Trafficked

by Alexis Abbott

  “Get under the bed, malyshka,” he whispers. “Go, go, go!”

  “What about you?” I whimper.

  “I will defend you to the death, my love, but I will not make it easy for them,” he growls, that familiar fire blazing in his dark eyes. “Now, go. Hide. I will protect you, Autumn. Always.”

  Even though it shatters my heart to leave him, I follow his instructions and lie down on my belly to scoot underneath the cushy bed. Meanwhile, I can hear the heavy clomping footsteps of men up deck, the helicopter having successfully landed on our yacht. Vladimir darts to the door in a mad dash to get out and lock me in, but before he can get out, the door bursts open and three men come flooding into the room.

  I let out an involuntary squeak of terror and retreat even further under the bed, covering my mouth with my hand as I gasp, my eyes wide and horrified. I can see four sets of boots, one of which belonging to my dashing, selfless love. The men are all shouting at him in rapid Russian, spitting at him with hatred and ferocity.

  Vladimir gives as good as he takes—better, in fact. I only catch every few words, but I can tell he isn’t backing down. I hear the sickening crunch of fists on jaws, arms cracking, knees shattering. A few gunshots ring out, my ears stinging with the impossibly loud noise. I keep my eyes trained on the shoes I know to belong to Vladimir as he deftly fights them off. I know he doesn’t have a weapon on him. I know he’s unarmed against three armed men. And yet, one by one I see the guns clatter to the ground, presumably knocked out of their hands by none other than Vladimir himself.

  I silently root for him, watching his feet dance nimbly around his attackers, delivering kicks and punches and grunts of fierce aggression. My heart soars with affection for him, and I realize yet again just how powerful my protector really is. He fights them off, taking them all on at once, as though he’s been training for this moment his entire life. I find my confidence in his abilities mounting higher and higher as he disarms and punishes the men who threaten our life together.

  He’s so strong and competent it almost frightens me. I can only see from their ankles down, but I can hear everything, and from what it sounds like, Vladimir is kicking their asses left and right. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t hold back one bit. I know his genuine affection for me is spurring him on to be even more powerful than he already is. A strange thought pops into my head: how could Russian literature be so sad when men like Vladimir exist?

  I scream in fear when two bodies thump to the floor, pools of blood spilling out in crimson all around them.

  Neither one of them is Vladimir.

  My heart surges with joy. The third man turns and runs out of the room, but Vladimir is hot on his heels. With the puddles of blood spreading out closer and closer to me under the bed, I hastily wiggle out from underneath it and go running after the two surviving men—one of them my savior and the other a dirty coward.

  I stumble up the steps to the top deck just in time to see the helicopter starting to clumsily take off, the one surviving man at the helm. I clap my hands over my mouth and scream when I see Vladimir take a confident leap and grab hold of the landing skids with both hands. With incredible ease, he swings himself up and clambers into the cabin of the aircraft to wrangle the wheel away from the other man.

  I can only stand below on the bullet-riddled top deck and watch the struggle ensue, every fiber of my being desperately wishing for Vladimir to survive.

  To my relief, it doesn’t take him long to seize control of the helicopter just as it is starting to disappear behind a thick cloud far above us. The next thing I know, there’s a gigantic splash. I rush to the side of the boat, my heart pounding as I search frantically to see what or who fell into the Atlantic. A body comes floating crookedly to the surface and for a horrible, clenching moment, I think it might be Vladimir.

  All time seems to stop. The body is tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in the same kind of dark clothing Vladimir wears.

  “No,” I murmur, all the wind seemingly knocked out of my body. The yacht, unmoored and unmanned, floats aimlessly closer and closer to the body in the water. I strain my eyes as I stare at the body, panic settling in as I hear the helicopter whirring overhead. Whoever is steering it is steering it downward further and further—it’s going to land on the deck again.

  If that is Vladimir in the water, then I hardly care who’s in the aircraft.

  It doesn’t matter. There is no life for me without him.

  Autumn

  Tears sting painfully in my eyes as I gaze out over the railing, my hair buffeted by the violent winds, whipping around my face. I frustratedly shove my hair back behind my ears, leaning as far out over the rail as I possibly can without falling, my eyes squinting to make out the shape of the body floating ominously in the water. It feels as though time has slowed down—this moment expanding like an accordion to stretch out my agony as far as it can.

  My heart aches. My very soul seems to be splintering into tiny, sharp pieces that pierce me as they explode out into the emptiness. How can I go on without Vladimir? How can I survive? And what would be the point of trying to keep on living when the brightest star in my sky has been cruelly and abruptly snuffed out?

  The body in the water is floating closer and closer to the hard bow of the yacht. Soon the lifeless body will be crushed under the weight of the boat if no one interferes. Panic floods through my body. What am I supposed to do? What even can I do? I can swim, of course—one of my earliest foster homes was run by a high school swim instructor who insisted on my taking intensive swimming lessons every single day after school. I can do the breaststroke and the backstroke like an expert.

  But in a pool.

  Not in the choppy, violent waves of the Atlantic, kicking up white foam with every crash of the waves against the yacht.

  And my small body would be useless at dragging that much larger body to safety. The first yacht we drove happened to have a smaller boat within in, a motorboat I could maybe have rigged somehow to let me putter out there and collect him, but now? I have no way of getting to him.

  And besides, judging by the awkward angles of his legs and arms, the way he isn’t even attempting to fight the current… I can tell that is the body of a dead man. Not worth saving.

  Tears course down my cheeks as I feel all the air kicked out of my body. Powerful, aching grief overtakes me and I cry out, “Vladimir!”

  For a moment, I consider climbing up onto the railing and diving out into the Atlantic Ocean. I might as well. Without Vladimir, there is no point to anything. He is the center of my universe, and without him, nothing makes sense. Nothing is right. Nothing matters. I would sooner join him in the frigid waters than try to numbly steer this ship to land. And who would be waiting for me there if I did? The same men who tried to kill or capture me today. The same organization that have taken the light out of my life. I would die then, anyway. I might as well jump now. At least this way I can be with him when I draw my final breath.

  And I’d better do it quickly, because the whir of the helicopter blades is only getting louder as the aircraft starts to land on the broad, bullet-riddled deck behind me. Whoever is in that helicopter will jump out and grab me, and then Vladimir’s demise will have been for nothing. I can’t allow that. My heart won’t allow me to live in that world.

  I have to jump. There’s no other choice for me.

  But just as I’m about to clamber up onto the railing, I hear a familiar voice shouting hoarsely over the deafening din of the helicopter landing.

  “Autumn!”

  No. It can’t be.

  I swivel around, my eyes going wide as my heart threatens to burst out of my chest. I blink rapidly, unable to make sense of what I’m seeing. Is this just a sweet, final vision before I die? Or is my mind playing tricks on me?

  Or could it be that… he’s alive. He’s there. My savior, my world.

  Piloting the helicopter and leaning out of the cockpit to gesture to me.

  “Vladimir?”
I gasp, unable to believe my eyes.

  “Da, malyshka, it’s me,” he calls out.

  “Oh my god,” I whisper, turning and darting across the deck. As the helicopter lands on the deck I make a surprisingly graceful leap up into the cockpit. Vladimir’s strong arm hooks around my body and pulls me close, his nose nuzzling into the top of my head as he pilots the helicopter with his free hand. The aircraft makes a smooth landing and slowly the blades come to a halt. I reach up to cup Vladimir’s face in both of my hands, tears of joy and shock pulsing down my cheeks as I gaze into his eyes.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” I whimper.

  “I told you, little one, I will never abandon you. I will protect you until the very end. I take my vow very seriously. I will always be here to save you, princesa,” Vladimir tells me emphatically. He kisses me softly, stroking my tangled hair back out of my face and holding me close, cuddled against his chest.

  We climb out of the helicopter and he instructs me, “Go to the captain’s nook. Stay there for a little while, Autumn. I will take care of… the mess downstairs.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” I answer eagerly.

  I do as I’m told, and I make sure not to watch as Vladimir goes below deck to the master bedroom. He retrieves the dead bodies of the men who attacked us and disposes of them, presumably dumping them over the railing into the choppy waters along with their pilot friend. Then he comes to collect me, carrying me downstairs under strict command to not open my eyes. He brings me to the ensuite bathroom, runs me a fragrant, luxurious bubble bath, strips off my clothes, and cradles me down into the water.

  “Stay here. I have some cleanup to do. Just relax, my love. Know that you are safe now, and I will never let anyone harm you. All is well,” he growls, leaning to kiss my forehead before leaving to tidy up the blood and bullet casings and whatever else is still haunting our bedroom.

  I spend the next hour or so just popping bubbles and gently washing myself, trying to clear my mind of the horrific stress we just endured together. I smile, reminding myself that I can fully trust in Vladimir to uphold his word. He has proved himself to me time and time again, and I have no qualms about giving up my heart and soul to him. He is my protector, and I know for certain now that he is more than capable of the job.

  Once he’s finished up, he joins me in the bathroom.

  Night is falling, and we take a few languid, long hours to wash the blood and grime and fear and horror off of each other’s bodies. We caress and care for one another with loving hands, both of us overwhelmed with affection and intimacy. Our care and tender touches slowly and naturally morph into more sensual touching, and before long we are entangled in one another’s arms again, his body making gentle, passionate love to mine.

  We take the whole night to engage in displays of that most carnal affection, and I can’t believe how lucky I am, how fortunate to have stumbled into his world. To be loved by such a powerful, strong, courageous, devilishly handsome older man.

  He takes care of me. He loves me the way nobody has ever loved me before. I finally know what it feels like to have a guardian who cares about me and what it feels like to have a lover who knows exactly how to pleasure my body and make me feel things I’ve never felt before.

  He’s my savior.

  He’s my protector.

  He’s my Daddy.

  He’s my lover. He is everything I could ever have asked for and so, so much more. We fit together like puzzle pieces, like our bodies were carved from the same slab of marble, meant to entwine around each other for all of eternity in shared bliss.

  I lose track of the days and nights as our voyage across the Atlantic continues. It hardly matters what day it is. Every day is a holiday, a special occasion, when I am with Vladimir. We spend so many hours locked in an embrace, exploring each other’s bodies and discovering new and exciting ways to please one another. I learn more about him every day, and I reveal more about myself I never imagined I would feel comfortable sharing with anyone in this world.

  He assures me that he has more than enough money to keep us sustained for a very, very long time. Our time on the yacht feels like an extended honeymoon. We don’t need anyone or anything else.

  Just each other and the sparkling Atlantic. I have never felt so safe and secure in my life. I know I have a man who will do anything for me at the drop of a hat, a man who will protect me from whatever threats this dark world can hurl our way. I trust him with every beat of my heart, with every step I take, every breath I draw into my lungs.

  But even this most beautiful holiday has to come to an end of some kind. Our yacht finally sails into the harbor in New York City, back to my roots, to the place I used to call home. The bubble of safety and love I’ve been dwelling within for so long has burst.

  I now have to face reality. I don’t know what is in the cards for us. I look over at Vladimir from across the captain’s cell. He has a pensive look on his ruggedly handsome features as he steers the yacht into the port. I swallow hard, watching the dark cityscape drift into view through the thick fog and smog that coats the city like a harsh veil.

  Everything I left behind here is haunting me, hovering over my shoulder like some demented devil. I feel fear pooling in the pit of my stomach, my mind racing in a thousand scary directions. But I keep reminding myself that I am not alone. I’m here with the one man who can always save me. Vladimir won’t let anybody hurt me. Not even here, on my own turf.

  As we pull into the harbor, Vladimir calls me over and puts an arm around me.

  “Are you frightened, malyshka?” he asks softly.

  I nod. “Yes, sir. I’m very scared. I-I don’t know who or what will be waiting for me here in New York. I just don’t know what to expect. What if they try to take me away from you?”

  “I will snap the neck of anyone who tries to take you, my princesa. I will shatter the hand that dares touch you in my presence. You belong to me, Autumn. Nobody else. And once we make landfall, I am going to make you mine forever,” he explains calmly.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, blinking up at him in the darkness.

  He smiles fondly and taps my nose. “We are going to be married, my love. My light. We will be united as one, provided that you agree to the union,” Vladimir reveals.

  My heart surges with love and I wrap my arms around him tightly.

  “Oh my god. I want nothing more! I can’t wait to be officially yours,” I gush, burying my face in his powerful chest. He traces abstract, comforting shapes up and down my back, kissing the top of my head.

  “Da, my little sparrow. We will be wed, and not a soul on earth can stop us,” he assures me. “But I do have a mission to fulfill first.”

  I look up at him, wide-eyed. “What is that?” I ask.

  There’s a serious look on his face as he replies quietly, “Artur, the man who ordered your kidnapping. This cannot be over until he has been dealt with.”

  “How do you plan to do that?”

  “Don’t worry, my princesa. I will take care of it,” Vladimir tells me, that fire blazing brightly in his dark eyes.

  Vladimir

  It is a strange thing, a wedding between two people who have nobody else in the world. We did not put much planning into it, for several reasons. There is little to plan, when the guest list is empty. Artur is still alive and hunting us, even though he does not know where we are. And most importantly… Autumn knows exactly what kind of wedding she wants, and she has known for a long time.

  I stand before what is perhaps the eeriest chapel I have ever stood in. Coming from Russia, that is saying quite a lot. The roof is sagging, and I could have sworn the place is haunted from the moment I stepped inside. The walls are high and dark, and all the faces on the stained-glass windows look so deathly still and pensive that you would think this is a funeral instead of a wedding.

  And that is exactly how Autumn likes it.

  My suit is jet black and perfectly fitted, showing off the finer points that Autumn appreciates
about my build. The black gives way to a matching blood red vest and tie that form a strip down the middle of my torso. No other color was better suited to my dark passions for the young woman about to come through the chapel doors. My beard is perfectly groomed, but I have shortened it along with my hair to suit the new life I am about to build with Autumn here in America.

  When the organ begins hammering out the wedding march, I can’t help but feel my heart swell as the door opens and reveals my bride.

  Autumn’s naturally radiant beauty is graced by a black wedding dress that trails behind her. I had one custom made for her, and its folds resemble elegant dried leaves, like the first leaves of autumn hitting the cold ground. The dress and her pale skin fit in with the aesthetic of the chapel so perfectly that she seems more like a ghost, a specter of the past haunting this holy place, rather than a living woman. In her hands is the most vibrant bouquet of red roses I have ever seen.

  She is beauty given human form.

  And best of all, she only has a few steps to walk before she can smile up at me as I offer her my arm. I am walking her down the aisle, not because she has nobody to give her away. I walk her because I am her Daddy now, and I choose to give her away to nobody but myself.

  It was her request, and I am happy to oblige.

  “This is perfect,” she whispers to me as we march down the aisle together, soft light from outside filtering through the faces of dead saints all around us. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  “Anything for my little girl,” I say, squeezing her gently and beaming proudly.