The Ruthless Knight

by Jeana E. Mann

  “I’m happy to see my sexual prowess has moved you to tears.” He rolls off me, but I can tell he’s dealing with his own set of emotions.

  We lie side by side, panting. In front of us, the vastness of the ocean spreads into infinity. Stars twinkle in a velvet sky. Once my racing heart resumes a reasonable cadence, I lift onto my elbows. Nicky trails his fingertips along the length of his sternum, face inscrutable. “We didn’t use a condom. I apologize.”

  “It’s okay. I can’t have kids, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Have you been tested recently?” There’s a note of concern in his voice.

  “Yes.” I don’t want to tell him that I haven’t had sex in almost a year.

  “So have I. And I always use a condom. At least, always before.”

  “Even with Valentina?”

  “Especially with Valentina.” The mention of her name dampens the magic of the moment. He sits up and runs his hands through his hair, smoothing the tousled ends. I expect him to make an excuse to leave, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns to me. “Would you like to go to my room? Now that I’ve had a taste of you, I’d like some more.”

  Nine

  Calliope

  Breakfast is served by the pool at one of the umbrella tables. It’s already hot. The humidity turns my curls into an uncontrollable frizz. Nicky and Luis are already seated. To my relief, Viktor is absent. Valentina greets me with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning, Calliope. How did you sleep?”

  “Very little.” I slide into the empty chair across from Nicky. My thigh muscles tremble under the effort, pushed to their limits by hours of fucking. Valentina watches me with doe eyes. Her familiarity disturbs me on several different levels. I’ve known people like her. The sweet façade hides the danger of a viper.

  “Did darling Nicky keep you up all night? He’s a stallion, isn’t he?” She drags her fingers through his hair, ruffling the brown locks like he’s a pet. A pair of black aviator shades hides his eyes. He remains silent. She gives his face a playful slap. “He can go for hours with that massive cock of his.” The tension at the table makes the air heavy. Her focus returns to me. “Did he do that thing with his thumb? Where he flicks your clit? I taught him that.” She strokes a hand down my arm. My stomach churns. I flinch away from the unwelcome contact. A sadistic smile bows her red lips. “Maybe I’ll have both of you join us in bed tonight. Wouldn’t that be fun, Luis? The four of us together?”

  “I’ll pass.” I wish I had sunglasses to hide my bloodshot eyes. Nicky looks like he just stepped off the cover of a men’s fashion magazine, his face clean shaved, his white shirt starched and brilliant against his tanned skin.

  “So angry. Why is that, Calliope?” With a petulant smirk, she places fresh fruit onto her plate. “You remind me of Nikolay. All brooding and stormy.”

  “Maybe it’s just me, but being held prisoner in a foreign country always makes me cranky.” Following her lead, I dish a ladle of scrambled eggs onto my plate. Across the table, Nicky’s lips curve upward.

  “He has a terrible temper, you know. Especially when he’s forced to be submissive.” Ignoring my statement, she bites into a succulent plum. “What about you, Calliope? What makes you angry?”

  “Let the games begin,” Nicky murmurs.

  “Pollution. People who don’t recycle. Runny mascara.” At my answer, her laughter rings through the air.

  She shakes her head and relaxes into her chair, crossing her slender legs at the knee. “You’re delightful. This is going to be so much fun.”

  “For you, maybe.” The eggs curdle in my stomach. A chill rolls over me followed by a flash of heat. From anger. I drop my fork on the table.

  She stabs at her eggs. “Oh, darling, I’m the only one who matters.”

  “As much as I’d like to stay, I need to be going. I have business to take care of.” Nicky’s deep voice hits me between the legs. He pushes back his chair to stand. I press my thighs together at the unexpected pulse of desire. Last night, when we returned to his room, he’d been gentle. Bringing me to orgasm over and over again with his fingers and tongue and that enormous dick. Afterward, he’d held me in his arms, his chest to my back, spooning me until daybreak. The memory brings a flush of heat to my face.

  “When I’m ready for you to leave, I’ll let you know.” Valentina’s pretty face turns ugly. “Sit down.” He doesn’t move. In a blur of motion, she snatches my head by the hair, drawing my face to hers, and presses the tip of her knife into my jugular vein. “I said sit. Now.”

  “Go ahead. She means nothing to me.” His declaration stings more than the tip of the blade pricking my skin. The magic of last night ebbs away like the outgoing tide. There’s a tickling sensation along the side of my neck. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. No matter what happens, I won’t give her the satisfaction.

  “Sit down, Nicky, or I will gut her like a pig in front of your very eyes.”

  Slowly, he reclaims his seat at the table.

  Valentina lowers the knife. “He’s a cold bastard, isn’t he?” She wipes the blood—my blood—on her linen napkin then begins peeling the apple. That small gesture terrifies me more than anything I’ve ever experienced. She’s so nonchalant about death.

  “We had a bargain. I fulfilled my part. It’s time to let me go,” Nicky growls through clenched teeth. The armed soldier standing at the edge of the pool lifts the muzzle of his gun and inches closer to us.

  Valentina’s calm façade snaps. She springs to her feet, overturning her chair in the process. The table jumps as she slams both hands on the surface. “I make the rules. I say who comes and goes here. You do not tell me what to do, Nikolay.” Her lips tremble with the force of her fury. “Guard!” The sentry marches to the table and lowers the muzzle of the gun to Nicky’s temple.

  To Nicky’s credit, his expression never changes. “Go ahead. Put me out of my misery. Death would be preferable to spending one more minute in this hell hole with you.”

  They stare at each other for what seems like hours. No one speaks. My stomach churns. I fight against the need to heave in the bushes next to my chair. Valentina scowls. “What happened to you, Nicky? You used to be so much fun.”

  “You. You’re what happened.” Steel and fire forge together in his terse words.

  The hideous reality of my future takes on a frightening twist. I’m going to die here, and it’s going to be long and slow and painful.

  “Ah, Viktor. There you are, sleepy head.” Valentina’s demeanor switches seamlessly from psychotic to delighted. “Come join us.”

  The hulking Russian skirts the edge of the pool. If he’s surprised by the state of affairs, he doesn’t show it. He slides into the empty chair next to me and unfolds a napkin onto his lap. “Good morning.”

  “Take Calliope to the house, would you?” Valentina addresses the guard, her demeanor pleasant. The man lowers the gun from Nicky’s head and uses the barrel to gesture for me to get up. “I have a full day planned for you. Massage, facial, manicure, pedicure. The whole spa treatment. My treat.” Pushing my chair back from the table, I stand. This bitch is certified crazy. Nicky avoids my gaze. She gestures with the knife. “Oh, and Pablo, move Calliope into Nicky’s room.”

  I’m taken to a conservatory filled with blooming flowers, fruit-bearing trees, and caged birds. A waterfall splashes onto bright blue tile in the far corner. An aesthetician gestures for me to lie on a massage table. Her assistant hands me a glass of champagne. I have no idea what to think. The scene is decadent and relaxing, but I know better than to trust my eyes. Throughout the procedures, a sentry guards the exit. I have no choice but to comply.

  I recognize how silly it sounds to be tortured by way of pampering. At the end of the day, my body is relaxed, hairless, and glowing, but my mind reels. Valentina is plotting something. On the walk back to the bedroom, I scan the house, memorizing the exits, searching for cameras and a way to freedom.

  The
guard locks me in Nicky’s bedroom. The space is simple but comfortable with an enormous king-sized bed, two overstuffed chairs, and a veranda. I search through the dresser drawers for a weapon but only find Nicky’s clothing and a variety of bikinis for me. The closet holds even less: a few pairs of shoes for him, sandals for me, and wood hangers. I remove one from the bar and test the weight of it in my hand. A few minutes later, the door opens. Whirling to face the intruder, I brandish the hanger like a weapon.

  “Easy.” Nicky closes the door behind him. The place is in shambles. Our clothes litter the floor. Drawers are open. The bed covers and mattress are askew. “Calliope, calm down.” He extends a hand, as if to soothe a skittish horse.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down.” I continue holding the hanger between us. “That bitch is looney tunes.”

  “Get hold of yourself.” Nicky grabs me by the biceps and gives me a shake. I drop the hanger. It lands on the tile floor with a clatter. “You're not going to take out an entire army with a piece of wire.”

  “I know.” My body trembles. I grip my head, unable to stop the panic spreading through my chest. “I know. I know.”

  He releases my arms and sinks into the bed. Lines of worry bracket his mouth. “Freaking out isn’t going to help.”

  “Is this room bugged?” I run my hands over the lampshade and picture frame then pace in front of the window. The tightness in my chest increases until my ribs creak. No, no, no. It’s been so long since I’ve had a panic attack.

  “Maybe. Probably.” He runs his hands through his hair, tousling the glossy brown locks. “This is exactly what she wants. Your fear. Don’t give her the satisfaction.”

  “What is she planning?” I wrap my arms around my waist, seeking comfort that never arrives. “I spent the day being groomed like a prized poodle. Why are we in this room together?”

  “I can only guess, but I suppose she plans to pit us against each other.” His heavy sigh says more than words. “It’s a common form of mental torture. She forces us to form a bond then tears the relationship apart.”

  “We’re fucked, aren't we?” It's not really a question. And he knows it. I resume pacing. This is beyond all comprehension. “I don't even know what I'm doing here.”

  “Are you sure? You've done something to pique her interest. Think hard. Maybe you stole something from her.”

  “I'd remember someone like her.” A sliver of uncertainty takes seed in my gut. There have been so many marks over the years. Cash orchestrated the projects, choosing our targets, but never disclosing his motives. I sink down on the bed next to Nicky. “I don't know. Maybe.”

  A sudden, unwelcome thought infiltrates my anxiety. “Last night, did you show up on your own or did she send you to find me?” His lips press into a tight line, providing the answer. Anger threatens the shreds of my self-control. “Did she tell you to fuck me, too?”

  “She sent me into your room, but only to check up on you. Everything else—the walk, the beach, sex—it was me.” He rests a hand on my knee. I brush it away. “This is exactly what she wants. You and I pitted against each other. Don't play into her plans.”

  The past few days have been too much. My head whirls from information overload. I wish I could click my heels together and go home, back to my cramped apartment, the bar, and my anonymity. My life was a disaster, but it was mine. And Nicky is just as much a part of the game as Valentina. “I can't be around you right now.”

  With the door locked, there’s nowhere to go, so I head to the bathroom and close the door behind me. I sit on the closed toilet and focus on my breathing. A few minutes later, I hear the bedroom door open and close. When I emerge from the bathroom, a white sundress has been laid out on the bed with matching white lace panties. And sandals with thin gold straps. Nicky is nowhere to be found. His absence is as concerning as it is a relief. I don’t know what to think or who to believe.

  There’s a knock on the door. Pablo enters. “Mrs. Sokolov requests that you get dressed and join her in the living room.” After a brief bow, he departs.

  I stare at the clothes, warring between rebellion and complicity. If I refuse, she might retaliate. If I comply, I may be attending my own death. The debate is brief. I have no choice. With a heavy heart, I change clothes. The dress is a little too short but flattering. One of the guards delivers me to the living room. Luis is seated on the sofa nibbling from a bowl of macadamia nuts. Nicky stands near the bar, a glass of liquor in his hand and a faraway stare in his eyes. Viktor watches from a shadowy corner. Valentina approaches, her hands lifted in greeting.

  “Welcome, welcome.” Her long dark hair is swept into a complicated updo. The slit in her slinky red dress reveals a stretch of toned thigh. “I'm so glad you decided to join us. Aren't you, Nicky?”

  “Thrilled.” Unrest simmers in his posture.

  “I hope your rested and ready for our games tonight, Calliope. After all, you’re the star of the show.” She claps her hands together. I flinch at the unexpected sound. “Nicky, you will escort Calliope? Come, Luis.”

  Nicky says nothing but offers his elbow. I hesitate before resting my hand in the crook of his arm. His gray eyes churn like a stormy sea. The turbulence in his gaze makes my stomach twist.

  On the walk to the guest house, I’m grateful for Nicky’s arm. My knees feel like gelatin. Tiki torches light the pathway. Birds and unfamiliar creatures call out to each other in the surrounding jungle, reminding me of the dangers in the dark. Valentina and Luis follow close behind. And farther back, Viktor follows with a trio of sentries.

  Inside the guesthouse, my heart does a triple flip. There are no furnishings. Just a series of folding chairs arranged like theater seats and two wooden chairs in the center of the room. Various hooks and rings are mounted to the walls and ceiling. On the far wall is a work bench bearing an assortment of tools.

  This is not good. I want to run, but Nicky places his opposite hand over mine, holding me in place. “Steady,” he whispers in my ear.

  "Calliope, you sit here.” She pats one of the chairs. “Nicky, here.” Valentina proceeds straight to the workbench and surveys the implements. The hairs on the back of my neck stiffen. The glow of Nicky’s tan has been replaced with a sickly pallor, as if he knows what happens next.

  More men enter the room. Some are dressed in suits and ties. Others wear camouflage uniforms. All of them carry visible weapons. The man in the corner, however, is the one who concerns me most. A white apron is tied around his neck and waist. He’s tall, thin, with a big nose and pockmarked complexion. He trails claw-like fingers over the implements until he finds one to his liking.

  Victor comes forward and straps my arms to the chair. The men file into their seats, murmuring, watching me with vile smirks.

  “Take off your shirt, Nicky,” Valentina commands.

  When he doesn’t comply, she rips it open. The buttons ping along the floor. She leans on the workbench and withdraws a cigarette from her silver case, flicks a lighter to the tip. The thin man selects a blowtorch and a long iron stick with a small circle on the end. A brand. The air in the room, it’s too thin. My vision blurs. I’ve never been so terrified in my entire life. She takes a few puffs on the cigarette then walks over to Nicky. Her fingers trail over his bare chest, but her eyes are on me. “Are you ready to play, Calliope?”

  “What's wrong with you?” I ask, twisting desperately against the leather restraints. “You’re sick.”

  “Hush.” With a hand on Nicky’s chest, she shoves him into the chair facing me. Victor tightens the straps around his wrists. I can’t look at him. If I do, I think I’ll cry. Valentina exhales, plumes of smoke curling around her head. “Have you figured out why you’re here yet?”

  “I have no idea. I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.” The pitch of my voice is too high, strained and thin.

  “No. No mistake.” The heels of her sandals click on the cement as she circles me. “I want you to think really hard.” She pats my face. “Vict
or, help her out. “

  The blow comes out of nowhere. My head snaps back. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

  “Valentina, you don’t have to do this,” Nicky interrupts. “She’ll tell you whatever you need to know. Violence isn’t necessary.”

  “If you speak again without my permission, I’ll silence your smart mouth. Permanently.” The venom in her tone escalates my panic. She gestures with the cigarette. “I promised these men a night of entertainment, and I always keep my promises.”

  “Not always,” Nicky says, taunting her. “Only when it’s to your advantage.”

  “Why can’t you follow the rules, Nicky? It’s so simple. You come when you’re called. You speak when you’re spoken to. Always a rebel.” She shakes her head and draws another puff of her cigarette. “Here’s how this is going to go. Every time one of you breaks my rules, I’m going to punish the other one. What do you think, Viktor?”

  The henchman nods and cracks his knuckles. “Sounds fair to me.”

  The thin man fires up the blowtorch, stalking toward me without expression. I want to run. Even if I got free, there’s nowhere for me to go. My voice shakes when I speak. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. But I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Valentina takes a long draw on the cigarette, her flat black eyes contemplating me. Then she lowers the cigarette to Nicky’s chest. He doesn’t flinch or cry out, but a bead of sweat appears on his forehead as she presses the glowing red tip to his flesh.

  “No. Stop.” I’ve never been one to beg, but I can’t bear to see someone else tortured on my account. “Please.”