NIKOLAI (Her Russian Protector #4) (10 page)

Without a word, the lumbering enforcer walked
over, scooped up the wailing man and carried him back to the SUV.
Kostya popped the back hatch and Sergei dropped the dentist into
the cargo area.

Nikolai didn't take his eyes off the man who
had taken part in the attack and kidnapping. His mind raced with
all the terrible things he could do to make this man talk. It had
been a long time since he'd experienced this sort of bloodthirsty
need to make a man hurt. The idea that Vivian might be in pain
right now spurred his bloodlust.

Besian dared to lay a hand on his arm.
"Whatever happens—we're with you."

Nikolai accepted the offer of alliance with a
curt nod. Things were still so uncertain. There was something in
the air, something new and worrying, that all the factions of
Houston's criminal world could smell.

"Nikolai?" Julio Jimenez stepped a little
closer. "When this is all settled, Lorenzo would like a sit-down to
discuss new terms."

Nikolai's eyes narrowed to slits. "We'll
see."

Julio didn't push it. He melted into the
background with a sickening smile.

Turning back to the SUV, Nikolai joined Santos
in a slow walk. Thinking of the bound and gagged man writhing
around in the cargo area, he wanted to give Vivian's cousin a
chance to back away without compromising himself. "This is your
last chance to step back over the line to your side of the law,
Eric."

The detective seemed surprised by Nikolai's use
of his first name but he didn't say a damn word. No, he simply
jerked open the passenger door and climbed into the SUV.

So be it
,
Nikolai thought and slid into the front passenger seat. As Sergei
backed out of the garage, Kostya leaned forward and extended
Nikolai's favorite lighter and an unopened pack of cigarettes. He
kept them in his desk at Samovar but Kostya had obviously known
he'd want them tonight. Though he'd been trying to give them up at
Vivian's urging, he couldn't deny the need to feed his nicotine
addiction right now.

The first long tug of the hot smoke into his
lungs brought such relief. Fully aware that Sergei was on Vivian's
team when it came to this particular habit, he cracked the window.
The chilly December air whirled around him. The bracing cold
snapped the drowsiness right out of him.

Staring out at the bright lights of the city,
Nikolai thought of Vivian. Was she warm? Was she hungry? Was she
injured? Were they hurting her? The crushing weight of guilt and
fear compressed his chest.

Flicking cigarette ash out the window, he
thought of their last conversation. Had he really said that she
should consider leaving Houston? The very idea was like an ice pick
through his heart.

The memories of everything that had gone down
in her studio ripped at his conscience. She'd been so angry with
him—and for good reason. He'd been an abominable asshole to her
about the painting. He'd reacted with panic and fear instead of
manning the fuck up and telling her the truth about what had really
happened that night.

And he'd never forgive himself for
that.

Never.

Just as he'd never forgive himself for never
telling her what she meant to him. Faced with losing her forever,
he now understood how stupid he'd been to keep her at a distance.
He'd convinced himself he was looking out for her, that he was
trying to do the best thing for her by refusing to acknowledge what
had grown between them, but he'd been dead wrong.

A pitiful whine from the rear of the SUV
interrupted his thoughts. Finishing his cigarette, he pinched off
the end before tossing it out of the window.

Finally, Santos dared to ask, "Where are we
taking him?"

Kostya provided the answer. "We're going to my
place."

Chapter
Seven

This time of night, the storage center was a
ghost town. They owned and operated several of these storage places
around the city. Despite the high initial outlay, the acres of
storage containers, some climate-controlled and others bare bones,
had proven to be a profitable enterprise. The added perk of having
hundreds of containers available at a moment's notice was one that
couldn't be touted enough.

Tonight, Sergei took them deep into the maze of
storage rows before killing the lights and engine. From the
outside, this row of connected storage sheds looked exactly like
all the others but inside was a different story.

Kostya removed his keys and unlocked his secret
space. Sergei grabbed the dentist from the rear of the SUV and
hefted him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Finally
feeling the analgesic effect of the pills Kostya had given him,
Nikolai was able to move without constant nausea from the pain. The
cigarette, his first in almost two weeks, had given him a nice buzz
that edged off the dull throbbing in his skull and the stabbing
ache in his shoulder.

The frigid interior of Kostya's storage locker
greeted them. Bright fluorescent lights lit up the surprisingly
cavernous interior. Though it looked like one mid-sized unit from
the outside, it was actually four connected units. Plastic sheeting
covered the walls, ceiling and floor. A crinkling sound accompanied
their footsteps.

When Sergei dropped the dentist into the lone
chair sitting in the middle of the room, the man tried to run but
Sergei's meaty hand held him place. Kostya opened a cabinet along
the right wall and retrieved a handful of zipties that he used to
quickly bind the man to the chair. Stuck there, the dentist scanned
the room in a panic. It was the meat hooks hanging from the ceiling
that really made him scream.

One look at Detective Santos' pale face told
Nikolai that Kostya's theatrics were working. When Kostya slipped
into surgical booties and a black apron, Santos slid closer to
Nikolai. Voice hushed, he hissed, "What the hell is this? I thought
you were going to work him over a little bit. I didn't realize you
were going to field dress the poor bastard."

Nikolai held the detective's gaze before
glancing toward the door behind them. "If you want to leave, go
now."

Santos clenched his jaw and crossed his arms
but didn't move. Sergei placed another folding metal chair across
from the dentist. Nikolai carefully sat down, mindful of the
bruising along his sides and the way quick movements made his head
ache.

Leaning back, he got comfortable and stared at
the weeping dentist. The man looked pitifully out of place. There
was nothing hard about him. He had that beaten-down soccer dad
look. Why the hell had he taken part in such a brazen
attack?

"All right, Bill," Nikolai said very calmly.
"We're going to have a discussion. You're going to tell me the
truth. Do you know what happens if you lie to me?"

On cue, Kostya whipped the black covering off
his little cart of horrors. The gleaming silver instruments of
torment inspired a ball-shriveling shriek from Bill. The gag in his
mouth dampened the sound somewhat but it didn't matter. The night
attendant at the storage center knew better than to poke around and
ask questions if he heard a sound like that.

Tilting his head, Nikolai studied the man.
"I'll take that as a yes."

Kostya stepped forward and tugged
the rag gag out of the man's mouth. The second it was free, the
dentist started to beg for his life. "Please.
Please
. Don't kill me. I have kids. I
have a wife.
Please
."

"You tried to kill me. You took something very
precious from me. Why should I let you live?"

"No, please!" He sobbed pathetically. "Look,
I'm not a criminal. I'm a dentist. You know? I deal with cavities
and dentures. I'm not a kidnapper."

"Not a kidnapper?" He leveled an icy stare
Bill's way. "Kostya, did that sound like a lie to you?"

"
Da
." He turned to his cart and
retrieved a pair of gruesome looking pliers.

"It's not a lie. I didn't want to take her.
They made me."

Seizing on the chance to get to the mastermind
behind this sick plot, Nikolai asked, "Who made you?"

Bill shook his head. Sweating profusely, he
refused to answer. "I can't."

Fishing the pack of cigarettes from his jacket
pocket, Nikolai said, "You know, my friend here, he does some
dabbling in dentistry."

Eyes wide, Bill started hopping in the chair.
"No. No. No."

Slightly amused, Nikolai watched the metal
chair travel a few feet before Sergei finally stepped forward and
put his foot out to halt the dentist's escape. Clamping his hands
on the man's jaw, Sergei forced it wide open so Kostya could reach
in with the pliers.

"
Jesus,
Maria y Jose
!" Santos rubbed the side of
his face. Clearly disturbed, he asked, "His teeth?"

Nikolai glared at the detective as Bill gurgled
and shouted. His patience thin, he snarled, "If you don't have the
stomach for this, get the fuck out! I shouldn't have to remind you
that this piece of shit kidnapped Vivian. For all we know the pigs
who have her have done far worse than pull a couple of
teeth."

As Santos breathed heavily and visibly clenched
and released his jaw, Kostya jerked hard and the dentist shrieked.
Pale with horror, the detective turned his back as Kostya dropped
the bloody tooth on a metal tray atop his cart. "Another,
Boss?"

Nikolai gave the tiniest shake of his head and
tugged a cigarette from the pack. As he rolled it between his
fingers, he watched as a wet spot spread across the front of Bill's
jeans. Piss pooled on the plastic beneath the man. Certain he'd
gotten his point across, Nikolai said, "Does my friend need to
check your mouth for any more cavities or are you going to
cooperate?"

"I'll cooperate." Blood-tinged saliva spilled
down Bill's chin. "No more. Please. No more."

"Who do you work for?"

"No one." Bill inhaled a shaky, sobbing breath.
"I really am just a dentist but there was a debt. The loan shark
got killed and this new guy said he'd bought the loan but he didn't
want money. He wanted this favor and then he'd clear all of our
debts."

Nikolai's fingers went still and he clamped the
cigarette between his fingers. Even in his injured state, his mind
quickly flipped through all the angles. "You had a debt with Afrim
Barisha?"

Bill nodded quickly. "I got in over my head
with the expansion of my practice. The fucking recession hit and I
had too many expenses. My child support and alimony for my ex-wife
in Dallas and then twins with my new wife—I couldn't keep up so my
brother-in-law told me about the Albanian and his
loans."

"But you got behind," Nikolai
guessed.

"Yeah, but he was letting me spread out the
payments. He'd agreed to have my boat stolen."

In other words, Afrim would have one of
Besian's men steal the boat and sell it on the black market. After
he collected the insurance payout from Bill and his cut from
Besian, he'd be in the black again on the man's loan or damn
close.

"But then Afrim got killed and this guy showed
up and told me that if I didn't meet him at the bar where Afrim ran
his loan sharking business, he'd kill my wife and sell my kids. He
had their pictures and their schedules. I panicked."

"A guy? What guy? White? Black? Latino? Asian?"
Now Santos was intrigued. His horror at witnessing Kostya yank that
tooth out of Bill's head seemed to vanish as he started to
interrogate the man.

"He's a white guy. Tall. Brown hair. About
twenty pounds overweight. He said his name was John."

"Did you recognize him?"

"No, I'd never seen him before that
night."

"Did he tell you who he worked for?"

"No. He had tattoos on his neck. Lightning
bolts and a skull. He said that his boss would make the Albanian
mob look like the Boy Scouts. I didn't ask questions."

Eric glanced at him. Lightning bolts and skulls
were common among the skinheads who were trying to grow their
territory.

"How many of you were at the bar that
night?"

"I don't know. Ten? Eleven?"

"Did you know any of those men?"

"I recognized their faces but I don't know
their names. They were guys I'd see at the bar making payments, you
know?"

Santos paused. "You said this guy John
threatened to sell your kids. What do you mean by that?"

"He had pictures of dog cages but
they weren't holding dogs. They were holding girls. Women," he
added and sniffed loudly. The front of his shirt was now covered in
bloody saliva and his cheeks glistened with tears. "It was
sick.
Sick
."

Nikolai's gut soured as those old buried
memories of his miserable childhood resurfaced. Until Yuri's recent
trouble, he'd been able to forget them, but they'd been dredged up
by a grudge-wielding psychopath who had tried to kill Lena and
Yuri. As a child in the orphanage with Yuri, Dimitri and Ivan—the
men he considered his brothers—he'd been the oldest by a few
months. He'd always done his best to take care of the others, to
shield them from the nightmare of that negligent hell hole, but
he'd never imagined his desire to protect them would cost him so
much.