Transparent

  “Wow, you move fast.” I chuckle, glancing over at the closet door to make sure she didn’t accidentally close it as she ran by. Relieved, I see it’s exactly how I left it.

  “It’s been too long since I’ve been in this bed,” she says breathlessly, her eyes locked on me. “It’s where I belong.”

  Walking toward the nightstand, I’m unable to watch her touch herself on my bed without dry heaving. I’ll have to buy new furniture tomorrow. And burn the sheets.

  “Where you belong, eh?” I ask flirtatiously as I pull the handcuffs out of the bottom drawer then dangle them over her face. “Then you won’t mind if I keep you where you belong with these, will you?”

  Excitement flashes across her face. She thinks I want to play. Stupid bitch.

  “I don’t mind at all, Mr. Decker,” she purrs, batting her fake lashes while lifting her arms above her head. “Are you gonna punish me for being a bad little assistant?”

  After I thread the chain through the slats of the headboard and secure her wrists together, I grin wolfishly down at her. “That depends on if you’ve been bad or not. Is there anything you need to tell me?”

  She wrinkles up her nose, pretending to think, then shakes her head. “Not that I can think of.”

  The next thing I pull out of the drawer is a blindfold, and I waste no time in slipping it over her eyes. She doesn’t resist.

  I move to the end of the bed, positioning myself to the side so she can clearly be seen on the camera. Then, after several deep breaths and a silent prayer, I pick her leg up and begin to massage it. My fingers blister against her skin, the ugliness in her bubbling just under the deceitfully attractive exterior.

  “Oh, that feels so damn good,” she moans as I rub from the arch of her foot, up the back of her ankle, to her calf.

  “You missed me, Em?” I lead her into the conversation I’ve been dying to have all night, my hands gradually traveling north. “Missed being here in my bed? This is what you want?”

  She whimpers and nods. “You know I have, Madden. It’s always been you for me. I’d do anything for you.”

  I reach the back of her knee and ease up on my touch to a light stroke back and forth. “I made a mistake by getting involved with Blake. I was too blind to see what’s always been right here in front of me. Never thought you took what we had seriously, but I realize now I was wrong.”

  When I stop talking, I resume the kneading motion as I inch up the inside of her thigh. I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at my hands on her body.

  “That doesn’t matter anymore,” she pants while writhing under my touch. “I’m here, and she’s gone.”

  “That’s right.” My hand gets dangerously close to her apex, but stalls out before giving her the contact she so desperately craves. “I never properly thanked you for taking care of that . . .” I lightly drag one fingertip over the thin piece of lace covering her sex then retreat back to her inner thigh. “I should’ve trusted you to know what’s best for me. You always have.”

  Her back arches up off the mattress as she presses her hips down toward my hand, and a cocky smile curls up the corners of her mouth. “Always,” she breathes. “You’ve always been mine, and always will be. You just needed a reminder.”

  Tracing the edges of her panties, I occasionally dip my finger under the thin fabric, eliciting a gasp from her each time. “I just can’t figure out how you did it.” I brush my thumb over her clit and she jerks. “How you discovered who she really was.” Another stroke, this one more forceful than the first.

  “Please, Madden,” she begs, spreading her legs wide to give me full access. “Rip my thong off and touch me. I need you.”

  A deep growl rumbles in my chest as my endurance for this charade starts wearing thin. She’s right on the fucking cusp. All I need is for her to say it. To admit she knows what happened to Blake.

  Granting her wish, I grab hold of the panties and tear them from her body, squeezing my eyes shut again. “You want my hands in your pussy, Em? Or how about my mouth? Would you like that?”

  “Yes! God, yes!” she shouts. “Please lick my pussy, Madden!”

  “Tell me how you did it, and I’ll eat you until the sun comes up, baby. I’ll let you ride my face for as long as your little heart desires.”

  Tugging against her restraints, her resolve rapidly begins to unravel. “The photo . . . the photo in your desk,” she starts to say then stops as if she’s caught herself.

  I playfully slap the side of her ass before she has a chance to think sensibly. “Keep talking, beautiful. I can’t wait to bury my face in your sweet cunt and get that dessert you promised.”

  “I ran a Google image search on the picture and hundreds of articles popped up. That’s when I knew.”

  Her confession, though not at all a surprise, rips through me like a rusty, jagged edge. It’s my fault Emerson figured out who Blake was . . . all because of a photo I shouldn’t have had in the first place. If I hadn’t taken it that day from her room, where it was obviously hidden, none of this would’ve ever happened.

  “Who has her now?” I press for as much information as possible while smacking her other cheek.

  “I don’t know what the Russians did with her, and I don’t really care,” she groans, her frustration building. “Now come over here and fill me with your tongue.”

  The Russians. The motherfucking Russians have her. Easton’s face pops into my mind immediately, and I’m afraid my head may literally explode with the sheer amount of rage that surges through me. I trusted him when he swore he wasn’t involved, and this whole time, it was my own flesh and blood.

  “You fucking bitch!” I roar, shoving her legs away from me as I scramble backward off the bed. If I’m within arm’s reach of her, I may actually kill her.

  Bile rises in the back of my throat, and I know without a doubt I’m going to be sick. Dashing to the bathroom, I unload the contents of my stomach into the toilet, ignoring Emerson’s hysterical screams once she realizes what’s happened. Once I’m sure there’s nothing left inside me, I collapse to the floor, pressing my cheek against the cold tile.

  I’m going to murder my brother.

  AS I STEP OUTSIDE THE cabin to make the phone call, I stare up at the starry midnight sky and question my sanity for the hundredth time today. If I get caught doing what I’m about to do, we all die. No questions asked. I would be remembered as the most disgraceful, dishonorable man in my family’s entire history. A man who would risk the entire Bratva for a woman. An American woman I’ve known a week.

  But it’s not just for her. It’s for moi Darya too. My way of making it up to her. Everything I did wrong the first time, at least I can get it right now. ‘Cause she was right . . . love is the only thing that can heal our fucked-up brokenness. I may not be able to fix me, but there is a way I can help fix that innocent girl in there. A girl who needs the one person she has in this world who truly loves her.

  With that mental reminder, I scroll down my contact list until I land on the name Easton Decker, then press the green connect button. The phone rings several times, and just as I begin to fear I’m going to get his voicemail, I hear his voice.

  “Hey, Raze. I’m sorry I haven’t called. Things have been kinda crazy around here, some family stuff, and I . . . uh, I just haven’t gotten a chance to get the funds together.” He rambles on nervously, not letting me get a word in, and it’s then I remember he’s unaware that his friend, Emerson, exchanged Blake for his gambling debts. He thinks I’m contacting him about the money.

  In my hastiness to put this ridiculous plan in motion, I failed to realize they don’t even know I have the girl they’re looking for. This conversation is going to go a little differently than I planned.

  “Easton, I’m not calling about that,” I reply gruffly, careful to keep my intimidation factor at play. Him thinking he still owes me a bunch of money, I can definitely use in my favor. “I have a different matter I need your help with, and if you do wha
t I need you to do, without asking questions, I’ll consider calling us even.”

  The line goes quiet as I imagine he’s contemplating all of the illegal acts I could possibly ask him to carry out. “I’ll even tell you what it is before you agree,” I offer, holding back a chuckle.

  “Okay,” he responds immediately.

  “I need your brother to call me on this number from a secure line.”

  Another moment of silence. “Madden? Why? What’s going on?”

  “I told you no questions, and the first thing you did was spout off three in a row,” I snarl into the receiver. This guy wouldn’t make it a week in my life without his mouth getting him killed.

  “Yeah, uh, okay. I can do that. When? In the morning?”

  “Tonight. As soon as possible.”

  I hear keys jingle in the background and a door close. “Leaving for his place now. I can be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Disconnecting the call, I exhale the deep, anxious breath I held throughout the entire conversation then begin counting the minutes.

  “HOLY SHIT, MADDEN! WHAT THE fuck is going on?” My eyes snap open when I hear my brother’s voice shouting from the doorway of the master bathroom. “Are you okay?”

  His head swivels back and forth between where I’m lying face down on the floor next to the toilet and a still naked, blindfolded Emerson handcuffed to my bed. One minute, she’s screaming how much she hates me and wants to chop by balls off, and then the next, she’s crying about how sorry she is and begging me to forgive her because she loves me so much. I have no clue why he’s here or how long I’ve been in this position. After I threw up, everything started spinning and I thought my heart was literally going to explode out of my chest, so I closed my eyes. And now, somehow Easton is here.

  His name flashes red in my mind as Emerson’s words from earlier reverberate in my ears. ‘I don’t know what the Russians did with her, and I really don’t care.’

  With a surge of manic energy, I leap to my feet and charge Easton at full force. Catching him completely off-guard, his eyes bulge and jaw drops to say something, but he doesn’t get a sound out before I full-body tackle him onto the ground and begin swinging my furious fists.

  “You. Fucking. Piece. Of. Shit. You. Promised. Me.” With each word, I throw a punch to his face, and despite his efforts to defend himself, I land several good blows before he manages to knee me in the gut and shove me off of him. The brutal force from his jab slices through the adrenaline, and all of the pain from my encounter with Tony earlier in the week returns tenfold. Afraid I’m going to pass out, I stumble to the sink and grab hold of the countertop, struggling to catch my breath.

  Wiping at the blood streaming from his nose and mouth with his forearm, he staggers to his feet, a combination of confusion and annoyance radiating from him. “What the fuck is your problem, Madden? What happened? And why is she here?” He glances back toward the bedroom, where Emerson has now grown quiet, listening to the scuffle between us.

  “She told me!” I roar, squeezing my eyes shut to block out the unbearable agony. “She told me everything!”

  He stomps over next to me and slams his hands down on the vanity so hard the mirror shakes. “She told you what exactly?” he seethes.

  Prying my lids open slightly, I glower at his reflection, unable to even turn to look at him. “About the Russians, Easton. You don’t have to play stupid anymore,” I spit. “You turned in the woman I love to the goddamn fucking Russians. And I swear to God, if you don’t get her back to me in one fucking piece, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

  All of the color drains from his face as alarm glazes over his shocked expression.

  “Don’t act so surprised. You had to know Emerson wouldn’t keep her fucking mouth shut. The second I got her naked in my bed, she couldn’t wait to tell me of y’all’s little secrets,” I hiss, my body trembling with pure hate.

  “Madden, listen to me right fucking now.” His voice drops several octaves lower than normal as he grabs my shoulders and forces me to look him directly in the eye. “I don’t know what in the hell she told you, but I swear to God, on our parents’ lives: I had nothing to do with Blake’s disappearance. Absolutely fucking nothing!”

  He pauses a few seconds to allow his words to sink in then continues, “The reason I’m even here at your house is because I got a phone call tonight from Raze, Kabinov’s grandson. I thought he was calling about the money I owed, because with everything that’s happened this week, I haven’t even thought to touch base with him, but that wasn’t it . . .”

  “Raze? Are you fucking kidding me, Easton?” I almost have to laugh at the absurdness of my life. “You got involved with a Russian mobster named Raze? And no alarms went off in that fucking thick skull of yours that maybe, just fucking maybe, that wasn’t a good idea?”

  Scrubbing his hands over his face, my younger brother blows out an exasperated sigh and mumbles, “I know. I know. I’m a dumbass, but it all makes sense now.”

  “What?!” I snap. “What makes sense? What are you talking about?”

  “H-he wanted me to have you call him. On an untraceable line. Said it was urgent.”

  Sharp, shooting pains in my chest steal my breath yet again as I try to process all of the information. “Why? What? That’s all he said?”

  “Yeah,” he nods, extracting his phone from his back pocket and bringing it to life, “he called at nine-forty-two. Look. Right here.” I drop my gaze down to the call history screen and confirm he received a call from a Raze K. at the time he claims. “I don’t know why. He wouldn’t answer any questions, but obviously, when he told me to have you call him, I assumed it had something to do with Blake. I just . . . I just didn’t know the hows or whys or anything about Emerson. I jumped straight in my car and flew over here then let myself in with my key after you didn’t answer the door or your phone. Only to find her like that, and you nearly comatose on the floor in here.”

  I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him so badly. I look into his eyes for any indication of him not telling the truth. He’s my brother. My own flesh and blood. But I don’t know who to trust anymore. It feels like the entire universe is working against me.

  “Madden?” Easton pulls the guy’s contact information up on his cell and hands it over to me. “You knew you were going to need that extra line I dropped off yesterday. Now it’s time to use it. Let’s get your girl back, and we’ll deal with Emerson and prove my innocence later. Time is of the essence with these people.”

  I accept the rectangular device and tip my chin toward the door. “Let me grab it from the safe, and we’ll go to another room to make the call. I don’t want her to hear any of this.”

  Five minutes later, I’m standing in the guest room down the hall, punching in the numbers with my shaking hands. I say a quick prayer as I press connect and hold my breath while I wait. Luckily, it only rings once before a gruff male voice answers.

  “Decker.” He states my name with full certainty it’s me on the other end of the call. “Are you confident this line is secure?”

  Clearing my throat, I nod like he can see me. “I am.”

  “Good. I’m sure you’ve got a pretty good idea about why I’m calling, and it’s not about your brother’s gambling debts.”

  “Blake.” Her name falls from my lips with a breath of hope. “You have her.”

  He grunts something in Russian then replies, “I do, but before you start asking a thousand questions, let me talk. You interrupt me and piss me off, I’ll hang up and this offer is dead.”

  My ears perk up at the word ‘offer’, and I agree to hear him out. After all, I have no leverage to make any demands at this point. So as he begins to speak, I pace in a circle around the room, listening closely to what he has to say.

  “For the safety of both of us, I’d prefer to answer most of the questions you have—the whos, hows, and whys of everything—in person. In addi
tion, she has asked to see you, and I’ve granted her this wish. However, make no mistake about it, if you decide to agree to my terms, your life will be in danger. No one else is aware of this phone call, and as I’d be the one getting you in to see her, we will both be putting our lives on the line in the event we’re caught.”

  Even if I wanted to ask questions, I couldn’t. I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say or think or do. This could very well be a setup to kill me, to get rid of the pain-in-the-ass boyfriend who won’t stop sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. But that seems too messy and like too much risk for an outfit the size of the Kabinovs. It would be too obvious. Or maybe I just want it to be.

  The Russian takes my silence as his invitation to continue. “I’m aware you’ve been assigned an agent full-time, so you’d need to find a way to evade his watch. Also, it goes without saying, but if you whisper a word of this to any authorities whatsoever, you may as well pull the trigger yourself on your sweet Blake, because that’s the only option you’ll leave me. And, Decker, I promise I will find out.”

  “H-how do I know this isn’t a set-up?” I sputter nervously. “That you’re not just luring me somewhere to kill me?”

  He snickers. “If I wanted you dead, you’d know it. ‘Cause you’d already be fucking dead. I don’t play games. I don’t talk shit just to talk shit. I’ve got a girl here who’s got some pretty fucked up shit on her plate right now, and that’s not even talking about her god-awful fucking past. She wished she could see you, so I’m trying to help her out and let that happen. For Blake, not you.” I don’t miss the subtle change in his intonation when he talks about her, his voice softening involuntarily. Then he barks, “Now either you’re in or you’re out.”

  I stop walking. Every nerve ending in my body is tingling. My tongue feels like it’s swollen to twice its size, and my salivary glands have completely dried up. My heart is fluttering faster than the wings of a hummingbird. So fast it may not be beating at all.