Page 31 of Claim Me (Dmitriyev Bratva #2)

M arissa

Power.

Strength.

Sadness.

Anger.

I relished the music, leaning into the piano as I allowed the revelation of my darkest place of passion to explode.

The song had all but written itself. I’d never had notes and harmonies pour out of me as I did in writing this piece.

All the rage and hatred, the sorrow and bitterness were revealed in the chords and notes I’d written, frantically finishing the piece within an hour after returning to the piano.

My chest and shoulders heaved as I sank my entire body into the music I’d created. It was magical, the most beautiful yet haunting piece I’d ever written. I was proud of the work even if the inspiration came from the worst possible scenario.

The intense, masochistic cravings for a man I should continue hating.

He’d used me. The feeling lingered even after several hours. Yet I’d seen the stark haunted look in his eyes. He was hurting the same way I was.

There was no way of hating him. Instead, I was angry with myself for behaving like a child. Grief or no grief, I had to trust my instincts. Charlie had wanted Kazimir here for a reason. I’d need to respect that. I couldn’t decide how to handle the resort. Not yet.

Pain tore through me, the grief as powerful as anything I’d felt in my life.

Except for the passion I’d felt with the handsome Russian.

My fingers flew down the keyboard, my arms pumping from the latest rush of adrenaline until I was pounding the keys. A single tear slipped from my eye, dropping ever so slowly. I didn’t bother wiping it away. My hands were already sweaty from exertion and bitterness.

What was another drop of liquid?

When two more slipped, I blinked furiously since my eyes were already hazy.

I’d looked at the goddamn flash drive reading every email several times, coming to fully understand and accept that my parents had also been murdered.

The goddamn casino was to blame. My entire family had been destroyed because of a dream my father had.

But to think I was to be used in a vicious game made me sick.

Had my father initially agreed? What about Charlie?

I knew he’d done everything to protect me, but things changed.

He’d been so fearful of my safety, almost happy that I’d been touring with one hundred and fifty other people who surrounded me all hours of the day and night.

Now I understood why he hadn’t tried to stop me from going on tour.

It was crazy.

And to think I’d almost met my stalker. Wait.

One of two stalkers. At least Kazimir had more class.

I mean, he had purchased dozens of expensive roses and the jewelry.

My God. How many hundreds of thousands of dollars had he spent?

The rage continued even as my arms grew tired, the exhaustion heightened by my emotional state.

I jerked my arms up, fisting both hands. Then I pounded them on the keys in a way I’d never done before. This wasn’t music. It was a declaration of hate, loud enough I didn’t just feel the music deep inside. The ugly, useless notes echoed in my ears.

A very loud knock interrupted my tantrum.

Breathless, I plastered a smile on my face and jerked up, taking long strides to the door. I knew I looked like some crazy person since I’d ripped at my hair, wiped half the makeup from my face, and was flushed all over, but I didn’t give a shit.

Take it or leave it.

I threw open the door and the poor guy standing only a few inches away jumped back by an entire foot. He had his hand against his cargo pants and the outline of the weapon he carried was laughable. If he thought he was hiding anything, he was nuts.

“Ms. Valentine.” For a big, tough guy who stood at least six and a half feet tall, his voice was that of a terrified eight-year-old.

“What?”

“Are you okay?” He swept his gaze into the room, his eyes falling to the flower petals and stems I’d yet to pick up from the mess I’d created.

“I’m fine. Don’t I look just dandy?” No, I had to calm down. It was time for a clearer head. If that was possible. I took several gasping breaths. “I’m sorry. I’m not upset with you.”

“I understand.”

“No, you can’t, but that’s okay.”

His voice was loud, so much so I wanted to smack him. He’d been told I was hard of hearing. At least his full lips made them easy to read. Maybe I should consider it a plus instead of feeling as if he was pitying me.

He opened his mouth, closing it immediately. Obviously, I’d shocked the hell out of him. Well, what a shame.

Exhaling, I chastised myself. What the hell was I doing? The men had been surrounding the house without much of a break for well over twelve hours while I remained in a comfy home.

“I’m sorry. I’m not usually so rude. Would you like something to drink? I didn’t get a chance to go to the grocery store before returning home, but I do have some soft drinks and bottles of water.”

His brow furrowed. The poor guy wasn’t used to some wayward chick he’d been assigned to protected being kind to him. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Oh, come on. Your boss has been gone for hours. What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” I knew he was saying something as I walked away and while I could hear several words, I purposely ignored them.

I wasn’t angry with this poor guy. I was furious with Kazimir, but even more so with myself.

No one and certainly no man had ever gotten under my skin the way the tall, gorgeous, and sexy Russian had done.

Shame on me. The person I should be furious with was this Russian mobster.

How ridiculous to think of Vlad whatever Popov as anything different than Kazimir. But perhaps I was wrong.

“Would you prefer a Diet Coke or a Sprite? I also have one Dr. Pepper.”

When he didn’t answer right away, I lifted my head, doing nothing more than giving him an imploring look.

“Dr. Pepper?”

“Good choice.” I handed it to him, grabbing a diet drink for myself.

Dr. Pepper was Charlie’s favorite soft drink.

Maybe offering the last can was some cathartic way of admitting his death.

I’d made a call to the crematorium that Charlie had selected.

He’d forced me to sit through an entire conversation of what he wanted after his death after my parents had…

died. The thought repulsed me even today.

With his death involving a horrific crime, it would take days to release the body. At least I knew.

“What’s your name?”

“Ryker.”

“You’re not Russian.”

He laughed. “No, I am not. I think the Dmitriyevs are glad I’m not.”

I leaned against the refrigerator. “I don’t believe that. You seem like a very capable man. I’m curious. What’s it like working for Kazimir?”

“I don’t really work directly for him. I work for… Mikhail Dmitriyev.”

“Ah, yes, the great Pakhan.”

Maybe the evil girl inside of me enjoyed surprising people. “Yes, the Pakhan.” He took a swallow of his drink, even more uncomfortable now that I was grilling him. Too bad. I had a feeling I’d gain more truthful information out of him than I would Kazimir.

“And exactly what do you do, Ryker? Do you clean up after all the dirty work or are you the kind of man who prefers getting your hands filthy?”

His laugh was half-hearted. “I watch the casino floors.”

“As a bouncer.”

“I’m part of casino security specializing in catching those trying to cheat the system. I’m also in charge of monitoring the security systems. The cameras often catch what the naked eye can’t. At least I get to use the training I received in the Marines.”

Now he surprised me. “Wow. Talented. That’s amazing.” As Kazimir had insisted, they were running a billion-dollar business.

“It does take a special level of training. Plus, I have a good eye. I can spot a person cheating from across the room.”

“How?”

“They always have telltale signs. Quirks. Facial tics. Hand movements. Nervous energy.”

“Fascinating. What do you do with those caught cheating?”

Ryker scratched his head. “It depends on the severity of the crime.”

“Mmm… You handle punishment in house.”

“Yes, sometimes.” He walked closer. “What is it you’re asking, Ms. Valentine? I mean no disrespect, but it seems as if you think we’re the criminals.”

“I don’t know what to think other than what I’ve read.”

“Don’t believe everything you read. My mama taught me that. She also would disown me if I was doing anything illegal.”

It was almost as if he’d been primed to try to make me feel better. In truth, his words manage to do just that.

His obvious love for his mother caused me to smile. “I’m glad to hear that. Who is Jasmine?”

When his facial expression hardened, I wanted to press.

“You’ll need to ask Mr. Dmitriyev, Kazimir about that. It’s a subject best kept private.”

“Perhaps the love of his life although I seriously doubt a man like Kazimir knows what love is.” Now I was being cruel. That wasn’t my personality.

“Ms. Valentine, again no disrespect, but you don’t know any of the Dmitriyev family at all. Do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then please try and remember they are people, decent and hardworking people with families. They provide a damn good living for all the employees. Ask anyone who works with them. They are great people to work for and treat all of us with respect. Everyone has the capability of feeling love, but sometimes when tragedy stomps on their emotions and what they believe in, it takes someone very special to crack open the locked door. I hope you know what I mean.”

His obvious respect was touching.

I thought about what he’d said and nodded. “Yes, I do. Very much so.” Although not in the way I knew Ryker had meant. Something about loving a woman had broken Kazimir’s heart. Jasmine.

He started to say something else when the door burst open and Kazimir rushed in, both his hands wrapped around his gun.

As if by instinct, Ryker jumped in front of me, preparing to take the bullet.

“Stop. Kazimir. It’s okay,” I half shouted as I moved from around Ryker, confronting Kazimir.