Chapter 24: Chapter 24

Charleigh

Pakhan. From what I can tell, he’s some sort of boss. Or mediator. Or maybe a combination of the two.

“Gentlemen,” he says, a grave expression on his creased face.

He throws me a disinterested, cursory glance, most likely because of the state of my clothing—or should I say, lack of? To him, I’m just some bimbo club employee.

Not the cause of any problems. More a symptom of them.

The men, the Alekseevs and Dimitri’s group, take turns greeting the Pakhan with handshakes and, I observe, a respectable amount of eye contact.

Not so different from anywhere else.

And then one of the Pakhan’s men steps into the group. “We understand Dimitri Yegorov has a grievance, caused by an accusation by Niko Alekseev.”

All the men nod.

“And that Niko has no proof. Is that correct, Niko?” the man asks.

Vadik steps up. “Wait a minute now—”

But the man cuts him off. “Do you have proof? Or no proof?”

Vadik and Niko exchange glances. “No,” they say.

Both the Pakhan and the man look down, shaking their heads.

I don’t know if I’m more fascinated by this exchange, relieved that someone is here to mediate, or scared that a brawl is about to break out.

Dimitri holds his chin up, as if to underscore the insult he’s endured. “They have accused me with no proof. In fact, they have accused me of other things too. Until today, I have always been willing to let this go. But they’ve gone too far this time. And as payment, I want the girl,” he says, gesturing toward me with his chin. “Today.”

He doesn’t even look at me. Just gestures. Like I’m not worth the trouble.

Okay. Maybe he won’t be an ally.

The Pakhan turns his attention to me. “This is what you want?” he asks Dimitri, pointing.

Cripes. Like I’m not even here.

He nods. “You have permission to take her.”

What?

Is this my opportunity?

The previous quiet erupts into an explosion of both protest and approval, starting with my automatic shriek. In spite of my lame masterplan, I run to hide behind Kir, on the edge of the group, and both Niko and Vadik start speaking at the same time. Actually, shouting.

A glance at Dimitri shows a smug smile as he watches the brothers, his enemies, try to change the Pakhan’s decision.

I’m right. This has nothing to do with me. I’m just collateral damage. They could be fighting over a chair, just to see who wins.

Fuckers.

The Pakhan raises his hands and everyone is quiet again.

Like a schoolteacher wrangling a bunch of naughty little boys. Boys with guns. And bad tempers.

“This woman, here,” Vadik says pointing, “is under contract to us. She’s to pay the debt of her father and is due to be auctioned next week. We have prohibited Dimitri from attending. He lacks the… decorum of our club members. His behavior has been an affront too many times.”

I don’t know whether to sob with relief that Vadik is trying to get me off the hook, or sob at the hopelessness of what lies ahead.

“Please, please, please,” I whisper in Kir’s ear, “don’t let them take me.”

He reaches behind himself where I am hiding and pats my hip. I’m not comforted.

“Please,” I cry, “somebody help me.” The tears begin to flow.

The Pakhan’s gaze snaps in my direction. “Quiet, girl,” he growls.

The despair is overwhelming, eating me like a hungry little monster, bite by bite. My body literally hurts and I squeeze my eyes shut because I’m sure if I look down, I’ll see chunks of my flesh missing, and then limbs, and then all of me will be gone.

Which might be a better fate than my current lot.

* * *

Kir

The idea of Dimitri helping himself to Charleigh—whether today or some other time—as some sort of payment over his hurt little-boy feelings?

Over my dead fucking body.

And from the expressions on their faces, my brothers feel the same way. They might not be saying much but I have no doubt about their feelings on the subject.

Brothers, yo.

I wait for the Pakhan to announce his verdict. For as long as I’ve known him, his word is final. Sure, there are times when various factions might try and sway his decisions. They are rarely successful.

But in this instance, Vadik has made a good point. There is a reason Charleigh is going up for auction, and that supersedes anything Dimitri’s whiny little ass wants.

The Pakhan finally nods. “I see. Alright. We can resolve this later, but for now, the Alekseevs take the girl.” He turns to Dimitri, whose eyes burn with rage. “She’s one of their assets, given she’s under contract. She goes home with them.”

He considers Charleigh, looking her over like every man does, the way many will in the coming week. Dominika has distributed photos of her to drum up interest, and we are due for a record showing of parties interested in bidding on her at auction.

And yet here she is, hovering behind my left arm, completely unaware of how she has men around the globe dreaming of her. Willing to pay small fortunes, they covet her so. I have to say, I am one of them. But she is not for me. And even if having her were a possibility, I don’t deserve her.

She is an asset to us and the club, yes. And so much more. The Pakhan, looking at her right now, sees that, just like all the men who attend the auction will.

His eyes drift over her, from her high-heels and ripped stockings, to her short skirt and bustier, to her face, where he takes her in, unspoiled and innocent as she is. He’s probably wondering what we’re doing with someone like her, so far from the typical woman we work with. And he certainly has a hankering for her like other men do. It’s inevitable, and I wait for him to ask if he might bid on her, as well.

But he doesn’t. The Pakhan doesn’t take advantage of his position, no matter how tasty the treat being dangled before him. It’s a conflict of interest, sure, to use his power for ill-gotten gains, but he’s a moral man—at least as moral as bratva men can be—and he believes in earning his riches, not power-grabbing the best toy for himself.

That includes women.

“One last thing,” the Pakhan says.

I hold my breath.

“While Dimitri can’t take home Charleigh, at least not today, he is to be permitted at the auction. If he wins the girl, so be it. But you can’t shut him out because of family differences. We don’t do business that way.”

Charleigh’s grip on my arm tightens, almost to the point where it’s painful.

Because there’s no choice, my brothers and I nod in agreement at the Pakhan’s directive while Dimitri fawns over him like they’re the best of friends.

The Pakhan extricates himself from Dimitri’s slimy devotions and says his goodbyes, leaving my brothers and me facing off with the enemy. I’m not at all convinced the visit accomplished much, but at least Charleigh is still with us.

Not that I, or my brothers, would have let her go anyway.

“Well,” Dimitri says, smirking, “I guess no one gets what they want today.”

He’s right about that. I would have liked to slit Dimitri’s throat today. But I didn’t.

Niko, usually the calm, level-headed one, tilts his head at Dimitri, who I can see has really gotten under his skin. “Does that mean then that you did intercept our cargo shipment? Because it sure sounds like it.”

Dimitri drops his head back and laughs, like he so often does. “It means nothing of the sort, my little Niko.”

My brother’s shoulders twitch just the smallest amount at the diminutive term. We all remember when Niko was small, and I’m afraid he’ll never stop trying to prove he’s a grown man fully capable of taking care of business. I have to remember that myself, every now and then. ‘Little Niko’ is no longer little.

In fact, he’s a couple inches taller than both Vadik and me. Apparently, his father—his real father—was a very tall man.

“We will find out who intercepted our guns, Dimitri. We have many ‘friends’ on our payroll, who are undoubtedly far more loyal to us than you and your operations. And when that happens, there will be a high price for you to pay.”

Dimitri rolls his eyes at Niko’s warning, but is unable to hide the subtle shift in his expression, giving away his uneasiness with being reminded of the wide Alekseev network. His own cannot measure up to ours as a result of the respect our father garnered over the years, our cash resources, and the authorities we have in our pockets. Our shipment will eventually surface. When it does, there will be hell to pay.

“You’re spinning your wheels, Niko,” Dimitri says, clapping his hands together as if to signal the meeting’s over. “I’ll look forward to seeing you all next weekend at the club. I may even come a little early to get a good seat. I want to get a close look at what I’ll be taking home with me. You know, since you won’t allow ‘try before you buy.’” He cackles at this, and Charleigh gasps.

She doesn’t let go of my arm until Dimitri and team pull out of the parking lot and their tail lights fade out of sight. Then, without a word, she heads back to the SUV, crawling into the backseat. She presses her face against the window next to her and squeezes her eyes shut, like if she wishes hard enough, she’ll find herself someplace else.

Anyplace else.

I jump to grab the seat next to her. She’s so distracted she doesn’t notice, but my brothers do and roll their eyes.

I don’t care. Fuck them.

Laying an arm on the seat back, I casually stroke her shoulders, hoping I can soothe her. I won’t be able to do much for her after the weekend, when she becomes the property of another man, but it feels good to do something nice now.

Or is it actually more cruel? To get her comfortable and trusting, only to foist her off on the highest bidder with no regard to what kind of bastard the man might be?

I push those troubling thoughts aside and pull her to me until she rests her head on my shoulder. Vadik and Niko are watching, unable to take their eyes off her.

God knows I need a distraction, and I figure she does too. I hate tussling with that bastard Dimitri. It’s one thing to negotiate with sane people—all parties want something, you work it out, and everyone walks away with the semblance of a good deal in the end. People are happy, or at least mostly happy. But with a loose cannon like him, there’s no reality check on his demands, nor is there telling when things might spiral out of control. When that happens, people end up dead.

It’s likely the one to end up dead will be Dimitri someday. Not that I care. I just don’t want him six feet under before we prove he murdered our parents. When that day comes, and I hope it does soon, there will be hell to pay.

Until then, we just have to suffer through the waiting game—waiting until he trips up one way or the other and reveals himself.

After a bunch of stressful bullshit like today, I like to go for a jog to clear my head. Sometimes I run for so long and so far that when I’m about dead of exhaustion and am forced to finally stop, I don’t even know where I am. But since I’m stuck in the SUV heading back to the club, I am thinking of another way to blow off some steam. And maybe get Charleigh to join.