By the time I stopped speaking, my voice was at a full yell, but Senna seemed unperturbed.
“Your choice. I just thought you’d like something to do with your hands,” she said.
“How can you be so fucking calm right now?” I asked.
“Years of practice. Now come on. Nothing’s going to change while we sit here and fret, so we may as well keep busy,” she said.
Then she left, apparently leaving the choice of whether to follow suit to me.
These people were unlike any people I had ever known. I had no idea how to handle them, no idea of what to do, but I knew if I sat here for a moment longer, I would go insane. So I stood and followed Senna.
Priest
It had been a little over an hour. The blood that flowed from Benton had slowed to a drip, and I was still chained to the pipe. No closer to figuring out how I was going to get loose. If I was going to get loose.
I stood, leaned back to get leverage, and pulled. The pipe didn’t budge, not even a little.
So that plan was a nonstarter.
I looked at Benton’s corpse and decided it was the second best bet. He had flopped away from me, and when I lowered myself to the ground, it was a struggle to pull his dead weight toward me from the awkward position.
Still, I pulled hard as I could and when I finally got him close enough to search his pockets, I was a mass of pain. My arms burned, my shoulder joints were twisted, and my chest throbbed from the broken ribs.
But I was closer to finding my way out. Assuming, that was, he had the key somewhere on him.
I searched one pocket, came up empty and then reached for the other.
I heard something and then froze, stood as ready as I could be with no way to escape and no way to defend myself.
Did Benton have help? Backup? Was it the police?
All those thoughts raced through my mind as I watched the door open.
To my surprise, though I couldn’t say why I was surprised, Maxim walked in.
He looked at Benton, then me, as disinterested as he seemingly always was.
“I’m disappointed, Nikolai. You’re still chained to the pipe,” he said.
I had never been more relieved to see anyone, especially Maxim. And I had never marveled at the ability to get under other people’s skin as much as I did now.
“Why are you here?”
“You could say thank you,” he said.
“I could, but I don’t know what your price will be, and I certainly don’t know if you plan to let me go,” I said.
“I’ll let you go.”
Then he stepped aside and two others walked in.
When one of them uncuffed me, the pain of blood rushing back into my numb hands set off a stabbing burn that I welcomed as the feeling came back into my fingers.
“So you knew about this all along?”
“I had no idea.”
He was probably telling the truth, though I couldn’t always tell with Maxim. Maybe he’d been curious, but not curious enough to investigate. Yes, that was likely what had happened.
Maxim looked at me, assessing yet casual, as though this sort of thing happen every day, which for him, it may have.
I stood taller, reached into my jacket pocket, and retrieved a handkerchief to begin cleaning my hands.
“So why are you here?”
“I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it for myself, but it looks like you made some friends,” he said.
“Maxim, it’s been a very long day,” I said. The beating had been thorough, though it probably wouldn’t be memorable once the bruises healed. But seeing Milan like that…the worry for her safety, her life, had taken its toll.
One side of his jaw twitched, the equivalent of a belly laugh for Maxim. “Your friend, Milan, she was quite insistent that you needed help. I told her you’d be fine, but she didn’t trust me, and I thought I would come see for myself,” he said.
“You have Milan? How did you find her?” I asked, alarmed.
“She found me. Walked right up to the front door,” he said.
“Take me to her,” I said.
Thirty-Five
Milan
“Milan, this is delicious. You have a gift,” Senna said as she took another bite of shrimp.
“Thank you,” I replied.
“Shrimp and grits is one of my favorites, but I’ve never had it quite like this,” she said.
“Yeah, I add some polenta to the grits. It gives it some extra texture and creaminess,” I said.
“Well, it’s excellent,” she said, smiling at me.
I had thought that cooking would be impossible, but as I had given myself to preparing the meal, my hands had taken over, moving automatically and giving my weary mind a much-needed break.
Probably just as Senna had intended.
“That was a good idea. Thank you for suggesting it,” I added.