The Enemy in My Bed by L.K. Shaw
Chapter 13
Mila
Bile rises in my throat.For almost three months I was inside Mikhail’s estate, watching his every move, and all that time he was selling more women? How had I not known?
“Mila,” Pierce’s sharp voice penetrates through my horror.
I glance up and he’s squatting in front of me, with one of those gentle, cruel, hands cradling my cheek. The nausea slowly lessens.
“What just happened?” he asks. “You completely blanked out.”
“I didn’t know about the women. I swear I didn’t.”
His gaze bores into mine, and he lets out a sigh. “You never heard anything about who he was selling women to or where he was holding them?” The question is asked far more gently than the last ones.
“The only thing I ever heard him discussing was merchandise. I had no idea what he was talking about.” I gasp and cover my mouth. “Oh god.”
Vomit rises again. “If I had known, I would have tried to help them. I wouldn’t have just let him hurt other women.”
“Did he ever mention where he kept this merchandise?” Pierce asks.
“He talked about some house in Brighton Beach. Near the water.” Anya. “Wait, Mikhail did mention a man named Krzysztof whenever they were talking about selling the product.”
“Fuck,” he says, breaking our connection and rising to his feet. He paces in front of me, running a hand through his hair.
“What? Who is that?”
Pierce glances in my direction. “Polish mafia. They’re one of the biggest leaders in the trafficking industry in Brooklyn. If Mikhail was working with him, this changes things. Are you sure you can’t remember anything else?”
Do I dare? What if he canhelp? I shift nervously. “I wasn’t entirely truthful when I told you why I’d gone to Mikhail’s estate. It wasn’t for revenge. At least, it didn’t start out that way.”
He comes to a stop, his expression going cold again. “What did it start out as?”
“I was there looking for my sister.” It actually feels good to get that confession off my chest. “I didn’t have any proof, but I just knew Mikhail had something to do with her disappearance.”
Pierce returns to his seat. “Why would you think he had anything to do with it?”
“One night, when I was five years old a man showed up at our house. I’d never seen him before in my life. He and mama disappeared into her bedroom for hours. They just left me in the living room with my doll.” My voice drifts off. The memory is crystal clear in my mind as though it only happened yesterday. I remember feeling so alone in that moment. “After he left, I asked who he was. She told me it was none of my business.”
“It was Mikhail?”
I look up at Pierce and nod. “Yes, although I didn’t find out until much later. He showed up every night, and each time he took my mother back to her room. I don’t know how long he’d been coming before my sister was born.”
He leans forward in the chair, forearms resting on his knees. “Did your sister know Mikhail was her father?”
“She found out a year ago. Right after he killed our mother. My sister didn’t take it well. Started acting out. Arguing with me over every little thing. The typical seventeen-year-old behavior that, until then, she’d never exhibited.” I laugh, but it’s bitter sounding. “One night, we got into a huge argument. She said she was going to find Mikhail. I tried talking her out of it, but it was no use. She stormed out of the house and didn’t come home.”
“And you’re sure he’s the one who killed your mother?”
“I’m positive.”
“How so?” Pierce asks.
I take in a deep breath. “Because I saw him.”
He sits back in his chair. Silence hangs heavy in the air between us. “Did he know that?”
“No. I’d just gotten home from taking my sister to a friend’s house. I stepped through the front door, and I heard them yelling. I snuck into my room. A few minutes later, there were several popping noises. I crept to the door and cracked it open in time to see Mikhail leaving my mother’s bedroom. He never even glanced in my direction. I waited about ten minutes to make sure he wasn’t coming back before I went in and checked on her.” Tears well, and I swallow around the lump in my throat. “She was just lying in a pool of blood, staring up at the ceiling.”
My eyes meet Pierce’s. “My first thought was that I was glad she was dead. I hated that woman. She was a terrible person and an even worse mother.”
He doesn’t say anything for several minutes, and I look away.
“I hate my mother, too.”
I jerk my head in his direction, and he’s the one not meeting my gaze.
“I wouldn’t feel too guilty over it. Some women shouldn’t be mothers. Don’t feel bad that you’re glad yours is gone. I know I wouldn’t.” He shrugs then clears his throat. “Anyway. Did you ever find your sister?”
“No. I was told she’d been sold to this Krzysztof guy. But it could have been a lie.” I take in a shuddering breath and drop my eyes to where my fingers twist in a nervous gesture on my lap. “She could be dead, for all I know.”
“Who sold her?”
I jerk my head up at the question. Only seconds ago, Pierce’s expression was blank, but it’s so full of rage that my body shakes in fear. I haven’t seen that look on his face since the first day in the stark room he’d held me in.
“Mikhail,” I spill the name in a trembling whisper.
I’m so confused by this man. One moment he’s hard. Angry. The next he’s kind. Not necessarily gentle, but almost tame. Like a wild animal, lashing out at those who hurt him. Which only makes me want to know who hurt him.
“You said he discovered your disguise. How?”
“I was careless,” I say. “I’d snuck into one of the communal shower rooms late one night. It was the only time I had privacy. I couldn’t go in there with the rest of the men so I had to wait until everyone inside was sleeping.”
“And someone saw you.” It isn’t a question.
“Yes.”
There’s a lull of silence. “Can I ask you something?” I speak up.
“I may not answer.”
Of course not. It doesn’t fit his agenda. “Why do you hate Mikhail so much? I mean, I know why you hate the Russians in general. They’re your enemies. But your hatred seems to be… more. Toward him, specifically. I’m curious if there’s a reason.”
Pierce doesn’t immediately respond. I continue to wait, since he hasn’t outright rejected answering me.
“Seven years ago, the Russians kidnapped my sister,” he says to my utter surprise. I’d been sure he wouldn’t tell me. “They held her for five days before we found her. She’d been beaten and raped. We killed every single one of them at the estate that day, except for one of her rapists. Him, I took with me to the warehouse room.”
I shudder thinking about that cold, dank room he’d first put me in. I picture the chains. The drain. Pierce must notice my reaction, because a satisfied expression crosses his face. “He was my guest for days. Did you know that there’s nothing more satisfying that looking your enemy in the face as you slowly make him bleed? Make him pay for the pain and suffering he caused the only person in the world you love?”
In that moment, I actually feel a sort of kinship with him. No doubt, I would have felt the same sort of satisfaction from killing Mikhail as Pierce did from killing one of the people who hurt his sister. It’s why I wanted to be the one to kill him. For what he did to Anya.
“I see you do,” he says. “Before I slit his throat, he told me that Mikhail was the one behind my sister’s kidnapping. That he took his turn with her first, and then he allowed his men to follow suit. That is why I hate him. Because he took an eighteen year old girl’s innocence.”
“I’m sorry.”
Pierce’s eyes meet mine.
“I’m sorry for what happened to your sister,” I repeat. “Mikhail deserved to die, and I’m glad he’s dead.”
“You wanted to be the one to kill him though. Didn’t you?”
My eyes widen in surprise. “How can you tell?”
“Because you have that same hatred burning from your eyes. That same tension in your frame that you didn’t get the satisfaction you think you deserved. You wanted revenge, and you didn’t get it.”
I shook my head. “No, I didn’t. I wanted to see the look on his face when I killed him. I’ll never get that chance now. Your boss took that from me when he shot Mikhail. I understand why he did it, but I’ll never forgive him for it.”
