by Nicole Fox
As she ducks into a takeout joint, I follow. I grab her arm before she can get in line, leading her back into the hallway to the restrooms.
“Finn!” she yelps. “What the hell?”
“What the hell to you, too,” I say. “Why didn’t you answer my text today?”
“Why should I have?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest. Her pretty lips are pursed and her eyes are narrow, angry. “I needed you to get me at the hospital and you told me I was on my own.”
“That was not me,” I say.
“Oh, I suppose it was a ghost then …” As she really looks at me, reality dawns on her and her eyes go wide. “What happened to your face?”
“That’s what I’m saying, Selena. I went to the office last night for more evidence. I got caught, beaten up, locked up. I got out, but just barely. And I went back to your place but you never showed. This morning you looked … comfortable … with him. What the hell is going on?”
She tells me the whole story—about hiding her pregnancy from him, about a doctor who made her feel safe. She says she thought she was on her own, that she thought she would have to see this through on her own. By the end, her hand is on her abdomen and tears fall down her cheeks.
“I’m not sure of anything right now,” she says, “except for the fact that I know I want this baby to be safe. I could not care less if I ever see Matt again. He can rot in hell for all I care, but he has given me a gift. And it’s worth it to do what we need to do to get free of Sergei and you and Matt and all this bullshit so I can just go raise my baby in peace.”
That stings almost as badly as if she’s slapped me. It shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t care if she just wants to finish the job and move on. That would be better for both of us. But still …
I must be wearing my feelings all over my face because she softens a bit. “It’s just really hard to trust, you know?”
“What happened last night?” I ask. “With Kovolov.”
“Well, after he threw a series of raving hissy fits at the hospital, he asked me to come home with him. He thinks I just have a viral thing, like mono, caused by stress. He took me back to his pace and had one of his minions go out for soup and clothing and whatnot. He’s got an extra bedroom, so I holed up there for the night. I showered, ate, watched a movie. He said he had business to manage, so he mostly left me alone. He kissed me, but stopped when I warned him what I have might be contagious.”
“Yes, wouldn’t want him to get pregnant,” I say.
She giggles, but then her face is serious again.
“Selena, I’m about ninety percent sure that Kovolov knows what you’ve been up to,” I say, putting my hands on her bare arms. “They snuck right up on me last night. Intimated that I was stupid for thinking I could just come in and rifle through his stuff without setting off alarms.”
“There’s no office alarm system,” she says.
“That’s what I’m saying. He must be watching some other way. You’ve been in his files, in his computer …”
“Oh!” she yelps. “I forgot, I had all this stuff on a thumb drive for you.”
She digs through her bag and frowns when she comes up empty-handed. She looks up sharply, meeting my gaze, worry etched into her pretty face.
“Can’t find it?” I ask.
“No …” she says slowly. “It fell out of my bag when I fainted, but I know I grabbed it.”
“Well, I’m sure it will turn up,” I say. “In the meantime, I’m going to pull the trigger on this. I’m going to end it. I’ll make the call today, from an encrypted line. I’ll tell him what evidence I have and I’ll make him pay.”
“I know we can get more,” she says. “I just need a few days to get him to talk to me.”
“We’ve got plenty. Missing girls and dental records to match. Records of stolen artwork being shipped from international locations. Arms agreements and transfer of very illegal weaponry. It’s plenty.”
“It’s so scattered, though,” she says. “I feel like we can do better.”
“Sure, if we had endless amounts of time,” I argue. “But we don’t. We’ve got to get you and the baby out of there now. When I send you a text that says dinner tonight, I want you to get up and walk out. Get a cab and take it to the O’Dell garage in Queens. Wait for me there.”
“I’ll be fine,” Selena says as she squares her shoulders.
“Tell me you understand and that you’ll do what I say,” I say firmly.
She steels herself, pushing her dark hair behind her ears and takes a sharp breath. “Yeah, I understand. I’ve got to get back or he’ll know something is up.”
I watch her walk away. She doesn’t say goodbye. She doesn’t try to kiss me. She just leaves. And I want nothing more than to pull her back, to tell her I’m afraid he already does.
***
Selena
I pick up our order and scurry back like a dutiful little mouse. Sergei is on the phone when I arrive, so I set his lunch on his desk and head back to mine. I eat my food while I check emails and make a few phone calls to set up meetings.
It’s almost five when the call comes. It goes to his personal line. He answers, likely expecting someone from his family. Mostly, they are the only ones with the number. I can’t hear the conversation, but he takes a moment to put the call on hold, walk over to the door, and shut it softly. It clicks and I know it must be Finn.
My belly flip-flops with nerves as I wait. I look at my cell phone so many times. The tingle of a panic attack begins, the edges of my vision getting blurry, my breathing irregular. I keep waiting for Finn’s text. It doesn’t come, so I get up and go to the restroom, where I heave up all of my lunch. A cold sweat dots my forehead, but I manage to get myself up and moving, back to my desk. I try finishing up some work tasks but it’s nearly impossible to think straight.
Still no text from Finn, but it’s now five, and I could just get up and head home for the day. No big deal, right? It’s just a normal workday, so I should just get up and leave. Maybe leave a note for Sergei that I’ll see him in the morning. That I didn’t want to interrupt his phone call.
It’s only as I’m turning off my computer and grabbing my purse that I see the light indicating his personal line is busy go dark. Seconds later, his office door flies open.
I open my mouth to tell him goodnight, to act normal but he beats me to it.
“Selena, I need to speak with you in my office,” he says.
There’s nothing inherently odd about it, other than it’s too calm. He’s like a snake, waiting to strike. I know him by now, and I know that this level of outward calm masks something else.
“I finished up those meeting requests,” I say lightly. “I was just about to head out for the night.”
“Well, not until I debrief you on the call I just had,” he says. He beckons me in, gestures to the chair in front of his desk. “Come in. Have a seat.”
I hold tightly to my bag as I walk in and sit down. He doesn’t go back behind his desk. Instead, he sits on the edge of it, right in front of me, looking down on me. His face is still a mask of calm.
“Selena, do you think I am an unintelligent man?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, of course not.”
“I think you must,” he says. “I think you must think very little of me, to be honest.”
“I don’t … I’m not following what you mean,” I say.
“Oh, I think you are,” he says, “because unlike you, I haven’t underestimated your intelligence. In fact, I think perhaps I gave you more credit than I should have. Because what you did was very, very stupid.”
“What I … did?” I ask, still feigning innocence and confusion.
“Selena, do you think that, in this business I’m in, that I wouldn’t have fail-safes? That I wouldn’t have hidden cameras and computer firewalls that alert me when people are snooping around in my business?” Sergei tilts his head, awaiting a response, a small and serene smile on his face.
I open my mouth to deny once more but he shakes his head, puts his finger to his lips. “No. Don’t lie to me. I saw it. Saw you making copies. Saw you go to my computer. Saw you reach desperately for that thumb drive.”
“I … he made me,” I say, real fear laced in my breathless words. “My husband left and owed him money. He threatened me. Made me do it to get the money.”
“I wish I believed you, dear Selena. Beautiful Selena. I could have helped you. Could have given you everything, left you wanting for nothing. But you chose him. You chose to take him home. Fuck him. Cry out for him. Come for him. And now he’ll see how stupid he was to try.”
I calculate whether I could get up and away from him quickly enough to evade his grasp. Could I run? Get help in another office?
When I sense the presence of two of his men behind me, my heart sinks. There is nothing I can say or do to get away from him now.
Chapter Fifteen
Finn
The phone rings and Kovolov is on the other end.
“I appreciate the offer to pay you for whatever evidence you’ve procured,” he says, his voice calm, even a little smug.
I called and told him everything I knew. I told him to wire money in three hours to an overseas account, or I would send every scrap of evidence to the team of cops from which he hasn’t yet been able to purchase loyalty. He told me to give him an hour. He’d call me back to confirm the plan.
“I have your little whore here. Your little spy,” he says. “I’ll fuck her in the pussy, in the ass, in the mouth. I’ll come all over her and then I’ll wrap my hands around that gorgeous neck and I’ll squeeze. And I’ll watch her panic, watch her try to fight for her life. And when the light goes out in her eyes, I’ll leave her naked, violated body on the doorstep of your business.”
Words get caught in my throat as he speaks. I manage a growl and he chuckles.
“Bring me every stitch of information you two have stolen from me. Three a.m., Jane’s Carousel. You come armed, she dies. You bring cops, she dies. You do anything other than show up with the evidence, she dies. Then you die. Slowly and painfully, while watching me fuck her corpse.”
My animalistic noise earlier gave me away already. Damn, if only I could have played this cooler. Acted like I don’t care about her. Not that it would have bought her any extra time—he was already going to get rid of her, if the conversation I overheard in the diner was any indication.
“Your silence is killing me,” Kovolov says, his voice light and mocking. “Cat got your tongue?”
“How do I know you really have her?” I ask.
Kovolov says something in Russian. A moment later, I hear Selena’s voice on the line. “Finn, don’t come for me. Do what you need to do with the information. Just leave me and get out.” Her voice is shaky and she sniffles like she’s been crying.
“Now, now,” Kovolov says. “What would be the fun in that? Three in the morning. See you then.”
“I’ll be there,” I grunt, gritting my teeth so hard I think they might crack.
The line goes dead and I swear this is a long minute where all of the air gets sucked out of the room.
How did this go so wrong? I’m not a criminal, not really. I mean, I’ve done some things—necessary things—in order to get the money I’ve been owed. I’m no saint, but I’m also not a murderer. I’m not a rapist. I’m not dealing in arms or stolen art. I’m not paying off dirty cops. Maybe I was naïve to think I could extort millions from a guy who’s done all of the above and then some.
And not only that, I let myself get in deep with a mark. I let myself think I could walk away after I had my money, that I was just fucking her to keep her close, loyal.
I have stepped in it bigtime. The best I can hope for is to get out with my life, with Selena and her baby safe. I’d settle for the latter, if I could only pick one. What a surprise she has been. I marked her. At first, she was only the wife of a man who’d borrowed money and run. I meant to scare her, figured she’d find family or someone to loan it to her. But here I am now, ready to sacrifice myself just to get her free and safe.
How can I make this go my way? The way I’ve set up the business, I could liquidate my assets pretty quickly. My apartment’s on a month-to-month. I don’t have a thing holding me here. Not anymore. Maybe I could pull a pile of cash together today yet, get an untraceable car, find a way to get her away from him. We could run. Just get in the car and drive until we’re away from all of this.
Can I do that? Drop everything for a woman I hardly know? And a baby? For fuck’s sake, not even my baby. The thought isn’t so bad, really. Selena, glowing and round … that’s a sight I’d like to see. I’ve never thought of myself as father material, never even thought I’d ever want to go near a relationship, but here I am, envisioning me and Selena and a little kid, living quietly on some beach somewhere.
It’s crazy and, if my luck lately is any indication, probably a doomed plan—but I steel myself and get ready to get my woman and make a run for it.
***
Selena
“That boyfriend of yours is pretty fucking stupid,” Sergei says.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say for the umpteenth time. “My husband owes him money. He made me do all that stuff to get the money he says I owe him.”
“Was fucking him part of the payment?” he asks.
“Why do you care if I fucked him?” I ask.
This gets me a slap to the face. I close my eyes to keep from crying.
“This could have been good for you,” he says, grabbing my cheeks. I can smell alcohol on his breath as his face gets closer to mine. “Open your eyes, Selena. I want you to look at me, see what you’ve done to me. I could have made you a queen.”
“Did you say that to the last woman you hired?” I ask. “Where is she now?”
“You’ve got a pretty smart mouth for a woman who is about to die,” he says. “I meant what I told loverboy. I’m going to fuck you in every way possible. I’m going to cover your body in piss. I’m going to choke the light right out of your eyes. And then I’ll leave your body with him, so he’ll see just how it feels to be denied what he wants most.”
“He doesn’t care about me,” I say, trying desperately not to show fear. “He won’t come.”
“Oh, you’re wrong about that,” he says. “He’ll come, but he’ll be too late.”
He stands and goes to the door of his apartment, opening it and saying something in Russian to the two guys standing outside. One comes in and pulls a sack from his pocket, approaching me. I realize what he’s about to do and I scream but the guy is fast. He knocks me upside the head and everything goes dark.
I come to in a tiny room filled with mechanical gear. The room is circular. The floor is metal under my now bare feet. I’m tied to a chair, my dress slit up both sides to my hips. My hands and feet are bound. There’s a piece of cloth in my mouth.
There’s little light, only that which comes from the various buttons and levers on a large machine directly in front of me. I remember Sergei’s instructions to Finn. Jane’s Carousel. I think I must be inside the carousel, in the control room at the center of it.
The bad news? I’m tied up and alone inside a carousel. I have a raging headache and I’m dehydrated. I probably have a concussion. The good news? Sergei has done plenty of threatening, but I have not been raped or choked thus far today. He has not carried out his plans, nor do I think he means to. I think he is likely to try to kill Finn, even if he does bring all of the evidence. And I think he is likely to make my life a living hell, but I don’t think he’ll follow through on his threats on my life. After all, why kill me and leave Finn alive? Just to mess with him? To leave him scarred by my death? To what end? No, I think Sergei wants to own me, control me. He has exerted his position over me to put me in several degrading situations already; why not allow me to keep my life as long as I am on my knees for him when he wants me?
Maybe I am off base. And maybe it will all be a
moot point, if Finn tries something crazy. Or if he doesn’t show at all.
I kind of hope he doesn’t show. I hope he walks away from this. Maybe he’ll give Sergei the evidence and then wash his hands of all of this.
This is not how I thought my life would turn out. Not at all. I married Matt and had these grand illusions about being a Wall Street wife. Trips, parties, shopping. It was all so surface. So meaningless. And it turns out, I barely even knew my husband at all.
It’s funny—when he left, I knew he was gone. He took some of his favorite items of clothing, a couple of books that had sat, dog-eared, on his nightstand. He didn’t take his business suits, or his briefcase. His laptop stayed, too. I called his mother after he’d been gone three days. She asked why I didn’t call the police, and then she called the police herself.
