Beyond Taken (The Beyond Series Book 5)

by Ashley Logan

  "I will rest when you return. I cannot before then."

  Studying me a moment, he nodded. Pulling on his jacket, he picked up the iPod he'd set aside earlier and passed it to me.

  "Listen to whatever you like and don't worry. I'll be back before long."

  Turning to the door, he checked his gun, cricked his neck and expanded his chest and shoulders with a deep breath before leaving me. As soon as the second lock clicked home, I began predicting terrible things.

  Snatching up the iPod, I plugged the earphones in and pushed play. Whenever the bad thoughts threatened to overwhelm me, I turned up the volume.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I'm not sure I breathed at all until he got back. A gush of air rushed out of me as he stepped inside the cabin and locked the door. His eyes glanced over me and he nodded at the bed as he removed his jacket.

  Taking a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh, I pulled his earphones from my ears and climbed under the blankets to lie facing the wall. When he returned from the bathroom and sat back in his squeaky chair, I started to ask, but then stopped.

  "You will not tell me."

  "No. You only need to know that you're safe. Go to sleep."

  Gathering up his iPod, I rolled over and held it out for him.

  "You keep it," he said, stretching out and making himself comfortable. He looked much more relaxed than I felt. Lowering the music player, I studied his position.

  "You will have a sore neck again tomorrow."

  "Go to sleep Natascha."

  "I will. But not because you told me to," I grumbled, pushing the earphones back into my ears and turning the music down a bit. "You should sleep on the bed again. I will not bother you."

  Rolling over, I shifted closer to the wall and shut my eyes.

  I didn't feel him get on in the night, but he was there when I woke up. His arm was draped protectively over me and I'd barely moved when it lifted.

  Sitting up to face him as I untangled myself from the earphone cable, I asked him with my eyes what he was doing. His gaze shifted elusively.

  "You were unsettled," he offered as an explanation.

  Vague images from vivid dreams flashed through my mind and I drew my arms around myself as I nodded.

  "So I did bother you."

  "You didn't bother me," he replied with a groan.

  Taking his iPod back, he plugged it into the wall to charge. I wondered why I had never noticed him do it before. Was he so careful not to let me see? Keeping it for himself? And what did it mean now that he was sharing.

  "Two more days," he said quietly, his back still to me.

  "Is it?"

  His head lowered. "Yes."

  My stomach flip-flopped. "So... one more sleep?"

  "Yes," he repeated in the same flat tone, as if intentionally keeping all emotion from his voice. "You are probably finding the days more stressful as we get closer."

  "It is hard for me to know," I admitted honestly. "I am always feeling stress on the Moskva-Liis. I am maybe getting worse at distracting myself from it though."

  Still facing the wall, he nodded. "You're probably right. I doubt you've been singing for a while now. You can keep the music today," he said, before entering the bathroom, turning the shower on and shutting the door.

  He left again without looking at me.

  I tried not to take it personally. I figured it was easier for him to pretend I wasn't there than to remember who we were, and what we were fighting to be. Those feelings were for later, when the danger was gone.

  I wondered if he would still feel the same about me if there was no danger. Would I?

  It was difficult to know the truth of that until we had time in a safe space to explore the feelings that were overwhelming to us in this little cabin.

  Wasting time was all I had when he was gone, and I had become an expert at doing so. After listening to a little music, I set it aside, preferring to be more aware of my surroundings. Moving like a ninja, I paid special attention to all of my senses, thinking about the decisions I might have to make as I made my way to the far lifeboat. As I moved through my imaginary escape, I kept the bathroom door open, in case I should overhear more conversations.

  There was only one. It was brief. I wrote it down as I heard it, unable to understand any but a few curses I'd become familiar with from my co-habitation with the assorted personalities of Nikolai Pachenko. I guessed at what time it might be, and made a note of that too.

  For a while, I lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling trying to think of nothing at all - an impossible thing. It was easier to concentrate on just one thing and nothing else, but it was hard to choose the one thing to over-think. All too often it was Nikolai filling my thoughts, but I kept pushing him back out.

  The sound of the lock made me sit up straight. He was back early I decided, looking at my remaining food portion.

  The second lock didn't sound. Instead, the inner handle shifted slightly once. Then again. Several times.

  Not Pachenko.

  Leaping off the bed, I scoured the room for a weapon and came up empty.

  With one eye on the door, I grabbed the chair, stood on the rickety leg and pulled with all my might. To my immense relief, it gave way in my hands and I snatched up the loose leg. Brandishing it like a baseball bat, I moved to the safest side of the door, where I'd be hidden when it opened.

  The handle jiggled again.

  The pause before the second lock sounded was filled by thunderous pounding in my ears, but I heard and felt the click as loudly as if it were a giant bell clanging out my death knell right next to me.

  My grip tightened around the chair leg and I allowed myself to transform into someone else. Someone strong that would fight for Natascha's life until there was no fight left. Someone that would kill whoever opened that door. I became Pachenko.

  The door didn't open.

  I waited and waited, but nobody came. Eventually, the thrumming in my ears subsided and my grip relaxed a little. I rested the make-shift bat on my shoulder and giggled nervously about how firmly I'd believed myself to be Pachenko.

  "Good thing I've only got one more day in this madhouse," I told myself, and giggled again that I was now talking to myself as well.

  When I heard the locks shift again, I was instantly back in 'Pachenko mode'. The second lock clicked home and the door shifted inward.

  The real Pachenko was surprised to see me wielding a blunt object at his head, but he still managed to grab it in time to minimize the impact. I dropped it the moment I realized it was him, but he glared at me as he locked the door and then shut the bathroom door.

  "What the fuck Natascha?"

  Still reeling from the realization that I would've been very ineffective in harming anyone else who might've been coming for me, I could only look up at him and reach out to the wall for support as my legs threatened to give way.

  His expression changed from anger to concern as he steadied me, then swept me into his arms.

  "What happened?"

  I tried to articulate it, but I was so relieved to have him back that it came out jumbled.

  "I- The door, but not you. I was Pachenko. I wanted to kill! Not kill you, but you are here." I patted his chest to make sure, then nodded. "Is good."

  Sitting on the bed, he cradled me in his lap, rocking me ever so slightly. "Make more sense Natascha. Take a deep breath. Come on. Breathe with me and we'll make more sense of it together."

  Taking my cues from him, I inhaled as he did and exhaled just the same. When he was satisfied, he nodded. "Okay. Tell me now and start at the beginning. What happened after I left?"

  Taking another breath, I told him.

  Again, he kept his expression neutral and I knew he was trying not to scare me.

  "See? This is why I use two locks," he said lightly, rubbing my back as he reassured me. "People should not try to steal from a thief. We know how people think."

  His words made sense to me and I nodded. After al
l, he was a thief and he did always seem to know what I was thinking. I felt more of my tension ease with that thought.

  "You haven't eaten?" he asked, shifting me off his lap and patting my knee in such a natural way that my eyes followed him, wondering who it was that I was dealing with. Shrugging out of his jacket, he folded it over his chair and scooped up my apple. Tossing it from behind his shoulder and catching it in the front as some young kid might do to impress the girl he liked, he held it out for me and smiled.

  Taking it from him tentatively, I held it in my lap.

  "You're meant to eat it, not hatch it."

  I looked down, then up again. "I- I will."

  "Good," he said, his tone still playful. "While you're deciding on a timeframe for that, maybe you could read me the notes you took down in your spy journal today."

  Rubbing the aching creases from my forehead, I still felt disjointed, but I nodded when he prompted me by pointing at my notebook lying open on the bed.

  Pulling it into my lap, I read what I had written.

  "Thank you," he said, as I stared off into space once I'd finished.

  Blinking at him, I frowned again. Looking at the words, I asked him if it was more bad things.

  He only smiled and shrugged. "What does it matter? You have one more night aboard the Moskva-Liis. Why spend it worrying?"

  "Are you going to leave again?"

  His eyes softened and he sat next to me, looping an arm around my shoulders.

  "Not until I need to be at work tomorrow. And even then, I'm thinking I'll sneak back a few times to see you. It'll be your last day stuck in here. We should celebrate."

  I looked at him sideways. "You are being strange. Someone new. I do not trust it."

  Sighing, he seemed to deflate as he exhaled. "I was trying to put you at ease, not make you more wary. You're safe, Natascha. I'm here. For you."

  "And tomorrow we live or die."

  Sucking his bottom lip, he released it slowly as his eyes held mine.

  "We live," he said firmly. "We are fighters. Survivors." Emphasizing a 'thinking' face when I remained unconvinced, he tapped his chin.

  "Ninjas?" he asked, nudging me in the side as he smiled.

  My lips almost curved upward.

  "A-ha!" he said, pointing at my mouth. "Ninjas," he repeated with authority. His gaze lingered on my lips a moment before he pushed off the bed and ran his hands through his hair. Making himself look busy, he tidied the broken chair and stored it under the desk before re-ordering the already tidy things on its surface. He held up his iPod.

  "Did you sing today?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

  I shook my head.

  "No. Right," he agreed, making a face as he turned back to the desk. "Why would you sing when you thought someone was trying to kill you?"

  Lowering the music player down again, he pushed it away. "I guess I was just hoping I hadn't broken you."

  Running his hands through his hair again, he exhaled roughly before he turned. Eyes assessing me from a distance, his eyebrows twitched and the beginning of a crease formed between them.

  "You are checking now to see if I am broken?" I asked, frowning.

  He said nothing, but his jaw visibly tightened.

  "You think if I do not sing then I am broken, but today I did not sing because ninjas are quiet. Then I thought I would kill. I think nobody sings while they wait to kill. Do you sing when you kill?"

  The corner of his mouth twitched.

  "No. I don't sing to my victims." His brows pulled down a touch. "Sirens do. They lure their prey with song, charming unsuspecting sailors with their music and their beauty only to lead them upon the rocks. Or the sailors can be lulled to sleep and their bodies and souls feasted upon." His eyes ran over me again and I set my hands on my hips.

  "You check me for that now?"

  His lips twitched again. "Just making sure I didn't miss a fish-tail."

  "I think you would have found that during your previous, more intimate inspections," I teased. "And sirens were originally thought to be part bird, so you should be looking for feathers."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. You need closer look now? Or you know I am not trying to kill you?"

  Reaching up to touch the fading red mark on his forehead, he smiled. "You did try, but you weren't singing, so..."

  "I stopped when I saw it was you," I argued, rolling my eyes.

  "I stopped you," he corrected, stepping closer and seeming pleased with himself. "And I wasn't looking at you in a bad way. I can see that you're not broken."

  "Hmpf." Dropping my hands from my hips, I scooted to the edge of the bed. "Not yet. Next time maybe ask instead of staring at me." Running a hand through my ponytail, I tossed it behind me.

  "I am going to have one last shower to smell nice. Tomorrow I will smell like the Moskva-Liis and blend in, but today I will smell like Natascha Rebane."

  Standing up, I thrust a finger into his hard chest. "Tomorrow I will fight for my life and escape, but today I will celebrate as you say. I will celebrate being me. Maybe for the last time. Maybe not. It does not matter today. What will you be celebrating Nikolai Niko Strange-man Someone-else Pachenko?"

  Giving him a hard look, I moved off to the bathroom and shut myself inside before he could answer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  He looked up when I returned and shifted to pull my suitcase onto the bed for me before sitting next to it.

  "So you are helpful man?" I asked, looking at him sideways as I unzipped the suitcase.

  Saying nothing, he just watched my hands as the rummaged through my gear, pausing over this and that as I decided what to wear. I couldn't decide and I felt uncomfortable with a spectator at such close range. I was starting to regret having broken his chair. I looked at him and sighed.

  "You don't know what Natascha Rebane wants to wear?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching.

  "Maybe I do not want big man nose in my suitcase."

  He chuckled quietly.

  "Actually, I was hoping I could just be Niko. If that's okay with you? One last night of being us sounds nice."

  Narrowing my eyes at him, I was about to tell him he didn't even know who he was, but that was a lie. He was definitely Niko under everything else. Giving him a slight nod, I continued to look through my suitcase. I pulled out what I would wear during my escape and set it behind me on the desk. When I turned back, he was holding two more layers.

  "These too," he said, handing them to me. "Wear your dark ones on top and these underneath. It'll be colder than you think and someone else might not have as many clothes as you do. You can share."

  I met his eyes. He wouldn't tell me anything about the others - where they might be, how I could help. He kept it all to himself, telling me it was his job to do that and mine to just make it out safely. This information about clothing was the first I'd been allowed and it made me ill to think what state the other girls might be in. Imagining naked and bruised bodies huddling together for warmth on the open seas, I turned back to my suitcase and pulled out more things I could share.

  "No," he said, taking most of it away from me and putting it back. "You need to be able to move easily."

  "But-"

  "It'll be okay," he said, holding my shoulders as his eyes implored me to believe him. "Trust me."

  Nodding slowly, I left them in my suitcase. Staring at my things, I looked up when he said my name.

  "Don't lose your confidence. It'll work out. Should we go over the plan again?" he asked quietly, sitting back on the bed.

  I shook my head. "No more. I will think all day tomorrow. Tonight, I want to forget about tomorrow. Try to relax. Is okay?"

  Smiling kindly, he nodded. "Is good. You're right. I'll help distract you," he said, pulling a pair of frilly pink panties from my suitcase and putting them on his head like a hat.

  Snorting, I nodded. "Very good start. I did not know you like pink so much. You want matching set?" I asked holding
up the equally frilly bra.

  Eying the proffered bra, he grumbled something and swiped the underwear off his head. Looking at them a moment, his hand curled around them in a fist and he tapped it on his thigh.

  "How about a game?"

  Regarding him carefully, I tightened the towel wrapped around me. "What kind of game?"

  Sighing, he tossed the panties back in my suitcase and shrugged. "A fun one. To keep our minds off other things." His eyes scanned the cabin for inspiration and landed on his iPod. "A music game?" Shaking his head, he moved on. "A drinking game?" he asked, pulling out his flask and setting it next to the half empty bottle of vodka. "I have cards - oh a card game?" he asked, smacking himself in the forehead. Opening the desk drawer, he pulled out a pack of cards and held them up in question.

  My eyes returned to the vodka.

  "We could drink as well?" he suggested. "It would help us both to relax."

  "Both? So you are not pretending you are not worrying anymore?" I asked, folding my arms over my chest and smiling.

  Snorting softly, he shrugged. "Guess not. Of course I'm worried. We should both be worried. I'm the one who told you of the need to think about the monsters in order to avoid them. Of course I think about them too. But you're right - we shouldn't think about that tonight. Instead we will celebrate Natascha and Niko."

  Pouring some vodka into the only glass, he handed it to me and clinked his flask against it. "To friendship."

  Nodding, I drank it all and passed the glass back.

  "More. I will take much more to relax," I admitted, turning back to my suitcase. "I do not know what to wear, because I will never wear my things again. I will be leaving them here and I cannot decide if I want to wear my favorite comfortable things, or the little party dress I bought for America, but never got to wear, or maybe the sweater Lisandra gave me..."

  I ran my fingers over the teal sweater my sister had said made my eyes look magic. I would never see these things again.

  "Wear them all if you like," Nikolai said, nudging me with a full glass of vodka to get my attention.

  Grateful for it, I smiled at him as I sipped.