PROLOGUE
NIKOLAI
The sound of heavy rain beating against the building was the only noise that filled the quiet hallways. Occasionally, that silence was broken by the sudden crackling of lightning and roaring of thunder.
The storm was getting closer. It would be right overhead at any moment.
This was the kind of storm that opened up horror movies and slasher films. It was often used to build a sense of fear and dread and serve as a warning that something terrible and frightening was about to take place.
Yet, still they walked on.
Above, the lights flickered, causing every shadow they passed to come alive and appear to follow them as the stranger led the young man deeper into the crumbling building.
They turned into another hallway.
How many was that? Six? Seven?
Nikolai had lost count.
With each door they passed, he could hear the whispers of a thousand secrets. Secrets that Nikoli would soon learn and beforced to keep if he too wanted to survive in this strange and foreign land.
The man leading the way stopped behind a large brown door, knocked once, then let himself in.
“Mikhail, come in. What have you brought me here tonight?” a large man wearing a button-up shirt, sleeves rolled at the elbows, asked in a thick Russian accent. He waved them both in. “Come. Sit.” He motioned toward the one chair sitting in front of his desk.
“Yes, boss. I bring you one, fresh from motherland,” Mikhail said in a matching Russian accent.
He tossed Nikolai’s passport to the man.
“His name is Nikolai Borokov. I think he will be suitable forDiamond Squad.”
The man behind the desk looked up at Nikolai, his interest suddenly piqued.
“He is strapping young man. Blond, blue eyes. Big fucking dick. No jokes, boss. This boy will be popular with the ladies, maybe even a few men if you want to work him like that.”
The man studied Nikolai. His eyes were gray, and he had two large scars running across the left side of his face. He reminded Nikolai of one of those men his mother had warned him to stay away from as a kid. Men with scars were dangerous. They were criminals who did bad things and should never be trusted.
But what choice did he have?
“Is this true? You have bigcock?” the man asked, switching from English to Russian when saying the word cock.
In his hand, he held a gun. It wasn’t pointed at Nikolai, just resting calmly under his palm.
“Does he speak English?” the scary-looking man asked Mikhail.
“Yes, boss, a little. Enough to understand us speak.”
The boss nodded, then turned his attention back to Nikolai. “So? Is it true? You have a big dick?”
Nikolai nodded. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, but he had a feeling he should stay quiet and keep his mouth shut.
“Good. We can charge extra for that. And use your Russian accent. Women pay extra for guys from foreign lands.”
The man flipped through Nikolai’s passport, pausing at the picture, then studying the information listed.
“He’s eighteen?”
Mikhail nodded.
