Page 10 of Nobody Wants Me (Volkov Bratva #5)

I had my suspect.

****

F reya

The Butcher cleared her throat and I turned to see her in the doorway of my sewing room. I couldn’t go into my bedroom. It was ruined.

“Hey,” The Butcher said.

“Hey.”

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m cleaning my fabric stash and putting it into neat piles. I just don’t know if I should go by color, which will mix the base cloths.” I turned toward The Butcher to see her expression was blank.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry. I assume everyone understands sewing terms. So, as an example, I’ve got a purple cotton jersey here, and it’s a plain , and I’ve got a purple denim here, and this is a woven .

There is no stretch in this one. Two completely different fabric bases, but the same color.

So far, I have them in cloth order. All my cotton jerseys are in one cubbyhole, the other has denim. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You know your way around a fabric and haberdashery. I know my way around knives, guns, ammo, and how to get out of a sticky situation using my thumbs.” She held her thumbs up.

This did make me frown. “Do I want to know?”

She shrugged. “You tell me.” She held her thumbs up and gave them a wriggle.

“I do,” I said, and shook my head. “Do I?”

The Butcher laughed. “I’ve been in a tough spot, and I’ve not been able to get out of it, and I’ve shoved my thumbs into men’s eyes.”

This made my own eyes go wide. “You’re kidding?”

“No, trust me, it makes them let go. You either shove your thumbs into their eyes until you blind them, or you grab their dick and keep pulling that sucker. Trust me, they are precious about their dick.”

I think I felt sick.

“You see, you know fabric, and I know how to protect myself.” The Butcher shrugged.

Thinking of it like that, she had the better role. “Must be nice,” I said.

“What?”

“Protecting yourself.”

The Butcher pressed her lips together. “I don’t know. It makes for a lot of enemies. I have a lot of them, and trust me, they will come for me. I’m going to die one day.”

I didn’t like this. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that. It’s not nice.”

“It’s the truth. We’re all going to die, but the way I’ve lived my life, I know it’s coming for me, and trust me, when that time happens, it’s not going to be pretty.”

I can’t believe she is even talking about this. “Stop,” I said. “It seems I’m going to be killed.” I attempted to act nonchalant like she had, giving a shrug to my shoulders as if it didn’t bother me. The truth was, it terrified me.

It wasn’t like I had an exciting life, or even a great life. My father had controlled me and now my husband did. And now, someone wanted me dead. I didn’t know who or why.

“Victor’s a dick,” The Butcher said.

I was not going to disagree with her. My husband was a dick, and she didn’t even know what he had done to my fucking quilt.

I decided to go on base clothes as I put the purple cotton jersey on the pile with the same fabric base.

“I’m not going to let you die,” The Butcher said.

This made me stop and turn to look at her. “You ... it’s not your job.”

“Actually, it is. Ivan doesn’t want you dead.”

“Why not?” I asked, frowning.

“You do realize how sad that sounds?”

“No?”

The Butcher chuckled. “You’re for real?”

“Ivan doesn’t know me. My own husband doesn’t know me. I don’t know why someone would want me dead, but clearly, they do.” They would probably get their way as well.

Shoving my fabric into the cubbyholes, I got to my feet. “Thank you,” I said. “For saving me tonight.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The Butcher stood and looked at me. “Is this part of your job as well? Watching me?”

“Pretty much.”

I nodded, glancing around my room. Sleep was not going to come, but I also didn’t want to sit in my bedroom and see the blood soaking the floors, so instead, I looked to The Butcher. “Do you want to go and watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

“It’s not going to be horror, or anything with blood in it,” I said. I figured I would warn her. “It’s going to be a chick flick. Cheesy. There is going to be a hot guy, chasing after a super beautiful girl, and all kinds of cringeworthy stuff is going to happen.”

“Sounds good,” The Butcher said.

This did make me stop. “Are you for real right now?” I asked.

“Believe it or not, I don’t watch horror movies. I don’t need to.” She had this smile on her face that seemed sweet, but knowing how easily she killed people, it was also freaking terrifying.

How had my life come to this? For the next two hours, we watched a movie where the guy was completely in love with his woman, and all he did was live for her. From the moment they met, until the moment they passed, she was the only person who was important to him.

I’d never seen it before, and it made me feel a little bitter. I had a horrible feeling the only way I would get out of my marriage would be upon my death.

“You okay?” The Butcher asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. What else could I say?

“You know it’s okay to be angry,” The Butcher said.

I turned toward her. “What’s the point?”

“It’s better to feel something than not to feel at all.”

“How do you figure?”

“I feel nothing,” The Butcher said. “I don’t have a single care in the world. You know what I do. You know what I’m capable of.”

“Some people would be grateful for that,” I said.

“I guess I’m not most people. I don’t feel grateful.”

“How did you become The Butcher?” I asked.

She smiled over at me. “I don’t talk about it.”

I had a feeling it wasn’t something she was going to talk about with me. “Yeah, well, there is no point in me getting angry about what happened. What’s done is done and getting angry won’t change that.”

So, I got to my feet. “I’m going to head up to my sewing room.”

“Your room will be clean in the morning,” The Butcher said.

I already had plans to move all my stuff to a different room.

Right now, I just wanted to be alone, and I was pleased, The Butcher wasn’t insistent on spending every waking moment with me.