by Box Set
“Maksim's other pet, James”—Carl clears his throat—“he told me. A few years back, Blaire apparently overheard the Turks bad mouthing Tatiana behind her back. She slaughtered the lot of them for it of her own free will, no orders needed. Tatiana found out and commanded Blaire's freedom as a reward for her loyalty.”
I fucking knew it! For years, I've wondered about her involvement in my freedom from Maksim's house, but now I know for sure.
“I don't know any fine details,” Carl says, “but James said Tatiana was swooned with Blaire's natural loyalty to her and Maksim, and that’s why she granted Blaire with freedom and protection.”
“So, why's he still whipping her then, huh?”
“I don't know,” Carl says. “Rumo is just as confused—and before you think he's betrayed you, he was trying to delay Maksim from taking Blaire tonight. That's why he brought her here and didn't take her back to the whorehouse.”
Someone butts in and tells Charlie the coast is clear. “We need to leave now, Señor, if we're to avoid a showdown.”
“Call the Lone MD's,” Charlie says to Andres, his words coming out strained and fast. “Tell them to get to the central hospital, now. Tell them what's wrong with Blaire so they're equipped.”
“I'm already on it,” Andres says, pushing back from me. “Give her this, just for if anything happens, and put pressure on that wound. It’s bleeding too much.”
Charlie grabs one of my hands and puts something heavy in my grasp. A gun. He then grabs my other and forces me to hold the wound on my stomach. I whimper because it's agony to touch.
“Oh, I know it hurts, baby,” he says with raw sympathy in his voice, stroking my hair back out of my face. “But you have to press on the wound to stop the bleeding. I'm gonna pick you up now.” He swathes one arm around my shoulders, the other behind my knees, and lifts me into his chest.
“Aargh!” I scream-sob through the pain, feeling like my back is being stretched out.
“I'm sorry but I've gotta get you outa here,” he says. “Let's go.”
My mind coils as I feel the steady gait of his movements. He's running. An array of heavy footsteps follow. With the pain and the tender feeling of being ill, I just want to shut my eyes. I want to wake up and feel better. I'll feel better if I get some rest.
“Don't let her sleep,” Andres puffs out. “She'll slip into a coma.”
“You hear that, Blaire? Don't go to sleep,” Charlie warns, though it's almost too late. I'm so tired.
“Look at me,” Charlie snaps, his strides long and powerful, knocking me back and forth in his embrace.
With all the might I have, I open my eyes and lift them to his but I can't really see him.
“Keep your eyes open,” he says in clatters of breath. “Don't. Go. To. Sleep.”
I think I nod at him, but I do shut my eyes. I'm just so, so tired.
Outside, the cold air hits me. My stomach rolls. I'm going to be sick. But then we come to a sharp stop that makes me wince, pulling me back from the sickness and the tiredness.
“Maksim...” Charlie's tone deepens as he says his name. “I fucking warned you not to hurt her. Did you think I was joking?”
He's here. Maksim is here.
Still holding the gun in one hand, I cover my face with both arms, cowering, panic coursing through me.
“Put-put her down,” Maksim says, his voice dripping in fear as he stutters. “Put-put her down and let's talk, Charlie. Let's not start a war ov-over one girl.”
“She's not just one girl, hijo de puta! She's the girl.” Charlie's voice vibrates in his chest with raw, inhumane anger. “Andres,” he says, and then I feel someone else's arms around me. Charlie is passing me to his brother, who huddles me against a hard torso, careful not to hold my back.
Bile rises through me, burning the back of my throat like acid. I lean over quick enough to spew on the ground and not on Andres, gagging and coughing up. I’m not sure what’s coming out of me but it’s not food. I haven’t eaten in a while.
“Oh, shit,” Andres curses, carefully putting me down on my knees where I let go of the gun. “Blaire, just let it all out. Don't try to stop it.”
“Maksim,” I retch, trying to stop the nausea. “He's—”
“Don't you worry about him.” Andres is on his knees with me. “If you need to be sick, just be sick.”
Holding myself up on all fours, I toss up my guts—I can't seem to stop. Someone gathers my hair at the back of my neck. I heave harder and faster, projectile vomiting through my nose and my mouth. My eyes bulge and water. My stomach pangs in pain. I think I’m spewing up blood.
I can't hear anything but my own choking, then, “You're dead, as are your lackey’s,” Charlie says in a voice that's strangely unfamiliar to me. A loud commotion trails, which I'm sure are guns going off—
BANG
BANG
BANG
I cup my ringing ears and hunch over, curling up in a small ball.
BRATATATAT
Fuck, my head hurts and I can't see. My vision is so woozy.
I suddenly think of Maksim, and that he might be a danger to Charlie somehow. If he lives, he could be a danger to James!
My anew instincts kick in and I don't know how, but I swipe the gun from the ground and battle to my feet in a state of vertigo. I squeeze-blink about. There are soldiers everywhere firing guns, lighting up the night with flashes of burning yellow. More soldiers than I think there really are.
Double vision.
Maksim. I squint harder but I can't see or hear him.
There's a large man standing next to me, one of Charlie’s men. He's firing a powerful machine gun at what’s left of Maksim's security detail, blowing them away. The shots are so close that I can feel my ears pop with each blast.
“Aargh!” I screech as steely arms close around me from behind. I buckle at the knees with excruciating pain. The gun goes off in my hand with a powerful jolt that sends a shooting pain up my arm, but it's nothing compared to having someone flush against my back.
“Blaire, stop fighting,” Andres says in my ear, using his full strength to hold me down. “We're here to save you.”
“Let me go, please!” I beg, burning up with a fever. I claw to get free but I can't. I think I call out again, but I cannot hear my own voice anymore.
In the distance by a stretch of SUVs, I see Charlie kneeling over someone, pounding him in the face with a clenched fist. He's strangling the man with his other hand, ensuring he cannot escape.
Maksim.
He has to pay for what he's done. He has to pay for shooting James.
“Let. Me. Go!” I scream so loud, a burst of adrenaline coming over me. I fling out my arms, forcing Andres to release me, and stagger to my feet once more. Through the firework of gunshots shaking the atmosphere, I stumble over to Charlie and Maksim, barely registering any pain now.
“Blaire, My Little Pet?” Maksim's golden eyes, swollen and full of blood, widen at the sight of me. He's gripping Charlie's wrist in an attempt to get free.
Charlie stops his attack and turns his head to look at me. His face is covered in specks of blood. The devil is in his eyes, blazing with fury.
“You shot him.” I lift the gun to Maksim and click back the hammer, trembling from head to toe. “You-you've done some terrible things to James, but shooting him? Me?”
“I'm sorry,” Maksim splutters. “I went too far. I realize that now.”
“Sorry isn't enough,” I say, cold of emotion. Finally, I feel nothing but hatred for him.
Releasing Maksim, Charlie pushes away from him and stands at my side, his breathing ragged. He puts one arm around my shoulders to hold me, steadying my stance. I notice the gunshots have stopped. It's so quiet. There's an eerie feel to the night.
Staring at Maksim as he stares at me, I consider two options for him: suffering or death.
“He has to die,” I croak out, my lips wobbling with uncontrollable tears. “He cannot live.”
/> “I’ll do it, Blaire,” Charlie says, but I tell him no. I try to crouch down to my master, to put us eye to eye, but I buckle at the knees. Charlie doesn’t let me fall. He controls my equilibrium, gripping my shoulders tightly in his hands and carefully helps me to my knees.
Maksim is coughing up blood, straining to stop himself.
“Blaire,” he chokes, reaching out for my hand with cold fingers, “you can stop this. You can save me.” Holding my hand, he pleads physically, squeezing me. “Don't let him kill me,” he says under his breath in Russian.
“Why not?” I search his eyes, blinking a few times to clear the white film in my vision. “There is nothing for you anymore.”
“I won't go to hell yet!” he yells with all the power his body will allow, hunching over on his side in pain to cough up some more. He pulls me with him, and I moan at the pain of my back being stretched out. But then Charlie snatches my hand out of Maksim’s.
“Get off her, you puta motherfucker.”
“I cannot go to hell yet,” Maksim’s voice softens as he says that, and I think he's crying. “I am not ready, My Little Pet.”
I blink tears of sadness and rage, knowing I've failed to do the only thing I've ever known—keep him safe from anything and everything in the world.
I lean over to say in his ear, wincing in agony, “Hell is ready for you.” And putting the gun to his temple, I squeeze the trigger and blow him away with a thunderous BANG.
My body doesn't react to the sound, and I don’t move away from him.
I'm not sure if I shut my eyes, but the world goes black. I feel a strange sense of weight being lifted off my shoulders, like his soul is leaving me.
We're safe now. James and I. Nothing can hurt us anymore.
“I'll see you again someday,” I say under my breath, so only Maksim can hear me, “I’m sure.”
Epilogue
I cannot recall a time I felt like this, neither empty nor fulfilled. Somewhere in the middle. Must be the drugs that doctor gave me, keeping me in a hazy state of limbo. But still, I can't deny there is this strange emotion lingering within me, something I've not experienced before. I've just slaughtered my master to save everyone I care about, so I can be with them in total liberty, and all I want to do is get up from the hospital bed I'm lying on and walk out that door right in front of me. I want to escape the captivity of this tiny room and the horrid clinical scent of the hospital. I'm not sure where I want to go. Perhaps I want to stand under the rain, to feel cleansed of myself and completely free—because it is raining outside, spitting against the window above my head. I imagine it’s washing away Maksim's blood from Rumo's driveway, erasing any evidence of his death.
No matter how much I desire to leave though, I can’t, because I’m sick with infection. I’m lying on my side with cushions propped against my back, keeping me in this position. A lightweight blanket is pulled up to my chin. There’s a sharp cannula inserted in the top of my left hand, feeding my body clear fluids from a medical bag hanging on a tall silver pole next to my bed. A plastic clip is attached to my right index finger, reading my blood pressure and my pulse, a long, droning beeping near my ear.
Beep...Beep...Beep...
The door creaks open and Charlie wanders in to stand at my side with crossed arms, painted in specks of dried out blood. He’s followed in by a balding Indian doctor who’s scribbling something down on a clipboard, dressed in a long white coat with a stethoscope hanging around his neck.
“Dr. Shyam, I want a full medical report while she's unconscious with an internal and external examination, swabs and blood tests, the lot. Don't leave an inch of that girl unchecked.”
“Do you suspect she's been attacked sexually, Mr. Decena?” the doctor says in Arabic accented English, jotting down Charlie’s every command. “Because I can call in a specialist to check her over?”
“I don’t suspect”—Charlie's voice comes out harsh with controlled anger—“I know.”
Of course he knows. Maksim must have confessed what he did to me when Charlie was punching his lights out.
“And while you're removing that brand from her back, be fucking delicate or we're gonna have a problem. I've seen the way some of you surgeons handle your patients.”
“We will be extra careful, Mr. Decena, you have my word. I have the best surgeons on hand to assist your girlfriend, so once we get her blood pressure under control, we’ll take her in for surgery.”
“Good,” Charlie says.
They’re quiet after discussing me, and then I hear the door click shut. I weakly lift my head off the pillow to look up at Charlie, blinking away the cloudy film in my eyes.
“Charlie,” I breathe out his name to attain his attention.
“You’re awake?” He uncrosses his arms and pulls up a chair to sit at my side. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, baby. I thought you were sleeping.”
“No.” I rest against the pillow with a sigh. “I’ve just been lying here.”
There’s a moment between us, as we look at each other in connecting silence. Then he smiles at me with pure guilt. “You all right, baby?” He sounds guiltier than he looks. “You in any pain?”
“No.” I shakily reach out to him, needing to touch him. He takes my hand, causing the cannula needle to pinch, but I don’t care. The muse of my affections, he is, and I miss him so much. His tan is darker against the pale green room we're in, and his unruly hair looks death black under the lights. Maksim's blood is marring his skin under those striking blue eyes.
“When are we leaving for Mexico?” I whisper, slowly blinking at him. I just want to leave this place forever.
He flashes me a forced, doting smile, stroking over my knuckles with the rough pad of his thumb. “As soon as you've had the operation, we’ll go.”
“Today?”
“Maybe tomorrow morning, baby,” he says softly, tipping his head. “You'll still be asleep but by the time you wake up, we'll be home.”
Home. It's so weird to hear him say that. It's all he was talking about on the ride over here from Rumo's house, just after I murdered Maksim. In the back of the car, I was vaguely aware that I was curled up on his lap, and he was cradling my head to his chest. I could feel his heart thudding against my ear. I could hear his rushed intakes of breath. He told me over and over what it will be like when we’re in Mexico, and apologized endlessly about what’s happened to me. “I should never have sent you back,” he said, his words cracking with tears. “I should have listened to my brother and kept you. But if you fight to stay alive, Blaire, I swear I’ll make it up to you. There’s a whole life waiting for us.” He kissed the top of my head, speaking to me there, begging me not to die.
“I'd like that,” I whisper, turning up my lips in another dazed smile. “I’d like to wake up and be at your home. I’d like to see what your room looks like.”
Another smile—he’s forcing every one, though I understand. He blames himself for the state I’m in, but it’s not his fault. Whether he sent me back to Maksim or not is irrelevant. I would have gone. Nothing could have stopped me. I was programmed to go back.
“And James will come with us”—Charlie hunches down so we’re a little closer, so I can feel his warmth—“if you want him to, that is?”
“Yes. He's my brother,” I remind myself, unexplainably content that I still have some family left in the world. “I want him to know that while Maksim is gone, he still has me.”
“Us,” Charlie corrects, raising his thick eyebrows at me. “James has us both.”
I search the piercing blueness in his eyes, my emotions for him all but bursting out of me. “Yes. Us.” I shift my head on the pillow, taking in the sight of his lovely face in a moment of gratification.
“Where is James?” I ask eventually.
“He’s at the house”—Charlie gestures at the door with a nod—“and he’s fine. Don’t worry. My brother Nic is keeping him company.”
His brother? I’m not sure how James wi
ll feel about that. Judging from what he texted me the other week, he was nervous about the Los Zetas, and now he’s at Charlie’s house with one of the leaders?
“Why isn’t he here?” I ask. “I’m sure he’d want to be here, no?”
Charlie can’t look at me as he says, “He feels too guilty to see you like this.”
“Mr. Decena”—the Indian doctor interrupts our conversation, coming inside the room—“Blaire is ready for the next shot of antibiotics.”
Charlie lets go of my hand and turns around in his chair to usher him forward. “Come in then.”
On command, the doctor carries in a medical tray and puts it down on the bed near my stomach. He picks up a syringe and flicks the tube before inserting it in the cannula, making my arm rush with cold. I wince because it’s uncomfortable. He then checks the monitor beeping by my head, and writes down some notes on his clipboard.
“How’s her blood pressure?” Charlie asks, still sitting in the chair at my bedside.
“It’s coming down, Mr. Decena. She’s doing okay.”
Charlie nods a couple of times, satisfied to hear that. For some reason, I can't help thinking about when we lived at his house, how at home and safe I felt there, the times we shared together eating in the kitchen, talking and holding each other...the mornings I woke up tangled in his arms.
Why did I leave him to go back to Maksim? It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. If I’d stayed, James wouldn’t be wrecked with guilt and none of this would have happened.
“Blaire, you with me?”
I blink up at Charlie, coming back from my thoughts.
“You know,” I say, my tone low and soft, “maybe we can put Mexico on hold for a while. Maybe we could go back to your house here, and it'll be just like before when it was just us. We can stay in my room again.” My foggy head likes to imagine life as it was. It was perfect. There was no Maksim, just Charlie and me. Just how I want it to be.
Just as it is now.
And now James will be there too.
“If that's what you want,” Charlie says. Reaching out, he wipes a few loose strands of hair back out of my face.
