by Genovese, CM
“The guys with the Russian accents. They’re looking for pretty girls. I heard them say it.”
Nia was a pretty girl. She was beautiful. That put her in grave danger. I needed to get her out of here.
“Nia, this isn’t a joke,” I said. “You’re not safe here.”
“I’m not safe anywhere,” she replied. “Can I tell you a secret? Never mind.”
“No, you can absolutely tell me a secret,” I said, probably too quickly for my own good.
“You might be a cop,” she said.
I grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “Look at me, Nia. I promise you I’m not a cop.”
Tears welled in her eyes and her helplessness broke my heart. There was a reason she was out here.
“I killed my stepbrother,” she whispered, her eyes on the beanie she was making. “Not here. But someplace else. And I came here to get away from the cops. Out here, they don’t really bother me. But at a shelter, they would ask questions.”
“Then come to my apartment,” I told her. “You can tell me everything.”
She laughed. “No, come on. That’s crazy. You are crazy. You don’t even know me.”
“Nia, you’re not old enough to be out here on your own like this. You could be my little sister. Whatever happened with your stepbrother—”
“He tried to rape me. He hit me hard. He’d done it before. But this time he tried to rape me so I… I hit him with one of the weights he used when working out. I hit him in the throat.”
She mimicked the weight hitting him by putting her own fist against her neck.
“It sounds like self-defense,” I told her.
“No,” she said. “I wanted to kill him for who he was and what he did to girls. He hurt my friend once too.”
“Nia, come with me, please.”
Arnie stepped into the camp, saw me, and made his way over to us quickly.
“What is it with you?” he barked.
“I brought you guys some stuff,” I told him, pointing at the bag.
This calmed him down quickly. “Thank you,” he said. “But you should go. It’s getting dark and this isn’t a place for pretty girls in the dark.”
Nia looked up at him and the hurt expression on her face was obvious.
“You know what I mean,” he told her. “Girls are being taken.”
“Then we need to get Nia out of here,” I said. “I offered for her to come to my apartment.”
“And leave me?” he asked.
“Arnie, I would never,” Nia started.
“She’d never,” he said, with a smug look on his face.
“The Russian guy came back earlier,” Nia told him. “I think we need to move to a different camp.”
Arnie swore under his breath and kicked at the ground. “You know we can’t. I almost got killed at the other one.”
Nia nodded. “Yeah. I know.”
“But if there are guys taking girls,” I said. “Then you know Nia isn’t safe, Arnie. She’s pretty. Beautiful. She’s the kind of girl they’d want.”
“That’s why we keep her hidden.”
“Forever? What if she goes out to take a piss at night?”
“I go with her.”
“You’re not being realistic,” I said.
“You’re not being realistic,” Arnie shot back. “Look around you. I can guarantee you those Russian assholes are here right now. They’re watching through the trees. You’re a pretty girl. When you go back to your car, they might be waiting for you. Maybe one of ‘em will bend you over the trunk of your car, put a knife to your side, and—”
“Stop it!” Nia shouted.
His words. They seeped in and affected me more than they should have been able to. Images came back to me. I was bent over and a knife was at my side.
“No,” Arnie continued. “Even if you make it out of here, one of them will follow you all around the city, until you get home. And they’ll kick down your damn door and take you. Your apartment is no safer than this tent. At least here, I can keep her covered up and they can’t see what she looks like. In your apartment, you’ll be naked, getting in the bath, when one barges through your door.”
I wanted to slap him. His words dug so fucking deep. I’d never thought about it like this before. I’d been an idiot to come out here in the first place. Who did I think I was? They didn’t want my help. Now, I was putting myself in danger. I’d been in danger before, and I still had the scar to remind me every fucking time I showered and my fingers passed over it. Arnie was right. These Russians, or whomever they were, they wanted pretty women. If they found me attractive, I was in as much danger as anyone else, and I was clean, dressed nicely, and had no ties to this area other than my job.
When I backed away from their tent, I tripped over the bag I’d brought, and fell to the ground on my ass. Maybe it was the look on my face, but Arnie seemed to feel bad.
“Calm down,” he said.
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. I scooted away on my ass, just needing to get away from them.
“Cassie,” Nia said, and it was the first time she’d said my name since I’d approached her. I wasn’t sure she’d remembered it. “I’m sorry.”
Nia had no desire to go with me, and Arnie wouldn’t let her go even if she wanted to. Tomorrow, I’d talk to Feral and get the cops involved. We’d find out about these Russians. But for now, I was shaking. I needed to get away from the camp. Behind every tent flap, I heard laughter, whispering, and what I swore were taunts.
On the way to my car, I heard voices behind every tree. The sun was setting and the sharp, bright light it gave off blinded me. Russians could be standing right there on the trail, crouching behind bushes, slinking through the shadows. Arnie was right. They could be coming after me.
It was a horror movie setting. My heart pounded and my breath quivered.
My car was close.
Who’s on the other side, crouched down behind my passenger door?
I squatted down to check for feet on the other side. I saw none.
What if they’re already in the car? What if they’re in your backseat?
Before I opened it, I glanced through the windows and peered in. Nobody was there.
And the trunk? You’re being paranoid. Nobody’s in the fucking trunk.
I got into my car before I had a panic attack, locked the doors, and stepped on the gas.
The whole way home, I checked the rearview mirror.
What would Russians drive?
Would there be a bunch of them? One guy? A van full of men all wearing black ski masks?
Would they be in a car? Or maybe in a pickup?
Are they already waiting at the apartment? What if they followed me the last time when Feral took me to the camp? What if they sat outside the office and waited for me to go to my car and then drive home?
None of it was true, of course. If they’d followed me the last time, they would have taken me already, but that didn’t help with my anxiety. Why had Arnie’s words affected me like they had? It was that squint in his eyes, the rapid pace of his words, his volume. That low, whispered, frantic threat. The way he’d seemed so sure of it. Like there wasn’t a doubt in his mind the Russians were on to me and would be coming after me next.
I hadn’t even called Kinsey lately. My best friend was probably worried sick about me. What if I disappeared and never got the chance to tell her any of this? Nobody would come looking for me because nobody would know where I was supposed to be. Sue and Feral would probably assume I’d chickened out and ran home.
Everything in my apartment was new. None of it was really mine. None of it was important anyway. It was all stuff I could leave behind if I decided to call it quits.
Will anybody know what happens to you if you’re taken?
I’d been so fucking stupid to go out there to that camp by myself.
When I got home, I parked my car and raced to my apartment. The stairs were around the corner, and as I stepped around, I slid on a
patch of ice and fell to a knee, slamming it hard against the solid ground. I winced through the pain and limped up the stairs, fighting back tears as I hobbled toward my apartment. The door looked slightly ajar.
It’s your paranoia again. It’s light slipping through the crack in the shitty doorframe.
Pressing against the door with my palm, I confirmed it was closed as tight as could be, so I slipped my key into the lock and turned the knob. I slammed the door shut behind me, probably a little too hard because I heard the doorframe on the outside break and it sounded like a piece of it fell on the ground. I locked the door and leaned against it.
You’re inside, Cassie. You’re safe.
Was I? I was safe for now, but what had I gotten myself into with this job? How had I not considered how dangerous all this was? What was I thinking going to the fucking trail this late in the evening without Feral?
Stupid… stupid… stupid.
My back slid down the door until I was flat on my ass, sitting there, staring out at my empty apartment. For the first time since moving to Anchorage, I wondered if I’d made a mistake coming here. Now, I understood why everyone tried to keep me out of the field. I thought back to my first conversation with Sue, when she tried to warn me that I was a pretty girl and that could make things dangerous for me.
The throbbing in my knee caused me to kick out of my shoes and shimmy my jeans down my thighs and over my feet. I kicked them away and brought up my knee, inspecting the growing bruise. I’d really slammed it hard on the ice. Of course, we got a lot of snow in Nebraska, but for some reason it seemed so much colder here. Internally and externally. The Alaskan outdoors and the inside of my heart. I felt more alone than I’d ever felt in my life.
Pounding against the door sent shudders up my spine and caused my chest to shake and my hands to tremble. This was a loud knock. Like a big man trying to get my attention.
The Russians.
From my spot on the floor, I glanced across to my kitchen and eyed the one frying pan I’d bought the other night. It wasn’t a heavy cast-iron skillet, but it wasn’t light either. It was still fitted with the cardboard frame of its packaging. I stood quickly, ignoring the pain in my knee the best I could, and grabbed the frying pan. I would have gotten a knife, but I had only a couple of butter knives. I’d forgotten to by any serious cutlery.
Returning to the door and holding the pan up like a baseball bat, I crept closer.
Pounding shook the door and caused me to flinch and back away again. I needed to see who was on the other side. That thought came to me even before what should have been the obvious one – to call the police.
The door’s peephole was up high enough that I needed to stand on my tiptoes. Through the fisheye lens, I saw a big man dressed in black with a black hood over his head. His face was down, and he was touching the doorframe. He bent over and picked up a piece of the shattered wood from the ground and inspected it.
Oh, my God. It is a Russian.
Backing away, I pulled my phone from my pocket and was about to punch 911 into the keys when the door exploded inward and the big man shot through it.
“Hey!” he yelled.
I screamed and swung the frying pan at his forehead, nailing him hard, and dropping my phone in the process.
“Argh, fuck!” he grunted and stumbled backward.
I swung the pan again and caught him across the face. He went down, and I ran for the door. I was in panties, a shirt, and a jacket. Only my jeans and shoes were missing from when I’d kicked them off. I didn’t care. I ran for the door and would have bolted right through it, sans clothes, if he didn’t reach out and grab my ankle, yanking back on it.
My legs came out from under me and my arms flailed as I fell to the ground, slapping and clawing. He grabbed one of my arms and held it still, but I was fast, and I had a fiery temper. I slammed my free hand between his legs and grabbed his dick. I squeezed so hard it would have popped if I’d had his balls in my grip. He howled.
“The fuck is wrong with you?!” he wheezed through a soft voice.
That’s right. Wheeze, you fucker. You’re not getting this bitch!
He reached for my face, and I bit the webbed spot between his thumb and forefinger, drawing blood. He cried out again and swung down at me. Not with his knuckles. It was soft in a strange way, like he was banging a fist against a table to say, “Hear ye, hear ye!” His closed hand hit my forehead and the back of my head bounced off the floor. It wasn’t a punch, but it was enough to calm me down. The world spun.
And then I was looking into his face.
At first, I thought I was knocked out and imagining it. He wasn’t Russian. He was biker. Full-on Royal Bastard. It was Rain, the good-looking asshole who’d called me a bitch and then defended me that night at the VFW.
“You gotta be shittin’ me,” he said as he looked down at me, his long hair hanging on each side of his face. “For fuck’s sake, you’re a tough one to check in on.”
It took me a moment to respond. My head was still spinning a bit and I was confused.
“What… what are you doing in my apartment?” I asked.
“Making sure you’re okay, dammit. But you’re more than okay. Hell, you really rang my fuckin’ bell, didn’t you?” He was massaging his head with an open palm. He pushed my front door closed and threw the deadbolt to keep it that way, now that he’d completely shattered most of the door. I sat up as he walked into my kitchen and called out at a low volume, as loud as he could it seemed, “You got any frozen peas? Or a fuckin’ steak? Something to stop me from gettin’ a damn black eye?” He sounded like he was in pain when he spoke that loud.
“Broccoli I think,” I said.
“That’ll do.”
When he came back, I was sitting against the wall. Still in a bit of shock, I think. He glanced down at me and grinned. I realized I was in my panties and reached for my jeans to cover myself up. He massaged his throat and leaned his head from side to side like he was cracking his neck. His eyes never left my body.
“Don’t look at me,” I said. “Don’t you have any manners?”
“Well why the fuck are you wearin’ panties and a jacket? That’s the real question. It’s the middle of the winter.” He coughed and massaged his throat again.
“Are you okay?” I asked. I had no reason to be concerned about him. He’d broken into my apartment, but I did feel sorry for him.
“Fine,” he said barely above a whisper.
“I still don’t understand why you’re here. And why you broke down my door and attacked me.”
“Attacked you?!” he shouted again. “Ah, fuck.” He gripped his throat and lowered his voice to his normal speaking volume. “Your friend in Nebraska is worried about you.”
“Nebraska? Kinsey?”
He nodded. “Her old man asked us to check on you. So I was. It looked like someone broke in. There was wood on the ground outside.”
“My door frame. It sucks. I broke it when I slammed the door.”
He chuckled and shook his head, holding the frozen broccoli up to his forehead. “Well, that’s why I’m here. Seems you’re okay.” He grabbed a pen from my kitchen counter and scribbled something down on a piece of paper. “There’s my number. Call me if you’re ever in trouble.”
Tossing the broccoli onto my lap, he turned for the door.
“Wait, where are you going?” I asked.
As much as I didn’t want some strange, cocky biker in my apartment, I didn’t want him to go. It would be nice having a man around in case those Russians did show up.
“I need a beer,” he said.
“Stay,” I suggested. “I can make you some coffee or…”
He shook his head and opened the door. “I need a beer.”
“I’m sorry!” I yelled after him, realizing I hadn’t really apologized for attacking the guy who’d come to save me. He didn’t hear it. He was already out the door. I couldn’t blame him. His head was going to be ringing for a while.
/> 8
Rain
“The crazy bitch hit him,” Pipe cackled with laughter as we sat at the Trail Blazer strip club downtown.
I wasn’t a fan of strip clubs. Not since Trish. Some of these girls had the biggest hearts, but unfortunately, they were usually in the game for money. Either to pay off college loans, put food on the table for the kids, or because they simply enjoyed the lavish lifestyle that bringing home over a grand in cash each night provided.
Trish had been an oddity as far as I was concerned. She’d been willing to put the lifestyle on pause for me. That wasn’t usually the case. But my brothers loved strip clubs, and the dancers loved my brothers. Oosik was the most popular by far. He was given that name for a reason. If you looked up that word, you’d see it’s the name given to the walrus’s giant penis bone. I’d seen Oosik’s cock. He wasn’t shy about it. He deserved the name.
“She hit you with a fuckin’ skillet?” Oosik asked.
“I woulda hit the bitch back,” Beezus said, earning him contentious stares from everyone around, bikers and dancers. “What?” he immediately tried to defend himself. “She hit him with a fucking skillet, bit him, tried to pop his nuts… the bitch is crazy.”
“I think she sounds like a badass,” a girl named Skittles said. She always invited people to taste her rainbow. Many of my brothers had, but she was known for returning the favor and was said to be damn good at it. Her tongue ring was a rainbow-colored ball.
“Do you like her?” Lolli, my favorite dancer in the place, asked.
She usually had her hair in pigtails and sucked on lollipops to drive the men wild. She’d been a house mouse at the MC for a while, cleaning up after us and helping with laundry… shit like that. She was too headstrong for that though. She needed to earn her own living. I was pretty sure Oosik had a thing for her.
As usual, one of the newer girls approached the table and headed toward Oosik. We all laughed because it was clear what was about to happen. It seemed the women, and this was nearly every group of women no matter where we went, had heard of his extraordinary size and loved to dare somebody to approach and ask to see it.
