Saved by the Outlaw: Motorcycle Club / Hitman Romance (41 page)

"
K
aty
, darling! How good to see you again!"

The three burly Russians who muscle their way into my home are Oskar, Nic, and Konrad, the mob's collections agents assigned to me. I scramble back, wide-eyed and heart pounding as they advance into the room, Nic taking a post by the door while the other two fan out and survey the place.

Oskar is the leader of the group, and he usually does all the talking. He's a shorter guy with blonde hair and a beard, and he's as insipid to listen to as he is to look at. He's not the most muscular of the three, but he's got the sharpest tongue by far.

Nic is the quiet muscle. He's a monstrous brute of a man, all muscle and stony eyes. I've never heard him say more than a couple of words, but he doesn't need to say much that his muscles don't say for him. He has cropped dark hair and a scar across his face.

Konrad is somewhere in between the other two, and he sends chills down my spine. He's tall and lean with light brown hair and a crooked nose, and he always looks at me with an unnerving hunger in his eyes. His tendency to move suddenly and make jerking glances when he's around me all tell me he wants me, badly. He doesn't seem to like taking orders from Oskar, but I know Oskar brings him anyway because of how vulnerable he makes me feel.

"Hard to believe it's that time of the month again, isn't it?"

“That’s right," I breathe, moving carefully around the coffee table, "and I'll have your money for you tomorrow before opening, just like always, you don’t have to worry about me forgetting the drill.”

“Of course not,” Oskar chuckles, no mirth in his heavily accented voice. Konrad advances into the room, and I back away as he moves, making room for Oskar to stride in and survey the disarray of my place.

“You’ve done a lovely job of picking up where your father left off, Katy, always on time.” He reaches a hand to me and pinches my cheeks condescendingly. “He’d be so proud! He was always the sort who knew when to do what was best for his little business.”

As the blood boils under my skin and I hold back the urge to claw his eyes out for daring to make light of the subject, Oskar flops down on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and spreading his arms out over the back of the couch.

Konrad hasn’t moved since backing me up against the window. He’s standing uncomfortably close to me, and I can hear his breathing. Nic hasn’t moved from the door, standing there like a sentinel.

“This is just a courtesy call,” Oskar drones, checking his nails idly while he makes himself comfortable. “You know, we’ve had a few of our boys come through the Amber Room over the months.”

I know that some of the clubbers have been Russians, but in Brighton Beach, that’s about a third of the clientele anyway. Not all the Russians are with the mob, but there’s no way to check, either.

“Oh really?” I feign ignorance, “Can’t say I’ve noticed. I’ve got a lot of guys with hot accents that pass through, and it’s rude to ask all of them about their work.”

Konrad likes my words a little more than I’m comfortable with, and I hear a rumble from his chest as he moves almost imperceptibly closer to me, as though he’s extending his creepy aura my way. Oskar is laughing.

“Maybe so, maybe so. Come, get comfortable.” The order is directed more at Konrad than me as he pats the couch cushion next to him. I feel Konrad’s eager hand on the small of my back, pushing me towards the couch.

Before I can react, he takes the opportunity to put his hands around my hips and spin me around, thrusting me down on the couch next to Oskar and taking a seat on the other side of me. His hand is itching to slide around my waist, but I don’t think he dares act out of turn around Oskar.

“You know, usually,” Oskar starts, tilting his head and looking at me as though he were a patron flirting with me at the club, “the boys, they have nothing but good things to say about your place. Good music, not too big, classy atmosphere, and let me tell you, some of my boys, they have expensive tastes!”

I don’t like where this is going.

Oskar flexes his hands, raising his eyebrows as though about to deliver bad news. “But lately, they say the crowds are a little thin, you know?”

“Really? From what I can tell, we’ve had outstanding retention with the regulars,” I half-lie. The club has indeed had more repeat customers in the past month, but Oskar is right, the spontaneous nightly crowds haven’t been out in force lately.

Konrad takes the opportunity to elbow me lightly. “Don’t interrupt the boss,” he grunts.

“You may be right,” Oskar continues despite our interjections, “my boys, their eyes are not always so good, you know? Could be that they don’t have good eyes like you.”

I know I can’t break the gaze he’s locked me in but there’s something in his eyes that makes me want to squirm as they bore into mine.

“But my thinking is that since baseball season is over, your business boom is dying down a little, no?”

I swallow and pray he doesn’t notice. “You can’t rely on a sports season to keep crowds all year ‘round, Oskar.”

“No, I am seeing this now,” he smiles wickedly, and I feel my mouth grow dry as I realize I’ve played into his trap, “maybe this success of yours over the past few months, it was just ah, how do you say, ‘riding the coattails’ your father left for you in the middle of the season?”

Involuntarily, my fingers ball into a fist on the couch next to me, and I shudder as I feel Konrad put his clammy hand over it warningly.

Oskar crosses his legs and folds his hands over his knees. “But look at me, I’m being terribly presumptuous! I would never want to question your skill as a businesswoman, Miss Foss.” The name is said with biting condescension, and I realize there’s nothing I can say to persuade these pigs of anything. They’re here for their own amusement.

“The club scene is not one you can predict so easily, and even the best of businesspeople can have a club go under, if the limelight shifts on a whim.” He’s looking out the window wistfully, trying to contort that sleazy face of his into a philosophical expression. It really just makes him look like he’s trying to pass a kidney stone.

The next moment, Oskar stands up abruptly, leaving Konrad with me on the couch. As soon as Oskar’s back is turned, I feel Konrad’s hand copping a feel up my back, and goosebumps rise on my arms.

The fair-haired mobster steps around the house, perusing the items that have been taken down to be sold off. My heart sinks as I realize he’s putting two-and-two together.

“But a shrewd woman like you, she puts away some money for the hard times like this, no? That would be the wise thing to do, I think. Otherwise, even a lovely woman like yourself could be pushed to give away things she doesn’t want to part with.”

Oskar’s perceptiveness astounds me as his eyes fall on the box of Dad’s baseball goods. My heart sinks in my chest, and the faintest, cruelest of smiles comes across his face as his eyes catch sight of the blanching of my face.

He bends down to pick up a signed baseball, tossing it up and down in his greasy hand as though it were just a toy.

“Hah, I used to play a little, you know?” He turns his eyes to Nic, who’s been standing like a statue by the door. “Used to be a pitcher, and they told me I had a damn good arm, too. What do you think, Nic?”

Without further warning, Oskar winds up his pitching arm and sends the signed baseball full-force at Nic’s stomach, and the sound of the pop the impact makes evokes a wince from even Konrad. Nic’s face is utterly unfazed, but he gives an approving nod.

Oskar has heinously aggressive “short man” syndrome. Little shows of masculinity like this are all too common, I imagine, but to interrupt them in any way would be more destructive to everyone around him by a long shot. He chuckles to himself as the old ball rolls back to his feet across the floor.

“Really though, Katy, back to business,” he says, making his way into the kitchen and opening my fridge to rummage around a little, finally taking out a beer and popping the top off as he helps himself to it.

“I used to own a club just like yours, Katy,” he sounds suddenly friendly, stepping forward and smiling at me. I notice that Konrad’s hand is still on my back, even though Oskar is looking at me evenly.

“Well, okay, not quite like yours, but close. Mine was a little more, ah...it catered to different tastes, to a different crowd.” I can hear Konrad suppressing a laugh as his grin grows wider.

“And all my employees, they were the loveliest women Brighton Beach had to offer. Some of them with golden locks that spilled down their back like a golden river, some with eyes like rainy skies you could get lost in forever as they danced for you…!”

I suppress a grimace. The strip clubs around town are full of hard-working women, and I can’t stand the thought of those dedicated workers being at the whim and mercy of this pig.

“Some of them were fine little things with long brown hair,” he adds, his eyes narrowing at me as he reaches out to take my chin in his hand, turning me over like a piece of meat. My jaw clenches.

“I would hate for a fine business like yours to fail at paying its dues, Katy,” he resumes a facade of professionalism, stepping back and peering out the window. “If you aren’t able to pay the debts all the other hardworking business owners can pay responsibly, well, you know I can’t guarantee the safety of your business.”

I know it’s a threat, and I know better than to derail his machismo. “Of course, Oskar, that won’t be a problem.”

“Won’t it?” He casts a sidelong glare at me that is almost as terrifying as Konrad’s subtle groping.

Oskar lets out a deep sigh, turning to face me with a sudden longing in his eyes that chills me to the bone.

“My girls, Katy, they were so dedicated. They often left the men who visited my little establishment wanting so much more, you know? And who am I to deny paying customers?”

He moves closer to the couch, looming over me with a deadly serious face.

“All the paying men of the city really want from such lovely women is satisfaction, Katy. They can’t control their desires. And if talented women tease such men who can’t control themselves, are they not to blame when such men throw money at me to help them satisfy these cravings of theirs?”

Konrad is breathing heavily next to me, and I want more than anything else to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. To just tear away from these men and flee, to Natalie’s house, to the nearest train station, anywhere but here!

Oskar crouches down, and I can see the quiet hunger in his eyes. “Do you ever leave your patrons with such lingering cravings, Katy? Do you ever suppose some of them might pay to slake such a thirst?” He tilts his head to the side. “Four thousand a month, maybe?”

“More than that,” Konrad rasps practically into my ear, and now he slides his cold hand up my arm and to my shoulder where it stops to play with my hair, and I hear him lick his lips even though I deny him the satisfaction of looking him in the eyes while he plays with my helplessness.

Oskar laughs with cruelty. “Ah, see? You could have your first customer, you pretty little minx. Konrad here has had such an arrangement on his mind for quite a while, you know. He’d be a fine regular for you. Maybe even Nic would like a turn with such a lovely thing as you?” He turns to the door, and Nic is only staring a cold, dead stare at us.

“But you wouldn’t have to worry, dear,” Oskar resumes, running a hand through my hair after brushing Konrad aside, “with someone like me watching over you, you’d be safe as you are now. Safe and secure.”

The lust in his voice is palpable.

I say nothing, not because I’m restraining myself, but because I’m speechless, staring at Oskar aghast, wanting nothing more than to shove him out the window and face whatever retribution would come from Nic and Konrad afterwards.

The thug shrugs lightly, standing up as though he’d been having light conversation with me all this time. “Something to think about before tomorrow, no?”

He gives a nod to Konrad, who gives a rueful look and hesitates before withdrawing his groping hands and standing up, taking his place at Oskar’s side.

“Sleep well tonight, Katy,” Oskar says after finishing off the beer, tossing it into the box of baseball stuff. It lands on an autographed photo, and the frame cracks loudly. “We’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. It’s a big day for you, I think!”

I nod numbly. The thugs don’t wait for a response. They never wanted one: they’ve done what they came to do.

Nic opens the door as Oskar mutters something to him in Russian, and I can hear the three of them chattering to each other as they exit, slamming the door behind them so hard it rattles the windows.

Before I realize it’s over, I’m curled up into a ball on the couch, staring at the door after them. When the sounds finally die off, a sob bursts out of me, unable to be held back any longer. I bring my sleeves up to my face and cry into them, utterly shaken by how easily they invaded my home and touched me, just barely held back by their boss’s orders.

They can’t do this. They can’t do this. They can’t threaten me like this, why are they doing this to me? Why me?!

I don’t know how long I’m on the couch crying, but by the time I withdraw my sleeves, they’re soaked in my tears, and my chest feels sore. I suddenly feel ashamed of myself.

What, some goons come in and try to scare you, and you’re just gonna let them have the satisfaction of succeeding?
My shaking hands ball into fists, and my jaw clenches as my eyes look to the box of Dad’s stuff. I stand up and pad over to it, picking up the beer bottle and staring at the broken glass from the shattered frame.

Fine
, I decide,
they want to play this game? I’ll play
. I move back to the coffee table and pick the box of stuff up, accessing the sites where I’ve been posting all the items I’ve been trying to sell.

One by one, I start taking out Dad’s old stuff and listing them online.

Natalie was right, I discover before long: some of these old relics are worth a hefty sum. If those creeps think they’re going to march into my club tomorrow and use
me
as collateral, they’ve got another thing coming.