burying his dick in every tight little hole you have, while the rest of us are out there doing the real work,” he snarls spitefully as he shoves his thumb into my mouth. “Suck it. Show me what it would be like to have your pretty whore lips wrapped around my cock.”
I’m paralyzed with fear, unable to move until a loud crack echoes through the room, followed by a sharp sting, which blooms across my cheek. Instinctively, I cry out in pain, which results in a slap to the other side of my face.
“Don’t pretend you don’t want it, you little bitch,” he spits, yanking my t-shirt up to my neck and exposing my breasts and thin panties. Unzipping his pants, his intent is clearly stamped across his acne-laden forehead as pure evil dances in his wanton gaze. “All of you American girls are little sluts for Russian co—”
He doesn’t finish the last word before he’s jerked up from behind and hurled across the room, slamming into a wall. So lost in what was happening, I didn’t even hear the bedroom door open or the other two men come out, but it’s obvious Raze heard enough.
Pure rage encompasses his entire being as he prowls over to the younger man, who looks more confused than anything as he furrows his brow and says something in Russian. Raze answers him with a punch to the face, followed by a knee to the stomach. The guy crumbles, falling to his knees as he attempts to hold his nose with one hand and lifts the other up in surrender.
Unaccepting of the concession, Raze grabs hold of the arm in the air and twists it behind the man’s back in a manner an arm is not meant to be twisted. The sound of bones shattering mixed with screams of agony makes me nauseous. And even though I’m aware if he hadn’t been interrupted that he would’ve raped me, I can’t take any more.
“Stop!” I scream, tears flooding down my cheeks as I watch Raze kick the man repeatedly in the ribs with his heavy combat boots. Splatters of blood decorate the wall and carpet, and based on his limp body, I’m pretty sure he’s unconscious, if not dead. “Please stop! Raze, you’re scaring me!”
The sound of his name jolts him from his vehement frenzy and he stops immediately. Neither the other man, who’s been watching the events unfold, nor I say another word or attempt to move as Raze leans his forehead against the wall, struggling to regulate his breathing and reclaim his composure.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he barks out an order that has the older guy scrambling to pick up the battered, insentient youngster and carrying him out of the cabin without a second glance back. Once the door closes behind them, Raze slowly spins around to face me, his eyes red and glossy.
“I’m sorry I frightened you, kotyonok. That was not my intention.” His shame-ridden gaze drops to the floor, his voice full of remorse. “I thought he was hurting you, and I lost control of myself. I gave you my word to protect you, and I’m a man of my word.”
“P-please come here, Raze.” My teeth chatter as I talk, more from being shaken up than the chilly temperatures. “I-I need you t-to untie me, th-then we can t-t-talk about it.”
He’s by my side in a flash, on his knees, unraveling the secure knots that bind my hands and feet with trembling fingers. Once he’s removed the rope, I push up to a sitting position while rotating my wrists and ankles until the tingles subside. He waits, silent and motionless, for me to say or do something.
“Thank you for saving me from him. He would’ve hurt me if you wouldn’t have come.”
Watching Raze beat the shit out of that guy did, in fact, scare me. I hate violence. Loathe it after what I was exposed to during my life with Ish. But there’s no way I can possibly be mad at him for saving me from what that monster was about to do to me.
“I’m not upset with you.” I reach my hands out and grab his, lifting his tattered, bloody knuckles into the air.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “You said I scared you.”
“You did. I didn’t want you to kill him and get in trouble with your Pakhan because of me,” I reply in a half-lie. Despite the circumstances of this entire fucked up situation, I have the overwhelming desire to comfort him. The troubled eyes staring into mine right now are that of a young boy trapped inside a grown man’s body, a boy who knows no other way to deal with conflict than with violence, and it makes my heart hurt.
“My job is to keep you safe, even from my own people,” he rasps, glancing down at our joined hands suspended in the air between us. “I’ll kill for you, and I’ll die for you, all to ensure you can carry out your assignment.”
“Let’s hope that isn’t necessary.” My lips curl up in a half-hearted smile, trying to lighten the mood. “You’ve done enough damage to your hands as it is. We need to get these cleaned up so they don’t get infected, and then we have groceries to put away.”
He nods and stands after I release my hold on his fingers. “There’s antiseptic and bandages in one of the boxes. I added them to the list for the abrasions on your ribs.”
“I’ll find them. You go wash up in the bathroom,” I reply, hiding my surprise that he not only noticed the lacerations I caused during my nightmare, but cared enough to have something to treat them brought in.
Thankfully, the first box I open is filled with the bathroom toiletries, including vanilla-scented shampoo and conditioner, a hairbrush, ponytail holders, razors, and even a box of tampons. My face heats up when I think about Raze ordering this stuff for me. What kind of big, badass mafia man thinks about these kinds of things? Then, it dawns on me.
Raze must’ve been married before. Or at least been in a serious relationship with a woman. Or maybe still is . . .
Grabbing the cream and box of bandages, I hurry to the bathroom to help him treat his injuries. Injuries he got because of me.
“Raze?” I ask timidly, unsure how he’s going to react to my question.
His focus snaps up from the sink to the mirror, where we stare at each other’s reflection. “Yes, girl?”
“Are you married?”
An unmistakable flicker of soul-deep heartbreak flashes in his cobalt eyes. “Why?” he barks gruffly, visibly gritting his teeth.
Shaking my head, I wave my hand in front of my face and try to play it off. He doesn’t need to say anything else; I already know the answer. “Never mind. I was just curious. I didn’t mean to pry. Let’s get you fixed up so we can eat.”
His jaw relaxes as he spins around to face me, but I keep from making eye contact with him, focusing on the task at hand. He watches intently as I clean and cover the wounds, and the air inside the tiny washroom quickly becomes thick with unspoken words. Once I’m finished, I turn to make a hasty retreat, but he catches me by the elbow, forcing me to look back at him.