Chapter 53: Chapter 53

Charleigh

I tear off my clothes and stuff them into the bathroom trash, then stomp into a scalding hot shower. I know it’s completely illogical, but I soap up a washcloth and scrub my skin until it’s bright red and even then, I don’t stop. I can’t. Dimitri might not have gotten away with what he’d planned, but his touch has left me soiled in a way I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get rid of.

On top of feeling ugly and dirty, I am also so furious that at this moment in time, someone could look at me wrong and I’d kill them with my bare hands. Seriously. That’s how enraged I am. Mad at everyone. Mad at the world.

I’m mad at my mother for leaving me when I was ten, and for my father for all his bad decisions. I’m mad at Evie that she can’t just behave, stay on track like other teenagers, and not add to my worries.

I’m mad at the guys for messing up my life, for taking me from my father to auction me, then creating a situation where I can never leave them.

I’ve been failed over and over and all I know now is that I’m the only person I can rely on, no one will ever be there for me, no one ever has been, and I have to stop hoping otherwise.

While the hot water beats down on me, there’s a knock on my bathroom door. My first impulse it to tell whoever it is to fuck off, but I figure it’s Evie wanting to show me her photos from the party. When I holler come in, it’s Kir’s head that pokes around the corner.

Just what I need.

“Hey,” I call over the shower noise.

Through the glass, I watch him approach, his gaze locked on mine. He kicks off his shoes and opens his jeans, letting them fall to the floor, along with the rest of his clothes until he’s standing there stark naked and hot as fucking shit.

Oh damn. I am so not in the mood to be nice.

And yet.

He pulls the elastic at the back of his head and his hair tumbles to his shoulders. With his thick cock hanging heavy between his legs, he pulls open the shower door and joins me.

“Damn, this water’s hot.”

I watch the stream bounce off his hard muscles into little beads that become airborne before they fill the air with a thick, steamy mist. He fills his palm with shampoo, turns me to face away, and starts to massage it into my scalp.

Plain and simple, his fingers are like magic and I instantly turn to putty under them, his deep pressure releasing all manner of toxic thoughts until I have to hold onto the shower wall just to stay upright.

“Amazing, Kir, amazing,” I mutter, not even caring whether he can hear me over the sound of the water.

But apparently, he can. “I used to do this for Clara,” he says easily.

Holy shit. I’ve never heard him speak so casually about her.

He rinses the shampoo with my help and I turn to face him. “You’ve never really talked about her.” I study his face, trying to see what’s changed.

He nods, and then starts soaping my body, paying special attention to my breasts, of course. “Yeah. I know. But it feels good to. It makes me feel like she’s… I don’t know, watching over me or something.” Embarrassed, he laughs and shrugs his shoulders.

At this point, his cock is hard and when I move closer to him, it presses against my stomach, sending tingles through my core. I haven’t forgotten my traumatic experience of the day, but his touch is soothing. I fall into his arms, and we kiss for what seems like hours.

Eventually, I turn around, bending forward, and he enters me from behind like he can read my mind and he knows what I want and need, which I guess is at least partially true. He did after all, know to come get in the shower with me when I was at my pretty damn lowest.

He puts his hands on my shoulders for purchase as he pumps in and out of my hungry pussy, the water still beating down on us. His perfectly rhythmic fucking has put me into a trance, eyes closed, mouth slack, head bobbing reflexively every time he bottoms out and I think maybe life isn’t so bad and that my mother is watching over me.

Although I wouldn’t want her watching this.

***********

Niko

I have an iron grip on Charleigh’s arm, but I’m afraid even that won’t keep her in her seat.

Anger, hate, resentment, and dishonesty are par for the course in my day-to-day life. They’re just part of my world. There’s no escaping it. In fact, on the days where I don’t come across it, I actually notice it missing, that’s how much it is the norm. I grew up around it, and now I live in it.

Not that anyone sees that on my face. I’m observant enough to keep my own expression neutral, something a lot of people around me could benefit from trying themselves. Papa used to say it was one of my best qualities, my quiet watchfulness. I’m not sure it’s what I would have picked as a strength, given the choice, but I can’t deny it’s served me well.

I think there was a time when Charleigh could smile brightly, masking any real emotion she might be feeling. She was brought up to be polite that way, to never hurt anyone’s feelings or offend anyone. She wanted to be liked and in doing so always made her own feelings secondary to others’.

But she sure as hell is not on board with doing that today. Her lips are drawn into a thin grimace, and even though the room is cool, with my clear view of her profile, I can see tiny droplets of perspiration wetting the wispy hairs on her temples. Her eyes are heavy-lidded to further emphasize the sneer she’s wearing, which I am guessing is completely unconscious.

But the thing about her that gives her away the most, that really reveals how tightly wound she is, is her jittering leg, which hasn’t stopped vibrating since we sat down.

I have no doubt that if she had a firearm on her, dead bodies would be littering the floor before our meeting with the Pakhan even gets underway.

“Thank you all for coming today,” he says, looking around the room, which is divided in two like opposing teams.

On my side are my brothers, me, Charleigh, and a couple of our security guys.

On the other is Dimitri, wearing his usual maniacal grin, like he can’t wait for the show to get started. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was an old friend who’s happy to see me.

What I wouldn’t do to get my hands around his neck right now.

With him are a couple motley-looking guys I don’t know, probably part of his posse. Even though the man is as good as dead, he’s still stupid enough to drag his lackeys around so that when he goes down, he won’t be alone. He will expect them to defend him and in doing so, they will lose their lives too.

Not that I give a shit.

And overseeing this shitshow of a gathering is the Pakhan, arms on his massive desk, his fingers intertwined, almost as in prayer. His head slowly swivels as he takes in all his visitors, and as usual, his expression doesn’t give away a damn thing except for when he offers Charleigh a polite nod, just like he would any woman.

Beside him but one step back is his second, that annoying fuck of a man. His chest is puffed out self-importantly, which almost makes me laugh out loud. It’s those who are overly impressed with themselves who are the most fragile and easy to knock over. And I am pretty sure this man’s delusions of grandeur are coming to a screeching halt soon. The Pakhan does not suffer fools, and I have no doubt he can clearly see what’s just before him.

He clears his throat. “I don’t like this. I don’t like what any of you are doing. It has to stop.”

There’s really no question about what he’s referring to, but for clarification, Vadik speaks up. “I… we, my brothers and I, understand that. And we regret how that has negatively impacted the region.”

We knew fucking up Dimitri’s businesses would not go over well with the Pakhan. Not only has our blowing up his buildings attracted the attention of the authorities, but interfering with his shipments hit everyone’s pocketbooks. It was a calculated move we made, one we felt was justified.

In time, everyone in the region will be whole again. We’ll make sure of it. But sometimes money is not the most important thing.

“As of today,” the Pakhan says, “this open warfare will stop.”

I’m still gripping Charleigh to hold her in place, and her shaking legs starts to move faster, like a car with no brakes. Jesus, I’ve got to keep her under control. I understand the distress she’s in, but she’s got to keep it together, at least for now.

“I don’t know, Pakhan,” Dimitri says as if he’s offended, “these Alekseevs have caused nothing but trouble since my father died—”

“And that’s why you killed our parents, right?” Kir interrupts.

Dimitri slams his hand on the soft arm where he sits. “I’ve told you, I am not behind that. I did not do it. I did not kill your parents, nor did I kill Charleigh’s father.”

At the mention of her name, her head jerks in Dimitri’s direction, which was probably his plan. He tilts his head and smiles at her.

I hold her arm even tighter.

The Pakhan raises his hands before bringing them back together. “I’ve always said things are often not as they seem. I say that to everyone. For example, you, yes you, step over there.” He points a finger.

The Pakhan’s second is surprised he’s being singled out, proud he’s worthy of acknowledgement. He takes up position where the Pakhan is pointing and holds his hands together in front of him, lowering his chin to affect some false modesty.

“I’ve always said your pride, boy, will be the death of you, and today it will,” the Pakhan says.

Confusion crosses the second’s face and is quickly replaced with fear. “What? Sir? I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you mean.”

The Pakhan sighs impatiently. “I know what you’ve been up to. Every action you take is to further yourself. You care about nothing else, not even the brotherhood. I know the role you played in the murder of the Alekseevs. You were afraid your position, that of my right-hand-man, might go to one of the brothers if they weren’t committed to running their father’s businesses. With Grigory Alekseev out of the way, you knew none of the brothers could take this position, because they had to carry on their father’s work.”

The second’s mouth flaps open, then closes, then opens again like a fish gasping for air. Before he can get it together and protest the condemnation, the Pakhan stands, holding a pistol. He takes aim, fires, and the huge man crumbles to the ground.

Charleigh screams and grabs me, burying her face in my chest. I gladly hold her.

But the second isn’t gone yet. “You bastard,” he yells weakly at the Pakhan, “I had nothing to do with the Alekseev’s fire. Dominika did.” His head drops back on the floor. He’s losing blood too fast to say much more. In moments, the life will leave his body.

What? Dominika?

That just doesn’t sound right. She was my father’s mistress. He was good to her, or as good to her as he was to any mistress.

I pull Charleigh tighter. She doesn’t need to see the blood splatter some poor slob will have to clean later.

“As for you,” the Pakhan says, turning toward Dimitri, “you have bucked my instructions too many times. I let you slide again and again and again out of respect for your father, who was my friend. But I think that if your father were alive today, he’d agree with what I’m about to do.”

Just as the Pakhan raises his pistol, Charleigh bolts out of my arms, and jumps in front of him.

“Charleigh, no!” Kir screams.

She holds her hands up in front of the Pakhan. “With all due respect, sir, you need to let me do this. You owe it to me. Everyone here owes it to me.”

The Pakhan steps around Charleigh, but she gets in front of him again.

I want to tell her that what she’s doing is a good way to die, but I can’t speak. So I get up to pull her out of the way.

But before I reach her, the Pakhan looks at Vadik, who nods his approval. Charleigh takes the pistol.

The man is accommodating Charleigh. I never thought I’d see the day.

“You are correct, young lady,” he says with a little bow. “You have earned the right to do this.” He passes her the gun, which she takes with nothing but pure confidence.

Both pride and sadness wash through me at the same time. The scene before me proves that our girl can truly fend for herself now, but also that her innocence is gone. Permanently.

Dimitri’s face is covered in panic. Can he really be surprised this is how he’s going to meet his end? Did he really think the Pakhan was going to send him on his way after his scolding?

“Wait, Charleigh, wait,” Dimitri pleads. “Can we please talk? Just for a minute? I have some things to tell you. Important things.” His voice cracks. He really didn’t see any of this coming.

How is that even possible?

Taking aim with absolutely no hesitation, doubt, or sorrow, Charleigh fires the Pakhan’s gun like she has wanted to for so long. Her face shows no emotion and my fear is that she can kill all the Dimitris in the world and still not be satisfied.

The guys with him reach for their guns, but with one look around the room, they stop. At this point, any effort on their part would be futile. And deadly.

“Hey. He’s trying to say something,” one of them says, hovering over him.

I cross the room and the dying Dimitri waves me closer. There’s something so incongruous about seeing a childhood friend dying in front of you, knowing he deserves it, but also remembering the days you freely played, without a care in the world.

It’s heartbreaking, when it comes down to it. Tragic, even.

“Niko,” Dimitri whispers, “Niko, I didn’t do it. I swear. I didn’t kill them, I didn’t.”

He’s reaching, wanting a connection, a hand to hold onto in his last minutes, but I think of the carving on Charleigh’s stomach and I can’t comfort the man. I just can’t.

“Do you know who did it, Dimitri? Now is the time to tell us,” I urge.

“Dominika. Talk to Dominika,” he rasps as he takes his last breath. “The second was in on it, but it was Dominika.”

A punch to the gut doesn’t begin to describe the hit I feel in my stomach. The light in Dimitri’s eyes fades quickly as I absorb—as we all do, really—his news.

Charleigh chokes back a sob when she realizes Dimitri is gone, and I see my brothers are as slack-jawed as I am, in complete and utter shock at his accusation.

It can’t be true. It just can’t.

Dominika?

Dominika had something to do with my parents’ murder?

“Well,” the Pakhan says, patting Charleigh on the back, “what a stone-cold bitch we have on our hands here. Tell me, Miss Gates, do you plan on joining the brothers’ team permanently? They could probably use someone like you.”

He’s wearing a reptilian smile, something I’ve only seen on him a handful of times.

She looks at him, expressionless, clearly not appreciating what he probably meant as a true compliment. “No. I am not going to work for them.”

The Pakhan’s eyebrows rise and he scoffs.

“They are going to work for me,” she says, throwing the three of us a coy wink.

She bursts out laughing, a sound I haven’t heard from her in way too long, and everyone joins, even the Pakhan.