Let Me In-Dragan's Tale: The Mikhailov Brothers Read online

  That got my focus and I spun in the chair to stare at my accuser. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You don’t know me.” I started to stand but Dragan had my arm in his grip refusing to let go.

  “You don’t fool me Antonina. I know what women like you are all about,” Dragan professed.

  “Oh, do you…? This should be entertaining.”

  “Yeah,” he answered with a laugh. “You use your sexuality as a weapon to get what you want. You drag around dumb fucks by the balls. You piss around at work and make things harder on Rosa. You screw other bartenders out of good tips because you’re the one with tits. You. Are. A. Selfish. Brat.” He eyed me up and down, a look of aversion on his face. There was the fucking look again. Disgust! Where the hell was this coming from?

  “Oh, that is comical coming from you. You fooled Evelyn but I don’t understand how you’ve hosed Sergey? You’re a goddamn criminal. But somehow my behavior offends you.” I bit out trying to get my arm back. It didn’t work.

  I tried to stand again but Dragan’s hand remained on my elbow holding me in place. “You are coming to Evelyn’s dinner party tomorrow night. You’re goin’ to suck it up and we are going to act like we like each other.”

  “Screw you Mikhailov.” I decided to start lying. “I know what’s going on with you and Rosa. And I am goin’ to stop it. You think you can mess with her, but I’ll —”

  Dragan lifted me from my chair, stifling my speech. Dragging me through the patrons, he ushered us to the entrance, through the threshold and into the darkness.

  The cool Austin night was buzzing with the sounds of the city. The air smelled of beer and smoked ribs. Austin’s signature perfume. Cars rushed by. People huddled in friendly knots as they waited for others to join them. Passersby paid little attention to us leaving the bar.

  Dragan pulled me past the line of fans waiting to get into the show and slid into an alleyway.

  Ignoring my protests, he pushed me against the brick wall.

  “Business is business and all this pain in the ass can think about is sex. Fucking ridiculous!” He howled to no one in particular above his head. Dragan growled into my face, “I didn’t bow down to your offer for pussy and now you are pouting? Is that what this is? This is why you are making things so damn difficult?”

  I laughed and tried to pull away from the wall but Dragan refused to let me go. “You think I care that you didn’t want to fuck me. I was drunk that night, Igor. I just needed a dick. You were handy. So was my vibrator when I got home. Now let me go so I can leave.” My voice rose steadily but no one paid attention. I didn’t like feeling out of control. And when I was backed into a corner without the power, I got mean. “Now, get your fucking tattooed hands off me, Mikhailov. I don’t care who you screw but Rosa is a good lady and she doesn’t need your kind of friendship,” I spat. Fuck him! If he actually thought this was about sex, so be it.

  Dragan laughed but there was no mirth in it. “You think I care what you think of me, sweetheart? You walk around like your shit don’t stink.” Dragan’s hand had settled on my throat. And for a moment, fear stabbed at my ribcage. His thumb pressed beneath my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His other hand stilled at my arm keeping my frame immobile. He looked into my eyes. I should have been scared. I was just pissed. “You are a dime a dozen little bitch. You strut around like you got the world on a string but you know what?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer. “You are no different than any other woman who grew up being told she was beautiful. It’s all you got. The looks. You give a man a smile and he is on his knees.”

  Dragan leaned down, his face inches from mine. His fingertips burrowed into my throat. “Pussy is pussy Antonina. You haven’t cornered the market. Men buy you presents. Fawn all over you…but none of them will ever love you. Fucking cocktease.”

  That did it. I struck then. My hand swiping across his face with a sting. My nails caught his bottom lip and blood beaded at the dark pink edge immediately. Finally he’d got me. Men did buy me presents. But I didn’t ask for the shit. Usually, I refused it unless I thought it was something Evie or Mom would want. But no man got in my pants because he spent money on me. Never. His words hurt me and I didn’t understand it. Nothing he said to me should matter. I knew my eyes betrayed me. He could see the hurt in them. I let the emotion pass and covered the hurt with a healthy dose of pissed off.

  “Take your hands off me,” I hissed between my teeth.

  I could see in his eyes that he knew he’d gone too far. I watched his face soften. Like he was going to apologize, comfort me.

  “Let me go!” the demand ground out of my mouth, like boots over broken glass.

  Dragan realized then that he still had my arm in a vise. Reluctantly, he let go. He held my face in his hand, his thumb grazing my chin. His tongue came out to lick the cut from his lip. I studied him. Blood rushed to my ears. My heart knocked hard behind my sternum. I needed to check myself. Instead of calculating the damage I could do with a knee to his nuts, my eyes went to his lips. A wave of forlorn need quivered up my throat to my cheeks. I wanted this man to want me. But he didn’t. When he finally stepped back, I considered the reasons his words hurt for a moment longer before pushing off the wall and walking away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BROTHERS

  The room was bare except for a double bed and a cracked wooden chair. The window blind, warped from overuse, was letting the new day’s sun into the bedroom, casting a slash of orange light across my face. The early morning hums of the street slithered through the open window. The squeak of delivery truck brakes and the pounding of garbage collection echoed through the nearly empty room.

  I spent more time praying for sleep then actually getting any. I lay prone on the faded yellow bedspread. Still dressed from the night before, staring up at the ceiling. It was the same every night. The brownish red stains left pockmarks all over the once white plaster. The overhead lamp, which hadn’t worked since I moved into this apartment, seemed to be the primary place bugs went to die.

  A phantom smell of sweat and blood filled my nostrils and my mind traveled back to the crumpling floor of the prison. The desperation those first few nights to find a place to sleep that was free of human excrement and drying semen. Would I ever be free of the stench that clung to my skin like a parasite?

  Thoughts went back to last night. To my behavior with Toni Hume. The woman was as frustrating as hell. If I wasn’t careful, she could singlehandedly ruin everything I’ve worked for in Austin. I just needed a little more time. I had Rosa right where I wanted her.

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose and sighed. I acted like a shit last night. Never in my life had I treated a woman like I did Toni. When she looked up into my face with those insanely silver-blue eyes. She was so close; I could see the freckles on her nose. Even in the gloom of the backstreet, she had a luminosity that was mesmerizing.

  After she had left me in the alley, I’d wanted to chase her. To explain myself. But, what good would that do? I’d seen that look in her eyes. It was disgust. She always looked at me with distain. And I’d made an agreement. Forcing Toni into an alley alone with me was pushing the boundaries of my deal with Rosa. What was happening between us was bigger than I was willing to admit.

  With a pained groan, because I’d managed to give myself a hard-on thinking about that damned blonde, I jumped off the bed, showered and dressed for a run. But first I fished my Blackberry out of the breast pocket of my jacket, hit N then the send button. The call was answered on the second ring.

  “Drago, tell me you aren’t calling me on a Saturday at…” The voice trailed. Obviously, he was checking the time. “… Six in the morning.” Nicolai Mikhailov was usually a morning person. It must have been quite a night. The youngest brother of the Mikhailov family spent his daylight hours working at a gym in Beverly Hills as a personal trainer. He was one of those freaks who exercised daily, ate right and got eight hours of sleep without fail. He’d built an impressive list of
clients in Los Angeles. But I really wanted him to move to Austin for good.

  “Your flight leaves L.A. in three hours. Get your ass out of bed. Do not miss that plane, little brother.”

  Nico laughed. “And remember your growling gangster personae doesn’t scare me, Drag. That’s my big brother, uptight and on time! You worry too much. I won’t miss the flight.”

  “Yeah, heard that before, Nico. We are having dinner with Sergey tonight. Brenna wants to see you. And I want to take you by the bar to—”

  “Drago, we have been over this a dozen times. I will be there. You think I am going to forget that I am about to see my brother and sister for the first time in twenty years?”

  “No, it’s just—”

  “Just what,” he interrupted, “Is it just that you got OCD and drive me nuts with your planning? Everything will happen the way it’s supposed to Drago. Don’t worry.”

  “What the fuck did I do to deserve a brother like you? How are we even related?” I groaned

  Nico laughed. “I ask myself that shit all the time!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BENNY

  Toni

  When I arrived at the gym, it was five minutes after six in the morning. The doors were still locked. With hours of pent up frustrations gnawing at my nerves I waited for Benny, the gym owner, to arrive so I could work off some of the energy that had kept me up all night. Well, that and Mom.

  As I checked my watch for the tenth time, I spied the bruise that Dragan Mikhailov had left on my arm. Asshole! Something had to be done with that man.

  Rosa hadn’t been the same since Dragan started making appearances at the bar. She seemed distant and worried. She was always rushing off to take a call or ‘run an errand.’ Every night I had worked at The Booth for the past eight years Rosa and I would drink a beer, talk about the business or Rosa’s late husband. But lately Rosa wasn’t even staying to close up. And everything started changing when Dragan showed up a few months ago. Always coming in alone. Sitting in a corner. Waiting. Occasionally someone, always a man would show up. They would talk and then he was alone again.

  Initially Rosa had tried to convince me that he had become a permanent figure because he had a thing for me. If I was honest, I’d been drawn to him. But whatever attraction that surfaced for him went sank to the depths of my soul every time he opened his mouth. What he said last night still bothered me. I don’t make things hard on Rosa. I joked but I was really good at my job. I managed every part of that bar for her. I did the ordering, booked the bands. I even did the hiring and firing. The Booth was never her love. It was her late husband’s. The only thing she did was the schedule and I was going to ask her to let me start doing that too. And I would never cheat my co-workers out of tips. I growled aloud. Why the hell do I care what that man thinks?

  Abrupt and rude, Dragan seemed to look right through me. Like I wasn’t there. He refused to have a conversation with me. And I tried in the beginning. And when I finally decided one night in December to ask him if he wanted to come home with me, he declined. He declined!

  My cheeks flushed at the memory of his rebuff. Benny and I’d spent the day painting the rooms where yoga classes were set to convene in the New Year. After hours of climbing up and down ladders, taping and scraping windows and polishing hardwood floors, I cleaned up, slipped on a strapless mini length chiffon dress, ‘don’t screw with me’ silver heels and headed to a New Year’s Eve party.

  I was surprised, when I arrived at the party, to see the brooding Russian who sat at The Booth all day. He didn’t seem like the party type. But there he was, smiling, with his arm wrapped around a stunning redhead. How that nefarious man was related to Sergey seemed nonsensical to me. The party had been a blast. In spite of everything going on in my life, I was having fun. I felt relaxed for the first time in months.

  I’d spent the better part of the evening throwing covert looks Dragan’s way. The redhead was all over him. And he seemed to be having a really good time. And he looked sexy as hell. A black three-piece Italian suit. Crisp, white shirt. The contrast of that suit and all the tattoos and scars. Fucking yummy. That was what had really propelled me to proposition Sergey’s brother. The holidays, the potential heat between two lovers. Well, that and two bottles of Moët & Chandon. Once I discovered the redhead was just a hanger on and not his date, it was on.

  After imbibing enough bubbly to drown a medium-sized human, I’d made my way to Dragan. He did look good. I’d wanted him badly that night. But it was just booze lube. He had been watching me too. So when I’d walked toward him, sleek and ready, I thought he was a sure thing. But I was so wrong.

  As long as I live, I will never forget the moment he turned me down. The slow slide of his gaze up my body to my face. ‘No,’ he said with what could only be described as distaste. ‘I am not interested.’ And with that, he walked away. Just turned his back to me. Leaving me standing with my mouth gaping open like a water-deprived fish.

  Tonight was the night. I intended to find out what was really going on with Dragan Mikhailov. As I formulated a plan, my train of thought hiccupped only once. Was I just holding a grudge because he had denied me? Because he’d made me feel foolish when he declined my invitation. With a shake of my head, I discounted my reticence. No. That was not the issue. I didn’t care if he didn’t want me. So what? People get turned down all the time. Of course I never had but... who cares? I was a strong, self-assured woman. No man was going to define me. Or distract me. “Screw him!”

  “Excuse me?” Benny was standing front of me unlocking the double door to the gym.

  “What?” I asked confused. I eyed my watch again and raised a brow at the fitness center’s owner.

  Benny ignored the subtle scolding at her tardiness. “When I walked up here, you were muttering to yourself, then you yelled out, “Screw him.”

  “Did I?”

  Benny grinned and nodded. “Have a tough night? You look wound tight.”

  We walked in together and I helped her turn on the lights. I certainly needed to get laid. That was probably the issue. The last man I slept with lasted about two minutes. And his idea of foreplay was grabbin’ ahold of my ankles and askin’ if I wanted to make a wish. Instead of telling Benny that, I lied.

  “Oh, I’m ok. Just need to work out. Too much energy. Need to burn it.”

  Benny eyed me suspiciously. She knew me well enough not to push too hard. There was more to the story. “You work at The Booth last night?”

  “Just for a bit, Rosa let me clock out early. Made some good tips though.”

  As I stretched to warm my muscles, Benny went into the center’s fully equipped kitchen to start the coffee pot. She knew the moment I was done working out it would be shower and coffee in that order. Only after the coffee, would I share what was really bothering me.

  Pressing my hand against the wall, I grabbed my right foot and pulled it toward my butt. The tightness in my thighs sent stabs of fire into the small of my back. I was worried I might have really hurt myself this morning. My mom had a lot of trouble in her bath and lifting her into the bath chair did a number on me.

  “You ever gonna stop tormenting men into tips at that damn bar?” Benny asked when she opened the panels to expose the glass wall that separated the gym from the outside world.

  I scoffed. “Hell no. If those men are stupid enough to let me talk to them like they’re idiots and still leave me a huge tip, so be it.”

  She laughed. “You’re right. They are getting what they deserve.”

  Benny’s gym was much nicer than I could afford. Beyond the state of the art exercise equipment, there was a massive weight room, yoga and sauna. I was trying to convince Ben to add massage therapy too. Thankfully, I had a free membership because I worked for her a few days a week. Job number two.

  By the time I’d worked out and showered the center was full. The machines were whirling in time to the muted beats of ear buds, the morning news was playing on the TV above the treadmil
ls and Benny was comfortably wedged behind her desk in her glass-encased office, coffee in one hand and a cheese Danish in the other hidden behind a box of protein shake mix. I plopped down in the chair across from her.

  “Do you have any idea how bad for business it is to sit there and eat in front of everyone while they workout.”

  Benny gave an evil cackle. “On the contrary, I would think it would prove motivating. Work out or you, too, will end up like a fat cow. Anyway, I own the gym Toni. It doesn’t mean I am immune to the call of carbs. Besides, no one can see the Danish, and I keep it hidden and lean down to take bites. See?” To prove her point Benny leaned behind a large box of protein powder and munched on a corner.

  “That’s not funny, Ben. I don’t like that.”

  Benny waved me off but I wasn’t done. She had this habit of using self-deprecating humor to hide behind. “I shit you not, Benny. Don’t call yourself names in front of me. Your dad’s a prick, who takes every opportunity to cut you down. I’ve seen it for myself. You’ve been back in Austin for, what? Nine months?” Benny just shrugged. “This isn’t you. You’re funny and beautiful and irritatingly smart. Don’t let men undo all you’ve done.”

  My friend’s grin melted away and she tossed the pastry in the trash. She looked nauseous, and her usually bright, blue eyes grew stormy grey. But something had to be said. Family could be a balm to a wounded heart. Ben had been in a terrible relationship that ended violently. She came back to Austin for support and love. And all she got from her parents was their perpetual discontent.

  After all, she didn’t want to own a damn gym. This was just a sick joke her father had played on her. The man who had made fun of her weight all her teenage life bought his listless college graduate daughter a gym.

  “You know,” Benny started. “The man could have bought me a bakery. I could manage the hell out of a bakery.” A drop of icing fell from her mouth then. Benny, knowing that licking it off would only drive the stain further into the fabric, sucked it off her shirt. She bitched about her dad every morning. And she did nothing about it.