Disciplined Read online

  Disciplined

  Billionaire Playground Book One

  Lenore Ashwood

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Lenore Ashwood

  Prologue

  Seven years ago

  Kyiv, Ukraine

  Dimi adjusted his feet on the wooden ladder and almost lost his grip on the metal gutter.

  “Dimitri! Careful!” his papa called out. Whether Papa was worried about him dropping and denting the gutter or him falling off the ladder was hard to say.

  The single-level brick house was in a shabby suburb surrounded by powerlines in the front and back and bordered by a dirt road. It was always one repair away from collapsing.

  “Where did you find the gutter, Papa?” he asked.

  “Luck and fast legs,” his father answered, laughing without smiling.

  “Dimitri Volodymyrovych Kamenev!” His mama’s voice started as a rumble from inside the house and ended in a screech when she was standing on the uneven porch below them. She was waving his phone, and he groaned. “Your friends have a ‘job’ for you. I know what that is. It means ‘crime.’ Either help those criminals steal something or beat someone up.”

  “Give me my phone, Mama,” he said, reaching through the rungs while making sure the metal didn’t slip from his hand.

  “You’re nothing but a thug with all the fighting you do. Always fighting and hurting people!”

  “I’m an MMA fighter, Mama. I’ve explained this to you before.” While technically this was true, it was also true that there likely was a job for him, and it probably would include something criminal.

  “You lie. Add lying to all the things you do that disgrace our family.”

  “Any jobs I get pay for my classes. And pay for this gutter,” he said and raised his eyebrows at his papa, who had no problem with his lies.

  “Stop yelling, woman,” Papa scolded. “It won’t turn Dimitri into the principal dancer for the Grand Ballet. That dream died a long time ago. Now, get back in the house so we can work!”

  His mama gave them both evil looks then threw his phone on the ground and disappeared into the house.

  Once Papa nailed his end of the gutter, he handed the hammer and nails to Dimi to do the same. Then he picked up his phone and handed it to him once he was back on the ground.

  “Anybody can see you are big like a fighter,” he told him, slapping his arm. “Strong like a dancer but built for the ring.”

  “Thanks, Papa,” he said, checking his message.

  “Is it a job?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go. I can finish here.” Papa looked at him, slapping a hard hand on his shoulder. “I know where the food on our table comes from, and I’m not ashamed.”

  Dimi nodded and headed out of the yard, jogging once he was on the street.

  * * *

  Where are you?? texted Jozef, as Dimi turned the last corner.

  Almost there, he replied.

  He followed the bent chain-link fencing to where it peeled back into a hole he had to struggle to get through. This was where his map app directed, and he wasn’t surprised to find a rundown four-level building as his destination.

  It had been years since the courtyard had seen any care, overgrown with grass poking up through cracked concrete. Scattered windows in the building were boarded up; others were covered with foil on the inside.

  He followed the remnants of a path to the lobby, where Jozef waited for him.

  “What’s the situation?” Dimi asked, feeling his pocket for the hundredth time to make sure his brass knuckles were there.

  “Vas grabbed a girl,” he said, jamming his hands in his jeans and turning away. He hurried to catch up, following the short, dark-haired man past the elevator to the stairs.

  Garbage accumulated in the corners of the stairwell, and a strong smell of piss hit him like a fist. His gut churned as they went up the steps in twos.

  This wasn’t some shakedown for money or a warning about wavering loyalty to their loose group of Vory dropouts. This was kidnapping.

  “What do you mean ‘grabbed a girl’? Why? Where?”

  “Vas said it was a job for a lot of money. She was leaving a symphony rehearsal. Vas was supposed to grab her, hold her, then let her go away from the city center.”

  “Who else is here?”

  Jozef stopped at a landing, a grimy sign reading 3rd over a dented metal door.

  “Vas, Soko, and me.”

  “Why does Vas need me?” Three men should be more than enough to handle a girl. He didn’t want to get more involved in this level of crime if he didn’t need to. But he owed a certain amount of loyalty to Vas. His jobs were the only guarantee he’d be able to finish school and get the fuck out of Kyiv.

  “He doesn’t. I called you.” He hunched farther into his coat. “Vas is drunk, and I think he’s going to do something bad. The guy who put out the job… he’s connected high up,” Jozef said, shaking his head and going pale. “Real high up.”

  Fuck. Even more reason not to get involved. But something compelled him to reach past Jozef and pull open the door.

  “Which way?” he asked.

  “This way,” Jozef replied, walking past him to the right. “Three eleven.”

  Jozef knocked once then twice then once. The doorknob rattled and the door unlatched, leaving Jozef to push it open and enter.

  Vas stood near a grimy window that was cracked open, blowing cigarette smoke outside. He had a shaved head with a V tattooed on the back. He was thin but wiry.

  Soko stood in the middle of the room near a table and chairs. Through his legs, he could see a mattress in the dim corner. Soko shaved his head recently, the skin paler than his already-pale face. He looked high.

  “What are you doing here?” Vas grunted at him over his shoulder.

  Dimi was bigger than all of them, in height and weight. He was low on the hierarchy, but they’d all seen him fight and beat men bigger than him, so they gave him a level of respect he hadn’t earned the normal way.

  “My mother was driving me crazy, so I texted Jozef. I didn’t know you guys were on a job though,” he said, straining to look around Soko. “Or is it something else?” He narrowed his eyes, trying to get a feel for what their plan was.

  Jozef gave him a short nod, grateful he’d given him a cover for bringing him here.

  “Uhhnn,” groaned a feminine voice from the mattress, drawing Vas’s attention.

  “Finally, she’s coming around,” he muttered. He carefully flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette and tamped the end, tucking it behind his ear for later.

  Dimi shuffled to where Vas stood, both of them looking down at the girl on the mattress.

  She looked older than he expected; mid-twenties would be his guess. She had long dark hair with a wide strip of white at each temple. Not blonde but pure white. She wore a long black skirt, a white blouse, and a black jacket. The skirt and blouse had been ripped open to expose a black lace bra and panties.

  “I
got a contract to snatch this bitch, so I did. Gotta rough her up then release her tonight, alive, near Shulyavka. If she survives, good for her.” Vas crouched down on the mattress, running a hand over her calf. Dimi noticed she didn’t have any shoes on.

  “So you’re babysitting until then?” he asked, not liking the undercurrent he sensed in Vas’s words.

  “Contract didn’t say we couldn’t have fun first, give her a few bruises on the inside, too.” He grinned up at him with his yellowed teeth as his hand crept up the woman’s leg and under the edge of her panties.

  “Noooo,” she moaned, and pushed at him with groggy hands.

  “Hurry up, Vas. I want my turn,” Soko breathed from behind him. He turned to see the shorter man unzip his fly and reach in to rub his cock.

  Vas stood up and nudged her legs apart with his boot. He unzipped his fly and pulled out his dick, giving it short jerks to get it hard.

  “What… are you…?” the woman slurred, her eyes moving around the room blearily then stopping on him. Her eyes swept his body then moved back to Vas, whose attention was fastened on her panties. Something in her eyes faded as she slid further away from consciousness.

  “I’m about to fuck you to sleep, fancy lady. Then my friend will do same,” Vas said with mock kindness, speaking in his horrible English.

  Vas fell to his knees and pulled the waistband of her panties until it snapped apart. He jerked the fabric down and hunched to yank at her bra and squeeze her breast. Seeing his dirty hand on her pale skin snapped something in Dimi, and in an instant, he grabbed Vas by his jeans and yanked him backward into the air.

  He watched Vas land on the table with a grunt, his momentum carrying him in a painful roll onto the chairs.

  Soko looked at him dumbly, his cock out and in his hand, his pants pooled around his legs. This is too easy. Dimi executed a front kick to Soko’s dick, which sent Soko backward, where he hit the wall and then automatically curled into the fetal position, making sounds only dogs could hear.

  He turned back to the woman, who had pushed herself backward into the corner.

  “I’m going to get you out of here,” he said in English, slow and distinct, hoping she wouldn’t fight him too badly.

  Instead, she nodded and leaped at him, wrapping herself around him so tightly he didn’t really have to hold her as he stood up.

  Jozef looked around the room in shock. Vas had staggered to a standing position, although he bent over his legs as he probed his ribs.

  “You’re going to fucking die—”

  Dimi ended his words with a punt to the side of his head, relaunching him into the air to drop to the floor, where he didn’t move.

  “Dimi,” Jozef said. “Me too.”

  Dimi nodded and broke his nose with a short jab, knowing it was the only way he wouldn’t be blamed. “If you can hear me, keep your eyes closed until everybody else gets up,” he murmured then left the room with the woman still wrapped around him.

  * * *

  When Dimi got to the lobby, he stopped and unwrapped the woman from him.

  “Stay right here for one minute,” he said, moving her against a wall.

  He rounded the corner and knocked on the first apartment door, pulling out his wallet. He gave a sharp rap on the door and called, “Police. Open or I’ll kick your door in.”

  Murmured voices came from inside followed by shuffling.

  “Show me ID,” demanded an older woman.

  He flashed his MMA teaching license at the peephole. It bore his photo and a gold-embossed seal with scripted writing.

  He heard clicks and rattles and the door opened.

  “I’m assisting an accident victim and I need shoes. Please retrieve some so I have no need to enter your apartment.”

  “Shoes! Women’s shoes!” the woman shouted behind her. A teenage boy spun to do her bidding, and the woman faced him again. Her eyes darted around him, but she didn’t move to try to verify his story. “I’m sorry if this woman was hurt in this building. Is there anything we should be careful of?”

  “She was mugged outside,” he answered, seeing her shoulders relax in relief. They wouldn’t if she knew the full story of what almost happened upstairs. What had probably happened before.

  “Here,” said the boy, handing a pair of black running shoes to her.

  “Will these do?” she asked, handing them over.

  “They will. Thank you,” he said and nodded. He waved her back and pulled the door close. “Thank you for your service,” he called through the closed door.

  He went back to the woman who had slumped to the floor and was shaking.

  “I can take you to a place to get cleaned up. Then arrange to get you back to safety.”

  “I can’t go back,” she murmured, surprising him by answering in Ukrainian. “That’s obvious now.”

  “Back to your family then,” he said, switching to his native language.

  “My family did this. My father. This was a warning.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that, so he continued to slide the shoes onto her cold feet. He laced them as tightly as he could, since they were like three sizes too big.

  “Can you walk?”

  “I think so.” She held out her hands and he helped her stand, watching her shake each foot as she got used to the large shoes.

  “A woman without shoes draws attention. It’s bad enough your cuts and bruises will raise questions,” he pointed out, finally examining the damage on her face.

  She tugged her shirt out of her skirt and knotted it at her waist, which hid the fact that the buttons had been torn away. She reached down to twist her long skirt so the jagged open seam was at the side.

  “If I hold this, it won’t be noticeable,” she said, clenching the fabric as she tugged her jacket straight with her other hand.

  He unzipped the hoodie he wore under his leather jacket and spit on a corner so he could wipe a few smudges of dirt off her face.

  “Not too bad. We can probably make it to a coffee shop that’s not too far away. Let’s go,” he said and held out his hand to her. She put her hand in his, and he tucked it through his arm. “It’s better if we look like we’re a couple.”

  * * *

  The shop was quiet, and he ordered them each a black coffee. He placed her mug on the table and sat opposite her. “Is there someone I can call for you? Or I can take you to the police, although I can’t—”

  “No police. That’s almost worse,” she said, finishing with a derisive exhale and a look of disgust. “I have a friend I can call. Lorna has connections who can help me.”

  He watched her sip the hot black fluid and saw how it eased the tension in her.

  “Coffee,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “Is there anything it can’t fix?”

  She gave a short exhale of a laugh.

  “You speak decent Ukrainian, which is unusual for someone who isn’t a native. You’re not, are you?”

  “I’m not,” she agreed. “I’ve been living here for a last few years, and I’ve just always been good at languages. I speak eight.”

  He frowned and pointed to streaks of white hair at her temples. “Is this some sort of disguise, then?”

  “No, it’s real. This,” she said, tugging on the two hanks of hair, “is what happens when you witness something so unspeakable part of your soul dies.” He might have laughed, but her eyes mirrored a horror so cold he couldn’t doubt what she said was true.

  “What did you see?” He had to ask.

  “My father kidnapped me from my mother’s people when I was five. She was one of the last descendants of Cochise, Chief of the Chokonen band of the Chiricahua Apache.” As she said the words, her shoulders pulled back and she sat straighter in her chair. She looked at him and then through him as she spoke, her voice getting stronger and harder.

  “He came himself, which was bold. I remember thinking he looked like a small man next to my mother. When she refused to let me go, he changed and… there’s no
other way to describe it—I saw a demon take him over. His eyes turned black and my mother fell to the ground. I don’t remember how, but I was pushed back against the house by some force and fell down.”

  “I can’t imagine a child witnessing her mother being killed.”

  “I closed my eyes, but I’ll never forget her scream. The next thing I knew, he had my arm and dragged me past her to a car. I looked back once, and I saw blood streaks down both her arms. Years later I asked him why, and he said she brought it on herself. When I asked him if I really did see him turn into a demon, he admitted I had.”

  “You said your father had you kidnapped as a warning. Why?”

  “Because I want to leave the family. My father is Sota Makkeido. He owns and runs Makkeido Industries. I thought I’d be able to stay here, away from him, but I can see I’m going to have to leave on my own terms.” She breathed in and out, as if cleansing her mind. “I’d tell you my name, but I might have already told you too much.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can look after myself,” he assured her.

  “What about you? I’ve never met a gang member with a conscience.”

  “Have you ever met a gang member?” he asked.

  “You’d be surprised at the people I’ve met,” she replied, her face serious.

  “I’m also trying to leave the family business. Except our business is poverty. My father got hurt when I was little, and we’ve struggled ever since. I’ve used these—” He held up his fists, knuckles facing her. “—to earn a living in the ring and out of it. That money pays for my computer classes. When I graduate, I’ll be able to get a job in the west and send money back.”