Beyond Taken (The Beyond Series Book 5)

by Ashley Logan

  Nodding, Pachenko shrugged and raised his hands in a 'who cares' kind of way. The other man grinned and made another comment as he acted out a charade of smacking the imaginary victim he was thrusting his hips at.

  It was a mistake.

  Pachenko moved so quickly, the guy didn't see it coming. Suddenly, he was a limp heap on the floor with his head resting at the wrong angle on his neck. Picking the man up by his belt, Pachenko checked both ways as if crossing a street.

  "Drop down and follow me to the stairs," he said quietly before moving in that direction, carrying the dead man like a badly packed suitcase with its poorly contained contents dragging along behind.

  We didn't run into anyone else before we reached the stairwell. Pausing outside, Pachenko didn't turn to look at me. Voice low, he angled his head towards the door.

  "There shouldn't be any traffic on the stairs, but you'll hear anyone coming and have the element of surprise. I'll see you at the boat."

  "Yes Pachenko," I whispered in response and slipped inside the stairwell as he continued onward with his corpse companion.

  It was poker night and he was about to make it one they'd all remember - or not remember ever again.

  Shuddering, I crept up the stairs as silently as I could, with my ears set on high alert. I made it to the windowed door marked with a small piece of tape in the bottom corner as Nikolai had promised.

  Easing the door open a slim crack, I smelled freedom for the first time in months. It smelled of salt, rust and damp rope and the tang of it would have made me wrinkle my nose once upon a time, but now I inhaled deeply and scanned the immediate deck space in front of me before slipping out into the cool night air and ducking behind the closest metal drum of goodness-knows-what.

  I ran over the plan in my head. The map. My next move. Any obstacles in my way.

  Checking the way was clear, I rushed across the open gap and hid behind the tanks. Freezing instantly, I kept my eyes sharp until my heart had settled enough to continue, then I crawled. Slow and steady. I didn't want to draw attention, and Pachenko needed time.

  Reaching the end of the row of tanks covering my progress, I slid onto the lower section of the deck and continued behind the lifeboats. My sole focus lay with the one at the end.

  Not until I pulled up alongside it did I take my first full breath. It hurt as the crisp air flooded my lungs, but I did it again and again. Between each deep breath, I unhooked the canvas cover of the lifeboat, strategically leaving three loops in place to help keep its form.

  Everything should look untouched.

  Except the women.

  With time to reflect, my mind went into overdrive picturing the crew I was about to receive. My fingers ran over my layers, hoping I'd have enough to share. I didn't even know how many we'd be able to save. Saving ourselves wasn't exactly a certainty.

  I made quiet shushing noises to myself, as Nikolai had done to soothe me, but I shot into a stance of readiness at the sound of raised voices.

  I heard him. Even speaking Russian, his voice was more familiar to me than any other. I couldn't even remember another voice. None that mattered to me.

  He laughed and two other voices responded. There was a thumping sound and someone objecting loudly. This outcry was cut short and I shuddered.

  Metal clanged and screeched and there were female voices. Terrified voices.

  Pachenko shouted at them as if ordering them about. I imagined it was usual for them in this situation and wondered if he did so because they would be likely to obey. What would they think if they suddenly met a Russian man that was nice to them? How unnerved would they be?

  I smiled at his cleverness and when I heard movement nearby, I set to releasing the last loops of the cover, letting it sag into the boat, before bundling it as best I could.

  "Natascha, help them in," he said, as I was met with pale, stunned faces. Turning his back to us, he drew his gun, checked it and kept watch.

  Speaking in Estonian, I told them to stay quiet, get into the boat and we would help them get home to their families. Two faces lit up at my words, and as they jumped into the boat. The rest followed like zombies.

  I swallowed down the bile creeping up my throat. I tried to speak quietly and calmly to reassure them as I released the remaining catches on the tie-downs attaching the lifeboat to the Moskva-Liis. When I was ready, I called to Pachenko.

  "It's time. Help me lower the boat," I said, tossing the end of a rope in his direction as I ran to the other end.

  Our eyes met, but we couldn't linger. Paying attention to the ropes and pulleys, we lowered the boat over the side. It was much harder for me, I was sure of that, but we managed.

  Tossing my end of the rope over the side, I called to the girls who had responded, to hold it steady before rushing to Pachenko and wrapping my arms around him.

  "We did it!" I whispered.

  "You did it," he corrected, hugging me to him briefly. "Now it's time for you to go. I'll hold the rope while you climb down."

  His words didn't feel right and I stepped back.

  "You are not coming?"

  His head shook once. "I have to stay."

  "But you have killed half the ship and stolen the girls. They will kill you."

  "They might try, but I'll be fine. I have a job to do. Helicopters to break," he said with a chuckle as he took off his hat and pulled it down over my ears as a parent might do to keep their child's ears from the cold. "You keep them safe. That is your job," he said taking something from his pocket - a medium sized metal button; perhaps from his jeans. Holding it to his mouth, he bit it with his back teeth hard enough to dent it, then he pulled the collar of my top open and nestled it between my breasts.

  "Keep this safe too. They won't be pleased with me, but they'll find you and they'll help you. Help all of you."

  "Who are you?" I demanded again as I felt the metal button between my breasts begin to warm.

  "A man who was never meant to fall in love, and a man who doesn't regret that he did. Away now, Natascha."

  He jerked suddenly as a man jumped him from behind.

  "Go Natascha!" Pachenko ordered as he fought the man to the deck and another leapt on his back, knife raised.

  Without thinking, I drew my own knife and stabbed the man in the kidneys. He screamed and I silenced him with a blade to the throat.

  Pachenko stood up, and looked at the men at his feet - one broken and one bleeding everywhere. His wide eyes lifted to me. Taking the knife from my shaking hand, he wiped it on his jeans and set it back in the elastics on my left arm.

  "You killed for me," he whispered, as if not quite believing it.

  I couldn't believe it either.

  "You kill for me," I said numbly as I looked at the blood on my hands.

  "Then we are even. Yes?"

  I felt my eyebrows twitch at the warmth in his tone. I nodded. "Yes."

  He took my hands and wiped them on his jeans too.

  "Natascha, this blood is on me, not you. Get in the boat and wrap yourself in a blanket. You will need warmth as much as the others; do you hear me?"

  I nodded.

  "Good. Go." He steered me to the rope and put it in my hands.

  Taking hold of him instead, I pleaded with him. "Come."

  Peeling my fingers from his arm, he shook his head.

  "I can't."

  "Be with me," I begged, grabbing his jacket and tugging him closer.

  His hand closed over mine, holding it a moment before prying it off. "I will always be with you, Natasha."

  Pulling me into a powerful embrace, he twisted a rope around me and pushed me out over open space. I kicked my legs and cried as he lowered me to the lifeboat with sad eyes.

  "I love you, Natascha."

  "I love you Niko!" I cried as I touched down in the boat and the rope went slack. It fell into the water and the line being held by the other girls followed as he cast it over.

  The next mellow swell took us from the Moskva-Liis
. There was no going back.

  "Get them away, Natascha!" he called down. "It's time to say goodbye. Get the oars and finish your job." His eyes held mine a moment longer as the boats drifted further apart. "Thank you for loving me."

  He disappeared from my sight and I felt his absence like a sledgehammer to my chest. The mysterious man from a mysterious place was off to do his mysterious job, I presumed.

  There were helicopters to break.

  Shedding my layers, I passed them around. I don't remember a word I spoke to them, but some of the girls helped me to row away from the Moskva-Liis. We watched from a distance as its deck lit up with an explosion that blasted light and noise across the water.

  It was both a terrible and beautiful sight, and tears streamed down my face as I whispered my goodbyes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The rooms were always the same. Sterile. Lackluster linoleum. A window on the wall masquerading as a mirror.

  Simple desk; even simpler chairs. Not comfortable. They never wanted you to be comfortable. That's why they always asked the same questions over and over.

  I answered all of their questions and they answered none of mine. Even so, I could tell they were not pleased with him. With me.

  They could tell by the way I spoke of him that I felt too strongly. They said it happens sometimes. That I would come to realize the truth through therapy. They were happy to pay for that. They wanted me to forget him.

  They did let me change my name though - advised it even. They wanted me to disappear as much as I wanted to do so.

  They didn't like the name I chose. I could tell. But when they'd told me he had died, I thought part of him should live on.

  It was good to be a new person.

  I didn't have to be the gullible, sold daughter, or the smuggled cargo, or the Russian mobster's lover. The new me was absolved of all previous decisions and actions. She hadn't killed a man, or shared a lifeboat with battered and broken women while leaving others to their fate aboard a ship of nightmares.

  Natalia could start a new life.

  Fresh.

  "THERE IS NO SUCH THING as fresh, is there?" I ask, looking to Dr. Alderan sitting at her tidy desk with her expression anything but orderly. "There is no fresh when there is all that. We are the sum of our experiences. And when I see the man I love and know to be dead, I run. I run because I want to embrace him and the moment I do that I know I am either dead, or have given in to madness."

  She looks at me, but says nothing. Perhaps she too feels that death and madness seem my only options. Perhaps she has no advice to offer to help me keep my balance.

  "Is tightrope in between and I run along it, hoping not to fall, but never reaching an end. Is not a life," I explain with a sigh as I scrub my cheeks. "Is not something I can keep up, and I wonder each time I see him, which way will I fall? But knowing I will not purposely die, I am left with madness. If I let go of rope, I will fall hard. If madness gives me him, I will not return. I will be truly lost."

  Shifting in the uncomfortable chair, I try to loosen my clothing as my chest starts tightening.

  "Okay, take several deep breaths. Natalia? Breathe. As we've talked about. Bring your anxiety down to a level you can control."

  She talks me down until I'm resting against the back of the chair.

  "Are your anxiety attacks becoming more frequent again?"

  "No. Yes." I shake my head. "I do not know. They are not so often, but worse feeling maybe."

  She makes a note of that too and I sigh again because for all her notes, she has offered me no solutions. "What do I do?"

  "You keep talking. You've had a major breakthrough today by sharing your whole story, but it's just the beginning. Keep seeing me and we can work through it together. Are you still opposed to medication?"

  Glaring at her, I wonder how she plans on helping me if I'm not able to be my exact self.

  "No drugs. I will feel what I feel. I can control it."

  Watching me a moment as I purposely smooth my expression, the doctor adjusts her glasses to rub her eyes beneath them before setting them back in place.

  "Do you talk with your friends?"

  "Yes," I reply quickly, before amending. "Not everything. But day to day things, yes."

  "Would you mind if I called someone to meet you before you leave? I'd prefer if someone you're living with was aware of your current levels of distress. We can both talk with them about some support you might be needing at home."

  Pulling out my phone, I ran through the short list of names in my contacts list. Any of them would've come to meet me. All of them will support me at home.

  "Who do I call, you think? Ireeni and Lex know some things better, but Violet is good for mind. Kat and Bettina be giving me hugs and comforts. I will need more time to prepare myself for that. Boys all be worried and over-protective. Scar want to know too much too soon, so not her yet. We probably talk about it all at debrief later, so maybe Nina? I will probably not feel like dancing tonight, so might be best to tell her I am going mad first, yes?"

  Dr. Alderan's eyebrow makes a subtle shift.

  "You're not going mad. And Nina will be fine. Or any of the others. Whoever you think can offer you some support while you're processing what you've shared today."

  Nodding, I dial Nina's number while the doctor makes more scribbles and tears a sheet of paper off her notepad. A different notepad. It's a prescription.

  After a brief discussion, Nina assures me that she's already on her way to collect me. I thank her and hang up.

  The doctor is waiting.

  "I know," she says, holding up a hand as she places the prescription on the edge of her table. "I've heard what you've said, and all I'm doing is providing you with another option to control the anxiety if your exercises aren't enough. And this," she says, adding her business card on top, "is a number you can call anytime, should you need it. You are real, your feelings are real, and they are troubling you in a very real way. I'm glad you came back to see me."

  Nodding, I say nothing, take her offering and stuff it into my pocket to let her know my opinion on the matter.

  This ninja does not show weakness.

  "YOU DON'T WANT ME TO wrap you in cotton wool," Nina observes perceptively as we walk home. "And I won't. But I want you to know we're all here for you if you want to talk, or you need someone to sit with you, or... anything else. Okay?"

  "Yes. I know. You are all very good family. I will not like cotton wool, as you say." Taking a deep breath, I keep my eyes on the sidewalk. "I am thinking maybe I will need help to be... anchored only. You know anchored?"

  "Reminding you where you are? Who you're with, and all that?"

  "Yes. This. I am wandering in my mind a lot. Maybe keep me doing life as normal. I will work it out."

  Giving me a sympathetic smile, Nina nods. "So just what we always do?"

  "Yes. Is good. Feels safe. Routine."

  The wind blows and I lean into it, closing my eyes and enjoying the way it whips the loose strands of my hair about.

  "You love the wind," Nina mumbles.

  "And the sun, and the rain and snow," I add, tilting my face up a little to catch more warm rays. "I like atmosphere that is free and does not feel stale. That is suffocating and makes it hard to breathe."

  "Understandable," Nina agrees. "I hate feeling trapped too."

  Nina doesn't often talk about the past that plagues her. Preferring to dance her issues out on the stage at Beyond. I've seen her express such things through that medium, but not in words before.

  "You know this feeling well?"

  Lifting one shoulder, her eyes skitter away.

  "I was young and made some bad decisions. They didn't work out well for me." Fidgeting with one of her many earrings, she shrugs again. "I married the wrong man," she says quietly. "I don't want to give him the satisfaction of admitting that he scarred me for life, but it's hard to deny the fear he so generously instilled in me. Most days I feel like I'll n
ever trust another man so long as I live, but I still want to hope for the fairytale, you know?"

  "Yes," I reply with a soft smile. "I know this feeling. Is big problem for me, because my head lives in the fairytale. Only is dark fairytale, you know? I have not told anyone before, because is not story with sweet prince in castle, but tale of sweet monster in prison cell. And no happy ending, because loving beast dies and beauty has to live with that, knowing she will never find another soul she knew to be so like her own. This is a sadness I do not want to feel, so I refuse."

  "It comes through in your dancing," she informs me, her voice soft and warm.

  "Yours too."

  "That's why we do this," she says, gesturing to the sign above as she opens the door to the club. Holding the door for me, she does the same at the coded stairwell up to our apartments.

  "Yes," I agree. "Is a way to be strong and let emotion come out, without living it every day. Was good idea you had - to start this club."

  "Thank you," she whispers as we climb the stairs. "I think it's working. I mean, it must be. Just look at some of the others. Bruno and Scarlett are made for each other. Kat's found someone who was finally able to convince her to think of herself for once. Nate found out how to love without falling into old habits, and Lex worked through her fears and found someone to seriously love her while at the same time making her laugh. And Violet found a great guy, who needed her as much as she needed him and now they're engaged to be married." Wiping her eyes, she sniffs.

  "The fairy tales can happen. Our friends are proof of that much. They give me hope for myself, and for the others. You too." Nudging me with her elbow, she winks. "You know as well as anyone that life is unpredictable. We'll keep you anchored, but we won't let you keep yourself in a prison of a different kind. Yes?"

  "Yes. Is perfect. Thank you."

  "You're welcome," she says, slinging an arm over my shoulder and pulling me into a brief half-hug. "Now let's see what Kat and Smith are cooking up, because it smells amazing."