Nikolai: Mine to Protect (Russian Mob Chronicles #4)

A buzzing sensation drones through my ears, waking me from my restless sleep. It is the hum you get after a rock concert, when you’ve sacrificed your hearing to watch the latest music icon strut their stuff on stage.

The last time my hearing buzzed with this much static was the night Brax invited me to see a revival of a band we loved in our teen days. It was a disappointing show, but some good came from their pathetic attempt at a resurrection. That night was the first time I had been seen in public since I was mauled by a dog. It was awkward and highly emotional, but a necessary step in my rehabilitation.

It was also the night I decided to change my major to pre-law. Brax wasn’t convinced I was making the right decision, but he respected me enough not to say anything. I transferred to my new “law-focused” university the following week, meaning our first “official” date was also our last.

Last week was the first time I’ve seen Brax in years, but neither of us have any regrets. He’s madly, deeply in love with a woman he swears is way out of his league, and I’m head over heels in love with a man I know deserves better than me.

I’m not surprised Brax finally found his Achilles heel. He’s a brutish, rough, filthy-mouthed man, but he has a massive heart. The contrast between his outside appearance and his super shiny insides reminds me a lot of Nikolai.

If Nikolai could look beyond our past, I’m confident he and Brax could become friends.

Or hell could freeze over.

I’m drawn from my slumbering state when my breathless chuckle sends pain skating across my stomach. It’s a sharp, intense pain that makes me crave a hot water bottle and a long soak in a tub. . . and perhaps a trip to the drugstore for womanly supplies.

Groaning, I roll onto my side. I’ve barely stuffed a pillow between my aching legs when a distinct voice calls my name. It’s not the deep Russian timbre I’m praying for, but Trey’s British twang is welcomed after a week of silence.

When I slowly flutter open my eyes, he smiles. “Hey.” His greeting rolls off his tongue slowly, as if he is worried it will pierce my ears more painfully than the hammers pounding my head.

The reason behind his panic comes to light when I attempt to rise to a half-seated position. My ears aren’t just throbbing, they’re bleeding.

“W-w-what happened?” I wiggle my tongue around my bone-dry mouth before articulating my question for the second time, this one missing the immature stutter.

“You don’t remember?” This question isn’t from Trey. It is from Maddox, whose backside is propped on a couch that looks oddly similar to the one I used to have in my apartment.

What the hell?

I shake my head. Bad move. Bile scorches my throat mere seconds before the dinner Blaire slaved over for hours sees daylight in the most horrific way.

Maddox catches my slop-laced vomit in a bucket leaning at his side before shifting his eyes to Trey. “Where was she found again?”

“By Interstate 95. One of our couriers thought he was seeing things.” His words are as violent as my body’s heaves.

When the entirety of Trey’s statement smacks into me, I hold my hand over my mouth to conceal my ghastly breath. “Hold on. I was found along a highway?”

Trey nods. “You were a few miles from the private airstrip you used last week. We figured that was the location Nikolai told you to use in case of an emergency.”

His reply makes sense. Nikolai has strict protocol I must follow when traveling interstate, but the rest of Trey’s statement is confusing.

“Why was I on Interstate 95? Blaire and Rico’s apartment is miles from there.”

“Blaire and Rico?” Trey sounds as confused as I feel. “What do they have to do with anything?”

My brows stitch. “We had dinner with them last night. You know this because Nikolai called you on our way.” My words lose confidence with each one I speak. Both Maddox and Trey appear utterly flabbergasted.

Undeterred by a bucket filled with sickly smelling vomit, Maddox fills the seat next to me before clasping my hands in his. “You had dinner with Rico and Blaire three nights ago. You’ve been missing ever since.”

I want to call him out as a liar, but his honest eyes stop me. He’s being one hundred percent serious.

My eyes bug when he adds on, “You’re also in Vegas. Trey meant Interstate 95 on the California border, not the one in Florida.”

“That can’t be true,” I murmur, stunned. “You don’t just lose three days of your life. Where’s Nikolai? He’ll prove we were with Rico and Blaire last night.”

I scan the room, praying Nikolai will miraculously appear. He is nowhere to be found.

“That. . .” my watering eyes lower to the bucket of vomit, “. . .is the rosemary chicken Blaire prepared for us. She used herbs that would help my queasy stomach.”

I suck in an exhausted breath when my hand cups my tiny stomach. I’m barely touching myself, but my stomach feels as if I’m pounding it with my fists as hard as my heart is hammering my ribs.

Sickened with worry, I raise the hem of my shirt. Tears burn my eyes when I spot how battered my stomach is. There are dark bruises mottled through skin that appears as if I trekked through a desert in the peak of summer. Come to think of it, the portions of my legs not covered by the ruined hem of my skirt also appear sunburned.

Jumping to my feet, I race into the bathroom. The confusion fogging my mind thickens when I enter the opulent space I’ve shared with Nikolai the past year. With my memories still hazy, I expected the small, cramped bathroom my family of six shared after Maddox’s arrest.

It takes me a few seconds to gain the courage needed to peer at my reflection in the mirror. When I do, I take a step back. My cheeks are as red as my wild, unbrushed hair. My lips are cracked and bleeding, and I have a large abrasion under my chin. With my pupils as dilated as a drug addict’s, I appear more like a homeless beggar than the ruthless defense attorney I’ve falsely portrayed the past year and a half.

Stepping back, I lower my eyes. The portions of my body exposed through my ripped shirt and shredded skirt are dirty, bruised, and blistered. I have a large gash down my right thigh littered with wood splinters, and my stomach has a circular bruise just beneath the right side of my ribcage.

The only good aspect of my disheveled appearance is the brightness of my tan distracting from the redness of my scars. They’re barely visible beneath layers of dirt and battered skin.

I yank down my shirt with aggression when I sense I’m being watched. Trey is peering at me in the mirror, cautiously watching me. His blond brows are pinched together, and his fists are clenched.

“You truly don’t remember, do you?”

I shake my head. “All I remember is having dinner. The rest is blank.”

When Maddox joins Trey in the doorway, he gives him a pleading look. He’s not impressed when Trey shakes his head, denying his silent demand, but he does a good job hiding his annoyance. He became a master of his emotions when he was arrested for murder at his girlfriend’s place of employment.

Acting like Trey isn’t in the room, Maddox turns on the shower faucet before spinning to face me. “Why don’t you shower while I get you something to eat? Once you’ve filled your belly and taken a nap, your confusion may lift.”

I cowardly nod, bowing out of the fight as quickly as I did when I was released from the hospital years ago. There’s just one difference this time around: I don’t want to bury my head in my mother’s chest and hide from the world. I want Nikolai.

I don’t understand what’s happening. Why isn’t Nikolai here? How did I lose three days of my life in the blink of an eye? And why is Maddox treating me like he did the days before his arrest?

My thoughts return to the present when Maddox rubs my arm in a soothing manner. “We’ll be just outside.”

He barely makes it halfway out the door before Trey bombards him with questions. I hear my name numerous times through the partially closed door, but I’m too stunned to string his words into sentences. I feel like I’m dreaming, trapped in a nightmare too debilitating to be real.

After fixing the bathroom door latch, I remove my clothes. I honestly feel like I’ve stepped back five years, back to the time where I hated my body so much I covered every mirror in my house with sheets. Back to the shy, scared girl who woke up screaming in the middle of the night, convinced a dog was chasing her through a pitch-black field.

Back to the woman I was before I met Nikolai.

Breathing out my nerves, I straighten my spine before removing my clothes with more force than is necessary. Even with my clothes covered with sweat and mud, they peel off my body within seconds.

By the time I step into the shower, steam is covering every inch of the glass on one wall. I’m grateful it hides my battered body from my reflection in the large vanity mirror, but it’s a painful reminder of the truth I’m hiding from.

There is a heart etched in the righthand corner of the shower door. Nikolai drew it there after I blew him a kiss from the bath he ran for me the night before we left for Florida. He wouldn’t join me because he didn’t want “smelly girly shit” coating his skin, so he showered instead.

He voiced a similar complaint when Blaire set a generous serving of “floral-scented chicken” in front of him last night.

I freeze as reality dawns. According to Trey and Maddox, that wasn’t last night. It was three nights ago. If that’s true, why can’t I remember anything? I remember Blaire’s scrumptious food, and the way she glanced at Rico to gauge his response to every mouthful he ate. I even remember that a lack of blood ties won’t stop Nikolai and Rico from being brothers.

Nikolai admires Rico so much, he didn’t hesitate placing his life on the line to drag Blaire out of harm’s way when we were attacked.

I stop lathering my skin when a generous pump of my heart revitalizes my brain with oxygen. With a towel barely covering me, I dash into the main section of the bedroom I share with Nikolai.

“We were attacked, bombarded without warning. Men came from all angles. They were wearing balaclavas and knew things about Nikolai not many know.”

“What type of stuff?” Maddox asks at the same time Trey prompts, “Then what?”

Beginning at the more important question, I reply to Trey, “A battle ensued. Nikolai and Rico were outnumbered, but they held their ground until. . .”

Air hisses between my teeth when my hand shoots up to my hair. The sting of the brute’s hold is still burning my scalp. “A man grabbed me. He was so large, he didn’t need to extend his arm to hoist me from the ground.”

“That’s good, Justine. Keep going,” Trey encourages, stepping closer to me.

My hand falls from my head. “Nikolai threatened him, told him he’d kill his family if he didn’t let me go.” Trey nods, aware Nikolai would go to the ends of the earth to protect me. “That’s when another man entered the equation.” I stop as my brain struggles to clear the fog in my mind. “Maxsim. Nikolai called him Maxsim.”

“Maxsim?” Trey checks, his tone high. “Are you sure?”

“If he’s Alexei’s son, then yes, I’m sure.” My voice jitters with panic. “They argued about Nikolai killing Alexei and how Maxsim was going to use Eli to take Nikolai’s place.”

“How did Nikolai respond?”

“Umm.” I stop, my memories still hazy. “He said he had changed the rules, that Anatoly’s rulings were no longer relevant.” Tears prick my eyes when the reason for the large bruise on my stomach dawns on me. “His reply angered Maxsim so much, he signaled for his goon to hit me.”

Maddox and Trey’s eyes follow my hand when it lowers to shield my stomach. Even with the incident happening three days ago, I can still recall the bile that scorched my throat from his hit. He held nothing back, maiming me as badly as his hit stole the life from Nikolai’s eyes.

Not trusting my legs to remain upright, I sit on the edge of my bed. It’s not the large king-size bed Nikolai and I have shared the prior twelve months. It’s the dilapidated mattress my internship salary struggled to cover.

I wanted to gift Nikolai something unique to celebrate our one-year anniversary. That’s virtually impossible when you’re dating a man who has everything. After a few days of deliberation, I realized there was one thing I could give him that money could never buy. Happy memories.

That’s why I had our room transformed into my apartment. Our time there was short, but we amassed a vault-load of memories—memories we added to only a week ago.

“Do you know what happened to the men Nikolai and you traveled with? Roman? Rico?” I stop shaking my head when Maddox adds on, “Dimitri?”

My pupils turn massive. “Dimitri was shot.”

When Maddox shifts his eyes to Trey, Trey discloses, “Dimitri is under watch at an undisclosed location. He was found by the feds surrounded by numerous deceased members of a Russian association. They’re seeking the death penalty.”

He appears as if he wants to say more, but his lips remain shut.

Mine aren’t as willing to ignore the massive elephant sitting in the room. “What aren’t you telling me, Trey?”

Most of my interactions with Trey have occurred while Nikolai is in my presence, so I’m often distracted, but I still know him well enough to know when he’s skirting important issues.

“Don’t lie to me, Trey. You know the consequences if you do.”

Who the hell am I? I may be the most scared I’ve ever been, but I don’t threaten people. I guess what Nikolai said is true: when forced to pick between leading or being led, you pick the one you’re most likely to survive.

Failing to hear the deceit in my tone, Trey squawks like a canary, “Nikolai’s DNA was found on scene. A pool of his blood was located next to a man only known as a myth: Ubiytsa.”

“Killer,” I translate.

Sick unease melds though me when Trey nods. “Rumors are his father was a Ukrainian weightlifter, and his mother an operative at the Russian soviet. With his childhood devoted to beating his mother’s lineage into him, his seven-foot-eight height never matched the maturity of his brain. His mental capacity only reached that of a young teen.”

“Was he the man who held me hostage?”

Trey nods again. “We believe so.”

With both Trey and me stunned into silence, Maddox joins our conversation. “What are you saying? Nikolai killed a man, and in retaliation, he was killed?”

Trey’s shrug has him missing my paling cheeks. “We don’t know. Dimitri was the only man found alive.”

“Because he was too injured to flee?”

My optimism is dashed when Trey shakes his head. “He was left as a warning. If this was a takeover bid, Maxsim needs the word spread that he toppled the king. Dimitri is his equivalent of a town crier.”

“But Maxsim didn’t topple the king. Nikolai isn’t dead.”

When Maddox moves for me, I yank away from him. “J—”

“No!” I scream, refusing to acknowledge the remorse in his eyes. “Nikolai isn’t dead! I’d know if he were dead. I’d fucking know it.”

My unusual use of a curse word doesn’t lessen the impact of my statement. It is the most confident one I’ve issued the past five years. Nothing can take away from my certainty.

“I somehow got from Florida to Vegas with my life intact. That wouldn’t have occurred without Nikolai’s help.”

Trey steps closer to me, his eyes as repentant as Maddox’s. “The Vasilievs used a subsidiary entity to bid on you last year. You’re only alive because they see you as an asset.”

“What?” I have a million questions streaming through my head, but with words eluding me, I went for the easiest one.

“I’ll call a physician to check you over. He’s very discreet. I assure you, nothing you tell him will ever leave this room.”

Trey’s words sicken me even more than the thought of my baby being injured from Maxsim’s goon, but it does nothing to douse the fire brewing in my gut. “I don’t need a doctor!”

My brisk leap to my feet nearly makes the towel slip off my body, but I don’t care. Just like I know Nikolai isn’t dead, I’m confident the worry in Trey’s eyes holds no merit.

“I also wasn’t raped.” My last word is barely a whisper. “Nikolai would never let that happened. He’d kill any man stupid enough to get within an inch of me.”

My eyes rocket to Maddox when he mutters, “He couldn’t protect you from the grave, J.”

“Then I’m lucky he isn’t dead, aren’t I?!” Anger minces up my words, making them more hostile than confirming.

Hating the incredulous look on Maddox’s face, I charge to my dresser in the corner of the room. Even with his belief Nikolai can’t punish him for seeing me in a vulnerable state, Trey’s eyes snap to the ground the instant my towel slips from my body.

Not the slightest bit worried he may see my scars, I yank a pair of sweatpants up my legs. The fleece material lining the pants is a poor choice considering how blistering hot my skin is, but they’re the closest article of clothing I have, so they’ll have to do.

After throwing one of Nikolai’s shirts over my braless torso, I pivot on my heels to face Trey. “Where are the men?”

When Maddox steps forward to baby me as he did earlier, I yell, “Where are my men?!”

“They’re in the den.”

I’m out the door before half of Trey’s reply leaves his mouth. And even faster than that, he’s at my side like he usually is at Nikolai’s when they’re preparing for battle.

“What are you planning?” Trey’s words are chopped up by his giant galloping steps as he follows me through the Popov mansion.

I already have a bucket load of determination fueling my steps, but the large diamond on my left hand strengthens my reply.

“I’m going to fulfill the role I was born to live. I’m going to be Nikolai’s queen.”