Several texts from my brother, and another from my father.
“Fuck,” I say. I get up, arm still around Sierra. She squeaks as I lift her up.
“Kotya?” Nikolai asks, quirking a brow at me.
“My father wants me to call him. The same bullshit, I bet.” I walk over to Nikolai and drop Sierra onto the couch with him before swapping to English, “Enjoy the rest of lunch. You can give Sierra the tour, Nikolai. Make sure she understands which parts of the house she does—and does not—belong in.”
I don’t miss the way she perks up at that, but I don’t have the time or inclination to caution her again. If she wants to get herself into trouble, I don’t mind punishing her.
Nikolai takes the none-too-subtle hint and grabs Sierra by the wrist, pulling her up. “Let’s go.”
Sierra glances at me, frowning as she examines me. I don’t know what she sees, and I don’t have time to wonder, either.
The call with my father is far more important than our newest acquisition.
FIVE
Yuri
I stareat Nikolai through the flimsy glass. For some reason, the prison guards don’t trust the two of us in the same room, so we can’t have nice intimate chats like some of the other prisoners do with their friends.
The plastic telephone receiver is heavy and familiar in my hand.
“I’m out next week,” I tell him, as if he doesn’t know already. “You didn’t have to show up here.”
“Well,” he says, flashing me a grin that looks… nervous somehow. “I had something I wanted to tell you before you got out. We, ah, acquired something you might be interested in.”
I give him a bored look. I don’t like the uncertain tone. That means he thinks I’m not going to like whatever it is.
“I’ve been stuck here for the past two years,” I say, switching to Russian, motioning around me. “Whatever you got me, it’s gotta be more interesting than the same ol’ shit I’ve been dealing with here.”
Yeah, the feds probably have Russian-speakers on hand, but I know that none of the local guards understand more thandaandnyet. If they did, they would have been a lot more offended when I cursed them out in Russian.
Nikolai’s Russian has come a long way in the years I’ve known him, and he replies in kind, “Probably. I doubt you’ve seen anything like this, for instance.”
He slides a folder through the slot beneath the glass, and I quirk a brow before slowly opening it to see a positively pornographic picture of cum dripping out of a woman’s well-fucked cunt.
It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to see any kind of porn, and while I’ve messed around with other prisoners to get the edge off, it’s nothing compared tothisbeauty of a wrecked hole.
This is, of course, not allowed, but Nikolai could’ve charmed anyone into letting him bring it through.
“Nice,” I say, trailing my finger over the picture. I flip to the next picture. Somebody is holding her legs up, and from how large and hairy that arm is, my bet is Kotya. “Wish I’d been there. Did she scream when Kotya impaled her?”
“She screamed when we marked her,” Nikolai says slyly — though I can still see the tension in his shoulders. He’s still holding something back. “Because she is ours now. Mine, Kotya’s… yours, too.”
That has me raising my brows. “Really? You just picked a random cunt off the streets and claimed her? What if I don’t like her?” I flip to the next picture, which is of the brand right above her bare breast.
At least her tits are nice, too. Not too large, not too small. A perfect little handful. That’s always been my type.
Nikolai hesitates. “Keep going,” he tells me, evading the question as he gestures to the folder.
I shrug and go through a few more pictures of the girl’s body. Something nags at me though, something familiar about her size and frame. It’s the swell of her breasts, the curve of her ass.
The last picture is the only one that has her face on it.
The blood freezes in my veins.
“What the fuck?” I say, staring down at the face of Sierra Winters. She’s not wearing makeup, there are tears streaking her cheeks, and her black hair is shorter than the last time I’d seen her, but that is definitely her.