Coughing it away, I give the boys a quiet thanks as Nikki Santori breezes in to goose me and tell me he better not find a single bear in this locker room tomorrow morning before free skate. Our alternate captain is someone I haven’t quite gotten a read on yet, but he’s nice enough and has been fair thus far when any skirmishes have broken out during practice. Leadership likethat is a big reason the team looks so strong heading into the end of the season, and the energy has been palpable since I arrived.
Showering away the stench of practice, I dress and start the slow process of ridding the locker room of the bears. The force of the wave sent them almost all the way across the room, so in addition to clearing the immediate area around my locker, I’ll have to scour the floor on my hands and knees to make sure I don’t miss any of them. I don’t want to get on Nikki’s bad side, nor do I want him to have a reason to tell his brother Gabri, who happens to be our captain, anything negative. Aside from a few gruff words of welcome and to let him know if I ever need help hiding a body, he seems to be a man of few words, preferring to show instead of tell on the ice. I respect that, even if he does have a kind of morbid sense of humor.
I’m still working on the cleanup when Bugsy and Pretzel exit the showers. “Don’t forget about your date with the babies, Cuddles. The nurses soundedveryexcited when we told them you were coming.”
“What babies?”
“It was the last item on your to-do list. Didn’t you flip it over?”
Fuck.The look on my face must say it all, based on the mischievous grin that splits Bugsy’s face.
“You didn’t flip it over?Dude.All the good stuff is on the back!” He keeps laughing as he leaves, naming off things that I don’t have time or energy for. “Cuddling the babies in the hospital, dawn beach cleanup, pride night at the retirement home, volunteering at the elementary school’s book fair…”
Well, that one sounds fun, at least. And I don’t mind the beach. I don’t have any experience cuddling babies, though, andthat sounds like it could take a while, especially if there are a ton of them. Maybe if I cuddle more than one at a time…
An hour later, I’m back home, considering if it’s worse to eat what I have in the house already or to interact with another human and order delivery, when I finally flip over the to-do list. Sure enough, all the tasks Bugsy mentioned are there, with dates, times, and addresses conveniently supplied in neat columns. Perhaps he’s the same as me in that regard, at least a bit. He lied about the hospital visit being the last thing on the list, though. At the bottom is an additional row, in a different color ink, that says “Mandatory Meeting.” The location is just a random street address, and the time is…
Twenty minutes ago.Shit!
Thinking about how well I’ve managed to blend in with the team thus far, I take the fastest route available and pull into a poorly paved parking lot in front of a warehouse. The warehouse itself is in better shape than the parking lot, and I let myself in via the unlocked front door. There’s a small foyer with an empty receptionist desk and a couple of folding metal chairs, but not much else.
Damn.Maybethisis the real hazing, and all the harmless fun the guys have been having was just a red herring. I don’t like how quiet this building is, and there were no other cars in the parking lot. I could have typed the address wrong…
Before I can text Bugsy to see if I’m in the right place, rough material clouds my vision, and everything goes black. My hands are cuffed behind my back, and my ankles are cuffed together just before I’m dragged across the floor, presumably into the depths of the warehouse.
High-pitched wailing pierces the quiet, and I have the sudden realization that I must have been brought to a torture chamber.Oh God.I’m going to die here. Grandma’s face flashes across my mind just before I’m plopped onto the world’s least comfy chair, and the bag over my head is removed.
My eyes struggle to adjust to the bright light when a sharp smack across my cheek forces me to focus on the black-clad figure who delivered the blow. Before I can think of anything to say, they pull their hood down, revealing a woman who looks like she’s annoyed with me. As if I asked to be kidnapped!
Dual braids pull her sleek black hair away from her face, and her cheekbones are sharp. Shelooksdangerous, and I have no earthly idea how I could have possibly pissed her off in the short time I’ve been in town. She circles me, as if she’s sizing me up, before slapping me again, albeit with a little less bite than before.
“Whyare you slapping me?” I can’t help myself, unable to continue this silent stalemate and accept my fate. My reward is a sharp poke to the chest with a daggered finger, bloodred polish glistening as if I wouldn’t be her first kill of the evening.
The vitriol in her voice is shocking. Why is she mad? She has me right where she wants me, and the upper hand is hers alone. I’m cuffed, with no clue what’s going on.
“I’mslappingyou because you’re crying! Like a tiny, useless baby!”
For the first time, I realize the high-pitched, awful squealing sound I’ve been hearing this entire time has been…me. Not a noise I can ever remember making before, but this is my first time being kidnapped. She’s still muttering about what kind of a weakling shrieks like a pig just from being cuffed for a few minutes, when I snap.
The idea that she thinks it’smyfault that I’m crying enrages me. “Of course I’m crying! You slapped me! Twice! Now you’repoking me like I’m an exotic animal, and you have me chained to a chair in this warehouse, for God knows what reason, because you kidnapped me, and I don’t even know who you fucking are!”
There. If they kill me, at least I’ve said my piece. Her only response is a sigh, then a subtle disapproving look as a man somewhere behind me tries to hide a laugh with a cough. With a slight nod of the head and a harsh command in a language I can’t immediately place, her goons behind me undo my ankle and wrist cuffs. I’m not stupid enough to make a run for it, so I patiently wait for any fucking info at all.
Of all the things I could ever imagine her to say, the words that come out of her mouth, in the order they come out, would never have been in my wildest dreams. To her credit, she’s straightforward and gets everything out at once in a clipped, businesslike tone.
“My name is Mila Taranova. My father recently died, and as a result, the family business was meant to pass to me. Now, apparently, some bullshit will has come to light, and I can’t inherit because of my vagina. I offered to surgically correct the problem—”
She’s interrupted by a snicker from the back, but a glare shuts them up as quickly as they started.
“But that wouldn’t be acceptable even though I’ve been training to take over the business for years. I was told that after alifetimeof training, I won’t get the chance to fulfill my destiny. Because apparently I have a goddamnbrotherwith apenisand that’s preferable even though I doubt he’s ever even killed a man.”
Brother…?
“It’s your destiny now, I guess. Welcome to Thunder Bay, Theodore Taranov. This is your Bratva now.”
Bratva…?
The tinny sound of my phone ringing interrupts her speech, distracting me from the allegation that she’s my sister and I’m a Bratva, whatever that is. Pretzel apparently had to get one more dig in, and the dulcet tones of everyone’s favorite pop princess singing about shaking it off cast an even more unbelievable vibe over this already weird scene.
