Clamping his cigarette between his lips, he approached Kostya's cart and scanned the implements available to him. He finally picked up the small blow torch. Santos groaned and wiped a hand down his face before swearing in Spanish. Ignoring the bleeding heart detective, he flicked on the torch. "Let's fix that hand…"
* * *
Shivering, I tried to stay awake in the cramped cage. The nasty collar now biting into my neck forced my head into an awkward position. A short leash had been looped to the back of the collar and secured to the cage ceiling. Every time I drifted off from exhaustion, the weight of my head caused the leash to tighten and the collar would dig into my throat so badly I'd start to strangle.
The tight rope bonds binding my wrists to my ankles kept me in this painfully bent position. Breathing was beginning to grow difficult and I'd already lost feeling in my fingertips and toes.
I had no one to blame for my new predicament but myself. When they had taken me out of my cage for my shower earlier, I'd done the stupidest thing. I'd attempted to escape—and failed.
Before they came to get me out of my cage, I'd heard a big rig truck back up to the warehouse. The beeping alarm and the hissing brake sound I'd recognize anywhere. Many of the vendors who delivered to Samovar pulled up around back with their massive trucks packed with restaurant orders from all over the city.
But I doubted this truck would be carrying anything as innocent as produce.
Not long after the truck arrived, I'd heard high-pitched wailing and screams. I'd nearly puked as the horror of it struck me. Those poor women were being taken away from the warehouse. They'd be sold and used and abused until—well—I didn't really know. As ugly as the business of trafficking was, I doubted the girls being bought and sold like cattle had long lives ahead of them. They were disposable.
And it sickened me. I couldn't stop thinking about the fate that awaited me after I heard the truck rumble away from the warehouse. I'd started to scheme right then and there. I had to get out of here. However slim the chance, I had to take it. I couldn't let some disgusting monster buy me on the auction block and turn me into his sex slave.
When Robbie had come to get me for my shower, I'd rejoiced at my good luck. He wasn't as big as John or as mean. Despite the blindfold, I'd been sure I could take him. Looking back, I should have waited for a better opportunity because I'd failed miserably in my attempt to flee.
Oh, sure, I'd managed to kick Robbie in the balls, rip off my blindfold and make a run for the double doors at the end of that long hallway—but John had been waiting on the other side with that awful cattle prod of his. One jab against my ribs and I'd fallen to the floor with a shriek.
But he hadn't stopped there. He'd popped my backside and thighs with the horrible device until I'd been sobbing and begging him to stop. Only then had Robbie, the guard who seemed to have the most conscience left, stepped in and forced him to stop torturing me. The collar and rope hogtie had been Robbie's idea of punishment.
The two idiots didn't seem to realize that the payday they wanted so badly was about to die from neglect.
For the first time since being taken from Nikolai, I experienced true despair. My hope began to fade. Bound and collared in this cage, there was no chance of escape. My fate was sealed. I was either going to succumb to exhaustion and slowly strangle to death because of the collar cutting into my throat or I would be sold to some sick psycho who would do ungodly things to me.
My spirit broken, I started to weep. With my body bent in half and my breasts smashed up against my knees, I forced the ragged sobs to stop. It was growing so difficult to drag even easy, slow breaths into my squished lungs. Crying was just going to make me pass out faster.
Dizzy and numb, I thought I was hallucinating when I heard the sound of running footsteps in the hallway. A gunshot startled me. Holding my breath, I listened carefully. What the hell was happening out there?
The door to the room where they were keeping me burst open. "NO! Please!"
It was John—and he was begging for his life. "I did everything you asked. We're partners. We—"
But he never got to finish his pleading statement. The pop of a gunshot echoed so loudly in the cavernous room. A second later, a body dropped to the floor with a muffled thud. With the blindfold covering my eyes and my arms and legs bound, I could only wait and listen in sheer terror.
Those heavy footsteps I'd come to recognize as belonging to the shot caller drew closer to my cage. I tried to breathe quietly and flattened my body as tightly as possible—as if making myself a smaller target would somehow protect me.
The footsteps stopped right next to my cage. That all too familiar scent of cloves invaded my nose. Fainter but just as noticeable was the acrid stink of gunpowder. My entire body trembled with anxiety.
Something metal scraped the side of my cage. A moment later, the warm, hard muzzle of a handgun jabbed against my temple. I squeaked as my heart stuttered wildly. This was it. He was going to kill me now.
The agonizing wait for the end made my stomach pitch and heave. Would I feel the bullet ripping through my skull? Would I hear the deafening roar of the pistol firing? Would it happen so fast that I'd be spared the agony of being shot?
The muzzle pushed hard against my temple, so hard that I gasped. The metal tip bit into my skin. Any second now…
With a rough jerk, the man who smelled of cloves pulled the gun away from my head. I didn't dare breathe. I stayed perfectly still—and prayed that God would spare me now.
A rustle of clothing was the only sound I heard before the man backed away from the cage and left the room. The slamming door made me jump. Left alone, locked in the cage with only two dead bodies to keep me company, I finally lost it.
Shaking and sobbing, I turned my head as far to the side as the stupid collar would let me and vomited. My empty stomach produced only bile but the trauma of what I'd just experienced, of narrowly escaping with my life, overwhelmed me.
Now I really feared being left for dead. It was clear that moving the other women earlier had been part of some larger plan by the man in charge. Something had happened to rattle him, to make him believe his location wasn't so safe anymore. Had Nikolai or Eric discovered something? Were they getting close to finding me? A spark of hope ignited within me.
But why had the man who smelled of cloves killed his partners? Why were John and Robbie dead but I was still alive? If he was cleaning up loose ends, he'd left a big one right here in this cramped cage.
The smell of smoke tickled my nose. Certain I was having some kind of brain malfunction, I lifted my head and inhaled deeply. There was no mistaking the smell of scorched metal and burning drywall.
Oh my God. The building is on fire.
The awful truth hit me. I wasn't a loose end that he'd left behind. He'd found a way to make me truly suffer in my final moments here on this earth.
"Help!" I don't know why I screamed. There was no one out there to help me but I couldn't stop. "Help!"
Though it was futile, I tugged hard on the ropes binding my wrists to my ankles. I ignored the searing pain of the rope fibers burning and abrading my tender skin. At this point, I didn't care if I ripped all the skin off my arms. I had to get loose.
"Please, God. Please." I didn't want to die like this. I didn't want to suffocate from smoke inhalation or experience the agony of flames licking at my naked skin. "Please."
As I prayed for a miracle, I continued to yank and twist. Rubbing my face against my knee, I finally managed to push the blindfold out of the way just enough for me to see my ankles and wrists. The poor lighting in this room barely illuminated the lower half of the cage.
Full-fledged panic set in as the first whirling wisps of smoke started to sneak under the door. I pulled so hard on the ropes that blood started to seep from my wrists. The broken skin throbbed mercilessly but I didn’t care. I had to get out of here. If that meant losing a hand so be it.
The dull roar of fire in the other parts of th
e warehouse had grown so loud now. Metal pinged as the heat warped its structure. The crashing jangle of metal sheets hitting the concrete floor told me that I didn't have long. Before the smoke killed me, the building would probably collapse. Already the thick cloud of smoke spilling into the room made me cough. Soon, it would choke me.
Sobbing, I tried even harder to free myself from the ropes. "No! Please."
Jerking and twisting and weeping, I didn't even hear the shouting voices at first. It wasn't until I heard my name ricocheting around the warehouse that I snapped my gaze to the door. I didn't believe it at first. Surely I was hallucinating now.
"Vivian!"
Awash with desperation, I screamed, "Help! I'm in here! Help!"
"Vee!"
My heart threatened to burst. There was only one man in the whole wide world who called me Vee. "Nikolai!"
A heartbeat after I shrieked his name, the door burst open and he stumbled into the room. Smoke billowed around him. With his arm across his nose and mouth, he scanned the dimly lit space for me. His gaze landed on John's body before hopping to the cage. "Vee!"
He raced to the cage and dropped to his knees beside it. Those heavily tattooed fingers reached through the wire squares to touch my shoulder. The horror of my predicament appeared on his handsome but very bruised and scratched face. "Solnyshko moyo," he said on a ragged breath. "What have they done to you?"
My sun. The tenderly spoken pet name brought tears of utter joy to my eyes. Relief gripped me as I felt his warm skin against mine. Bound and battered, I rubbed my cheek against his gentle hand like a puppy seeking comfort from its owner. "You came for me."
"Always, Vee. Nothing will ever keep me away from you."
He spoke the words like a vow. Even as the whole world seemed to burn around us, I recognized that everything had just changed between us.
"Vivi!" Eric rushed into the room with Sergei and Kostya following right on his heels. They all looked at the dead body on the floor, their faces contorting with confusion. There wasn't time to explain. The warehouse would soon be engulfed in flames.
Nikolai grabbed the heavy locks on the front of my cage. "Check the body for keys."
"No time, Boss." Sergei dared to go against Nikolai. He shoved everyone out of the way, crouched down at the knees and grasped the sides of my cage. With only a short grunt, he lifted me and the cage right off the concrete floor. I went rigid with the fear of being dropped, but if anyone could carry me out of here with the added weight of the cage it was the big-as-a-grizzly-bear Russian. "Let's go."
I'd never been more grateful to be so tiny and thin. Though I'd always envied Lena and Bianca's curves, I realized now how much added strain that would have put on Sergei. The giant Russian had the thickest, most ripped arms I'd ever seen, but it was a long way out of that warehouse and he was booking it because of the fire.
Nikolai ran alongside us while Kostya hurried ahead and Eric brought up the rear. By the time we made it outside, we were all coughing and gasping for clean air. Sergei hardly slowed down as Kostya popped the back door of the silver SUV. He hefted me inside the cargo area with a growl of effort.
Not willing to be parted from me, Nikolai crawled in to the space beside me. From the tense set of his jaw, I could tell he was in so much pain. After the beating he'd taken, I couldn't quite believe that he was up and moving around so quickly. For me, though, he seemed willing to do anything, even risk further injury.
Kostya hopped in the back with us while Eric and Sergei piled into the front seats. Nikolai reached into the cage again and stroked my arm as Sergei hit the gas and raced away from the burning warehouse.
While Kostya unzipped a black backpack, Nikolai pushed the blindfold onto the top of my head. His fingertips brushed my cheek. Suddenly, I was very aware of my naked state. No man had ever seen me unclothed. Now four more men had seen me like this, one of them my own cousin.
Nikolai whispered sweetly to me in Russian. His reassuring voice helped me stay focused. After the hell I'd just survived, I was fading fast.
"She needs an ambulance." Eric had crawled onto the middle seat. "She could have smoke inhalation injuries."
"The doctor is less than five minutes from here." Kostya produced bolt cutters from his backpack and started to snap the locks. "Sergei!"
"Already headed there," he shouted back.
"The doctor?" Eric didn't sound happy. "She needs a real hospital, not some vet you guys pay to patch you back together."
Nikolai stroked my arm. "He's a trauma surgeon with a full staff and operating capabilities. She'll be in good hands."
"Do you have a burner phone?" Eric's voice grew distant as he traveled back to the front seat of the SUV. Sergei's gruff voice answered him. Not long after, I heard Eric calling 9-1-1 and reporting a warehouse on fire.
Kostya cut the last lock and jerked the cage door open. Instantly, Nikolai slid in front of the cage to reach in for me. Kostya thrust a knife into his hand. With quick swiping motions, Nikolai sliced through the ropes binding my limbs and the leash attached to the collar. I groaned as pain darted through my feet and hands. My shoulders ached so badly. Pulling a deep breath into my oxygen-starved lungs eased some of the dizziness I'd been feeling.
"Let me." Kostya gently shoved Nikolai aside and scooped me out of the cage. It was clear he wanted to spare Nikolai the pain and injury of picking me up and moving me.
Remembering how I'd been sick, I apologized to the man they called a cleaner. "I'm sorry. I'm getting you all dirty."
He cracked a small smile. "I've had worse on me."
Nikolai had shrugged out of his jacket and held open his arms. Kostya deposited me on Nikolai's lap before climbing out of the cargo area to give us privacy. Very carefully, Nikolai wrapped his jacket around me. When I was covered, he unbuckled the nasty collar squeezing my neck and tossed it across the cargo area.
Cupping my face, he peered down at me. Voice cracking, he finally asked, "Did they hurt you?"
When he said hurt, he meant rape. "Not like that."
He studied my face for any signs of lying. The grim line of his mouth relaxed when he was assured I was telling the truth. "But they did other things to you."
I gulped as his finger traced one of the burn marks on my thigh. Fresh tears prickled my eyes. "Yes."
Gathering me tightly to his chest, he threaded his fingers through my hair. "Don't think about any of that right now. Rest." He pressed a tender kiss to the crown of my head. "Laskovaya moya."
Even as the most painful muscle spasms and pins-and-needles sensations racked my poor abused body, I delighted in Nikolai's pet name. The soft caress of his hands made me feel safe and secure. Though I tried to stay awake, I began to drift.
The SUV finally slowed to a stop. I hovered on the verge of passing out now but I could hear Eric arguing with Kostya. One harsh word from Nikolai silenced them. The back door of the SUV opened to reveal Sergei's hulking form.
"I'll take her, Boss."
"Be careful with her." Nikolai reluctantly allowed Sergei to take me.
Cradled in the massive fighter's arms, I glanced back at Nikolai who slid out of the cargo area to follow us. As he bent forward, the front of this buttoned shirt gaped open just enough to give a glimpse of his chest. The overhead light from the cargo area silhouetted him so oddly in the darkness of the night. It wasn't until he turned to face me fully that I got a good look at the tattoo emblazoned across his sternum.
Suddenly, I was taken back to another night, a night warmer and balmier than this. A night when a man silhouetted in the shadows had shot me. A man with that exact tattoo…
Our gazes clashed. In that moment, I saw the ugly, awful truth etched into the face of the man I loved more than anything in this world. It wasn't some unnamed thug squatting in a nice house who had shot me that night.
It was Nikolai.
Chapter Eight
By four in the morning, Nikolai had Vivian safely tucked into his bed. He stood in the d
oorway of his bedroom and watched her sleep. She'd been through so much in the last few days and desperately needed to rest and heal.
Their visit to the doctor had taken nearly three hours to complete because the doctor wanted to watch all of them for adverse reactions to the smoke inhalation. After giving Vivian IV fluids, treating her burns and scrapes, and administering a sedative, the doctor had sent them home with strict instructions for her care and a number of prescription bottles to treat Nikolai's own injuries. The pain meds were tempting but he refused to cloud his mind right now, not when everything was still so unsure.
He didn't want to think about how close he'd come to losing her. If Sergei hadn't managed to beat the location out of the driver they'd finally tracked down through Kostya's lead, they might have arrived too late. He thanked God they'd gotten there in time to save her from that raging inferno.
Even though he still had to work out who the hell had masterminded the attack and kidnapping, his first concern was Vivian. He'd seen that flash of recognition on her face when she'd spied that tattoo he'd kept so carefully hidden from her all these years. In that moment, he'd wanted to drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness. He'd wanted to crawl to her and plead with her to let him explain.
She'd clammed up after she'd made her terrible discovery and had all but avoided his eye contact. He didn't know if she'd ever forgive him for what he'd done or how he'd lied to her. He didn't deserve that forgiveness and if she hated him from now until his very last breath he wouldn't hold a grudge.
"Boss?" Sergei's voice dragged Nikolai from his troubled thoughts. He glanced back toward the hallway to see his enforcer extending a cell phone. Sergei's busted up knuckles were swollen and bloody. "It's the detective."
After they'd received their treatment, Santos had asked to be dropped off a few blocks from the parking garage where he'd stowed his car. Nikolai sensed the man felt conflicted about his part in the night's events. Cold as it sounded, the detective's guilt wasn't his problem, and he wasn’t going to expend any more energy thinking about it.