by Vi Carter
“What the hell is this?” I asked Mandy as she turned to me with narrowed eyes and a thin-lipped smile.
“Right now, this boy will die if we don’t fix him.” She declared. That's all it took. I shut up and did as she asked. Her hand moved quickly and fluidly and soon the blood had stopped flowing, and he was stitched up and connected to an IV drip.
“It isn’t deep, and it missed all major organs, but he has lost a lot of blood and needs the rest.” Mandy explained all this to Kirk as he re-entered the room. I pulled the blood-soaked gloves off my hands. It didn’t really matter, my once-cream top was covered in blood, along with my forearms. Mandy patted me on the back. “You did good.”
I pulled away from her. “Don’t patronize me. You should have told me.” No one should have walked into such a mess. I should have been given a choice. Mandy hauled me out into the empty gym and closed the door gently behind us, leaving Kirk with his brother.
“Told you what, Amber? You want to be a nurse and save lives...” she held her hands open wide... “Well, this is your chance, just don’t question it. But trust me when I tell you this: It might have been easy for you to get in, but it won’t be to get out.”
EMMETT
Russia was cold, and it was the kind of cold that bit into your skin. The kind that made you want to bite back.
“Mr. Harrington, welcome.” My Russian informant spoke over the noise of the helicopter blades that still spun.
I crouched down as I walked with him. “Where is he?”
“Mr. Harrington, my boss needs assurance that you will not kill him.” I stopped walking; the bite of the cold was keeping me in check, the pain like a rubber band against my wrist. A warning.
“No assurance. I am going to kill him.” I walked away now, into the waiting black car. My informant climbed in after me.
“Mr. Harrington, I cannot take you to him, then.” I pulled off my leather gloves and blew into my hands. The driver had the heating on and it felt like my skin was stretching from the change in temperature.
“Fine, I will not kill him.” I lied; I didn’t have the time to waste. I knew I was dealing with very dangerous people, here, but they didn’t know I had severed my link to my father. By the time they figured it out, I would be long gone, and the priest would be long dead. He studied me for a moment, and I let him. Finally, he nodded and told the driver the address in Russian.
We arrived at a rundown industrial estate and, as I went to get out of the car, he stopped me. “You need to step where I step, there are still active mines here.” He stepped out of the car and I followed him. I followed his steps precisely, not wanting to end up in bits, but I also took in my surroundings, escape routes, movements. We stepped across several wires that would have been invisible to the eye, but now that I knew what I was looking for, I could see the dew that clung to them. The driver moved behind me, and I tried to think how I could kill the priest and still walk away. But the closer I got to the building, the more I knew that this might be the one man that I wouldn’t cross off my list today. But there was always tomorrow.
We entered a building, the back wall gone, exposing a factory wall that was black from a fire long burned out. The dripping of water was in rhythm with our footfalls. We moved through the building and into another, each one destroyed. The walls that were still standing were decorated with bullet holes. Our polished shoes and overpriced suits didn’t belong here, or maybe they did.
We entered a room, and the nervous shuffle from the man who sat in the center made my stomach twist. I couldn’t see his face, as it was covered with a sack. His hands and feet were bound to the chair.
“Ask your questions, then we leave Mr. Harrington.” I nodded. I had no questions. I really had two things to do. One: confirm that he was the man that I was looking for. I pulled off the sack, and he blinked. His washed-out blue eyes looked up at me with a mix of fear and confusion. No recognition was there, but once again my stomach lurched. It was him. The second thing was to kill him.
“Who are you?” he asked, the fear in his eyes consuming him. I swallowed it up into the black hollow that was carved inside me. I loved it when they showed me fear. It fed the darkness within me. It allowed me to remember why I was doing this. Now he knew how the people he had tormented felt.
“Who are you?” I repeated back. Now he looked at my companions.
“Albert, what is this?” He spoke to the man who had brought me here.
“Father just answer his questions, then you can leave.” Albert looked away, guilt in his eyes. He knew the priest, maybe even liked him.
“What do you want?” Father Declan asked, his words angry now.
“When I was a little boy, my father asked me that exact same question. I told him I wanted the world, and do you know what he said to me?” I kneeled down, coming eye level with the priest. “If I want the world, all I have to do is reach out…and take it.” I smiled at the memory, which empowered me even as a boy. I knew anything was possible. I knew no matter how they tried to break me, I would break them back.
I leaned into the priest. “I need you to listen to me. I am here to help you. These men have brought me here to kill you.” I leaned back out, letting that sink in. His face changed as he glanced at Albert.
“Father Declan, you understand.” I spoke out loud. He nodded looking from me to Albert; I could see the betrayal and fear on his face.
“I have killed a lot of men, tortured them, hurt them in unimaginable ways, but never a priest.” I told him. He was nodding subtly, but I wasn’t sure if he was listening with the fear that was clouding his eyes. I leaned in again. “I am going to untie you, and when I go to Albert, you need to run, Father, run hard and fast. A car is waiting for you two buildings over. You understand?” I said out loud while slipping a knife from my pocket. The priest tried to move away when he saw it, but as I cut his hand ties and the ones holding his feet, appreciation filled his face. “Run fast, Father,” I told him before I stood up, walking towards Albert and his driver. “I’m done,” I told Albert who looked relieved. The Priest chose that moment to burst from the chair, and he ran like hellhounds were on his heels. They would be soon; everyone had to answer for their sins.
“You untied him?” Albert roared at me, before speaking Russian to his driver, who chased after the priest.
I shrugged. “I was finished with him, and I couldn’t kill him.”
But then the explosion rocked the building, and dust poured from the ceiling, and I smiled. Albert looked at me, realization filling his face. “You bastard!” He raced in the direction of the explosion, leaving me behind, but I had memorized every step and made my way back to the car. Three explosions later, I arrived safely, avoiding the body parts on the road. The priest had been so close, now his body lay in pieces on the asphalt.
Albert climbed into the car. The deliberate slam of the door was to get my attention, but I stared a little longer at the priest’s torn up body, unsure of how I felt. I had wanted to kill him myself, with my own hands. So, I felt as if I had just spent months preparing for a marathon, only to come second place. Still, results are results.
“Mr. Harrington.” My name was said in far rougher Russian. I looked at Albert, keeping my face blank and emotionless. “Mr. Kirill will not be pleased.” No, he wouldn’t.
“I didn’t touch him, he ran, and he died. Nothing to do with me. Somebody should really do something about all those mines. They’re dangerous.” The car started to move away, the priest disappearing completely.
“You can take me back to the airstrip. I won’t be staying,” I told the driver who looked anxiously at Albert in the mirror. Albert shook his head, and the driver focused on the road.
“Mr. Kirill requests your company.”
“So I can decline?” I asked, and Albert answered me with a smile.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AMBER
I FOUND THE shower room at the back of the gym. I rinsed off all the blood, trying not to think t
oo hard about where it came from.
“Mandy told me to give this to you.” Startled, I turned to an elderly man, who held a top out to me. He must have been in his sixties or seventies. His hair sat in thinned-out strands on top of his balding head. The grey, shiny tracksuit made his already pale and marked skin appear even sicklier. I took the black ladies’ top. “I’m Matthew, one of the managers,” he added when I didn’t speak.
“I need Emmett’s number.” I said, ignoring him.
He raised both his eyebrows with a grin at my request. One hundred wrinkles appeared across his forehead. “Love, I know you're new here. But we don’t give out the boss man’s number,” he continued to grin, as if I was some silly little girl.
I ain’t your love, jackass. That’s what I wanted to say, but I didn’t. “Fine, I’ll just get it from his sister, then.” I turned to a row of stalls while entering the closest one to change my top.
“You do that,” Matthew said before leaving me. I pulled off my destroyed top and put on the clean one that felt a bit snug, but it would do. I really didn’t want to text Grace and ask her for Emmett’s number. How many questions would it bring up? But what choice did I have?
“Amber?” Mandy’s sweet little voice had me mimicking her mutely. Yeah, she was pissing me off, and I was already in a bad mood after being kept in the dark.
I left the stall and threw my destroyed top into the bin. “Let me guess, the guy who was bleeding to death stumbled into a piece of gym equipment and hurt himself.” I folded my arms as I waited for Mandy’s explanation, but the too-tight top stretched too much, so I had to unfold them.
“The guy is Liam, and he’s only seventeen." Seeing the upset in her eyes had my anger leaving. She had known him.
“I’m sorry, but Mandy, this is madness. I mean, who takes a nursing job at a gym, and the first person they see has been stabbed?”
She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It happened out back, he and one of the guys were goofing around…" Lies, lies, lies.
“That’s the story you’re sticking with?” My anger rose.
“Yeah,” Mandy answered, folding her arms. She didn’t have to unfold hers. Nope, her top fit her perfectly.
“Fine!” I left the changing room and Mandy followed me.
“That’s it?” she questioned, as I walked to our ‘station.’
“Yep, that’s it,” I answered softly as I poured a coffee. A curtain had been pulled around the bed where Liam lay. “How is he?” I asked as I turned to Mandy. She looked relieved, giving me a small, grateful smile before she spoke.
“He’s going to be fine.” She gave a full smile, now.
The rest of the day went by uneventfully. It was mostly just the guys I had been introduced to earlier that came and went, visiting Liam. The chat was small and pointless, glances were passed around the room, then at me. They wanted to talk, but I was in the way. So, I stayed until everyone was giving me dirty looks. If they wanted me out they needed to ask me, but no one did because nothing odd had happened here, just a normal gym injury.
I was tired when I got back to the hotel. I texted Grace before I stripped off and jumped in the shower. Once dried and dressed for bed, I checked my messages. Grace had sent me Emmett’s number, no questions asked. What was she up to? I didn’t respond, but rang Emmett’s number instead. It rang out, but I got his voicemail. “You have reached Emmett Harrington. Leave your name and a brief message and I will return your call shortly.” The bleep was my indication to speak. I cleared my throat.
“Hi. It’s Amber. I wanted to speak about the nursing job you gave me, you know, the one in the gym?” I sat on the bed feeling awkward. “Look, today was scary and crazy so I...” Beeeep. That was it, the line cut off. Not much recording space on his phone. He was too important to listen to the ramblings of his employees. I threw the phone on the bed with irritation. This was such a mess.
***
The noise of the phone ringing woke me up. I looked at the time–one in the morning. The number was one I didn’t recognize. So, I hung up and ducked down under the blankets, but the shrill persistence of the phone had me coming back up.
“Hello.” I grunted.
“Are you okay?” I was awake and alert at the sound of Emmett’s voice.
“Emmett, are you drunk?” He sounded like he was slurring his words, and the one o'clock in the morning phone call was another indication that he might have been drinking.
“Are you okay?” He slurred again. This was weird.
“Yes, look, we can talk in the morning." I rubbed my eyes.
“It is morning," he added helpfully.
“You're drunk,” I stated again. He sounded drunk.
“Where are you?” Okay, his questions were silly.
“Look, Emmett, you woke me up. I’m going back to sleep in my hotel bed. In your hotel.” I hung up, not wanting to have a stupid conversation at this hour. Thankfully, I didn’t get any more drunk calls.
EMMETT
Nine hours before...
We arrived at Kirill’s mansion, and I had been waiting two hours for him before he finally entered the room.
“Mr. Harrington.” Kirill entered with a party of six, all black suits, all tall and well-built. I could take them on…on an individual basis, just not all together. Kirill was the picture of diabetes, obesity, and heart disease. A cigar hung from his mouth as he spoke to me.
“Mr. Kirill.” I took his outstretched, sweaty hand, each fat finger coated in rings. I wanted to wash my hands immediately, but right now, that wasn’t a possibility. When he let my hand go, he shook his finger at me like you might do to a bold child.
“You’ve upset me, Mr. Harrington.” He nodded at each word. He didn’t appear upset, but the way his men fanned around us showed me just how upset he really was.
“Sit.” I did, opening my suit jacket before I sat down. Kirill sat across from me. At first glance, his blue eyes looked friendly, and he actually appeared harmless, if you took all the suits away from the room. It was a comfortable room, where lots of friendly chats could take place. But the reality was that I was in a very dangerous place, and I wasn’t about to drop my guard. I studied him carefully.
“I loved Father Declan,” He leaned in, his voice lowering. His words were thick with his Russian accent. I strained to make sure I caught every word; I was sure my life depended on it.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Kirill,” I said, and he sat back before glancing at Albert. He switched to Russian, barking words at a reddening Albert. Their conversation was quick, but by the end, Albert had removed his glasses and wiped sweat from his forehead. He left with two suits on either side of him. Only four remained. The odds were better now.
“You did a bad thing, Mr. Harrington." Kirill’s tone still held a playfulness to it.
“There seems to be some confusion, Mr. Kirill. I untied Father Declan. I was trying to save him. He was the one that ran outside and must have stepped on a mine," I didn’t blink, but held his stare. His laughter sounded rough, like an un-sanded piece of wood under your palm.
“Every Friday Father Declan took my confession. It meant a lot to me, to have my sins forgiven. I see it in your eyes, Mr. Harrington. You are thinking just get another priest." I nodded, not speaking. It wasn’t what I was thinking. I was thinking about how I could take down five people in this room and walk away alive.
“This is how my confession goes with Father Declan. You know the start of the prayer?” I nodded again. “I beheaded a man today who betrayed me and fucked a woman who wasn’t my wife. He would give me one Hail Mary, and my sins would be forgiven.” He chuckled. “Now Mr. Harrington, tell me, what priest would listen to my sins and give me such a lenient sentence?"
“The priest will do whatever you say, Mr. Kirill. I’m confident that you won’t have a problem finding another one."
“I don’t want another one; I want Father Declan,” he said, raising his voice. The silence grew heavy in the room. Mr. Kirill couldn
’t seem to hold my stare any longer in silence, and he spoke. “Why did you kill him?”
I wasn’t stupid enough to say I didn’t kill him. That would only work once. “It was personal.” I eyed all the men around the room before I focused back at Mr. Kirill. When I didn’t expand on my explanation, he got up and his attention focused on a cage with three large birds in it. They looked like hawks, but I couldn’t be sure. He put a heavy glove on his right hand before putting it into the cage. The cage spanned half the length of the room.
“Come to me, my children,” he spoke to them, petting them one at a time. They each sat on his hand and then, when nudged by the next bird, they flew to the branches in the cage as the next one had its turn.
“Mr. Harrington, your father reneged on a shipment. I sent my men over there to talk to him." He took his hand out of the cage. Removing the glove, he turned to me. “And I find out that you have no connections anymore with your father, yet you expect privileges on my soil."
This wasn’t good. “Our relationship is already fickle, and now you kill my priest. A punishment is required.” He lit another cigar. I held still, holding his stare, hoping I looked calm, but inside my mind scrambled for a way out. “I have another shipment that needs to be collected on your side. You will pick it up in person and deliver it for me."
“I have left this all behind me.” I bit out the words, causing him to grin.
“You will do this. I also want a life for a life. One of your crew you will sacrifice."
“That’s not happening.” I stood, now. I felt at a disadvantage sitting.
“If you don’t, Mr. Harrington, I will select someone myself.”
I clenched and unclenched my fists. There was no room for an argument here; I knew the power this man had. I should have thought this through before killing the priest. “How much time do I have?” I asked, trying to buy myself enough time to figure out how to get out of this situation.
