“Why did you want to save me?” I ask, surprised at how quiet and shaky my voice has become.
He’s still holding my hand, and though I can no longer touch his jaw where he keeps it, I could reach out, touch that broad, hard chest of his if I wanted. If I wasn’t quaking before the towering Russian.
But that question seems to stump him a little, or maybe he’s just not sure if he wants to be honest, because he doesn’t answer right away.
“Because I chose to, that’s all there is to it,” he says, releasing my arm. But even this stoic brute doesn’t do a good job of hiding the truth this time, because I can tell there’s more.
It hangs between us, but I don’t push. Not this time. Not if I hope to see him let me go from my prison cell.
And do what? That voice in the back of my mind nags at me. I want to be free just because I don’t like being trapped, but even I understand the risks, if those men are actually after me. But on the outside, there’s people I can go to for help. People I know and trust.
“I can’t stay here, Mikhail,” I say softly. I don’t know if it frightens me more to stay with him or leave, but at least on the outside, I’m free.
“But you have to all the same,” he says to me with a tone of finality, stepping around me and going right for the door. “There’s plenty of leftovers, and more food in the cupboards and fridge,” he reminds me, but I don’t care about those things.
“Wait!” I say, and try to follow after him, tugging at the door. But it’s no use, he pulls it shut tight against my resistance, undaunted by my feeble attempts to stop him. And it slams shut. Leaving me alone inside.
“Damn it,” I curse, and I find myself staring at the closed door, picturing him on the other side, filled with a sense of longing that definitely should not exist. I can still feel the imprint of his hand on my wrist, and I touch it tenderly before my heart drops and I return to my bland captivity without the spark of his presence.
5
Mikhail
She’s a pain in the ass.
So why am I putting myself out on the line for her? I don’t kill women, I tell myself. No different than my sticking up for Nikita years ago.
But that doesn’t mean I have to go out of my way to save her. I could have just dumped her off somewhere with a warning, leave her fate in her own hands. But I know a girl like her has no way of understanding the trouble she’s in, nor how serious it is. Ditching her anywhere with a simple warning would have been the same as a death sentence. That’s all.
Why did I just sit and eat dinner with her? That’s a question I can’t answer as easily. I’ve never sat down and ate a meal with Nikita, not in all the years since I helped her upon arrival. When she was emaciated and starving after her trip over, I brought her food and left her to it.
I can’t even remember the last time I actually sat and spoke with a woman casually over dinner. I may not hurt women, but I don’t deal with them either.
Yet this one…
I have to get her out of my life quickly.
6
Alicia
Things were so quiet in my little hideaway-slash-prison that I just cried myself to sleep after a news report about the murder of the congressman and the search for a missing witness. Me.
That’s why it struck me as so odd, I guess, when I awake from my nap to the sound of movement. I’m put on edge immediately, because it could be anyone. Maybe it’s my captor come back, or maybe it’s the police. Or worst of all, it might be those mobsters out to eliminate the last witness.
That last possibility is the one that sticks out in my mind so much and makes my heart thump noisily in my chest, because it’s the stuff my tortured dreams had been made of all night.
I get up, still dressed in the simple silk nightdress I’d found in the closet, my bare feet padding over the hard floor as I make my way out of the room.
I can hear the sounds, but they aren’t coming from inside. It’s like the sound of scuffing, mixed with the sound of metal. My heart is going haywire, and I creep closer to the door to hear. Light streams in from underneath, along that very narrow crack.
Grunting.
Oh lord, what if there’s a fight happening outside my door right now?
I want to run and hide, but I know if they’re here for me, hiding is only delaying the inevitable. If I’m going to live, I need to run.
But the door is locked…
I reach out with trembling fingers towards that cold metal door knob, and gently wrap my hand around it. I do my best to be quiet, but I’m no pro. I only hope the scuffle outside keeps them distracted as I turn…
And it opens. It’s not locked.