Cruel Enforcer by Maggie Cole

12

Sergey

"I leftmy purse on the chair out in the bar," Kora says.

We just finished showering and put our clothes on.

"It'll still be there. Promise," I reply.

She puts her arms around my shoulders, stroking the back of my neck. Nervousness enters her eyes, but she asks, "Do you want to stay over when you drop me off?"

I've told myself a thousand times to keep my distance, not to take her to my house, and to hightail it out of her building after she's secure in her condo. I didn't expect her to ask me to stay. Before I can talk myself out of it, I cave. "Yes."

She smiles, and my heart soars.

I kiss her again. "Let's get out of here."

I lead her out of the club and into the bar. There's a couple where we were sitting, but it's too dark to see who until we get closer. I plan on grabbing Kora's purse and leaving when my gut drops. I protectively step in front of Kora. The blood in my veins heats with rage.

Eloise is on top of the man and turns. In her thick, French accent, she arrogantly says, "Sergey." She's mostly naked, wearing only a thong.

I don't care if Eloise is here, or that she's about to screw another man. What gets me is whose lap she sits on.

Rage fills me when a sinister smile appears on Wes Petrov's face. "I didn't know they let filth in the club." He tilts his head toward Kora, and his expression turns cockier. "You want to join us?"

Eloise scowls at her.

I push Kora farther behind me. I pick up her purse and hand it to her. "Go wait for me by the elevator."

Her eyes widen, but she obeys.

When she's far enough away, I turn to Eloise. "What are you doing?"

Wes grabs the back of her knees and tugs her closer to him. "She likes real Russian cock, don't you?" He runs his finger down her cheek, and she slightly shudders. "Go on and tell him."

Eloise turns her head. She purses her lips. Her eyes swirl as if she's high and pissed. It's a look I've seen too often. It's one I don't miss being at the end of, and as much as I don't have any desire to be with her anymore, my insides shake.

What is she doing with him?

We've run into Wes before. We were at an event. It was one of the rare times she had me escort her to a work party.

She knows who he is and what he is part of.

Wes and I exchanged words at her event. When we left, I warned Eloise he was bad news. I told her he was part of the Russian mafia.

Why would she get involved with him?

How long has this been going on?

I need to get Kora out of the club. His thugs will be here, too.

"I wish you the best, Eloise."

I start to leave but stop when Wes shouts, "Ivanov."

I pause and turn.

"Did your brother and his whore like my gift?"

My fists curl at my thighs. The madame of the club comes up to me and touches my back.

I freeze from the small touch near my spine, and my skin crawls.

"Mr. Ivanov. It's been a while. How are you?" she asks.

"Just leaving," I bark, turn back to Eloise, and say, "I'm not sure what game you're playing, but you chose the wrong pawn." I leave and quickly am at Kora's side. We say nothing and step into the elevator. I hold her tight to my side and text my driver to meet us out front.

Was Eloise seeing him when she was with me?

I need to talk to Obrecht.

I tell my driver to go to Kora's.

She quietly asks me, "Was that Eloise Boucher? The French runway model?"

"Yes," I mumble and focus on texting Obrecht.

Me: I'm calling you in the next ten minutes. Pick up when I do.

Obrecht: You all right?

Me: Just pick up when I call.

I can't wait to kill Wes.

Zamir is next.

"Is she your ex?" Kora asks.

I snort and turn toward her. "If you can call it that." My chest tightens.

I need a hit.

I grab my pipe and light it, taking a deep inhale. I offer it to Kora and crack the window, slowly releasing the smoke.

She shakes her head. "No, thanks."

I fire off a text to Adrian.

Me: Are you home?

Adrian: Yeah.

Me: At your house?

Adrian: Yep.

Me: I'll be over soon.

"Eloise is who you used to go to the club with?" Kora quietly asks.

"Unfortunately," I mumble.

"How long did you date?"

"Too many years."

Silence fills the car, and I focus on the passing buildings, trying to calm my insides.

"When did you break up?"

I toss my phone on the seat. "Not too long ago. Can we not talk about Eloise?"

"She was with Wes Petrov," she quietly states.

"In the flesh."

I take another hit, trying to calm my rage. All I can think about is making sure Wes Petrov pays for almost killing Aspen and all the other years I've dealt with him. Seeing Eloise on his lap, practically naked, makes me worry about what their alliance could be.

Was she playing me this entire time?

Did she only come to the wedding with me to spy on me?

Was I sticking my dick in her while Wes was, too?

Is Zamir a part of this?

Paranoia sets in, and my mind spirals. The car stops in front of Kora's building. I get out and reach for her.

We say nothing on the way to her condo. When she gets in, I kiss her on the cheek. "Have a nice night. Lock your door."

Her eyes widen. She quietly asks, "You aren't staying?"

"I'm sorry, I can't. I'll pick you up Sunday at four for the game."

"O-Okay." Hurt fills her face.

What am I doing?

I step forward, firmly hold her cheeks, and kiss her, flicking my tongue in her mouth until my dick's hard again. I press my forehead to hers and close my eyes. "Don't hold this against me. Please."

"Will you tell me why you can't stay?"

"I think you know why."

"Because of her?"

My eyes fly open. "No. I don't have any feelings left for her."

She doesn't look convinced.

"It's because of him. I thought you would understand this after he almost killed Aspen."

Worry fills her expression. She reaches for my cheek. "Sergey, what are you going to do?"

Instead of answering her, I kiss her again. "I have to go. I'll see you Sunday."

"Sergey—"

"Don't ask me questions about this, Kora." I peck her on the lips one last time and release her. "Lock your door."

I step into the hall, wait until I hear clicking, then leave. As soon as I get in my car, I call Obrecht.

"I know where he's at," I say in Russian.

He replies in Russian, too. "How?"

"Don't ask. I'll text you the address, but there's something else you should know."

"What?"

"Eloise is with him."

The line goes quiet.

Obrecht finally asks, "You want me to pick her up, too?"

"We need to know how long she's been seeing him. What if—"

"Sergey, don't jump to conclusions. I'll handle it. Let me talk to her, and I'll find out what she knows."

"Maybe I should—"

He grunts. "No. She'll respond to me. I'll handle it," he repeats.

"Okay. But if—"

"Sergey, don't spin out about this. I'm the right person to take care of this. You aren't, and you know it."

I sigh. "You're right."

"You tell Maksim you saw him?"

"No, not yet. Get the fucker to the garage before you tell Maksim. He's too hot right now."

"Got it. Send me the address."

I hang up, take another hit of my pipe, and go to Adrian's. My brothers are all with their women, and I don't want to disturb them. I hit the code for the penthouse and get out of the elevator. I knock on his door. He's in only a pair of shorts.

"Sorry. I don't even know what time it is. Were you asleep?"

A cocky expression appears. "No. I wasn't sleeping." He crosses his arms. "It's after two. What's going on?"

"I just talked to Obrecht."

"And?"

"Wes was at the club."

Adrian's eyes turn to slits. He scratches his cheek. "Are you still going there?"

Adrian is the only one who knows about the club. I took him there one time. We were on a double date with one of Eloise's model friends. I've never even told my brothers about my membership.

"No. I haven't been in almost a year. I have a month left and...well, it's a long story. But guess who was on Wes's lap?"

"Who?"

"Eloise."

Adrian's jaw clenches. "Tell me you're lying."

"No. Hey, can I come in and grab a water?"

He steps back. "Sorry. Come in." He turns to walk toward the kitchen.

"Jesus. What the fuck happened to you?" Fresh blood is welling in long scratches from his shoulder blades to the middle of his back.

Adrian glances at me with a smirk on his face. He licks his lips. He nods at the purse on his table.

I scan the room, but no one else is with us. I lower my voice and switch to Russian. "Shit. I'm sorry. You should have told me not to come over."

He hands me a bottle of water and continues in Russian, "It's fine. She needed a break."

"Might want to have her put some antiseptic on those scratches." I down half the bottle of water then peer closer. I tease, "Those might leave scars."

Adrian raises his eyebrows and purses his lips. "No offense, this is a nice visit and all, but break time's almost over. Is Obrecht taking care of Eloise, or do you want me to pick her up?"

"He said he'd handle it."

"Well, if anyone should talk to her, it should be him. He'll make her sing like a canary. I doubt she'll talk to me."

Obrecht has something about him women can't resist. He can get them to disclose their deepest secrets without ever breaking a sweat. And they all think he's their friend after. Since Eloise is female, we can't use our standard torture tactics.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow." I toss the empty bottle of water in the trash.

Adrian follows me to the door. "Kora went with you, didn't she?"

I don't reply.

"Tell me Wes and Eloise didn't walk in on you two in the dungeon."

"No. I didn't let anyone in. I kept the closed-session light on."

"Good. Those women are wild, but I don't think you should put her in the same boat as Eloise."

"I'm not."

"Are you sure about that?"

"What are you implying?"

"Kora doesn't seem to me to be the type of woman who would be okay with a roomful of people watching her get tortured."

"I know you don't like what Eloise and I were into—"

He holds out his hands. "I don't judge. You know me. I'm just telling you, Eloise fucked with your head. So don't let all her crazy shit make you think it's okay for Kora. I guarantee you it isn't."

I don't want to discuss anything I did with Kora with Adrian or even reminisce about Eloise. I nod to the purse. "Have fun."

Adrian's cocky smile appears. "Don't call me too early tomorrow."

I fist-bump him and leave. When I get in the car, my mind begins to spiral over Adrian's comment.

Kora seemed to like what we did tonight.

I didn't even touch the surface of what Eloise used to make me do to her.

Something in me didn't allow me to push past what we did tonight. I couldn't. I had resisted Kora long enough. All I wanted was to wrap around her and make her mine.

With Eloise, I would have had to wait. I would have had to spend hours utilizing more advanced tools and techniques to make her happy.

Insomnia plagues me all night. I draw and write all my random thoughts about Kora, Eloise, and Wes. By the time the sun comes up, I have a notebook full of gibberish. If one saw it, they might think I was a comic artist.

It should be therapeutic, but it's done nothing for my hatred toward Wes, his father, or even the growing disgust I have for Eloise.

My obsession with Kora builds, but I worry I'm making all the wrong moves with her. Adrian's comment sticks in my head. My past haunts me, swirling into my future. It's nothing new. Every day I breathe is about trying to escape the ghosts, but nothing ever works.

I throw on my workout clothes and go to the gym. When I step out, it's around noon. I talk to Leo for several moments and then I glance across the street. Kora steps out of the building and approaches two men on the corner.

My heart beats harder. I didn't leave things the best with her last night. It's another thing I regret. The Petrovs create a craziness inside me. It makes me unable to think clearly. "I'll talk to you later. I'm going to go say hi to Kora."

"That's not her," Leo says.

"Sure it is—"

"Look at her clothes. Your girl doesn't dress that way."

I've never been with Kora in front of Leo for him to know we're together. But nothing ever seems to get past him. Instead of asking him how he knows, I study the other woman.

Leo's right. The woman across the street is in pajama bottoms and a jacket. I was so happy to see Kora, I didn't notice what she was wearing. The woman's features are strikingly similar to Kora's. She's smoking a cigarette with two men, and one puts his arm around her. She holds the cigarette up to his lips, and he inhales.

"It must be her sister," I comment.

Leo points. "That's her mother's place. She doesn't like Russians though."

"Why do you say that?"

Leo snorts. "Her mother tells me every time she walks over here to get her lotto tickets." He references the convenience store next to our gym then motions to Kora's sister. "That sister over there is trouble. If your girl is related, watch out."

"Why? What has she done?"

"Nothing to report. It's the vibe I get. But mark my words, she's trouble."

Kora's sister stumps out her cigarette, the man pats her ass and kisses her, and she goes inside.

I survey the street. The boarded-up windows and bars over glass aren't a new sight for me. I'm in this neighborhood daily. It's rougher than the one I grew up in. When Dmitri discovered the bid for the new government housing contract, my brothers and I were all happy about the neighborhood revitalization. The buildings are a fire hazard waiting to happen. My brothers and I all believe no matter your economic status, you deserve safe housing. It's a short-term inconvenience for the residents.

My parents did everything they could to make sure we had a safe home. A group of men in our community would make sure repairs were made on others' homes when needed. My brothers helped, but I was too young to do much. They also reiterated my father's rule that we stayed out of trouble and concentrated on school. Getting out of our situation was hard enough. I can only imagine what life was like for Kora growing up in this environment. The hurdles she had to overcome to get where she's at are next to impossible. It makes me respect her more.

What is her sister going to do with twenty thousand dollars?

Why wouldn't she tell Kora why she needs it?

Family is complicated. I know this too well. It's not my place to get involved with Kora's personal matters, but something doesn't feel right about the phone call she took at the hospital. Leo's words that her sister is trouble doesn't help the bad feeling in my gut.

"See you tomorrow," I tell Leo and get in my car. I smoke a joint on the way home. When I get inside my penthouse, I force myself to make a healthy breakfast. I begin doodling again until the several nights of not sleeping suddenly hit me. I pull the shades, shed my clothes, crawl into bed, and crash.

My insomnia creates vicious cycles for me. For days, I don't sleep, then when I do, my dreams are vivid. Sometimes they haunt me. Sometimes I have happy ones. Either way, I'm so deep in them, I can't escape. Nothing wakes me up until I get through whatever my mind is trying to torment me with.

My nightmares always end with Zamir. It's right after my mother's funeral. I'm a kid, and he's teaching me the lesson for ignoring his call and not coming to the empty warehouse. Four chairs face me. My brothers sit tied so they can't get out. Agony streaks through their faces, watching Zamir torture me. The fourth seat is for Zamir's son Wes to watch.

Zamir has me restrained by ropes at the ankles and wrists. I'm standing on my tip-toes, which is how he has us torture most men.

Zamir takes hours, cutting the skin on my back, then placing pieces of hot metal over it. He takes his time, slicing my skin first, then pressing the hot iron on it.

The pain almost makes me pass out, but I don't. Every time it becomes possible, Zamir knows to back off. I beg him to kill me and end it all. My brothers' screams echo in my ears, matching Wes's laugh. When Zamir finally finishes, he takes off his shirt and stands in front of me. In Russian, he says, "Let me show you what now marks you forever."

He turns. His back is a perfect tattoo of five-pointed stars and a circle around them. He yells with his arms in the air, "I am the devil. So are you. There is no escaping it. I own you, and when I call you, do not disobey."

It's always the part where I wake up. I don't remember the weeks following that event. All I know is what my brothers tell me they did to take care of me.

I'm full of sweat, shaking, with tears streaming down my face. It takes me several minutes to realize I'm awake. I go into the bathroom and shower. To torture myself further, I take a mirror and hold it out, looking at my back. Then I reach around and touch it.

My brothers made me get tattoos over the scars. The guy we all use is talented. He covered my entire back so the scars look like part of the design. It's abstract. It allows me not to wear a shirt. I get compliments instead of horrified looks, but nothing can fix the feel of the bumpy destroyed flesh.

It's why I prefer to restrain women. They can't trace the outlines or ask me about it. I didn't think when I sat on the edge of the bed in the dungeon. When Kora pressed her torso to it then put her warm arms around me, I freaked inside.

Once we got in the shower, I used the restraints on the ceiling and restricted her from touching me.

Eloise traced my scars once. It was one morning after a long night. I was still sleeping. When I woke up, I told her I was in a knife fight as a kid, then I flipped her on her back and did everything I could to make her think about her instead of me.

She never asked again. It shouldn't surprise me. Eloise is into Eloise. Something tells me Kora won't be as dismissive as Eloise, so I need to remember to keep her in front of me.

I throw the mirror in the drawer and change. I pick up the phone to text Kora and see how she's doing, but my phone says it's past three in the morning.

Figures. Just my luck. Another boring night to myself.

I grab my weed and papers and roll a joint. I take a puff when the phone rings.

"Boris, what's going on?" I answer.

"Sergey. Meet at Maksim's. We need to go to the garage." The line goes dead, which isn't unusual. He doesn't have to say anything else.

Obrecht picked up Wes. My night suddenly got a lot more interesting.