Page 38 of Nikolai

After spending longer than usual in the shower, I finish drying my body and pull on my sweatpants and tee. I was right. The shower went a long way in making me feel better. As I exit the bathroom, I stifle a yawn and toss the wet towel in the hamper sitting next to the dresser. The room is dark now that the sun has begun to set, so I turn on the TV. I can't see a thing on the screen, but the glow lights up the room, and I like having background noise to drown out my thoughts.

The moment the TV comes on, something sitting on the table beside the bed catches my eye. There is a black rectangular case that wasn't there before. I cut my eyes over to the door to see it's still closed. Walking over to the table, I pick up the box and sit on the edge of the bed. The box is not mine, but it is familiar. I've had one like it my whole life. I open the top and laying inside the case is a brand new pair of glasses. They are a deep purple color and more beautiful than any pair I've had before. The name on the case tells me they cost more than what I could afford too. With the glasses is a small folded piece of paper. With shaky hands, I unfold it, already knowing who they are from.

I thought you might need these, Malyshka.

~Nikolai

15

Nikolai

Shortly after my mother left town, I got word that Glory was threatened. I didn't hesitate to call my father, who insisted I remain in Polson. He also informed me the man who is now dead had a Russian accent. With strict orders, our men have the estate on lockdown, and The Kings have done the same at their compound, which makes the entire situation between Leah and me more complicated.

Not being able to sleep, I head for the gym to work out my frustrations. After a few hours of hitting the heavy bag, and running several miles on the treadmill, I'm no less tense than I was when I started. My concentration sucks. No matter what I do, thoughts of Leah plague me. I've tried to get her to listen to reason numerous times, calling and texting her to give me a chance to explain. All her doubts are the direct results of a spiteful woman. The bitch doesn't mean shit to me. Katya knew the terms of our interludes, and I thought I had made it clear more than a year ago that our little arrangement was over.

A short time later, I'm sitting in my office, going over contracts, and building permits when I receive a call from Jake. Already on edge with everything that is going on, my first thought is of Leah. "Jake."

"How's it going', brother?" Jake asks, and from the relaxed tone of his voice, I know his calling isn't an emergency.

"Work is keeping me occupied," I give a short pause before asking, "How is Leah?"

"Your woman is doing fine. Rest assured, she is safe." Jake clears his throat. "But that is not why I have called. I've gotten my hands on some information about Leah's father." The moment Jake makes mention of James Winters, I close the folder in front of me.

"You have my full attention."

"Seems our clean-cut, God-fearing, officer of the law likes to frequent a strip club a couple of towns over twice a month."

Leaning back in my chair, I run my hand through my hair. "You have the address to this club?" I ask.

"I do, and I'm texting the information as we speak," Jakes says, and my phone pings. "He's a creature of habit. Never misses an appointment. He'll be there tonight."

"I believe it's finally time I introduce myself." My body starts humming at the thought of coming face to face with Leah's abuser.

"Why don't you take one of my men with you," Jake offers. "You never know what kind of trouble you'll run into. The Kings have your back—always."

"Thanks," I tell Jake, knowing who I want at my side. "For everything," I add.

"No thanks needed. We're family."

After ending the phone call with Jake, I receive an email from my guy doing his own investigative work. Opening the email, I find what I'm looking at is Leah's medical records. Leaning closer to the computer screen, I scroll through page after page of her painful past. My woman suffered more than any child should ever have. Broken bones. A couple of concussions. Bruises. Why weren't these ever reported? An ache forms in my chest. Having seen enough, I turn off the computer and stand.

The monster inside of me seeks retribution for my woman, and I intend to give into its hunger.

Later that night, my brother and I sit in the smoke-filled strip club, the walls vibrating from the music as heavy bass passes through the speakers overhead. The room itself darkens, as one of the dancers finishes her routine on the stage. While we wait for our guest of honor to arrive, Logan flags a waitress to our table, located in the back of the room. "I don't believe I've seen you two here before," she hooks her thumb in the loop of her leather shorts. "You're not from around here, are you? What can I get for you?" she asks.

"A beer," Logan orders, not answering her first question.

"Sure thing," the young woman nods then looks at me, waiting for my reply.

"I'll have the same." She smiles and heads for the bar. When she returns, she sits the bottles on the table. "Which one is Trina?" I ask the waitress as my eyes travel around the room. Her eyes grow big for a moment before responding.

"Look, if you're here to start trouble, I'll get Robert over there," her head jerks in the direction of the bar, where a large man wearing a shirt with security written across the front stands, "to escort you out of the building." I study her face for a second. She's afraid.

"We are not here to harm her. She knows someone we would like to have a chat with."

She eyes my brother and me. "You're looking at her." The waitress straightens her back. Just as I suspected. I look at my brother then back to her.

"James Winters." The moment I speak his name, her body tenses, and she visibly swallows. When she doesn't talk, I continue. "You're afraid of him." It's not a question but a statement. "Which room?" I ask.

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