Pakhan's Rose (Pakhan #1)(4)

On the second beep, the phone was picked up, and with a shaking voice, I whispered, "Daddy?"





My eyes snapped open, and immediately, a piercing headache assaulted me, and my dry mouth desperately needed water. Blinking a few times, I tried to adjust to the dark that created fear in the pit of my stomach.

Sitting, my back was pressed against the wall and my legs were numb, so I tried to move them, but failed when I realized they were bound together, probably by a tight rope. A scream of terror begged to shoot from my throat, only for me to realize my mouth was covered in duct tape and my wrists were cuffed. The only source of light came from under the door. The room smelled of garlic. Slight noises were coming from the corner, and when something started to slowly climb on my lap, I knew what it was.

A rat.

Shifting as much as I could, I was trying everything to make it go away when the door suddenly snapped open and hit the wall harshly. Two men wearing black jeans, shirts, and masks stood there as one of them sipped beer from a brown bottle. 

"The bitch woke up," he cursed, and then spat on the floor. Nausea hit me as they came inside. The light from the door allowed me to study my surroundings.

Rusted walls and floor, a toilet, and a sink where a disgusting smell came from. I didn't even want to think what it was coated in. Plates of food that had seen better days, no bunks or lights, and finally, the rats.

Several of them with their angry red eyes.

My breathing escalated. I couldn't suck enough air into my lungs from the fear that overshadowed everything else. "Fuck, she's panicking." The other guy in the mask cursed then kneeled in front of me and, with a painful jerk, removed the tape. My lips burned as though he peeled a layer of my skin, and even the light breeze hurt it more. He slapped me hard on the cheek, knocking my head to the side, and tears came to my eyes. "Calm down, bitch. Or you don't know what we might do to you." He licked his lips as his alcohol breath fanned my hair. "Those lips would look good around my cock." The look in his black eyes made me want to crawl out of my skin, and without thinking, I spat in his face.

Despite the panic and agonizing pain, I was still my father's daughter.

And a Cosa Nostra's princess didn't bow or take disrespect from anyone.

He raised his hand, but was stopped when another cold voice ordered, "Mark, step away from her." My blurry eyes could barely focus when the third man came into my line of vision. With blond-as-the-sun hair, he wore an expensive suit and a sinister smile that didn't reach his blue eyes. I seriously, freaking hated that color.

Grimacing in disgust, he shuffled away. Mark sat on his haunches, gently touching my cheek even though I made a move to tilt my head back. He grabbed my hair painfully and pulled on it, making me gasp in pain, as he warned, "You better learn to listen, Rosalinda." His eyes roamed over my face and body, and they slowly started to fill with an expression I didn't recognize. "What a pretty girl," he whispered, but somehow his words made me feel dirty. "You'll be a good little wife of mine."

What?

But before I could react or demand answers, he pressed on the side of my neck, and in a second, I was out.



Rosa

Juanita stopped sobbing enough for me to lead her from the sidewalk to the far corner of the street, away from prying eyes, and she still had this dumbstruck expression on her face.

"He was such a sweet little boy, my Dominic." Cleaning her nose with the end of her sleeve, she added, "Always polite. Always happy."

The sweet little boy turned into a man. My finger lightly touched my lips, which still burned from his kiss. Even if that peck couldn't really be considered as a real kiss, it was the closest contact I ever had with the opposite sex. Well, willingly at least.

Amber pools filled with longing so profound, everything female in me wanted to reach out to soothe him. For a second, when he held me in his arms, desire struck me like a bolt of lightning, and it couldn't confuse me more.

How could I react to him so strongly if he reassembled his brother so much? A twin brother at that, who had saved my life and become family to me.

Could it be because my hormones just demanded to have sex, and he was a magnificent enough specimen of a man to get a reaction from me?

Suddenly, the screech of tires on the street had my attention. Three black Jeeps lined up at the sidewalk, and in an instant, my dad got out with several of his bodyguards, who held guns.

With a cry, I ran toward him, and he picked me up effortlessly. His strong arms embraced me in a hug so fierce I didn't think I could breathe, but I didn't want to let go.



       
         
       
        

The scent of cigar and his same cologne washed over me, reminding me of all the Christmases we spent together and the long walks in the park when I was kid.

"Daddy," I whispered, and he squeezed me tighter for a second, and then we both leaned back to study each other.

Years apart weren't kind to him. The wrinkles under his eyes became deeper and more visible, and since he didn't believe a man should dye his hair, many gray locks were entwined with the black. He was still tall. To me, he always seemed like a huge brick wall. He had the softest blue eyes, which gazed at me with love and worry. Plus, he wasn't that old, just turning fifty last month. He would be considered hot among women, although I didn't want to think about that.

"Rosalinda." His knuckles ran over my cheek. "Finally, you're with me."

During our separation, my heart broke for my father, knowing he'd blame himself for this, just as he did with my mother. Especially considering our last conversation, which made me an easy target for them to begin with-not that I ever planned to tell him that. Some things were better left unsaid.

"Daddy, Sapphire and Kristina are in danger. We need to contact Damian and Connor." His eyes darkened, and he turned around to bark at one of his enforcers. All those faces were unfamiliar, and it honestly surprised me. Five years wasn't a long time for some of them to retire, but I didn't address the fact. "Get the woman inside."

One of them, the youngest, kneeled in front of Juanita, whispering to her gently as his hand inspected her pulse and reactions. My dad had a rule about his mafia. One of the enforcers on call should have a medical degree or at least have knowledge of advanced first aid. They never knew when guns might be fired and stuff might happen. The man addressed my dad, "She is in shock. I don't think it's more than that. I'd still run her by the hospital though because of her age."

Dad nodded and pointed at the third vehicle in line. "Take her there and then bring her to my house. Make sure she doesn't say anything she isn't supposed to." With a nod, the man picked Juanita up and proceeded with his instructions.

Dad's hand gently patted my head. "Don't worry, honey. She'll be fine."

As sweet as what he did was, Juanita wasn't my main concern right now. "Dad, didn't you hear what I said? Call Damian!"

His lips thinned, and dread settled inside me. Why wasn't he willing to call for help? Damian, Connor, and Luke worked with him closely as they tried to catch horrible S and punish him for the evil he had inflicted on all those innocent and stolen lives.

"Dad." I grabbed his arm, but he didn't even budge. "What's going on?" 

Sighing heavily, he gritted his teeth. "It's part of the plan."

"What plan?" My brows furrowed in confusion. So I was worried sick for nothing? All that shit that happened back at the playground was some kind of make-believe? Nice of Sapphire and Damian to put me through this!

"Connor is handling it." The sound of his voice, and the way he winced a little, let me know this wasn't something good.

Connor was an FBI agent, and he and Damian didn't agree on a lot of stuff, more so after Connor fell for Honey.

If he was handling something, then it meant …

No!

"Dad, tell me he didn't go behind Damian's back and set up some stupid plan." Since my dad stayed silent, it was answer enough for me. "Do something then!"

He shook his head. "He has the help of the pakhan of the Bratva. They will handle it."

"What? Uncle Vasya is here?" Growing up in the mob, you kind of had a family of criminals, called your dad's various acquaintances uncles, and got presents from them. Not that anyone could enter our house, but the relationship between my dad and Uncle Vasya was friendly enough. I remembered him as a man who never took anyone's bullshit, but also brought me expensive gifts and supported my dreams of making my own living. Usually, it ended with him arguing with my dad about my future.

"No, Vasya is dead." My eyes watered. So many freaking dead people. "Oh, then who?" The Bratva had slightly different rules for appointing the next pakhan than the Cosa Nostra, but Vasya must have died a long time ago, if they'd already replaced him.

"Dominic." Blinking a few times, I processed the information he gave me as I realized what it meant.

Shit.

What the hell did I get myself into?

His phone vibrated and he picked up. Whatever someone said on the other end of the line was bad enough for him to clench his fist and snarl in disgust. "We will be there in thirty minutes." Hanging up, he wrapped his arm around me and started to move us in the direction of the car.