The Petrov Brothers Read online

  I pull my legs up to my chest and rest my head on my knees, trying to relax, when I hear someone unlocking the door. I’m instantly on high alert, staring at the door, waiting to see who is going to come walking through it. Ivan told those guys not to come back. Surely, they would listen to him? They called him boss, so I’m assuming he’s the one in control of this entire thing.

  When I see the food door flap open and a tray being shoved through it, I’m equally relieved and disappointed. It’s not Ivan, but it’s no one coming in here to try and hurt me either.

  I almost don’t get up, leaving the food sitting there, when I take another look at the contents on the tray. It holds the normal paper plate and water bottle, but there is something else on it.

  I jump up and run to the door, my bare feet slapping against the cold concrete.

  Toilet paper. Fucking toilet paper. I never thought I could be so happy about such a ridiculous little thing as toilet paper… but I am. I’m so happy about it that I decide to actually eat a few bites of the sandwich. The inside of my mouth hurts like hell and my jaw is swollen, but I manage to chew anyway. I twist the cap off the clear bottle of water and wash down the dry PB&J pieces in my mouth. They land in my belly with a heavy thud.

  I eye the door, knowing there is no way one of the men put that toilet paper on the tray. They wouldn’t care enough about such a small thing. After all, I’m nothing but a piece of meat to be sold. I know for certain Ivan had to have done it. He was kind enough to leave his shirt for me, so there is no way it was anyone but him. Which leaves me wondering how he became the boss of this godforsaken place? He seems different than the other men here... or at least the ones I’ve met. He’s kinder, gentler, and that gives me hope where I’ve had none.

  Days bleed together, and I completely lose track of time. I don’t know how many days I have been here; all I know is that with each passing day, I hope for Ivan to return. He is the only person who has treated me like a human being since I arrived here, and I crave human interaction.

  I’m so fucking lonely. I just want to see another person... they don’t even have to talk to me. I just don’t want to be alone anymore. My stomach is so empty it aches, throbs, but I can’t bring myself to eat anything.

  What’s the point anyway? It’s not going to change the outcome of what happens to me. Maybe if I don’t eat anything, I’ll lose some weight... and maybe then I won’t be appealing to anyone?

  Dinner or lunch, whatever it is, was served a few hours ago, telling me it’s either late afternoon or night time. My face still hurts, but not as badly as it did a few days ago. I look at my reflection in the mirror. An ugly array of purple and green bruises mar my chin, jaw, and right cheek. The swelling has gone down immensely, but I still don’t look like myself. My hair is a greasy mess on my head, and my body has become sickly thin.

  With nothing else but my own mind, I spend every day asking myself the same questions over and over again. Why did I go to that stupid club? Is Ella looking for me? When am I going to get out of here and what's going to happen to me when I do?

  I have no answers to my questions, and that terrifies me. I don’t know why any of this happened to me and, most of all, I don’t know what my future holds. Parts of me wonder if I'm better of dying?

  I crawl into a tiny ball and let the tears stinging my eyes fall. I cry for the unknown, for my future, and for the past I'm certain I'll never get to go back to.

  4

  Ivan

  I’m just looking over the weapons export reports on my desk when someone knocks on the door of my office.

  “What?” I growl.

  Gabe opens the door, popping his head in as if he's making sure I don’t shoot him on sight. I have been in an extra foul mood for the last week, and my men have all noticed and most likely felt it, since I've been handing out ass kickings more often.

  “What do you want?” I don’t even look up at him. I just keep sifting through the papers, wishing he would just turn around and leave already.

  “Sorry to interrupt, boss, but I thought I should tell you that one of the girls hasn’t been eating.”

  My head snaps up at his words and suddenly, he has my full attention. “Which girl?” I ask, irritated. I really hope it’s not the same one as before. I’ve been trying to get her out of my fucking head all week, but the image of her beautiful face, her big blue eyes looking up at me and how she felt cradled in my arms, is permanently embedded into my brain. Everytime I close my eyes, I see her in that damn room, cold and alone.

  “Number five.”

  I sigh at his words. Of course, it’s her. Out of the ten women on that floor, it's got to be her.

  “For how long?” I ask, trying to sound uninterested

  “Almost a week.” A week? A whole fucking week? I remember her face and how swollen it was when I left her. Maybe she can’t eat. Fuck, I should have let the doc check her out. No one is going to buy her if she is dead.

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Gabe stares at me for a second longer than I’d like, looking at me like he is waiting for an explanation or something. I don’t owe this guy anything.

  “Get the fuck out of my office,” I snarl at him and watch him scurry away, shutting the door behind him. I shove the papers on my desk away from me and open the drawer underneath. I rummage through it until I find the pill bottle I’m looking for.

  Demerol is going to numb her up and help her sleep. I wrack my brain on what I’m going to say to her. I’m not sure what I’m going to tell her, but I can’t let her starve herself.

  I get up and walk out of my office, making my way down to the cells. When I get to her cell, I stop in front of the one-way mirror and watch her for a few minutes. She is curled up on the mattress in the fetal position.

  Most of her body is covered by my shirt, and even though her eyes are closed, she doesn’t look like she is sleeping. Her features are too tense. Her cheek and jaw are still bruised, but her lip has mostly healed. Her face looks skinnier, and I’ll bet anything she’s lost weight. What the fuck am I supposed to do with her?

  I shake my head and unlock the cell door. Immediately, she sits up, looking at me with wide eyes, When I step closer, she scoots back on her mattress until her back hits the wall.

  “You need to eat,” I tell her, walking until I’m standing right in front of the mattress.

  “Why?” Her voice is quiet and raspy, as if she hasn’t been drinking enough water either.

  “If you don’t eat, you are going to die.”

  “Aren’t I going to die soon anyway?” She looks up at me with those big blue eyes of hers and even with the dark circles underneath, the beauty of them still pours out of her.

  “Not necessarily.” I know the chances that she is going to end up dead are high, but I don’t want to think about that, not right now.

  “I doubt men buy women like they’re at a meat market just so they can take them out on nice dates. I’d rather starve to death then die at the hands of some sicko.”

  I know she is right, and it would probably be a kindness to let her die this way instead of selling her to the highest bidder. Yet, the thought of her dying has my chest aching.

  I pull the pill bottle from my pocket and hand it to her. She looks down at it but makes no move to take it. Jesus, this woman is infuriating. Instead of forcing it into her hand like I want to, I throw it onto the mattress beside her and turn around, heading for the door.

  “Don’t leave… please,” she begs.

  I almost lose it right then. Balling my hands into fists, I grab the tray of food from the door. When I turn back around to look at her, her eyes are watery like she is about to start crying. Fuck me. She looks like a mess, but a beautiful mess, like the sky after a horrible thunderstorm. I close the distance between us and hold the tray in front of her face.

  “Take a pill and eat,” I order.

  She looks down at the tray, examining the food. “Will you stay if I eat?”
br />   Bargaining. She’s bargaining with me. I consider her offer for a moment, even though I already know what the answer should be. I sit down next to her on the mattress, holding the tray of food on my lap. As soon as I settle, she scoots over to me, so her body is pushed up against mine.

  I should push her away… I should get up and walk out of here, but I know I can’t. I feel compelled to see this through to the end, to at least make sure she’s safe for the rest of her stay here. I break off a piece of the sandwich and hand it to her.

  Her small hand reaches out to grab it, and her thin fingers brush against mine as she does. Her skin is still cold, and suddenly, I have to fight the urge to pull her onto my lap and throw my arms around her. I want to hold her close, protect her, make certain she’s taken care of. Everything I shouldn’t do for her, I want to.

  She starts taking small bites of the already bite-sized piece I’ve handed to her. I watch her chew, and it seems as if even this simple task takes an enormous effort for her. After a few bites, she leans her head against my shoulder and closes her eyes while she eats.

  “You need to take one of these. It’s just some pain medicine.” I don’t tell her that this is more like morphine and less like Tylenol.

  “I don’t want to take any drugs,” she tells me sleepily.

  “It’ll help you feel better.”

  “Yeah and make me weaker... easier to be taken advantage of.” Her words spark a fear deep in my belly. She’s right. If she’s sleepy, knocked out on pain meds, then any of the fucking bastards in this place can come in and take advantage of her.

  “No one will touch you.” The words vibrate out of me.

  “Don’t lie to me, Ivan.”

  I straighten up a bit at her use of my name. I didn’t think about it when the guys called me by my name in her presence the other night. And now, I suddenly wish I knew her name.

  “I know that far worse is to come for me. The least you can do is be honest with me, if you aren’t going to let me go.”

  “No one will touch you or hurt you again. I won’t let them.” I don’t realize how much I mean those words until I say them, and I know deep down that I won’t let anyone hurt her or touch her again. I can’t let her go, no matter how compelled I feel to, but I can protect her at least while she is here.

  “What’s going to happen to me?” she asks, and I hand her another small piece of the sandwich. She eats it slowly. I’m not sure I want to tell her what’s going to happen, not when I shouldn’t even be in here to begin with. If any of the men saw me in here, I’d have to come up with some kind of excuse, I have no real reason to be in here. It’s unlike me, and I think the men are already starting to notice a change in my behavior.

  “Just eat.” I hand her another small piece, but she doesn't reach for it. I want to offer her more than this dry piece of shit sandwich, but I can’t. Yet another item on the long list of fucking things that I can’t bring myself to do for her.

  “I’m done.” She shakes her head slightly.

  “You need to eat more than a quarter of a sandwich. You haven’t eaten for nearly a week.”

  She sighs while continuing to shake her head. “I can’t... I’m not hungry.” Her body sinks more into mine, like she is too weak to keep holding herself up. She stretches out her legs in front of her and the shirt rides up to above her knees, revealing a little more of her skin. I almost throw the tray across the room when I see some dried blood on the inside of her thighs.

  I twist to look at her, and she slides down the wall. I catch her before her head hits the mattress. My hands are on her thin upper arms, pulling her up straight before I can stop myself from doing so. Her eyes fly open, and she looks up at me, shock reflecting in her eyes.

  “Who hurt you? Did someone come in here again?” My voice comes out much harsher than I intend it to, but I’m fucking furious.

  I ordered them not to touch her, told them I’d kill them myself if they did, and yet here she fucking is, clearly hurt. I grit my teeth, wanting to leave the room right this second and find the fuckers who did this to her. All I feel is burning rage. Her eyes go impossibly wide, her body stiff with fear underneath my touch. Fuck, and now I’m hurting her, too. I loosen my grip, and she shakes her head slowly.

  “No one came in here again, no one but you.”

  “Then why is there blood between your legs?”

  She looks down at her thighs and squeezes them together as if out of reflex, as if she’s trying to hide the evidence of whatever the hell happened.

  “It’s… It’s nothing.” She tries to pull away from me, but I don’t let her. I watch her face closely, but she won’t meet my eyes. She tries to pull the shirt down to cover her legs more, and her cheeks turn a faint pink. Is she blushing? Now that I’ve taken another look at her, I realize she looks more embarrassed than scared.

  “I’m… well, I’m on my period,” she says without looking at me.

  I release her at once, feeling like an even bigger asshole than before. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to make all of this go away. When I open my eyes again, I find her staring back at me with tears in her eyes. I look up and down her body. Her hair is matted in spots and greasy. Her legs are filthy, and she has been wearing the shirt I gave her for over a week now.

  Christ. I pry my eyes away from her and look around the empty room that holds nothing but a dirty mattress. I can’t take it anymore. Something inside me snaps. It cracks, and the contents seep right out of me. I have to get her out of here and cleaned up, even if it’s just for a few hours.

  I stand up, and she immediately starts pleading with me. “Please don’t go, I can get cleaned up in the sink. I’ll try to eat some more. Just please don’t leave me alone. Please, Ivan. Please.” Her words just add to the growing pain in my chest. The way my name falls from her lips makes it a million times worse. She reminds me of all the good I could do for her, that beneath everything, I am human, and I am capable of caring. That scares the fuck out of me, because caring for her will only mean one thing... and that would get us both killed. In my line of work there is no room for others. If my boss were to discover I cared for anyone…well let’s just say it wouldn’t end well.

  Already having made my choice, I look down at her. “Get up.”

  She looks up at me, confusion marring her delicate features, and she gets up anyway. Her small arms push her up to stand on shaky legs.

  “You’re going to come with me to take a shower and then I’m going to bring you back down here… You will not run. You will not scream. Do you understand?”

  She nods her head furiously, and her eyes light up just a little. I grab her by the arm and start guiding her outside the cell. Her steps are small and hesitant. At first, I think she is afraid, but after watching her for a few moments, I see her face contort in pain, and I quickly realize that she is far too weak to be walking.

  “I’m going to carry you.” I slide my arms underneath her. She lets out as small gasp as I pick her up but doesn’t complain. I walk out into the hallway, and she leans her head against my shoulder.

  “Close your eyes,” I whisper as we walk. I don’t need her to be looking around here. I’m already taking a huge fucking risk letting her out of her cell. She doesn’t need to see anybody or anything around here. Looking down at her, I see she has followed my command and turned her face into my chest just like the last time I carried her.

  I carry her all the way up to the third floor, where some of us have small apartments. I briefly set her down on her feet so I can grab my keys from my pocket and unlock the door. I twist the knob, opening the door. I gesture for her to walk in and she does, her eyes wide, her legs shaking as if she is unsure of what will happen next.

  “You live here?” she asks, her eyes moving over the contents of the apartment. The place isn’t much, just a one bedroom with a small kitchen and living room. It’s only me living here, and I don’t need all that much. She takes a few more steps, her fingers gliding over the bac
k of my leather couch. I wonder what she’s thinking? Will she try and run away from me? Will she take my kindness for weakness?

  “Yes, at least for right now.” I pocket my keys and close the door behind us, locking the deadbolt into place. I don’t think she is in any shape to run off, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

  She turns to face me, and I can see she is nervous about being here. She is wringing her hands in front of her, swallowing repeatedly. The look in her eyes reminds me of a scared animal. I want to tell her she’s safe with me, that no one will ever hurt her again, but then I’d be lying. Anyone could hurt her, including myself.

  “Come on.” I reach out and offer her my hand. She looks down at it for a moment, as if she’s worried that taking it will harm her in some way. Then, as if she’s made up her mind, she takes it.

  I lead her into the bathroom, leaving her standing in front of the shower while I grab some towels. When I turn back around, I see her swaying and leaning against the wall for support.

  She is so fucking weak, she can’t even stand up for five minutes on her own. Damnit, this is my fucking fault. All mine.

  How the fuck is she going to take a shower?

  She’s going to end up slipping and falling, probably breaking her damn neck in the process. I walk over to her and grab the hem of her shirt to pull it up and off her, but she stops me, grabbing me by the wrist, a quiet yelp of fear or maybe even shock falling from her lips.

  “What are you doing?” She tries to make her voice sound strong, but she can’t fool me.

  “I’m helping you. I’ve already seen you mostly naked, remember? Plus, it’s not like you’re the first woman I’ve ever seen naked.” I pause briefly, realizing maybe I shouldn’t have said that.

  “Look, you can’t even stand up straight, so I’m not going to let you take a shower by yourself just so you can fall and break your neck.”

  She’s looks so timid and completely unsure about all of this, but she lets go off my wrists and doesn't make another move to stop me. Yet again, the way she blindly trusts me has my stomach in knots. She shouldn’t trust me. If she was smart, she’d turn around and run out of this fucking room and back to her cell. She definitely wouldn’t find comfort in my touch, that’s for sure.