Tortured Soul

by Kirsty Dallas

  “When Larz turns us port side, we’ll go in. We need to stay under the water, for twenty seconds, no less.” Shakhta gave Gabbie and Bomber a hard look, and I stopped breathing.

  “Sh…Sh…Shakhta?” I stuttered. I wanted to cry, scream and throw myself on the ground in a hysterical fit, but years of forced composure made me hold steady. Shakhta pulled me closer to the side of the boat. Hazy memories of water surrounding me, drowning me threatened to break my composure.

  “On the count of three, Em, take a deep breath and hold it.” I began to hyperventilate. “Em!” Shakhta’s voice held a tone of authority. My panicked gaze zeroed in on his dark eyes. “Settle down, I’ve got you.” His hand gripped mine a little tighter to emphasize his point. “On three.” I nodded, took long, deep breaths, and did something that I haven’t done in nearly ten years—I trusted someone. “One…Two…” My heart raced hard and fast. “Three.” Shakhta yanked on my arm and without enough time to contemplate exactly what was happening, I was surrounded by water. It consumed me, pulling me down into its deadly depths. Panic set in, the will to live hummed loudly in my veins, and I fought to get free of the water’s cool embrace. A strong hand pulled me away from the precious air I was fighting to get at; muscular arms wrapped around me, trapping me. My thoughts slipped into the past and one of the many horrific memories that filled my mind dug its claws in and dragged me under.

  Hard hands held my shoulders down, the distorted faces above me watched on with horrific enjoyment. My arms and legs flung about uselessly. Finally, when I thought I would take that much needed gasp for air that would fill my lungs with water, I was released. Breaching the surface, I gasped loudly. After I stopped sobbing, my swollen eyes turned to the monster at my side.

  “Let’s try this again, Pet. Who is your master?”

  I went to speak and ended up coughing uncontrollably. When I finally settled down, I gazed back into his piercing green eyes. I hated those eyes, but I hated the man behind those eyes even more.

  “I have no master,” I growled defiantly.

  Following a single nod, my shoulders were forced back down under the water before I had a chance to take a breath. My body was unwilling to let me simply drown even though my heart yearned for it. Again I was released, the question repeated. This time I smiled, but it wasn’t a smile of carefree humor. No, this was a smile full of venom and hate.

  “Fuck you, Jonas,” I growled again.

  He didn’t even have to nod this time; I was simply pushed back down where I screamed long and loud under the merciless water.

  “Em!” yelled a familiar voice that didn’t fill my body with ice cold fear. I could hear someone screaming, the sound was utterly terrifying. My eyes grew wide when I realized the sound was coming from me. I stopped abruptly, and an uncontrollable sob spilled from my lips. Shakhta’s unyielding body held me tightly. I was unable to hold his gaze which saw and knew too much. My eyes lowered to a spot on his shoulder and though I still shook uncontrollably, I was no longer hysterical.

  “I’m sorry, Shakhta,” I whispered.

  His hand pulled my head close and he wrapped himself around me protectively. I stiffened for a moment until I realized he wasn’t going to hurt me; he was simply trying to offer me comfort, so I accepted it without hesitation. I was desperately uncomfortable in the water, and Shakhta’s body was like an island of solid ground and peace. Over his shoulder I watched the two speed boats follow the yacht away from us. It had been so long since a flashback had dragged my mind to the past. I had held myself firm in a state of fierce emotionless detachment, not allowing my thoughts to flutter over my horrifying memories or hold hope for any kind for a future. The events of the last few days had filled my heart and mind with unfamiliar feelings, and with it the nightmares of my past had been stirred.

  “Gabbie, Bomber?” Shakhta called out, pulling me away from my confusing thoughts.

  “Here,” answered Gabbie from somewhere behind us.

  “My poor baby got all wet,” crooned Bomber as he looked over his gun from beside us.

  Meanwhile, I was frozen in Shakhta’s arms, afraid to move for fear he might drop me into the unforgiving water that surrounded us.

  “I got you, Em, I promise,” he reminded me with a whisper in my ear. “I want you to move around to my back and hold on. We need to get to shore.”

  Though I was reluctant to let him go, I managed to work my grip on him loose enough to maneuver to his back. Repositioned with my arms around his neck, we began making our way to shore, which seemed a little too far away for my liking. I shook, and my limbs trembled with a force that made my teeth chatter. The water wasn’t exactly cold, but I was freezing.

  “Sh…Shakhta?” I stuttered.

  “Yes, Em?” he murmured calmly.

  “I’m p...pretty damn c...cold.”

  “Shock, Malen’kaya. Just hold on, okay. We’ll be at the shore in no time,” he confirmed.

  “Brai?” came Bomber’s voice from somewhere close by. “What the hell does Shakhta mean?”

  I silently thanked Bomber for asking what I was too afraid to.

  “You call me Brai again and we’re gonna have words,” grumbled Shakhta. “And it’s none of your business.”

  “Awww, don’t be like that. It’s Russian for pooky isn’t it?” Gabbie choked on a laugh from the other side of us. “No? Maybe it means prince of passion. Oh shit, I’ve totally got it—it means sex god, right?”

  Braiden shook his head with a long drawn out sigh. “I guess it’s something like sir,” he finally mumbled.

  “How the hell do I find a woman who will call me sir?”

  Gabbie snorted loudly and obnoxiously. “There isn’t a female on the face of this earth who would call you anything other than pendejo.”

  “Stupid? That’s the best you got, sweet thing? You’re jealous at the thought of a woman calling me sir, aren’t you?” I could hear the teasing lilt in Bomber’s voice.

  “Not likely, pendejo,” Gabbie replied, her Spanish accent unmistakable.

  Their playful banter reminded me of the times B and I had argued ourselves into hysterics. B was stubborn and I loved to egg her on. Eventually she would end up in such a hissy fit that all I could do was laugh, and eventually she would, too. I missed that. I hadn’t allowed myself to remember my life before Jonas in a long time. It simply hurt too much. Now, with Shakhta’s trail of emphatic promises, it almost felt possible to believe in my own future. The nostalgic moment at the most inappropriate of times had me resting my head against the back of Shakhta’s neck. I was suddenly very tired; my eyes were heavy and my body was lethargic.

  “Don’t you go to sleep back there,” Shakhta gently commanded.

  “No, Shakhta,” I quickly replied. Unable to quiet the compelling voice in my mind that demanded I please my Master, I lifted my head and forced my eyes open. From somewhere behind me came an explosion that rocked my head forward, the heat tickling the nape of my neck.

  Shakhta spun around quickly. Gabbie and Bomber on either side of us did the same. I was deathly still as I watched the bright explosion dissipate to nothing but a cloud of debris. I whimpered at the thought of Larz who was still on board.

  “It’s okay. That was supposed to happen. Larz had time to get away,” Shakhta calmly explained.

  “Nice work, pendejo,” Gabbie said from beside us, a note of awe in her voice.

  “Gotta love things that go bang,” Bomber confessed with reverence.

  “Hurry up, if they’re smart they’ll back track and check the water for us,” Shakhta commanded.

  We were soon at the shore, climbing over sharp rocks that cut into my feet. Ignoring the pain was easy, and I kept my face blank.

  “Boss?” called Gabbie.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “The rocks are pretty sharp here, and Emily doesn’t have any shoes on.”

  Shakhta stopped immediately, his hand still clasped in mine. “I’m going to carry you, Em, is that okay?”

/>   “Yes,” I whispered.

  He scooped me up into his arms easily. Once we reached the sandy shore, he gently placed me down.

  “Be nice if we had a fucking light,” he grumbled, the rare cuss word sounded odd coming from his lips. He tenderly tried to inspect the bottoms of my feet. “Do they hurt, Em?” I wiggled my toes, noticing the slight sting. “The truth please,” he quietly added.

  “A little, Shakhta, but not enough to stop me from walking.”

  When the distant sound of a boat caught his attention, my feet no longer mattered. He pulled me to standing and began to jog up the beach, Gabbie in front, Bomber at our back. When we reached the trees that separated the beach from the island suburbia beyond, we all crouched low and watched the boats move along the shoreline, shining bright lights over the water and beach.

  “They’ll see our footprints,” whispered Bomber.

  “Let’s move out. We’ll pick up weapons from the hotel and head to the airfield.”

  Shakhta, Gabbie and Bomber moved quietly amongst the homes. I followed every step they took, obeying every polite order they gave me. My feet were burning now, so I drew on the meditative techniques I had learned and focused on the pain. I couldn’t stop it from hurting, but I could absorb it, embrace it, and breathe through it with ease. Finding that quiet place in my mind, where I could control my body’s reaction to the discomfort, was effortless. It was one of the most useful things I had learned while in Jonas’ keep.

  The streets were dark and still held in the remnants of night, but the sun would soon rise, and with it the locals and tourists would begin to filter from their homes. With Bomber now taking the lead, he maneuvered up and down alleyways, quietly keeping to the shadows. When we reached the large hotel, Shakhta produced a key card which gave us access to the garage to avoid entering through the front doors. Shakhta, Bomber and Gabbie remained tense and focused as we rode the service elevator to the fifteenth floor. I ignored all discomfort and watched them with a detached interest. They were each so different from the people I encountered while with Jonas. They were determined and focused; their eyes observed me with protective vigilance rather than appraisal or dismissal. A part of me found their lack of carnal attention disappointing, the other part of me swooned for the fact they cared for my safety and wellbeing in a completely platonic way. Shakhta glanced at me sideways and I looked up, giving him my full gaze that seemed to please him. The approval I found in his dark eyes made my heart trip over itself. Perhaps not all of them looked at me in a purely platonic way. I knew desire when I saw it—after all, I was an expert—and Shakhta definitely desired me. My body filled with relief. It was a failure on my part if my master didn’t covet me.

  The elevator came to a stop and Bomber checked the hall before we followed him out. Swiping the key card once again, we gained entry to a room and quickly filed in. Shakhta pushed down on my shoulders, urging me to sit on the couch while they thoroughly checked the rooms. No one had spoken since we entered the building; the team seemed to work effortlessly together in silence.

  “Clear,” murmured Gabbie, walking out of the bathroom.

  I’m not sure what was clear or what they were expecting to find, but they all seemed to relax a little at her word. Shakhta pulled a large duffle bag from the closet and pulled the zipper open. It was full of weapons that were quickly handed out. Clean, dry clothes were passed around and they each took a turn at disappearing into the bathroom to quickly change. As they strapped weapons to their bodies, they seemed to relax even more. Shakhta turned to look at me as I watched them move fluently about the room. Seeing his gaze fall my way, I almost dropped to my knees, stopping myself at the last moment. Instead I gracefully rose and gave him my eyes as he had requested. He took three long strides to me and placed his hands on my shoulders.

  “Sit down, Em, I want to check your feet.”

  I dropped back to the chair as Shakhta carefully inspected the soles of my feet. The smudges of blood on the carpet told me they were cut, and he hissed when he took in their condition.

  “Damn it, Gabbie, why didn’t you put shoes on her?” he snapped.

  The outburst seemed uncharacteristic for him, and the slightly shocked look on Gabbie’s face confirmed it.

  “When she told me she couldn’t swim, I decided to keep her clothing light. I didn’t want her to be frightened of being dragged under the water by the weight of her clothes,” Gabbie said, her voice steady.

  “She did the right thing, Boss, it’s what I would have done,” said Bomber, coming to Gabbie’s defense. “There’s a first aid kit on the plane. We can take care of them there.”

  Bomber pulled the sheets back on the large bed, and my hands instinctively gripped the couch. Had I got it wrong? Did they expect something from me now that we were here? Did Shakhta intend to share me even though he had promised not to? I watched in confusion as Bomber pulled out a knife and quickly sliced the sheet into strips.

  “Wash her up as best you can then wrap these around her feet for now; it will make it easier for her to walk.” Bomber handed Shakhta the shredded strips of sheet.

  “I’m going to carry you to the bathroom, okay?” It wasn’t really a question. If I said no, I had a feeling he would still do it.

  “Yes, Shakhta,” I whispered obediently.

  He scooped me up, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. In the bathroom, I was set down on the side of a deep tub, which made me so nervous I felt sick to my stomach. He turned the water on, but didn’t put a plug in, allowing the water to flow away. Shakhta encouraged me to turn around and place my feet under the flow. Blood and grime mixed in the bottom of the white tub and raced away towards the drain.

  “I’m sorry, Em, I should have thought your feet would cut on the rocks, this is my fault,” he murmured, self-discrimination prevalent in the tone of his voice. I wanted to answer him, but I couldn’t. I was too nervous being this close to a bathtub. Finally he picked me up and deposited me on the toilet lid. He began carefully drying my brutalized feet.

  “I’d prefer a few cuts over bullets, Shakhta,” I was finally able to say, my voice hitching and betraying the inner turmoil I was feeling.

  “Your body has seen enough pain, Em, there should be no cuts or bullets. Just peace.” His shoulders were stiff, his voice still full of recrimination.

  I don’t know if it was the part of me that yearned to please my master, or just plain and simple human longing, but I wanted to take away the hurt in his voice. I wanted to make the tension in his body disappear. My hand instinctively reached out and brushed away a strand of inky black hair that hung over his eyes. Shakhta became suddenly still, and I instinctively pulled my hand away, berating myself for touching him without permission. He glanced up at me through those eyes that seemed to see everything. It was almost as if he could read my every thought. I knew he couldn’t though. If he knew the things that tumbled through my head, he would lock me away just like Jonas had said. He reached for my hand that I had placed back in my lap and brought it to his face, urging me to touch him. My hand traced the stubble of unshaven growth on his face. The skin above it smoothed out and I reveled in the feel of such masculine beauty.

  “Please don’t be angry, Shakhta, it doesn’t really hurt, and in three days you’ve shown me more kindness and peace than anyone else over the last eight years.” Shakhta’s eyes fell shut and he turned his lips towards my palm. My heart began to beat furiously in my chest as I watched him with undisguised interest. He hesitated before pressing a gentle kiss to my palm, his lips warm and soft. He held himself there for what seemed like hours. As he pulled away, he took my hand and placed it back in my lap. The gesture was my undoing. A little piece of my frozen heart thawed, and just like that, Shakhta had managed to leave a permanent mark on my soul. While he offered me such a gentle touch, he also offered no more. His reluctance to touch me confused me. I wasn’t sure if he wanted me or not. Ignoring the tremulous emotions my master’s touch gave me, I concentrated on
him working on the cuts on my feet. After carefully drying them, he wrapped the strips of sheets Bomber had given him around my toes, soles and ankles. It looked like I was wearing soft white ankle boots by the time he had finished. I tentatively stood, testing my weight on the makeshift shoes. The pain was distant and bearable, as usual. I nodded to Shakhta, letting him know I would be fine.

  “Put these on, they’ll be a little big but they’re dry.” He handed me a pair of sweats and a shirt then left me to dress alone.

  I washed my face and grimaced at the tangled mess my hair had become, but there was nothing I could do about it right now. As I left the bathroom and moved quietly back to the couch, I watched Braiden as he strapped more weapons to his body. When the sun was up, we quietly descended the stairs rather than use the elevators; Shakhta wanted to keep our presence as discreet as possible. Once we were back in the garage below the hotel, Bomber made his way towards a black SUV with equally black windows. Shakhta opened the back passenger door and I slid in. Gabbie climbed in beside me and buckled her seatbelt. When I went to reach for mine, I noticed Shakhta’s hands had beaten me to it. He pulled the sash across my lap and clicked it into place. The door promptly closed then Shakhta and Bomber climbed into the front seats, Shakhta driving. As we drove cautiously out into the streets that were now alive with activity, I watched the passing scenery with nonchalance, feeling tired and emotional after that last few days. My life had once again been thrown into disarray and I hated the unknown. At least being with Jonas was predictable. Well, until he decided to sell me of course. I took long, deep breaths as I concentrated on burying all that confusion, so I could be left in the comfortable cocoon of numbness. This was where I was truly safe. This was where I was untouchable.

  CHAPTER 8

  BRAIDEN

  We had only been on the road ten minutes when I noticed that Emily had become unnervingly still and quiet; her eyes were focused intently on the outside world, but seemed to see nothing. Her gaze never flittered; it just remained fixed on nothing. The stillness disturbed me; it was like she had withdrawn from the world and all that remained was a shell. I focused my attention on the road. I couldn’t do anything to mend Emily’s broken soul in this moment, but I could keep her safe. The airstrip out of Nassau was only a short fifteen minute drive from the hotel, but I was taking the longest route there to throw off anyone who might be following us. The streets were beginning to fill with activity, and I needed my wits about me to navigate the now busy roads.