Blood & Torment (Pins and Needles: Moscow Book 2), Elizabeth Knox [hot novels to read TXT] 📗

know what, this place is a whorehouse and she didn’t even offer anything besides the tattoo. What kind of service is this!?” His voice grows louder, echoing through the parlor and a couple of the other clients who are getting tattoos seem quite uncomfortable. I can’t blame them for such feelings. This man shouldn’t be here.

“You need to let the woman go,” I tell him, not even taking a moment to respond to the claims he made a moment ago.

“You don’t need to tell me what I’m doing!” he seethes, taking a step closer to me while his grip on Nikita’s neck grows even stronger. She’s physically gagging, gasping for air, and now I know it’s time to make things a bit clearer for him.

I reach behind my back to pull the gun from under my shirt, and a movement comes from the corner of my eye. Trista rushes past me and goes up to the brute of a man, hitting him, surely trying to get him to let Nikita go.

“Let her go!” she yells, and my thoughts are confirmed. “Please, please let her go. You’re going to hurt her.” Now Trista’s pulling on his arm, and the man turns, but instead of letting Nikita go, he whips the back of his hand against Trista’s cheek. The strike is so strong it can be heard clearly in the parlor.

Now I’m pissed and I’m not playing Mister Nice Guy anymore. I yank my gun from the back of my pants and go charging up to this motherfucker, pressing the barrel of the gun against his temple. “Release her throat, right now, or I’ll pull the trigger.” There’s no bit of sarcasm in my voice, but why would there be? I’ve had enough of this shit.

The man lets Nikita go, and I speak up, “Igor, come get Nikita and Trista. Take them into the office.”

“I didn’t get what I paid for,” the man seethes, turning his face to look at me.

“You got exactly what you paid for, this fucking tattoo,” I snap, slapping my hand on his shoulder. He flinches, and I don’t give a fuck.

“What kind of whorehouse is this?!” No one should know what we do here. We keep things very hush-hush with the Russian brides, but he’s obviously heard something on the streets. It doesn’t matter. I’ll take control of the situation.

“I don’t know what you think you know, but does this look like a whorehouse to you? We’re a fucking tattoo parlor,” I growl my words and make no attempts to smooth things over. He crossed a massive line here and he’ll be lucky if I let him walk out of here alive.

“Boss, you want us to deal with him?” Andrei, one of the men who works with us for Katya, questions.

“It’s best you deal with the women,” Vova, another one of our men, speaks up.

I give them a nod, knowing they’re right. I grab Vova by the collar of his shirt and pull his ear close to my lips. “Make sure he suffers far greater than either of them will ever have to.”

I release Vova, and he gives me one nod, a silent promise he’ll follow through on. Vova and Andrei take the man out through the front, and I look to Meghan. “We’re closing the shop for two hours. Can you handle things and make sure our guests are comfortable? We will give them full refunds and make sure they’re happy.”

“It’s not necessary, really. That guy was a nut,” the woman who Meghan was tattooing says, but I look her dead in the eye.

“I appreciate your understanding, but what you experienced today was unacceptable. I can speak for the owners of this establishment when I say they’d want to make sure you’ve been well compensated for the terrible horror you were put through today. Now, Meghan will make sure you’re taken care of. If you’ll excuse me, I have things to tend to.” I walk off and leave the parlor area, walk into the hallway, and head toward the break room. I quickly grab two ice packs and two kitchen towels before heading into Kronid’s office, where both Trista and Nikita are.

Nikita’s neck is red and patchy from where his fingers were applying pressure, while Trista’s cheek is swelling badly. “Here, apply the ice,” I direct both of the women who put the ice packs against their sore flesh.

So much for having an easy day.

Nikita leans back on the couch and closes her eyes, but Trista gently taps the ice against her lip and cheek. If she does it like that, it won’t help the swelling at all. I head over to where she is and take the ice pack from her hand. “You need to do it like this,” I tell her, pressing the ice a bit firmly against her skin.

She flinches, but there’s nothing I can do about the pain. “I know it hurts now, but soon enough, you will begin to feel better.”

Trista glances up at me with her deep blue eyes and it’s as if she’s silently thanking me. Little does she know I will feel guilt for letting the events that happened today get this far. I should’ve stopped it before she was slapped, but I didn’t. I moved too slow and allowed him to hurt her.

Just like Khristina, another woman’s pain is on my hands.

Chapter Four

Trista

By the end of the day, I’m exhausted and ready to just curl up on my couch in my apartment. As a matter of fact, curling up with a glass of wine while listening to Demi Lovato’s new album sounds great. Music has always been my escape. So much so I started writing my own music, but only Dema knows. She knows about me writing music and the fact I can play most instruments. I taught myself how to play and I’m really good at it. I’m not being conceited, though. I had great teachers growing up. Unfortunately, I don’t play anymore.