Broken Whispers: Chapter 18

The phone has been on the counter in front of me, with a message window open, for five minutes. I exchanged numbers with Nina when we went to the pakhan’s place the other night, and I’ve been planning on messaging her for several days now, but I’m not sure if she’ll want to answer my questions. We’re not friends or anything like that, but I have no one else to ask, other than Mikhail. I’m pretty sure he’d tell me if I asked him directly, but if my suspicions are correct, I don’t want to make him talk about it. I take the phone and start typing.

19:09 Bianca: Hey. It’s Bianca. Are you busy?

19:11 Nina: Well, I don’t think that keeping my head above the toilet since 6 am constitutes as being busy. Lol. It’s no fun, that’s for sure. You know how they say the morning sickness lasts only for 2 months? THEY LIED! I’ve been puking since the 3rd week, and that “morning” part is not true either. You two want to come over for a coffee or something? How’s Grumpy doing?

I look at the last line and snort.

19:14 Bianca: Mikhail is still at work. Does he know you call him Grumpy?

19:14 Nina: Of course, he does. He doesn’t come here often but when he does, he usually sits in the corner and broods.

19:15 Bianca: Yeah, he does that a lot. I wanted to ask you something. It’s about Mikhail. But if you are not comfortable answering just tell me, it’s ok.

19:16 Nina: Sure. Shoot.

19:16 Bianca: Do you know what happened to him?

A couple of minutes go by until Nina responds

19:18 Nina: Yes. Roman told me.

19:18 Bianca: He was tortured, wasn’t he? I saw the scars, and those are not a result of an accident or something, they are too precise, almost clinical. His back is covered with whip marks. Can you please tell me who tortured my husband? And why?

19:20 Nina: It was the old pakhan. Roman’s father.

I stare at her answer, shocked. Roman’s father did that? The phone in my hand starts ringing. It’s Nina. I take the call.

“I know you can’t reply, but I think it’s better if I tell you than type. It’s . . . it’s a really bad story, Bianca.”

Nina’s voice is low and strangled, so different than her usual cheerful tone, which tells me that whatever she’s going to say will probably be worse than I could have imagined.

“I only know what Roman told me, and he didn’t go into details. I’ll tell you what I know. You can tap the phone for ‘yes,’ okay?”

I tap the microphone with my nail.

“Promise me you won’t ask Mikhail to talk about it. Ever. Please.”

Yes, it’s definitely worse than what I thought. I tap the phone again.

“Mikhail’s father handled the finances for the old pakhan. One day a lot of money went missing, just vanished from the pakhan’s account. A couple of million. He concluded that Mikhail’s father had something to do with that, so he took his whole family into one of the old warehouses. He killed Mikhail’s mother. Then he ordered his man to . . . to rape his sister. Mikhail and his father watched.”

Dear God. My legs are shaking, and I feel like I’m going to be sick, so I sit down on the kitchen floor and put my forehead on my knees.

“So, when Mikhail’s father still couldn’t say where the money was, the pakhan decided he needed a better incentive,” Nina says, and from the sound of her voice, I know she’s crying. “I don’t know what he did to Mikhail to make his father talk, but based on what you told me, I can assume. Roman said he and Maxim found Mikhail and his family the next day. Everybody except Mikhail was dead. He was only nineteen, Bianca.”

There is a buzzing sound in my ears, like a TV without a signal, that cancels all other sounds around me. My vision blurs with tears, so when I stand up, I hit my hip on the counter, but I ignore the pain and rush to the guest room. I’m feeling impossibly cold, so I get in the bed under the thick blanket, still clutching the phone to my ear.

“Roman killed his father earlier that day, when he found him trying to choke Varya,” she continues. “Roman got the details from the two men who were at the warehouse with the old pakhan. He killed them both, too. Even after all those years, he can’t forgive himself for killing them and robbing Mikhail of the opportunity to do it himself.”

There is a sniffing sound on the other side, then something clanging followed by a whispered curse.

“I’m feeling sick again, I’m not sure if it’s from telling you this or the pregnancy. Probably both. I have to get back to my puking. If you need to know anything else, message me and I’ll ask Roman. Just . . . don’t ask Mikhail.”

I tap at the phone and let it fall on the blanket, then bury my face into the pillow. And cry.

The door to the bedroom opens a couple of hours later, but I keep my head under the blanket and pretend I’m sleeping. No way can I let Mikhail see me in this state, he’ll know that something happened right away. I hear his steps approach the bed, and a moment later, I feel a light kiss on the top of my head. He whispers a few words in Russian and then he’s gone. I cry for another hour after he leaves, wondering how a person who went through something like Mikhail did, can be so tender and loving.

When I go into the bathroom to take a shower my face is still red and my eyes puffy. At least it’s dark now, and the swelling should be gone by morning.

The light is off when I enter our bedroom. Mikhail is lying on his side asleep, back turned toward the door. I tiptoe to the bed, get under the blanket, and place my head on the pillow, burying my face into Mikhail’s neck.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he says.

I reach out with my hand and stroke the length of his back, feeling the ridges along the way, then move to his stomach and the wide patch of molted skin where he was burned, and, finally, up to the long thin scar on his chest.

“I love you.” My voice is so very faint, but I know he hears me, because he embraces me around my waist and crushes me against his chest.

“I’ll be there in an hour,” I tell Maxim and cut the call.

When I exit the gym, Bianca lifts her head from her coffee and follows me with her gaze as I walk to the kitchen. I left my T-shirt in the gym, and it feels strange being in front of someone with my chest and back so casually on display. I don’t think anyone saw me shirtless for more than a decade. She watches me over the rim of her cup, her gaze traveling from my stomach and across my chest, but there is no reluctance in her eyes. Her gaze is roaming my body, and based on the way the corner of her lip curls up, she likes what she sees.

I open the fridge to take out a bottle of water when there is a sudden touch at the small of my back, a finger trailing circular pattern upward across my skin, then back down along my spine. Another finger on my right bicep, traveling to my front then going down my chest. When she reaches the waistband of my sweats, she slides her hand inside to grip my cock, and leans onto my back.

“Shit, baby . . . I need to be at the pakhan’s in an hour.”

Bianca’s hand slips into my boxer briefs and wraps around my already hard length, and at the same time, I feel her tongue on my back, licking along my spine. I snap. A growl escapes from my chest as I turn, and grabbing her around the waist, I throw her over my shoulder in a fireman’s hold and run toward the bedroom.

The moment I put her down, Bianca takes the waistband of my sweats and pushes them down along with my boxer briefs. A mischievous grin spreads over her face as she pushes me onto the bed then crawls over my body to press her mouth to mine. She bites my lip, moves lower, trailing kisses down my neck and chest, then stops when she reaches my stomach.

“Looks like our roles have been reversed this time,” she signs, smirking.

“Oh? How so?”

“I still have my clothes on. And you are the one fully naked.” She signs, traces the tip of her finger down my stomach and brushes my fully erect cock. “At my mercy.”

I wonder if she realizes how true her declaration is. She could press a gun to my temple and pull the trigger, and I wouldn’t move a finger to stop her. As I watch, she bends and licks the tip of my cock, and it takes a tremendous amount of control not to let myself come immediately. Another lick, circling the head of my cock, then she slowly takes it into her mouth. I suck in a breath and grab her braid that had fallen over her shoulder.

Keeping the end of the braid between my fingers, I wrap the length of it around my hand, once, twice, and then the third time until I reach the nape of her neck. Then I pull on it, until Bianca lets my cock slide from her mouth with a pop and looks up at me. I tighten my hold on her hair and watch as she arches her delicate neck. She seems so breakable, but that doesn’t matter. No one will dare put a finger on her ever again, because now she has her own monster to watch over her. Placing my free hand on the side of that fragile neck, I brush the line of her chin with my thumb.

“I need my cock inside of you, baby,” I say and squeeze her hair lightly, “right now.”

Bianca smiles, reaches under her skirt, and in the next moment, there is a sound of material tearing. Her hand comes away, holding ruined lacy panties which she throws to the side. I keep my hand in her hair as she lowers herself onto my cock and starts riding me, still wearing her silky blouse and fancy skirt. A small sound resembling a scream leaves her lips as her walls begin spasming around my length, and my control snaps. I let go of her hair to grab her around her waist and slam her down on my cock. Bianca gasps, her hands squeezing my forearms, then she pants as I pound into her from below. Her eyes never release my gaze as her body trembles with her second, even more intense orgasm, and my seed starts filling her up. It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

“This will be the first time in my life I’ve been late for a meeting with Roman.” I look down at Bianca who is buttoning my shirt. “You are corrupting me.”

She just shrugs and finishes with the last button.

“You came into the kitchen shirtless. What did you expect?”

Definitely not her jumping on me that way.

“I may stop wearing shirts around the house altogether if I can expect the same result.”

“You do that. And we’ll see.”

“Done.” I lean in and kiss her. “I have to go. I won’t be back before morning.”

I turn to leave but stop at hearing her say my name. It hits me in the chest whenever she does that because I know it hurts her, but she keeps on, no matter what I say.

“Be careful.”

“I will.” I kiss her forehead. “Message me when Lena comes back from day care.”

She nods, places her hand on my chest, and traces a shape of a heart with the tip of her finger.

“I love you, too, baby.” I take her face in my palms and touch my nose to hers. “You can’t imagine how much.”

It takes us six hours to organize everything and to put all the men in place. Dimitri, Yuri, and three of the soldiers are waiting at one rest stop, while Denis, Ivan, and Kostya with two more soldiers are waiting at the second stop. We’re not sure at which of those two stops Bruno’s driver will choose to stay the night, so we had to split our forces, which leaves us shorthanded. Pavel had to stay to keep his eye on the clubs, and with Anton still at the hospital, I had to bring Sergei with me as a backup to trail the transport truck.

Having Sergei on a field mission is always a disaster just waiting to happen. He was banned from field duty last year after he blew up the whole Irish warehouse, leaving only ashes behind. I have no idea what Roman was thinking when he sent him into the field a few months back while we were fighting the Italians. The man is a fucking ticking bomb. If I didn’t know already, I never would have guessed that the two of them are half-brothers.

No one except for Roman and Maxim knows what Sergei did before he came to the Bratva, but I have my suspicions. Everyone in our circle has to be proficient with a gun and a rifle. Sergei is proficient with every single weapon he has ever come in contact with—a sniper rifle, heavy assault rifles, even grenade launchers. He is also a specialist in all kinds of explosives, homemade and professionally made. A military-trained killing machine, probably black ops.

“Remember what we agreed on,” I say. “The guys will handle the driver. You rig the truck and wait until I get the girl out. Do not deviate from the plan. And don’t blow the fucking truck up while I’m still inside, Sergei.”

“You are edgy tonight.”

“I want to get this over with as quickly as possible. My wife is waiting for me to come home, and she will want me to be in one piece.”

“Still can’t believe you are married.”

“Well, maybe you should try it.”

He looks at the road in front of us for a few moments before answering. “I already tried it. Didn’t end well.”

I still. I had no idea Sergei was married. “What happened?”

“I killed her.” He leans back in the seat and lights a cigarette. “Right after she tried to slice my neck.”

“Shit, Sergei.”

“Yup. With my own knife. Can you believe that shit?” He blows out a cloud of smoke and focuses on the truck a few yards in front of us.

I look at him and note the dark circles under his eyes. “You aren’t sleeping. Again.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

The truck gives the right-turn signal and takes the exit. Sergei calls Dimitri.

“He’s off the highway and heading your way. ETA seven minutes,” he barks, throws the phone on the dash, and leans back in his seat, his mouth widening in a smug smile. “I missed the action, you know?”

I know that smile. We are fucked.

“Shit!” I jam the crowbar under the truck’s cargo doors again and start lifting them up, but the mechanism that should keep the thing from sliding back down doesn’t work.

“Sergei! Are you done?”

His voice comes from under the truck. “Just one more.”

“You put enough of that shit to blow up the whole damn street. Leave it and come here, the door is jammed.”

Sergei rolls out from under the truck and comes to my side.

“Just keep it there, I’ll get the girl,” he says, turns on the flashlight on his phone, and jumps up into the truck.

I hear his footsteps moving further inside, then the sound of boxes being moved.

“Is she there?” I ask.

“I can’t find her. Are you sure she’s . . . oh, fuck!”

There are some more rustling noises and things being moved.

“Sergei?”

“I’ve got her. Shit, she’s in a bad shape.” His steps come closer. “Hold that door.”

I press down on the crowbar, lifting the door higher, then grab the bottom and heft it over my head so Sergei can carry the girl out. Holding a limp female body in his arms, he ducks under the partially raised door and jumps down off the truck. There is no way to see the woman’s features, because her tangled hair is all over her face. What I can see are her torn shorts and shirt, and one thin arm hanging limply. She’s skin and bones.

“I’ll call Varya and tell her to bring the doc.” I let the truck door fall back down. “We can meet them at the safe house.”

“No. I’m taking her to my place.”

“What? Are you crazy?”

“I said I’m taking her with me.”

There is a strange look in Sergei’s eyes, like he’s ready to defend his precious cargo from anyone who’d come close. Roman is going to lose it when he hears about this.

“Whatever. Get her into the car, blow the truck, and let’s get out of here.”

I call Dimitri on my way to the car, and tell him to get the guys and get lost. I expect Sergei to place the girl in the back seat and sit up front, but instead of doing so, he just tightens his arms around her and gets in the back, cradling her. Shaking my head, I start the car and swerve onto the dirt road leading toward the highway.

“Ready?” I look in the rearview mirror and see Sergei staring down at the girl in his arms. “Jesus, Sergei! Get that fucking remote and blow the fucking truck already.”

His head snaps up, the eyes narrowed, and he smirks at me. The epic boom pierces the night. My eyes widen. Did he have that thing on a timer? The bastard could have blown all three of us to pieces if getting the girl had taken a few minutes longer.

I take my phone and call Bruno Scardoni’s number.

He answers on the second ring. “What?”

“Dearest Father-in-law.” I smile. “The Bratva sends their regards.”

I cut the call and dial Roman next. “It’s done.”

“Everything went as planned?”

“More or less.” I sigh.

“Shit. What did he do? It’s Sergei, I just know it.”

“He wants to take the girl to his place.”

“Perfect. Just perfect. Tell him to . . . you know, I don’t care. Should I send Varya there?”

“Yes. And the doc. The girl is barely alive.”

“Fucking wonderful. I need you here at eight tomorrow morning.”

I throw the phone onto the passenger’s seat and head to Sergei’s place.