Filthy Russian Savior Read online

  Filthy Russian Savior

  By Reina J. Richards

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  FILTHY RUSSIAN SAVIOR

  First edition. November 8, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Reina J. Richards.

  Written by Reina J. Richards.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1 - Ava

  Chapter 2 - Maxim

  Chapter 3 - Ava

  Chapter 4 - Maxim

  Chapter 5 - Ava

  Chapter 6 - Maxim

  Chapter 7 - Ava

  Chapter 8 - Maxim

  Chapter 9 - Ava

  Chapter 10 - Maxim

  Chapter 11 - Ava

  Chapter 12 - Maxim

  Chapter 13 - Ava

  Chapter 14 - Maxim

  Chapter 15 - Ava

  Chapter 16 - Maxim

  Chapter 17 - Ava

  Chapter 18 - Maxim

  Chapter 19 - Ava

  Chapter 20 - Maxim

  Chapter 21 - Ava

  Chapter 22 - Maxim

  Chapter 23 - Ava

  Chapter 24 - Maxim

  Chapter 25 - Ava

  Chapter 26 - Maxim

  Chapter 27 - Ava

  Chapter 28 - Maxim

  Chapter 29 - Ava

  Chapter 30 - Maxim

  Epilogue One - Ava

  Epilogue Two: Maxim

  Thank you!

  Chapter 1 - Ava

  It’s been almost five weeks since I’ve seen my sister Maya. Considering the fact that we live together, this is cause for extreme concern.

  A few months ago, she started working at one of the casinos in town, even though we both always joked that we would rather join a convent before getting sucked into the world of Atlantic City casinos. We’re basically locals, having moved here with our mom back when I was just 4 and Maya was 2. But the city is pretty divided among locals. There are those who just accept that, in some way, they’ll be employed by a casino until they die. And then there are those of us, like me and Maya, who pretty much shunned all things casino. We saw how shitty it was for our mom working there. How she came home smelling like cheap beer and smoke every night. How tired she was. How dead her eyes were after years of working. She was absolutely miserable.

  If Maya and I had any sort of designs on following our mom into the casino industry, they were snuffed out for good when Mama made us both promise her we would pursue normal fields. Considering we were both already planning our escape from Atlantic City, this wasn’t a difficult promise to make. Plus, Mama was on her deathbed at the time, so we kind of couldn’t argue even if we had wanted to.

  Which is why when Maya told me, just after her 21st birthday and almost exactly five years after mom died, that she’d gotten a new job down at Punch, a hip new casino, I was more than a little surprised. I tried to get her to tell me why exactly she’d taken this gig, and she just deflected and said it wouldn’t be like Mama’s experience at all. I didn’t understand it but Maya and I always tried to support each other however we could, even if we didn’t really agree with the other’s life choices, so I let it go.

  She had been working there for three months when she came home all excited one day, saying her boss had recruited her to fly to Europe with one of their high rollers and act as a private croupier for two weeks’ worth of parties and events. I was beyond skeptical, but then Maya told me how much they would be paying her for the trip, not to mention the fact that he’d already given her half of the fee upfront so she knew he was serious.

  After her two weeks were up and she was due back home, she texted me to let me know she was extending her trip. I thought it was strange at the time, but she convinced me that she was very busy and would be in touch soon. Since that last text, none of my iMessages went through to her, and all of my calls have gone straight to voicemail.

  I knew the police wouldn’t take me seriously because objectively the facts didn’t seem to be in my favor: 1) my sister is an adult; 2) I had no evidence of her disappearing, only that she hadn’t answered my calls for a few weeks, and that is not an ironclad reason to start an investigation; and 3) law enforcement doesn’t typically give a shit about Black women, unless it’s to murder us in our homes Unfortunately that meant that, like most problems in my life, I was going to have to figure it out myself.

  One silver lining of this is that Maya went on her trip just as my second semester of grad school was ending, so instead of going back to my usual summer job at Mickey’s, the dive bar where I’ve been working for the past five years, I decided to get a job at Punch. This way, I could make some money while hopefully getting some leads on my sister’s whereabouts at the same time. Because, whether I liked it or not, I couldn’t put my life on pause just because she disappeared. Her absence didn’t stop our landlord from expecting his rent on time, or the electric company from wanting their coin as well. So, I had to suck it up. Just like Mama instructed us to do, nearly every day of our lives. The world wouldn’t stop for me—I wasn’t special, so I couldn’t expect special treatment. That’s just the way of the world.

  After Mama died, when Maya was 16 and I was 18, we were truly on our own. We decided that we would do whatever we could in order to get out of Atlantic City for good. Life hasn’t been a cakewalk, but I managed to support us while getting my bachelors part-time, until Maya finished high school and decided she didn’t want to go to any more school. Instead, she started working full-time to ease our financial load, which allowed me to double up on my courses and finish my degree on time. I just finished year one of my Masters of Education, and my plan once I’m done is to get my degree and find a steady job teaching high schoolers somewhere, preferably in the suburbs where Maya can come live with me. That was the plan. We were pretty damn close to it before Maya just up and disappeared.

  I’ve been at Punch now for about a week and so far I’ve managed to befriend a few of our regulars along with some of the pit bosses who seem to pick girls as their favorites and give them the best tables or other necessary bits of information about the players. I also have gotten close with some of the other girls on the floor, so we keep each other entertained when we’re having a slow night, like tonight.

  It’s a Monday, aka the slowest gambling day ever, so me and the dealer across the aisle, a sunny redhead named Lisa who is also a Blackjack dealer, have a healthy wager going to see who can attract the most patrons to our table. I’m having an off night so Lisa is definitely winning. I glance over at the higher limit table to my left and note that it’s almost full. That’s the one good thing about slow nights—most of the patrons who do show up are dedicated and usually experienced gamblers. They don’t care about flash or pretty girls or boozing it up. They just want to play and win.

  There’s one spot left at the table and I watch as a mountain of a man unbuttons his suit jacket and takes a seat. I’m not quiet about the ‘oof’ I let out as I watch him. Part of his face is obscured by the man next to him, but I know from his body that I want to climb him like a tree. I’m not sure where these thoughts even come from, considering I’ve never climbed ANYONE like a tree. Hell, I don’t even climb trees!

  The man, clearly some sort of businessman, isn’t one of our regulars. I’ve never seen him around—I would have remembered him for sure. His suit is beautifully tailored to his muscular frame, and he’s wearing all black everything. I love a man in a monochromatic look.

  “Heya sweets, probably gonna close the section down,” I hear Joey, my pit boss, behind me and stiffen, praying that he doesn’t get too close again. He has a habit of being handsy lately, and I want to die
every time he touches me with his dumb greasy hands. Some preliminary research has eliminated him from my potential list of shady folks involved with Maya’s disappearance—he’s just run of the mill creepy and lecherous but not nefarious enough for something like that.

  Sure enough, he comes around and steps too close to me, so close that I have to take a sizeable step backward. I swear, one of these days I’m going to pop him in the mouth. Still, I smile up at him and try my best to keep the rage out of my eyes.

  “Does that mean you want me to go home?” I ask, hopeful that he’ll find me something else to do. I can’t afford to go home now and lose out on the potential income. Thankfully, the casino gods take pity on me because Joey informs me, with a terribly suggestive glint in his eye, that he’s taking Brittany off the table next to mine for a 1:1 meeting and he wants me to take over for her.

  I haven’t done many of the high roller tables since I’m still kind of new and haven’t earned my spot yet. I’m pretty intimidated but I hope I hide it well as I close out my table and head over to relieve Brittany. I’m halfway through my routine of setting everything up when I remember that the broody mountain man is still at the table. His scent invades my nostrils—I know it’s his because it smells delicious and none of these other guys, most of whom I’ve seen before, have ever smelled this good in their lives.

  The hair on my arms prickles with awareness and I have the feeling that he’s looking at me. He takes a sharp intake of breath and I do too, trying to slow my pounding heartbeat. I chance a look at him from underneath my lashes and I catch him staring at me, a raw intense hunger in his eyes that sends moisture to my little black hot pants—standard issue for all of the female dealers.

  Oh fuck, I’m in trouble.

  Chapter 2 - Maxim

  Fucking Atlantic City. Every time I visit, I am desperate to leave. The atmosphere is all wrong. Casinos in any city have an air of sadness around them. But Atlantic City is even worse. There’s more than just the sadness of losing money. There is a sadness that feels like it goes back generations, and it is now a part of everyone who lives here.

  This time, my trip to the city involves just two stops. One is more of a courtesy call on behalf of my boss. It’s easy and painless, and I am done in less than an hour. The next stop is, unfortunately, a little more complicated.

  Punch is one of our newer investments, an upscale boutique hotel and casino on a prime section of the boardwalk. As I walk through the sleek casino floor, noting the classy decor and the busy tables, I feel a sense of pride for Luka and how far he has come. My boyhood pal should not have been this successful in the gambling industry, considering where he started, but I am not surprised he was able to build something amazing. Which makes it even worse that someone on his team is sabotaging him.

  I make my way toward one of the high limit Blackjack tables, planning to play a couple of hands while I keep my eyes open around me. Most of the employees at Punch do not know who I am, as I have not had occasion to pay them a visit since the place opened. This is helpful on a night like tonight, so I can observe the inner workings of the place and report back to Luka if I notice anything suspicious.

  I lose a few hands but I am not really paying much attention. A heavily-perfumed woman slinks into the seat next to me and is very obvious about flirting. I'm usually not great at telling when someone is interested in me. Or rather, I'm not really aware of most women most of the time. But this woman has basically rested her cleavage on the table while staring up at me through her lashes. Even I couldn't miss those signals.

  She is not unattractive, I guess, but she does absolutely nothing for me. As she leans in closer to me, I give her a brief, tight smile and turn back to our dealer, a blonde with big hair and entirely too much makeup on her eyes. She catches me as I look up and gives me a wink before the pit boss pulls her away. There is something about the way he talks to her that puts me on edge, but I do not have time to investigate that feeling any further, because a literal angel steps up to the table as our new dealer and actually takes my breath away.

  I feel lightheaded and dreamy. I haven’t even seen her eyes yet, as her face is turned down to shuffle the decks. But what I can see so far would be enough to knock me over if I was not already seated. I close my eyes, inhaling the faint scent of her and wishing I could whisk her out of this place right now. When I open them, she’s still there but now she’s looking back at me with guarded interest. Her plump, perfect lips part in surprise as I drink her in with what is undoubtedly a hungry look on my face. I feel feral, my blood running too hot, my skin itching with the need to have her, to hold her. To say I have never felt this way is a complete understatement, but it is true. The intensity of these feelings and the fact that I am having them at all is completely foreign to me.

  Her hair is a gorgeous crown of honey-brown curls, tight little spirals and ringlets that frame her cherubic face. In the low light of the casino, her eyes look like deep brown pools of every hope and dream I’ve ever had. Fuck, what the hell am I doing? What am I even thinking? It feels like I’ve been staring at her for a million seconds, though I know it’s probably only been ten, at most.

  Her skin is a deep golden-tan, like polished bronze. The standard-issue uniform that the female dealers wear—a minuscule pair of black shorts, tight enough to show almost everything, plus a royal blue corset that flaunts her gorgeous breasts—is too goddamn sexy on her. To be honest, I had barely noticed the outfit on the previous dealer. But now, on her, I can’t stop looking at it, can’t stop letting my eyes travel the length of her flawless body. She’s thick, so gloriously thick, with curves I just want to get lost in. Fuck me. I have to stop ogling her like this.

  Just as I force myself to look away from her, the douchebag pit boss comes up to her and speaks low in her ear. When she shakes her head, he grabs her by the arm and tries to pull her away. She’s strong though, so she tries to resist him while also maintaining a professional air about her. There is a tight smile on her face the whole time, and I’m just waiting for the sign that I need to intervene here. I see him trail his hand down her arm in what I assume is supposed to be a seductive move. He palms her ass and pulls her close to him, and I swear I see red. She pushes him a little and he only holds her tighter, shaking her a little and making her stumble away.

  Suddenly, I’m in the pit, on him, shoving him away from her and blocking her precious body with mine. Casino security guys—burly fuckers who have no clue who I am—flank us, but I do not care. All I care about right now is the angel and making sure she’s safe. I punch the pit boss in the nose, knowing upon impact that it is broken. I rear back to punch him again when a soft hand lands on my arm. And then I hear her voice.

  “Please, no. Don’t—it’s okay. Don’t do this for me,” the angel says, her voice quiet and close. While my heart pounds at having her hand on me, I can’t fight the rage I feel at having her defend this prick. I shake him a little, then turn to look at her, not letting him go.

  “This your guy? You want me to let him go?” I sneer, and I swear to god if she says something about being in love with him, I might burn this place to the ground. Not that I could ever expect her to love someone like me. But the thought of her even caring one ounce for this prick is too much to handle. I’ve just decided to punch his fucking lights out for being born when she shakes her head.

  “Trust me, he’s not... he’s nothing to me. But he’s not worth the trouble. Or I guess I’m not worth it. I need this job,” she says, her voice quiet and sweet. And fuck that.

  “You’re fucking wrong about that one, beautiful. You are worth everything,” I tell her, before turning back to the pit boss who I still have by the collar.

  “Don’t you ever put your hands on a woman who did not explicitly request it, you hear me?”

  Once I let him go, he sneers at me and spits on the floor next to me.

  “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you don’t know who you’re dealing with. Get out
of my goddamn casino and take the little skank with you.”

  Oh, that’s it. Just as I reach him once more, casino security guards decide to finally break us up. Even though I want nothing more than to beat his ass, I allow the guards to pull me off of him. I am here for more important things and I need to go ahead and find Eric the manager so I can confront him. That, and I need to make sure my angel is safe.

  I pull one of the guards aside and give him a quick rundown of who I am, what I need, and who sent me. His whole demeanor changes as he radios his crew to update them. I tell him I’ll be expecting to meet with Eric in twenty minutes, so they can make sure he’s in his office.

  Once the guards are gone, I walk back to where the most beautiful girl in the world should be waiting for me. Except, she’s not where I left her. I panic for a split second before I see her at one of the bars close by. Some sleazy asshole is standing way too close to her, whispering in her ear. She gives him a small smile but moves away from him. I stalk towards them, meeting her eyes when she looks up. Her smile turns to a frown as she sets her drink down and gets up before I even reach her.

  “What are you doing?” I ask gruffly.

  “Well, I probably just lost my job—thanks for that, by the way—so I figured I deserved a drink,” she says, her annoyance evident.

  I want to tell her this job does not matter. I want to explain to her that she will never have to worry about money again. I want to convince her to marry me tonight, right now even. But I can’t. I know I am moving too fast and I need to take this slow.

  Instead of blurting all of my feelings out, I take a deep breath and ask, “Could I speak to you privately?”

  There’s a flash of concern in her eyes. If not concern, possibly fear? I will not have that. Again, I try to remember that I am a scary, giant stranger who is starting fights over her and now asking her to go somewhere private with me. Of course, she is scared. Hell, I would be concerned if she wasn’t scared.