by Vi Carter
“Turn around slowly.”
The hair lifts on the nape of my neck as I clutch my towel and turn around slowly.
I’m staring at a black gun that’s pointed right at me. I can’t blink or look away. My whole body tenses as the gun slowly disappears. The man still holds it but he looks into the bedroom both hands clutching the gun. It’s pointed at the floor but he looks like he knows what he’s doing.
“Where is he?” His green eyes shoot to me, and beads of sweat start to form on my lip.
“No English.” My lip and voice trembles.
He’s still looking at me. His red curly hair is tight to his head, but streaks of grey give away his age.
“Are you alone?” He asks, and the gun seems to be rising.
I nod my head.
“Don’t dare move,” he warns as he moves into the living space. My whole body starts to shake and I’m looking around the room. I have no idea what for. When he reappears he keeps the gun pointed to the ground but he’s not letting it go.
“Get in here.”
Licking my lips I hold the towel tight feeling so vulnerable right now with just a towel on. I sit on the couch and he stands over me. Taking out his phone he rings someone.
As he’s occupied with his phone, I consider the gun I saw earlier strapped under the table. My heart starts to jackhammer in my chest at the thought of using it. I don’t get a chance as he hangs up and his focus returns to me.
“What’s your name?”
“Svetlana,” I say.
He continues to look around the space like he’s waiting for someone to arrive.
I clutch my towel with one hand and wipe the other on the very small piece of material. My wet hair clings to my shoulders and back. Drops of water slowly crawl down my skin making me shiver.
“Where is he?” His voice rises and I jump at the unexpected amount of anger. I’m shaking my head as he takes a step to me. The side of my face erupts in pain as he lashes out, hair whips across my face painfully and I stay huddled under my curtain of hair as my face burns.
“Let’s try that again. Where is he?”
Holding my breath, I push my hair off my stinging face. “I don’t know,” I say and gulp down air as he walks away. My hand trembles as it touches my face. Blood covers the tips of my fingers. My stomach feels like a rock landed in it as I watch him pace. I try not to touch my face but the burn feels like it’s getting worse. When he looks at me again, I look away and try to make myself small.
“Ring him,” he demands and dread trickles down my spine. “Ring. Liam. Now.”
“I don’t have a phone.”
This man had no idea that I was here against my will, but if I tell him that, he wasn’t going to help me. Maybe he would dispose of me understanding how useless I was?
He hands me his phone. “It’s ringing.”
I take it and listen to the ring tone.
“John. I hope you’re keeping well.” Liam’s voice fills the phone and I quickly look at John.
“It’s Svetlana. You need to come home.”
John rips the phone out of my hands. “Don’t take too long Liam. I don’t like to be kept waiting, and you don’t want me to hurt her now do you?” He hangs up and stuffs the phone in his pocket. Using the sleeve of his army green jacket he wipes sweat from his forehead.
“Don’t move,” he says as he lowers the gun and starts to move towards the kitchen. He’s opening drawers, running his hands under the stools and counters. I don’t know what he’s searching for. I think of the gun again and shimmy forward on the couch.
“What are you doing?” He’s in front of me, his strides filled with anger.
I sink back. “I … I need to use the bathroom.” I stumble across the words. He wipes his forehead again before glancing at the bathroom door.
“Fine, make it quick.”
I’m up and moving across the space quickly. He doesn’t follow me and I close the bathroom door calmly. I have no idea what to do. The stool is still here and I shift it behind the door. Opening presses I search for a weapon. The knock at the door has me jumping.
“Hurry up.” His bark penetrates the door. There is nothing in the bathroom. Sweat trickles down my back. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the cut on my face isn’t as big as I thought but covers half my cheek. A small amount of blood has gathered around the opening.
The door handle rattles as he tries to open it. “Open the door now.”
Squeezing my eyes shut I try to think. “Just give me one moment.”
The chair starts to rock as he pushes the door in. I take one final panicked look around the bathroom and the only thing is the glass soap dish. Picking it up I wait until his head pops in. I throw it and when he screams, I rush back into the shower. I’ve hit him but now as he pushes open the door fully, the chair scatters against the wall, I see I’ve only angered him. Grabbing the door of the shower I throw my weight behind it as he tries to open the door. Blood trickles fast from the cut on his eyebrow. The gun comes into view and he points it at my head. “Open the door or I’ll pull the trigger.”
I release the door and the moment it’s open, he grabs me by the arm and drags me back out into the living space. His fingers dig painfully into my arm as he pushes me onto the couch. Clutching the towel I just about keep it covering my body.
He keeps his narrowed eyes on me as he walks backways to the kitchen. Taking a towel from the drawer he presses it against the gash on his eyebrow.
He stuffs the gun into the back of his jeans as he opens a black bag that’s placed on the table. He takes out a small black box and opens it. My leg hits the table as I fumble to move back. A large needle and a bottle of white liquid are the only contents in the pouch.
“It’s not for you,” he says but his words aren’t to comfort me. He takes the red soaked towel away from his face and winches in pain. If it’s for Liam and he kills him, what did that mean for me? Would it be my opportunity to escape from here or would he kill me after killing Liam? Did I want Liam to kill him first? Any outcome for me wasn’t good. Unless they killed each other or Liam killed John and then in that moment I could get the gun and kill Liam. That seemed like the best plan. But I wasn’t sure if I could move, the risk had my heart hammering in my chest.
I touch my face again as the burn returns, the bleeding had stopped but I can feel the swollen skin under my fingertips.
The door to my right opens. I don’t hear it but see the movement at the corner of my eye. John is closing up the small black pouch. I move my head slowly and my pulse spikes, the sound of my heartbeat thrashes in my ear. Liam is here and I don’t see a weapon in his hand. He walks across the floor like there is no danger here. He hasn’t looked at me his focus is solely on John.
“John, sorry for keeping you waiting.”
John removes the gun quickly and efficiently from the back of his jeans and points it at Liam. Liam doesn’t stop walking, he moves like there is no gun. I don’t know if he’s crazy or brave.
“Are you surprised to see me?”
For the first time Liam glances at me. “It would be in both our interests to let her leave the room.”
“She’s going nowhere.”
“Did you do that to her face?” Liam asks him when he reaches the table. He’s close enough to me that if he reached out he could touch me.
“I had to keep her in line.” John moves away from Liam. “You sent a hit man to kill me?”
“I see Gregor failed.” Liam doesn’t deny trying to kill John and hurt flashes across the man’s face before it tightens with anger.
“He’s dead, and that’s on you.”
“What do you want?” Liam asks him bluntly. They are focused on each other and I think of trying to get out of the room but I know I wouldn’t get two feet without being noticed. Sitting here and keeping quiet could be the only thing that might save me for now.
“I would never have come after you like that.” John’s brows pull down as h
e speaks while hurt tightens his words. He keeps the gun on Liam as he picks up the blood-soaked towel and dabs his eyebrow taking away fresh blood.
“Pick up the needle and fill it.” His attitude changes as he points the gun at the cases. My mind takes a moment to realize he’s talking to me.
My hand trembles as I reach across and pull the pouch towards me. It’s hard to get it open with one hand, but I refuse to let my towel go. I’ve never filled a needle before but I’ve seen it on TV. The needle is huge as I remove it from the casing. I quickly look to Liam but he’s watching John.
“You should have run when you had the chance.” Liam’s words are so calm.
John takes a step towards him and points the gun at his head. “I’m the one with the gun Liam; you think I won’t pull the fucking trigger?”
My body tenses and I’m frozen as I wait to see if he will pull the trigger. Liam doesn’t answer him and I find myself being the target of John’s anger again.
“Fill the needle now. Or I’ll shoot you.”
My hands tremble too badly and I drop the needle. While trying to pick it up my eyes blur from pure fear. The bang of the gun rattles the couch as John pulls the trigger.
CHAPTER TEN
LIAM
Feathers rain down as the cushion explodes from the impact of the bullet.
“Fill up the needle now.” John has the gun pointed at me as he shouts at Svetlana who hasn’t recovered from the shock of nearly being shot. She’s clutching her towel, her head bent and I’m not sure if she’s breathing. She wasn’t shot but I think she’s holding her breath as her body is too still.
“Let me do it,” I say to John. “Shooting at her isn’t going to make her any calmer.”
John looks between me and Svetlana before wiping sweat and blood from his head. He’s high. Gregor must have started the job but never got to finish it.
“Fine.”
Kneeling down, I pick the needle up from the ground. I glance at Svetlana, she looks at me through her curtain of hair and it’s like she remembers to breathe. Her body starts to shake, and she slowly raises her head with her eyes on John.
“Hurry up,” John shouts.
The irritation in his voice is growing, and that makes him very dangerous. I glance at him from under my arm, he’s wiping his face again with the sleeve of his jacket and I use the moment.
Taking the gun that’s strapped to my ankle I don’t rise as I aim the gun between his eyes and pull the trigger. Svetlana screams as John falls to the ground. The wall behind him is splattered in blood. I don’t rise but place the gun back in its holder and turn to Svetlana. She’s trying to catch her breath as she stares at the wall.
Her face is swollen, a cut etched into her cheek. Taking her face in my hands I make her look away from John and towards me. Her breath brushes my face as she tries to suck in air. The cut on her cheek isn’t deep. My fingers prod closer and she hisses in pain.
“It’s okay. It’s over now,” I say not sure if my words will reassure her, but some part of me wants her to know that she’s safe. I need to get something to clean her face.
I rise but her hands shoot out and grab my arms. “Don’t go.” She inhales deeply and exhales a sob. She hasn’t released me and I sit down on the couch that has a bullet hole in it. She leans into my chest and cries. She’s still holding my arms but releases them and grips my jacket like I might leave her. I’ve never been in a situation before where someone seeks comfort from me. I’m normally the cause of the distress. I slowly allow my arm to wrap itself around her and the other finds its way into her hair, my touch makes her cry harder and her hold on me grows tighter. My thumb grazes her back, the skin lumpy and scarred. I stop the movement when she freezes under me, her sobs ceasing. She withdraws instantly moving away from me and wrapping her arms across her chest. Now she won’t look at me and I’m unsure what I have done.
“Go in and get dressed,” I say.
Ice-blue eyes that are filled with anger focus on me. Her anger is for me and I’m not sure why. Her legs knock together as she rises and goes into the bedroom.
Picking up the needle and glass bottle I place them back in the pouch before putting it in the bag that John had brought with him. Stepping between his open legs I bend down and pick up the gun. I disarm it and place it in the bag also. The hole between his eyes had killed him instantly. He was a friend, and I felt I had given him an honest death. Pulling back the large screen TV, I enter the code to open my safe. After stuffing the bag in I go to the bathroom, glass crunches under my feet and the bathroom is disheveled. Taking down the first aid kit I take it with me to the bedroom and open the door slowly. Svetlana has changed into the t-shirt and jogging pants that I had left out for her. Her knees are pulled up to her chest as she sits in the corner of the room that she has favored since arriving here. She isn’t crying and when I step in her eyes track my every movement. Removing my suit jacket I place it on the bed before I go to her with the first aid kit. Sitting on the floor in front of her she continues to stare at me.
“Have I done something wrong?” I’m curious as to what happened for her to place such anger on me.
“Besides kidnap me.”
Her words surprise me. I knew she could speak English but hearing it was different. Opening the first aid kit I take out an anti-septic wipe. “This might sting a little,” I warn her in advance. Taking her face in my hand she pulls away from me. “I’m trying to help you,” I say before I proceed. This time when I take her face she holds still but her eyes are still burning with hate. I dab the area and she doesn’t blink.
“I didn’t kidnap you. You were given to me,” I remind her. She doesn’t reply and when I look at her she swallows and looks away.
“What happened to your back?” I ask while getting a clean antiseptic wipe. She doesn’t answer me and I finish cleaning her face. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
I ask and her anger melts away she shakes her head, “No.”
I repack the first aid kit and get ready to leave.
“I ran away, and my uncle got Holic to punish me. He favored a whip. That’s how I got the scars on my back.” She clutches her hands together as she speaks. She won’t look at me and I’m surprised at the level of anger that rises inside me. Getting up I take the first aid kit with me and go into the kitchen. Pouring two whiskeys’ I glance over at John. Why did he have to kill Gregor? He was one of my best men.
“Wanda.”
“What can I do for you today?”
“Ring Gregor.” I take a drink as Gregor’s phone rings. I’m hoping he answers but when he doesn’t I finish the rest of the whiskey and take the second glass into Svetlana. She’s still sitting where I left her. I don’t kneel down but reach the glass out to her.
“You’re in shock, it will help,” I say.
She turns her head away. “I don’t trust you. I’m sure you’ve laced it with sleeping pills.” Her recent shock is making her very brave.
My hand grips around the glass. “Your English gets better by the second. And I don’t trust you either; don’t forget you tried to drug me too.” I place the drink on the bedside table feeling more annoyed than I should be with her.
Leaving her I go back into the living area and remove my waistcoat and tie, I roll up my sleeves and start by washing the blood off the wall.
“Mr. O’Reagan.” Gregor walks into my living quarters, he’s never been in here before but he doesn’t look around, there is relief on his face when he looks at me. His struggle with John is evident on his face.
“He tied me up. I couldn’t get here to warn you.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad to see you’re alive,” I say.
He comes and stands beside me.
“Can you get rid of him?”
“On it.” He goes to leave but after thinking he was dead and realizing he wasn’t makes me appreciate him more. I continue to clean the walls and Gregor works around me. Once John is gone, I easily wash the blood from the w
all. Getting a black sack I remove the burst cushion and clean up the smashed glass.
Svetlana comes out of the bedroom holding an empty glass. I don’t comment but I’m pleased that she drank it.
She’s looking at the floor where John had been. “Was he your friend?”
Taking the black sack I leave it in the kitchen area and start to clean up all the feathers. “Yes.”
“Why did you kill him?”
“He was going to kill me. What happened to my bathroom?” I fire back not liking her questions.
She sits on the couch, pulling one leg under her. “I was hiding from him. Should I clean it up?” There is a nervousness in her that wasn’t there a moment ago and I try to figure out what was going on. She drops my gaze and tightens her hands on her leg.
“I’ll do it,” I say and walk away. From the corner of my eye I see her move.
Her movements are quick but I don’t turn around. “I just want to leave.”
I reach the kitchen and pour myself out a whiskey. Looking up at her, Svetlana is standing beside the couch, holding my gun that is kept strapped to the base of the coffee table. I take a slow drink.
