Free Prisoner (Russian Tattoos Book 2) by Kat Shehata Page A

are stationed around the perimeter. I am watching every move you make. My patience with you has run out. Don’t give me a reason to vent my frustrations on your delicate body.” He tugged on his belt, sending the message that he would pummel me with it like he had attempted to do the last time I tested his authority back home.
    “I promise. I won’t do anything stupid.” I skittered through the living room to escape upstairs, but I got distracted when I glanced out the window and saw two of my friends from back home— no way . I flung open the back door and ran outside. “Goosey! Anastasia!” Vladimir’s sweet, giant poodles barreled toward me, cried with excitement, and danced in circles at my feet.
    “Hi, babies. Mama missed you.” I sat on the back porch steps, and the dogs greeted me with wet kisses and trampled me with their muddy paws. They were no longer prim and proper and perfectly groomed like they had been at home. The dogs were shaggy and filthy, and their bangs were pulled back in ponytail holders. They had turned to the wild side since their return to Russia.
    Vladimir left his troops and joined our reunion. He chastised the dogs in Russian. Obediently, the poodles sat at attention. “Khoroshiye sobaki. Good dogs . ” He sat beside me and admired my mud-smeared dress. “Now you look like you belong at the dacha.” He smiled in that loving way of his that used to melt my heart. “We’ve missed you, Carter.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 11
     
     
    Fight Dirty
     
    I was over my anger at being abducted, and I was grateful that Vladimir had saved my life, but there was no scenario in which we were ever going to resume our love affair. I was trapped with him for the time being, so my game plan was to be civil, but also direct with my feelings. “Vladimir—”
    “Feel up to a short walk?” He nodded toward the barn. “There’s a pond with ducks and swans beyond the apple orchard. The dogs love to splash in the water.”
    “Sounds good.”
    Dmitri jogged out of the house with a coat and a scarf for me. It was springtime, but the air was chilly. Vladimir led me down a dirt path, and Dmitri lit a smoke and tagged along. He didn’t make eye contact or interact with me in any way. He knew better than to show any form of familiarity or friendship with me in front of the boss. Vladimir would slit his throat if he found out Dmitri had been affectionate with me.
    “Tell me if I’m going too fast. Warm enough?” Vladimir asked.
    “I’m good.” I glanced up at him. “You look different.” It was weird seeing him in outdoorsy mode, wearing jeans, a flannel jacket, and boots instead of his usual suit and tie ensemble, but it wasn’t just his wardrobe that had changed. It was something else.
    “I dropped a few pounds.”
    “Yeah, I noticed. It’s not that, though.”
    He twisted his lips and we walked in silence. When we reached the pond, the dogs dove in and chased away the ducks. Vladimir and I took a seat on a bench at the edge of the water, and Dmitri skipped rocks across the pond.
    I laughed at the playful poodles. “Anastasia almost caught the wing of that gray and white  duck—”
    “I stopped drinking.”
    His admission blindsided me. It couldn’t be true.
    “I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since the night I hurt you.” He picked up my hand. “My actions against you were inexcusable, Carter. It was the lowest point in my life. My rock bottom. I swear to God, I will see to it that you get home to your family and that you live the long and wonderful life you deserve. If I live a hundred years, I’ll never forgive myself for the pain I’ve caused you.”
    I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn’t know what to say. Out of all the scenarios I’d worked out about what he was doing after that night, sobriety never made the list. He was the pakhan . It was impossible for him not to drink. Culturally, if nothing else. But in his position of power, it was a trust thing.