Page 57 of Taming Mika

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MIKA

As I rise from a deep and dreamless sleep, I’m amazed at how well-rested I feel. The same familiar bird song I woke to yesterday bursts to life outside the large picture window of the Carvers’ old house. Today, the space feels more like it belongs to Alfie than it did the day before—and in the first foggy moments of consciousness, I’m struck by how deeply content I am. Then, as I open my eyes and see the empty pillow beside me, reality starts to sink back in. Alfie’s gone, and from a quick glance toward the bathroom, I can assume he’s already gone for the day. Rolling over, I look out the window to find it’s barely daybreak. He must have gotten a very early start. I’m an early riser—it comes with the job—so the fact that he beat me out of bed means he must have something pressing to deal with.

I, on the other hand, am supposed to just stay inside all day, being useless and safe while Javier and Hector clean, feed, and water a full stable of horses on their own. At least, that’s what I told Alfie I would do. Sighing, I flop onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. I don’t think I can do it. The guilt is already gnawing a hole in my stomach, and I’m not good at sitting still, even when Idon’tfeel like I’mneglecting the animals or abandoning the two loyal men who stayed to take care of them.

I weigh the pros and cons of doing as I was told. I know Alfie has the barn under armed guard—something he assured me of multiple times last night. So even if I did sneak over to help, I would be safe. On the other hand, when Alfie finds out I disobeyed him, he won’t be happy. Then again, over the last few days, I’ve been coming to the conclusion that some things are worth the risk of angering him—especially when Alfie’s forms of punishment continue to prove as pleasurable as they are painful, if not more so.

Slipping out of bed, I head to the small suitcase of clothes I packed and dig out a fresh set of jeans and a loose-fitting black tee, before heading to the bathroom for a quick shower. I’m in and out in fifteen minutes, quickly brushing my teeth and tying my damp curls up into a messy bun before applying a layer of sunscreen.

I hold my breath as I open the door to the bedroom, hoping Alfie didn’t station any guards to follow me around the house since he’s gone. For a second, I think I’m in the clear—the hallway is empty—and I step out of the master bedroom, closing it quietly behind me. I catch the sound of muffled voices just around the corner, near the stairs, and I creep closer, hugging the wall to avoid being seen.

“—probably in that meeting for most of the morning,” one man says, his voice rough and hoarse, like that of a smoker.

“My news can wait then. If it’s about the Kapranovs, he won’t appreciate an interruption.” The second voice sounds younger, smooth, and strong.

I don’t recognize either, but there are so many new faces around the barn from the reinforcements Alfie brought in; that’s not surprising. All I can tell is that neither is one of the main Men in Black who always shadows Alfie, which is a relief. I suspect they would be a lot harder to slip past. From the sounds of it, Alfie’s already in a meeting, trying to deal with the Nikolai situation, so I won’t have to worry about him coming back and finding me missing right away.

The voices fall silent, and I hold my breath as I risk peeking around the corner. The one guard is alone now as the other headsback down the stairs. The remaining guard paces restlessly, glancing over the railing on each pass. He has a handgun tucked beneath his suit jacket, which I catch a glimpse of as he reaches up to run his fingers along a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

He needs a smoke,I realize.

Someone must have told him not to do so in the house, but his addiction is like a devil on his shoulder, constantly reminding him of what he craves. Maybe he’s been on the night shift and hasn’t had a break in hours. I glance down at my wristwatch, wondering when someone might come to relieve him. Maybe I can wait until then and slip past while they’re distracted. The guard removes the cigarette from its resting place, flicking it between his fingers as he pauses by the stairs, seeming to silently debate, and my heart skips a beat.

I can’t be that lucky, can I?

He huffs, tucking the smoke back behind his ear as he resumes his restless walking, and I duck quickly back behind the corner as he turns to pace in my direction. Keeping my back against the wall, I consider my different options. I could climb out a window, though I imagine that would be pretty obvious with so many guards watching the house. I listen to the agitated footsteps of my guard and debate whether I should just make my presence known and pretend I’m going down for breakfast, but I imagine that as soon as I do, I’ll have a tail for the day.

The footsteps pause again, and I glance quickly around the corner to find him at the top of the stairs. He hesitates, his gaze flicking in my direction, and I jerk back, hoping he didn’t see me. Then relief floods my chest as I hear the clatter of feet descending the stairs. He’s decided to give himself a smoke break.

I wait until I catch the distant click of a door opening before I creep forward to the landing overlooking the foyer. I can see my guard’s shadow through the frosted glass of the side light, but no one is in the entryway.

Jumping into action, I creep down the stairs as quickly as I can without making noise, and I duck to the right, slipping into the dark drawing room before anyone notices. I’m only vaguely familiar withthe layout of the house from the dinner Alfie insisted I participate in the day he bought the barn, but I know that the door across the room leads toward the dining room. I head that direction, certain I can make it to the kitchen that way.

The dining room is empty as well, though the long table has been set for breakfast. I cross the room, heading toward the door where the staff entered to serve our meal. That dinner feels like a lifetime ago—so much has happened in the past few weeks. The kitchen is bustling with activity when I ease the door open, but no one seems to be paying attention to anything but their task at hand as they prepare food. Doing my best to appear like I belong, I stroll casually toward the back door, and to my intense relief, no one even looks up to question my presence.

I slip outside and immediately have to duck behind the bushes to the side of the doorway as another of Alfie’s men turns toward the sound of the kitchen door closing. Crouching, I stay hidden to watch as he frowns, approaching the door. I creep around the bush, keeping it between me and the guard to stay out of his line of sight. He peers inside the paneled windows of the kitchen door, his expression baffled as he tries to make sense of what he heard. I take advantage of the moment, staying low as I sneak away, using the cover of the well-maintained landscape and the dim light of early morning to hide my movement.

As soon as I make it past the perimeter of the house, my escape becomes a lot easier. It would seem most of the men have been stationed to guard it, and while I’m grateful for it because that makes getting to the barn easier, I also wish Alfie would have shown more concern for the protection of the horses.

I stay on my guard, ready to duck behind cover if anyone crosses my path, but I’m in luck, because I don’t pass another person on my way to the stable. Javi and Hector must have already started feeding—the alley lights are on, shining out through the open stall windows that allow the horses a view outside. The floodlight at the barn entrance casts an eerie golden glow on the crimson stain marking where Joel died. I swallow hard, a fresh wave of tears tightening mythroat at the memory of watching my reliable transporter crumple lifelessly to the ground.

The reminder, combined with the quiet stillness of the early morning, gives me the creeps, and I wrap my arms around myself as a violent shudder racks my body. I’m used to all the hands being here by now, the energetic activity of caring for a barn first thing in the day—with only two grooms, the space feels deserted, hostile even. A shrill whinny makes me jolt, and I release a breathy laugh as I realize I’m being ridiculous. I step inside the open barn door, releasing a breath as I successfully reach my destination without getting caught.

My stomach drops, the hair rising on the back of my neck as I’m met with an unexpected scene—Javi and Hector sitting back to back in the middle of the alley. It takes a second for my brain to register the rope tying them together and binding their hands at the waist. Cloth gags trapped between their teeth muffle their protests as they look at me with wide-eyed panic, trying fruitlessly to tell me something.

That’s when I spot the pile of bodies.

I freeze, my body tensing as my hands fly to my mouth to cover my scream. It’s Alfie’s men—more of them than I can easily count—stacked unceremoniously against a stall door. They’re all dead, their eyes staring lifelessly around the space, their blood spreading across the cement in a grizzly pool of crimson. I can smell it in the air—the coppery tang of death—and it makes me gag. Horrified, I take an involuntary step back, realizing a moment too late why the barn felt too quiet.

My skin crawls as someone steps from the shadows of my open office door—Nikolai Kapranov. The towering Russian sneers as he approaches, a gun held casually by his side. Chills ripple across my flesh as his men step out of the shadows to surround me, cutting off the chance for escape, and the soft chorus of guns cocking makes my heart stop for a full second.

“There she is. Theshlyukhawho’s causing me so much trouble,” Nikolai drawls, his thick Russian accent making him sound bored.

“W-What—How—” I can’t seem to catch my breath as panic starts to set in, and I glance around, my flight response kicking inwith full force. There are far too many guns aimed in my direction. If they decide to shoot, there’s no way they won’t hurt a horse or one of the grooms, and my blood runs cold as I realize just how badly I messed up. I disobeyed Alfie again, and this time, I walked right into Nikolai’s hands.

“You realize that while you’ve become a thorn in my side, in the end, you’re nothing but a piece of ass. You’re disposable, and I won’t let you stand in the way of this alliance.” The Russian’s voice is calm and even, but the violence glinting in his eyes looks half-crazed, like he’s searching for any excuse to put a bullet in my brain. “This marriage between Alfie and my daughter will give me influence like nopakhanhas accomplished in New York’s history. I will have control over every borough, and I won’t let some greedy, gold-diggingwhoreget in my way.”

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