TAKING OVER TROFIM (Dominion of Brothers series Book 4) (32 page)

A copper-like tang resonated from the corner of his mouth and he licked at it, regretting it when the pungent sting of the split became relevant to the rest of the things he’d prefer not to be aware of.

Kissing Trofim was going to be a tad less than pleasant for a few days.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

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Trofim didn’t feel much better when he came in, but the row upriver to Washington Bridge had definitely taken the energy out of him. And while it may have felt good from the work out, he feared it also made him weaker against the turning knife in his gut. He couldn’t grasp why the worry he’d grown familiar with was suddenly turning Hell up in a storm of black choking bile. He patted his hip for his phone then remembered it was up in the locker room so turned back to the task of pulling his shell, and putting it away.

It was dark out, but someone had at least left the dock light on. Upstairs in the boathouse was lit and he could see the shadow of someone moving around up there. Perhaps some late shower fun, which wasn’t too uncommon for their boathouse.

The idea of some playful romping put a smile back to his lips as he was certain that Shay was going to want to take his pleasures of Trofim’s body when he got back.

He got the light kit off and packed away again, then set it by the door while he pulled the riggers from the shell and then set it up on its rack, lastly hosing it down.

It was quiet, maybe even too quiet. He should have been able to hear the guys upstairs. The boathouse was old and mostly wood. So sound, especially the shower play, had a way of making its way down to the dock. It was odd, but the footsteps pacing across the floor overhead told him there was definitely someone still here.

He grabbed the pelican case and headed up stairs for his locker.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

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Shay had finally regained his breath and sat up waiting for his father’s return. It never took the man long, he liked to hear his own rage, and the liquor encouraged him to stay pissed.

Only now, Shay’s watch said it’d been over two hours and he still hadn’t come down to duke it out.

He pushed up to his feet and climbed up the stairs, and peered under the door. It was quiet. Ben was usually up there pacing and grumbling about the lowlifes of American people. But Shay couldn’t hear anything.

“Hey goddammit! Come open the fucking door! I have to get to work!” Shay called through the door. “Hello? What the fuck?! This is ridiculous! Let me the fuck out of here!”

He tried the door, but like all the hundreds of times he’d tried before throughout his life it was locked. Not even a bit of wiggle from years of trying. His father kept his dungeon well maintained and inescapable. Shay succumbed to slamming his fists into the door, hoping to rouse his father to come for him, “GOD DAMN YOU, MOTHER FUCKER!!! LET ME OUT!”

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

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Sasha spotted the motorcycle in the parking lot of the boathouse as he rode shotgun in the ambulance as they crossed over Harlem river heading for Cambridge Hospital where he, Cliff and Ozzy were filling in for another EMT team, after a red-light runner plowed into them just two nights ago.

“Have fun, bro.” Sasha muttered to the window, knowing Trofim was there putting in some extra training to make up for the past couple of slips with missing practice. They had only six weeks left before their trip to D.C. for the National Selection Regatta and Pyotr allowed no room for slacking.

As they turned onto Harlem River Drive, he could now see the back of the boathouse and it looked as though all the shells were in the rack. Lights were still on upstairs, and the bike was parked under the street lamp in the parking lot. Sasha dismissed it, figuring Trofim was already in and just showering up.

The motorcycle
, he nearly chuckled to himself, turning away before he got a crick in his neck. The bike was definitely something to ponder.
It was any wonder that Shay even let Trofim ride one at all. But Sasha knew when you had nothing, and little means to do anything about it with, then you made do with what was available. Even if it meant getting a loaner from a brother. Shay’s next to nothing income was understandable. As an intern he was lucky if he was even pulling in minimum wage. But it was always a bit baffling to Sasha that Trofim wasn’t sitting up on easy money being a super model and all. So it seemed puzzling his older brother was running on such a tight budget and not enough to keep both he and Shay afloat better until Shay was able to draw in a higher income, which was only a matter of time. After all he knew what kind of money his brother Pavle made. Sasha recalled having asked once about why Trofim didn’t have a car and he simply said he’d never really needed. But perhaps winning the race had changed his mind, in order to get to practice on time. Maybe that was the arguing edge Trofim presented to Shay to validate him on a bike.

New York was the city that never sleeps. The train and the taxis never stopped shuffling people around. Hell at 1:
30 in the morning when the Broadway show let out, you had a traffic jam that could hold you hostage for the next two hours. Except the buses. Most of those did go to sleep. That’s when you had to decide which was safer: riding a motorcycle or walking to where you were going from West Bronx?  Sasha knew he wouldn’t let his boys walk anywhere.

“Hey!”

Sasha broke from his thoughts and glanced back over his shoulder to Cliff who was bugging his eyes out at him, “What?”

“I asked you a question.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, where were you?”

Sasha shook his head clear. “Thinking about stuff that has no importance in life.”

“You think important stuff?”

“Shut up, asshole.” Sasha turned back forward in the ambulance but something churned in his stomach and he found himself glancing back out the window, back towards the boathouse that had fallen into the distance. The motorcycle barely visible, but now he could see a white SUV parallel parked along the front of the boathouse that he didn’t recognize.

Something didn’t feel right.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

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Shay pulled out his cell phone and tried to call Trofim. He’d think of something to say so Trofim wouldn’t worry. It was bad enough Trofim knew Shay had allowed his father to do this to him. Living with the humility and the scars that reminded him every day of what he had endured. He never told anyone but Trofim about the beatings. For what and to what ends? He’d heard plenty of people, guys especially, talk all the big stuff about they’d never let anyone abuse them when they would see the victims come into the ER. But those naysayers didn’t know what it was really like. They didn’t know how easy it was for someone to trap you. Or the shame that came with it that kept your mouth shut.

Shay loved Trofim more than anything and by complying with his father, he’d been able to protect the man he loved from harm. People just didn’t understand that. Shay would only comment:
You can’t measure a man’s heart until you understood what he’s endured to be there
.

But he didn’t plan to leave Trofim to worry further over it. Once Shay was out of here tonight, it would be for the last time. He would never be coming back up here again.

He dialed but one ring and it went straight to voice mail, “Hey babe. Taking longer to get home so I’m just going to head straight for work. Just wanted to let you know I’m okay. I’ll see you in the morning, promise.” His phone beeped in his ear and he glanced at it to see the battery was down to its last percentage, “Well battery is about to go. Hey? How do you say I love you in Serbian?” The phone beeped again and he hung up then turned it off to save what drop of life it had left just in case.

The upstairs was still quiet, so Shay went back down to the bottom of the steps reaching out until has hands found the wall. Down here with no light, Shay was completely blind but he knew the way. He made his way across the room, fingers brushing along the painted cinder block wall as he went, knowing it was a trustworthy guide. There was nothing else down here except for what was along the far wall on the other side. And the haunting memories of what they brought.

His toe hit the desk, announcing he had arrived, and he spread his arms out finding the old table top machine. A machine capable of putting out some serious electricity and pain. It was 80’s horror story stuff, not even high tech like a hospital defibrillator.
Perhaps he could send one to his dad for Christmas next year as a joke.

Another toe, another desk leg, then his knee hit a stool.
Almost there— just on the other side of it.
His eyes strained with a futile effort to see nothing but more black on black and it made his head hurt. Or maybe the couple of punches he got did that, or the dance routine down the stairs did it. Either way, it hurt, and he still couldn’t see shit. He bent down, reaching down along his leg finding the stool, and used it as a pivot as he shuffled around it until his foot hit the wooden door leaning up against the wall. His ears became filled with the haunting memory of his own cries as he called out in pain as he endured his father’s abuse and the crack of his father’s belt.

Shay pushed his hands out, feeling through the air until he felt the rough worn surface of the barn door. He closed his eyes, tuning into the finer details that passed under his fingertips. Then he felt what he was looking for. Scratches made into the wood of the upper left corner. “There you are.” He traced the indented shape he’d scratched out with his fingernail five years ago. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me.” He whispered and leaned in, resting his cheek against the door, his fingers caressing over the lines over and over again.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

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Their shift now over, they were heading home, Sasha glanced over out of habit as they crossed Macomb’s Dam Bridge his eyes catching the boathouse, but something was terribly out of place and that usually meant something was wrong. While the strange white SUV he’d spotted earlier was gone, Trofim’s motorcycle was still in the parking lot. Sasha popped Ozzy on the arm, “Hey, pull over there for a sec, would ya? Something’s up.”

“Sure.” Ozzy made the left turn when they made it across the bridge, then pulled into the parking lot of the boathouse.

Cliff was suddenly poking his head through from the back, “What’s up? Why we stopping?”

“I just want to check it out.  Trofim’s bike is still in the parking lot. It’s not like him. I mean, it’s four in the morning.”

“Maybe he just didn’t want to sleep in an empty bed at home?”

“Maybe, but that’s not like Trofim. Shay always works graveyard. It’s hardly a new thing. I just want to make sure everything is okay. Won’t take but a sec.” Sasha finished off just as Ozzy pulled to a stop, and Sasha hopped out and headed up stairs.

The first thing that alerted him was the door wasn’t even locked. Even if Trofim had decided to sleep there, he would have known to lock the place up. The second thing was half way up the stairs the pungent smell of sex met him, and he knew damn well the only one Trofim would be having sex with would be Shay, and Shay’s car wasn’t outside. Something went off in Sasha’s chest, his stomach twisted into a massive ball of nerves that screamed:
get to him
. And he took the remaining steps up by twos until he topped the flight.

The dim lighting in the front locker hall showed no signs of trouble but the light coming from the other locker room and the running water from the shower beyond that did. Sasha quickly crossed the way and stepped into the shadowed room, the light overhead was off, but the next was on. What he saw ripped his guts out and he ran crying.

“TROFIM!”

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CHAPTER THIRTY

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“OH GOD— oh god no!” Sasha cried out trying to undo the mess of twine and wire, but couldn’t get them to come loose. He jumped back to his feet and nearly fell down the stairs while trying to get his phone out. Tears and rage blinded him even as he hit the door and cried out, “CLIFF! Get the first aid kit! Get everything! HURRY!”

“
911, what’s the emergency?”
A female voice came over the phone in Sasha’s hand.

“Yes, this is Sasha Laszkovi onsite EMT with Queens medic advance transports. I need to report an attack on a male victim and request immediate presence of paramedic and police. Victim is alive but critical inside the boathouse in Malcomb Park.”

Sasha heard the footsteps come running up behind him, just as he made it to the top and he ran and dropped down beside his brother’s body hunched over one of the benches with his arms and legs bound to the bench legs. He still had his clothes on however his shorts had been yanked down around his thighs and there was no ignoring what had been done to him. Sasha shook, trying to decide what to do, and finally dropped his hand into the mess of black curls until he found his brother’s neck. “OH god!!!” He wailed, “He has a pulse, but it’s weak!”