Vice

by Nicole Marsh

I haven’t said anything in response to Pavel’s request. He continues talking, “I’m done with your games. Any more questions from you and you won’t be happy with what happens next.”

  The first touch of the knife was just a light scratch, but I know that I can’t hold Katia’s Father off with more questions after his threat. Instead of trying to force my panicked brain into replying, I repeat my mantra in my head. “Alex will save you. Alex is coming”. Adding, “Alex won’t let them take you to New York”, for good measure.

  After waiting a second in silence, Pavel speaks again, “Where is my daughter?”

  I slowly shake my head no at him. I don’t know.

  I don’t know what to tell him. Maybe Katia ran away from her childhood home with good reasons. Even something small like her current address in Chicago could put Pavel on her trail more than he already is.

  Then again if I give him her address and he leaves to go check her house, maybe I can escape or maybe Alex will have a chance to come find me by then. If I can get out of here, I have a chance to intercept Katia before Pavel reaches her. I could give her a call and warn her away from her house, before Pavel has a chance to get to her and take her away.

  Pavel must’ve taken my head shake as either a non-answer, or a refusal to give him information. He rips me from my thoughts about what information to share, as pain sears through my body. Pavel is pressing the knife deep into the top of my left thigh. He draws a straight line from the hem of my dress at the top of my thigh, all the way down to my knee. Blood starts to seep from the cut down the sides of my leg. I can hear droplets hit the floor underneath me, and feel some of them hit my bare feet.

  Even biting my cheek, doesn’t keep in the sob this time. My entire leg feels like it’s on fire. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to escape at all with this one large gash, and I have a feeling Pavel intends to keep carving my body until I give him what he’s asking for.

  Pavel takes the knife and runs his finger down my blood that’s now coating its side. He licks the blood off of his finger and my stomach turns. From both the pain throbbing in my leg and disgust as I realize that Katia’s Father is enjoying this. Pavel is sick.

  I’m confident that Katia left his home of her own volition, not from some kidnapping plan. I don’t want to give Pavel many details about her, but I also need to make it out of here alive. In order to help us both.

  Pavel asks me again, singsonging the words, like we’re both having a great time here, “Where is my daughter, Miss Jenna?”

  I take in a deep breath. My left leg is pulsing, blood flowing onto the floor, and my head is pounding. I feel groggy and disoriented. I hope that I’m not sentencing Katia or I to a terrible fate with my next words, “I didn’t take your daughter, but she does work at my Club.” I falter and have to take another deep breath to steady myself before I continue, “I don’t know where she is. She came to me the other day and asked for a few days off.”

  Pavel leans forward, getting closer to my face, and looking straight into my eyes, before saying in a low, quiet voice, “You know where she is and you’re going to tell me.” Right after his words, he takes the knife, jabbing it deep into my right hand. I let out a high-pitched scream. I can’t move my hand to pull the knife out, the leather strap is holding my wrists down, and the knife is now pinning my hand to the wooden arm of the chair.

  I’m gasping my breaths in and out. Trying to breathe through the pain as tears stream down my cheeks. My poker face is gone completely. I’m panicked and barely able to breathe.

  Between the pain in my leg and now the pain in my hand, I feel like I’m about to pass out. My vision has laser focused onto the knife protruding from my hand, everything else around me is blurred and out of focus. The only sound I can hear is my own breath, coming in and out in short panicky bursts.

  I watch as Pavel slowly pulls the knife back out of my hand. Blood starts to gurgle up out the wound, adding a second pattering sound as the drops hit the floor near my feet. A sort of numbness is starting to take over in my hand and under my feet I can feel a small puddle of blood forming.

  Pavel said that he wasn’t going to kill me here, but I no longer believe him. I’m losing a lot of blood and he seems like he has no intentions of putting the knife away any time soon. I don’t know if I should lie and give him a fake location for Katia. I don’t know what will help me get out of here or give Alex the time he needs to find me.

  Pavel takes the knife and wipes it clean, using the hem of my dress. While he’s cleaning the knife, the blade snags on my dress causing a tear that exposes an extra two inches of my legs and part of my hips. The new hem ends right before the top of my panties.

  Pavel traces the newly exposed skin with his knife, then leans in again, “Where is Katia?”

  “I don’t know,” I stammer between pained gasps. “Have you tried her apartment? I have her address, I’ll give it to you.” I’m hoping this buys me time, but I know I need to be stitched up soon. Otherwise all of this suffering, and trying to buy time for Katia and I, won’t matter anyways.

  Pavel looks at me with a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Without any warning, he presses the blade against my right thigh this time. Starting in the inner edge and moving towards the outside. The gash doesn’t immediately pour out blood like the previous two injuries. I don’t know if this means it’s not as deep, or if I’ve already lost so much blood, my body isn’t able to offer much to well out of this new injury.

  I’m starting to become lightheaded, the pounding in my head seems to be getting worse with each breath. The adrenaline from the first few cuts is wearing off. My hand and legs are pulsing with a steady feeling of pain. Combined with the pounding in my skull, my eyes are trying to force themselves closed. My body is convinced that sleep is the only way to start healing all of the injuries that I’ve sustained.

  Faintly I can hear a phone ringing. My eyes are slits, it’s taking all of effort to keep them open even this far. I see Pavel take a few steps back and place his phone to his ear. I hear him saying words I can’t understand, then suddenly he strides out of view.

  I hear the door screeching behind me again, then suddenly I’m plunged into darkness. The only noise in the dark room is the splatter of my blood as it drips from my chair onto the floor.

  Chapter 13

  Alex

  I’ve been in the warehouse for about twenty minutes and I haven’t seen or heard anyone else during my time sweeping the rooms that I’ve come across, or walking down the hall. I’m starting to grow concerned that maybe the tip for the location of the hideout wasn’t accurate. Maybe the Bratva have a different hideout and they planted these tips, trying to throw us off their trail. Suddenly a shot sounds behind me, it’s the only warning I have before a searing pain rips through my right shoulder.

  I have the left half of my body against the wall, but in my haste to check the rooms, my right side was uncovered and I haven’t been keeping an eye on the hall behind me. Glancing back, I see a man dressed completely in black, hurrying down the hall towards me. His gun is pointed at me, and he looks like he’s about to fire again.

  Down the hall, about five feet ahead and to my right is another door, this one is slightly ajar. I dive towards it, wincing as it screeches open. Just as I make it through the doorway, another shot rings out in the hall. I push the door back into place and do a small victory fist pump when I realize there is a deadbolt on the inside. I finish closing the door completely and turn the bolt.

  The room I’m in is plunged into darkness with the door closed. I brace my back against the door and feel around the wall for a light switch, I find one and hold it between my fingers. Taking a deep breath, I let out a few words of prayer, hoping I’m in an empty room, then I flip the switch upwards.

  I suck in a breath between my teeth once the room is lit. It’s empty of threats, but not empty. In the center of the room, someone is sitting in a chair with a puddle of blood underneath it. The raven colored ha
ir spilling down the back of the chair makes the person’s identity pretty clear.

  I rush across the room and kneel in front of the chair. Jenna is strapped to it by her hands and ankles and she’s in rough shape. There are gashes on both of her thighs, a hole in her hand, and the bottom of her dress is shredded. Her normally golden skin is pale, and her head hangs down, with her eyes closed. I place my palm lightly against her cheek and whisper, “Jenna, I’m here. I’ve got you baby. I’m here.”

  I keep whispering to her as I undo the straps holding her to the chair. Once she’s free, I lower her gently to the ground. I whip off my backpack, grabbing some of the medical supplies from my kit, before resting it under her head as a pillow.

  I pull out my phone and dial 9-1-1, then place the phone between my ear and shoulder so that both of my hands are free to help Jenna. I start applying pressure to her largest wounds, they are bleeding slowly, but still bleeding. An operator comes on the line and I start barking out requests: back-up and an ambulance. I provide the address of the warehouse, my name, and badge number. The operator tells me someone is on their way, immediately. I reiterate to tell the paramedics they can’t enter the building until the police have arrived and cleared it.

  I can feel the wound in my shoulder dripping blood down my arm, but addressing my wounds is a low priority compared to Jenna. I can feel her ebbing, I check her pulse and it’s detectable, but weak. With the amount of blood loss, I’m not surprised.

  After I staunch the blood flow, I make one more call to Smith and Steele, to see if they’re okay and ask if they can start heading my way down the hall. I warn them about the man in black, then hang up dropping my phone to the concrete floor. I work on dressing Jenna’s wounds the best I can with my limited supplies.

  There are very few times that I’ve ridden in an ambulance and I hope to keep it that way. Sitting beside Jenna on a gurney while two men insert IV’s and try to start a blood transfusion, all while listening to the blaring sirens and watching as cars barely move out of the way, is probably one of the most stressful situations that I’ve ever been through.

  Jenna doesn’t wake up during the entire ride. The paramedics discovered another injury on Jenna, as they checked her over, prior to loading her onto the gurney. She has a gash on the back of her head. They guessed that she initially suffered a blow to the back of the head when she was taken from the Club.

  I asked if we should be concerned that she hasn’t been conscious since I found her, but their answer was that it could be blood loss, it could be the head wound, or it could be her body trying to heal. Their answers weren’t very reassuring in my opinion. Hopefully the doctors at the hospital would have better news.

  I tried to stay with Jenna once we got to the hospital, but I was intercepted by Chief. He took one look at me with an open wound still slowly trickling blood, then immediately had me admitted as well, to have my shoulder looked at. The shot hit the fleshy part of my shoulder, luckily missing most of the important bits. The doctor removed the bullet and stitched me up, saying she needed to keep me overnight for observation. I told them I was fine staying for observation, but I need to be in the same room as Jenna.

  The doctors and nurses all denied my requests to share a room with her. I continued to pester them to see Jenna, but instead of giving in, they threatened to cuff me to the bed if I didn’t stop taking my finger out of the pulse monitor and lay down to get some rest.

  Cooper came into my room during my fourth argument with my nurse. He’s always been the smooth talker of our partnership and he was able to convince her to let me go see Jenna, as soon as she was awake, if I agreed to lay in bed and rest until then. I agreed to these terms, as long as Cooper sat with Jenna to keep an eye on her.

  Chapter 14

  Jenna

  A beeping noise is echoing in my head, it sounds like my alarm for work. I want nothing more than to find it and turn it off but my eyelids feel so heavy. I fight to open my eyes, seeking out the noise to turn it off.

  When I’m finally able to pry open my eyelids, I glance around, realizing that I’m in, what appears to be a hospital room. Memories of the last time I was awake hit my consciousness all at once. The power outage at the club. Pavel with the knife. Alex’s voice, soothing and low.

  Now that I’m awake, I can feel a full body soreness. My legs ache, my hand aches. My head is throbbing with a dull ache. Everything aches.

  I turn my head to the side and see Cooper sitting in a chair next to my bed. Sunlight streams in from between the blinds that cover the window behind him, highlighting his tired face. His knee looks bulky in a large wrap, a pair of crutches rest on the wall next him, and he’s sitting with his face resting in his palms.

  “Cooper?” I croak out, my throat dry and dusty.

  At the sound of my voice, Cooper quickly raises his head from his hands and looks at me. His eyes widen, “Jenna,” he starts hesitantly, “No one was sure if you’d wake up.” He looks me up and down with bloodshot eyes, before he smiles. “I’m so happy you’re awake.”

  “Where’s Alex?” I ask, my dry mouth and throat making it difficult to talk. I try to clear my throat to ask more questions.

  Cooper seems to understand my struggle, or anticipate my needs, and reaches over to the table by my bed. He pours water into a glass, then hands it to me. “Try drinking this first. You’ve been out for almost a full day.” After he’s satisfied with the few sips of water that I’ve taken, he responds to my earlier question, “Alex is here, he’s been checked into the room across the hall.”

  I sputter into my water, ready to interrupt, but Cooper holds up his hand to silence me. “He was shot in the shoulder, but they were able to remove the bullet and nothing vital was hit.” He explains, “He’s been awake and lucid the entire time he’s been in here, but they threatened to cuff him to the bed if he didn’t stop trying to come into your room.”

  I let out a noise that’s half relieved sigh, half laugh at his response. Then I ask in a small voice, “Do you think I could go see him?”

  Cooper stands, balancing on his uninjured leg, and snags his crutches from the wall. He takes a few steps closer to the bed, “He’s in better shape than you are at this point, let me see if I can get his Nurse to let me bring him over.”

  “Thank you,” I respond, tears of relief welling in my eyes at the thought of seeing Alex. I owe him at least thousand thank you’s for saving my life, and for risking his own to do so. Not to mention, he was the first person I was hoping to see sitting in the chair by my hospital bed when I woke up.

  The argument that I started in the Club with Alex was unfair. As much as I’ve fought to better myself from the experiences of my past, I still have a hard time relying on others. Trusting someone else to take care of me and protect my heart is completely new territory. I know there’s no point in trying to pretend that Alex hasn’t become an important part of my life or that he hasn’t treated me like I’m an important part of his. Despite the fact that on paper we are an ill matched pair, in reality he has been a great partner to me during the past month that we’ve been living together.

  I can hear Cooper’s crutches slapping against the floor in the hallway, signaling his return before I can see him. I’m holding my breath, hoping Cooper was successful and is returning with Alex in tow. My breath escapes in a whoosh as I hear Alex’s deep voice grumbling about how hospital gowns shouldn’t have a stupid slit in the back.

  I’m chuckling to myself when Alex appears in the doorway, dragging an IV pole with a bag of clear fluid attached. My chuckles die in my throat, I’m sobered at the fierce look on Alex’s face. I start to talk, needing to apologize and needing to tell him how I feel. I hope that it’s not too late and that his feelings are the same as mine.

  Alex walks with a sure, steady stride to the bed. Once he reaches me, he grabs the sides of my face with his hands, he leans over and consumes me with his kiss. Alex’s mouth punishes mine. He fiercely devours my mouth, licking and nipping a
t my lips and tongue. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth dominating me with his movements. His kiss makes me forget everything. The traumatizing events that brought me here. Our audience. Everything.

  He pulls back again to nip at my lips, as he slides one of his hands down from my cheek, to my neck, then my shoulder. I arch up into him, seeking more contact, needing his hands on my body, my breasts are aching for his touch.

  Alex suddenly removes his hands and lifts his head up. I make a mew of disappointment until I realize there is some very loud throat clearing carrying across the room from the doorway. I look past Alex and see Cooper still standing on his crutches in the doorway, with a gray haired Nurse holding a clipboard standing right beside him.

  I feel my cheeks heat with a blush of embarrassment, until the Nurse starts chastising Alex, “I keep telling you if you impact her recovery by trying to barge in here every ten minutes, I’m going to drag you back to your room and cuff you to your bed.” I laugh at the thought of Alex being dragged back to his hospital bed by this small, fierce looking woman with a severe, tight bun. I imagine her holding onto him by his ear which only makes me laugh harder. When she’s finished her threats, she turns from Alex to address me, “You seem to be in a good mood, Dear. Let me check you out, then go grab the doctor, now that you’re awake.”

  Alex drags his IV pole a bit closer to the bed, then helps me to sit up, moving my pillow to prop me up a bit, he scoots me over so that I’m pressed against the left rail on the bed. After he has me settled into a more comfortable, upright position, he scoots in, putting his large body right next to my smaller one in the hospital bed.

  The Nurse makes a clucking noise, but doesn’t order Alex to get out of the bed, instead she conducts her checks, jotting notes on her chart as she moves about the room, checking the various pieces of equipment.

  Once she’s satisfied, the Nurse turns to me and says she’ll return in just a few moments, then hurries out of the room to grab the doctor. She returns with a distinguished looking man in scrubs. He walks into the room and I recognize his chiseled face and salt and pepper hair, “Dr. Richardson!” I greet him warmly, with a small smile.