Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  I wait. I don’t hear anything but I’m sure he heard me. Listening for any telltale signs that he’s coming closer, but hearing nothing, I finally have to take a chance. I rush soundlessly through the room and sidestep behind yet another row of pillars. A spark of hope rises in me. I’m much closer. The sun has almost disappeared below the horizon, and it’s getting darker, and colder. The elevator is lit by a yellowish, warm light that coaxes me toward it. I glance around. There’s no sign of the man chasing me. Somehow it frightens me more than if I would have him right in front of me. Not being able to keep track of him, but knowing he’s somewhere near, makes my spine tingle and my pulse race.

  Please, please, please!

  I look at the inviting elevator opening once more. It’s so close, but I’ll be exposed the last few steps.

  I beg that the doors will close fast enough.

  So near now. I fight the instinct to flee, glance around me again and then I run. I sprint faster than I’ve ever run before. The lift cage bounces as I throw myself inside it and push the green button with a big ‘G’ on it. Close, close, close, close! I press against the wall, hoping he won’t catch sight of me. My heart pounds as I stare at the doors. They slowly begin to shut, and I exhale with relief. Yes! When they’re almost closed an arm shows up in the crack.

  I scream when Eric steps inside, malice on his bloodied face, his eyes gleaming with an almost mad look.

  “No!”

  My shriek is cut short when he slams into me and pushes his forearm against my throat. I stare at him in terror. Clutching at his arm, I realize I was wrong. It’s not half as frightening to have him unseen somewhere near than have him pressed up against me, choking me.

  “Yes,” he sneers and squeezes my body between his unrelenting frame and the unyielding wall, his face a blur of white teeth and cold eyes. I make a strangled noise, trying to bend his arm away from my throat. He smirks and leans closer. “Didn’t you think I’d be watching the escape route, sweetheart? Do you think I’m stupid?”

  I don’t think he’s stupid, but I have no way of telling him because I can’t get any air into my lungs. I jerk and twitch in his grip, my arms flailing. I beat at him, and at the walls of the elevator to get loose, but he doesn’t budge.

  He’ll kill me!

  My mind reels. I don’t want to die. No matter how much I’ve felt like it from time to time since the rape, I now realize it. I want to live. I fight tooth and nail to get him off me. Panic heaves in my chest, the adrenaline consuming the little oxygen I have left. I kick at his legs. It makes him stumble back and I inhale one painful breath, then he’s on me again.

  “Relax, Anna,” he whispers in my ear. “Don’t fight me. It’ll be over soon.”

  I look into his amazingly clear green eyes that were so full of humor and compassion when we first met. They’re nothing but ice-cold and emotionless now. I beg him silently not to do this as tears dim my vision. I’m locked in place, one hand squeezing my throat and the other has a vicious grip on my hair. My knees buckle from pain and the lack of air. A last bolt of panic, rage and survival instincts burst through my chest. I slam my feet onto the opposite wall to throw him off balance. He stumbles and then throws himself at me again with a roar, like a raging lion. I repeat the action, kicking and flailing, feeling a spark of hope when he loses his footing again.

  The elevator rocks back and forth, then the doors slide shut and we sink. I use the motion of the cage to my advantage and jerk and twist to get him off me.

  My vision wavers, and each heartbeat roars in my ears. Sagging, I grasp for his clothes, his face, the wall, wheezing and gagging. They’ll find me in the morning, stiff and blue, an anonymous corpse in a cold elevator. My knees buckle and, losing control over my body, I give up the fight. My heart breaks as I mourn the life I’ll never have.

  With a piercing shriek, the elevator drops a few feet and then comes to a halt with a violent shake.

  Chapter 8

  Eric

  We fall in a heap on the floor, the sudden stop knocking the breath out of both of us, our limbs entangled, my knee in between her legs, chest to chest. I lose my grip on her neck. I’m so fucking furious I want to punch her, but I clench my fist and fight the urge. I need to assess this new situation first, then I’ll deal with this infuriating little woman.

  She gasps for air, her breaths wheeze. A string of drool hangs on her chin and she moans, clutching at her throat. Good. I hope she’s in pain. My balls still ache like hell. Actually, I hurt everywhere, and I groan as I put a palm to her chest and shove her to the floor, darting to my feet. She whimpers when her head hits the hard surface.

  The elevator doesn’t move, and the only sound is our panting. The buttons on the keypad blink alarmingly. Anna swallows so loud I hear it, then coughs forever. I glance at her, and at the tears that stream down her cheeks as she clutches her throat. I bet it hurts. I didn’t do real damage, yet, but a few more seconds and I would have crushed her windpipe. I look at the buttons again, and at the door. I have a really, really bad feeling about this.

  “Are w—” Her voice barely carries the words. She clears her throat. I glance down at her as she grimaces with pain. “Are we stuck?” Her breaths come in short gasps, panic looming behind her tormented eyes.

  “That would be the least of your problems,” I snarl.

  She gets to her feet, watching me warily. I keep track of her every move. I don’t trust her for shit.

  “Open the door,” she grits out between clenched teeth.

  I cross my arms over my chest and regard her. This could become entertaining. Or annoying.

  “Open the doors!” she says louder, her breathing shallow, erratic.

  I sigh. “For your own good, just shut the fuck up, Anna.”

  “No!” she screams and takes a step forward. She shoves me to the side, and I let her, amused by the turn of events. She’s bold, I gotta give her that. She squeezes her fingertips into the crack between the doors, trying to bend them apart. I grip her shoulder, but she shrugs it off. “Help me. We have to get out of here!”

  I grab her again, crushingly hard this time, and spin her around. “Take it easy, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Easy? What do you mean, easy?” Sweat breaks out on her forehead, her eyes widening. “I need to get out of here,” she gasps and spins around toward the panel with the blinking buttons. With a wary glance at me she then begins to push them, one at a time.

  “That won’t do any good.”

  Her eyes narrow as she looks at me, her gaze flickering between me and the panel. I see it when it dawns on her, how she zeroes in on it. She reaches for the alarm button, her hands shaking violently.

  I strike and grab her hand in a crushing grip, grinding bones against each other, bending it away.

  Anna gasps and grabs my hand, trying to break loose. I push her to the side. She cradles her hand and glares daggers at me.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I snarl.

  “But! We have to get out!” Her voice rises a pitch.

  “We don’t have to do anything, and you’re not going anywhere. Now shut up and let me think.”

  She opens and closes her mouth several times. I shove a hand through my hair and regard her warily. She’s plotting, I just know it.

  She nods and steps back, leaning against the wall, then she throws herself past me, and almost reaches the fucking button. I grab her from behind, pulling her so hard to me that she slams against my chest. Circling my arms around her waist, I lift the kicking and screaming woman and throw her toward the back of the elevator. She falls on hands and knees, crying out, and quickly scrambles to her feet.

  Her nostrils flare and her eyes darken. “You fucking asshole, son-of-a-bitch, murdering jerk!”

  I go from infuriated to laughing in a second. She sounds like she’s never used those words before in her life, apart from jerk maybe.

  “You’ll have to do a lot better than that. Do I look stupid? Of course I can’t let
you call a guard. You’d just tell him I tried to kill you and then my life would get complicated. Now, shut the fuck up and let me work this shit out.”

  “No, I won’t tell,” she croaks, her lower lip trembling.

  I scoff. Yeah, sure.

  She snaps her mouth shut and crosses her arms over her chest.

  I wonder if there’s some way to get behind the panel and maybe short circuit it somehow? I don’t know, but at least I wanna have a look. I feel for my knife, patting down my pockets and realize to my horror I don’t have it. I see it before me, clattering to the floor as I fought this she-devil in the office.

  “Fuck!” I slam my hand against the wall, the bang reverberating through the unrelenting steel cage that locks us in. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I spin around and glare at Anna. “And you don’t move and just shut the fuck up!”

  “I didn’t say anything,” she whimpers.

  I dart toward her and slam my palm to the wall next to her head, coming up nose to nose. She flinches and her eyes widen.

  “You talk all the fucking time,” I growl.

  I’m suddenly struck by how sweet she smells, no perfume, just natural from some lightly scented flowery soap. I lean in and sniff the warm air that rises from her heaving chest. She swallows hard and I push away, still towering over her. Our eyes meet and for a moment there’s something in her gaze that makes me want to caress that pale cheek instead of slap it. I clench my fist and step back. She’s a cunning little bitch, and I swear she’s trying to play me.

  I jerk when she speaks.

  “Eric—” she croaks, and clutches her throat, “I don’t like confined spaces, I think I’m gonna be ill.”

  She sinks into a crouch and hides her face in her hands.

  I crouch before her and pull her hands away, taking in her pale, sweaty face. Yeah, I don’t think she’s lying. Her eyes dart around the walls and she looks the most unhappy I’ve seen her so far.

  I grunt and stand. I don’t know why she’s suddenly getting to me. “Well, pull yourself together. It’s the wrong place and time to have a nervous breakdown.”

  “Wrong?” she shrieks. “Wrong? It seems really adequate from where I’m standing. With you! And this… and…” She sobs and then snaps her mouth shut.

  I think she’s gotten it together and am surprised when a flailing woman is suddenly on me.

  “No!” She sounds like a wounded animal.

  I’ve had it with the fighting and the hysteria and push her back against the wall.

  “Sorry, love.” Headbutting her, I knock her out cold. I catch her as she slumps and lower her thin form to the floor.

  I shake my head, and sink down next to her, rubbing my palms over my face. What a mess. How the fuck did I end up here? We were gonna kill off Myles and Darrell, and then be on our way. By now we probably would have boarded the plane to San Francisco. Instead, this little woman stumbles right into the action. Now I’m stuck with her in an elevator, and God knows how long we’ll be here. I cock my head and regard her, then I stroke some strands of hair off her face and pull down her long flowing skirt that has ridden up a bit. Well, aren’t I the gentleman? She looks peaceful now. Her neck is bruised, and I get that it hurts whenever she speaks, it looks painful. A lump has formed on her forehead where I hit her. I examine my own face for the first time, letting my fingers wander and wince when I pass bruises and a couple of open wounds. My hands come away bloody. Lovely.

  A moan from Anna wakes me from my reverie. I get to my feet and wipe my hands on my pants, immediately regretting it. I should have wiped off the blood on her clothes instead. She twists and whimpers. I sigh. At least I had a few moments of peace.

  Glancing at the alarm button, I realize I have no choice but to try it.

  Anna

  I wake with a terrible headache, and I’m cold. Chilled to my core.

  I lie on my side with my hair in my face. My teeth chatter helplessly, and I clench my jaw to get the shuddering under control. I try to focus on the man in front of me who paces before a pair of closed steel doors. Swallowing, I wince from the pain and as I bring my hands to my aching throat it comes back to me.

  Starbucks. Bright green eyes and the most beautiful smile. A shot. The chase. And elevator! Trapped in an elevator. Oh God!

  I wonder how long I’ve been out. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? I shiver and lift my head, stopping when a wave of nausea washes over me. Eric stops his pacing. His shoes point in my direction, but I refuse to look up at him, my humiliation complete and my submission obvious. Relief, knowing I’m not alone, mixes confusingly with disappointment from the discovery that I’m in here with him. Most of all, I’m surprised I’m alive. He doesn’t say anything, neither do I. I keep staring at a very interesting spot a few inches away from my face, looking like an old chewing gum stain, dark gray from dirt, almost dissolved. Go away. Go away. Finally, I can’t stand the I’m-not-talking-first contest, and I’m too cold to stay curled up on the floor anyway. I begin to get up, and jerk hard when he speaks.

  “You completely lost it, Anna.”

  Yeah, I know.

  “You didn’t listen.”

  I still refuse to look at him.

  “Are you claustrophobic?”

  And the winner is… “No shit, Sherlock!” I touch my tender forehead and moan. “What did you do?”

  I recoil as he crouches before me. “You were hysterical. I had to knock you out.”

  “Jerk,” I groan and hold my aching head in my hands.

  He scoffs. “I’ve heard worse.”

  “I bet.”

  Eric smirks, stands and turns away from me.

  Now!

  I shift and get to my feet. My heart pounds even worse than my head. Crouching, I wait for the right opportunity. He sighs and leans against the wall, and that’s when I bolt. I slam into the panel, pressing the alarm for five long seconds as it says. One. Two. Where is he? Three. I’m not letting go. Four. God this takes forever. Five. With a shaky sigh of relief, I remove my finger from the button and twist around, ready to fight for my life if he tries to kill me.

  He can very well do that, stupid.

  Eric stands with his arms crossed over his chest and stares at me, shaking his head. “Good God, look at you.”

  I frown and a moment of dizziness overcomes me before I steady myself against the wall. “W—why—didn’t you—, don’t you—?” Stop me? The sound of my heartbeat roars in my ears. I already know the answer, and I really don’t want to hear him say it.

  Eric sighs. “I’ve pushed it, peaches. It doesn’t—”

  I fall to my knees, clawing at my constricting throat, and almost miss the end of the sentence.

  “—work.”

  Chapter 9

  Anna

  I can’t breathe. I both choke and hyperventilate. My hands and face tingle, the sensation making me even more scared. Eric strolls closer and towers over me before he crouches and stares at me. He laces his fingers together and leans his elbows on his knees. As I clench and unclench my hands, which are beginning to cramp, I stare at the closed doors. I’m barely aware of his presence. I know he’s dangerous and that he tried to kill me a few moments ago, my throat is a powerful reminder of that if nothing else, and still I’m oddly grateful for the company.

  He grips my chin and forces me to look at him. I meet his gaze, but I’m still not seeing him.

  “Anna. This won’t do.” He cocks his head and sighs. “Look, I didn’t kill you because it would have been awkward. With this development…”

  That catches my attention. I stop chewing the inside of my cheek and glare at him.

  “It would’ve been hard to explain your corpse when rescue arrived—”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and try to turn my head away from his hold. He’s way too close for comfort, and I need to breathe. Eric’s not having it, and tightens his grip on my chin, shaking me.

  “—but if you keep acting like this, I think I’ll be better off with the other altern
ative.”

  The other alternative? Kill me. Is that what he’s saying? He’ll kill me for not wanting to be here with him? My eyes dart across the walls, the low ceiling, the closed doors. Somehow, I don’t find the thought of death that terrible in this moment. Being stuck in here—with him—is the thought that nearly makes me fall apart. His captivating eyes are level with mine, and I swallow hard as I look into them. How can he be so Goddamn beautiful when he’s nothing but a monster?

  “But we’re stuck,” I whimper. “We’re not getting out, and we can’t get help.”

  He nods. “That’s correct.”

  “How can you be so calm?” I holler.

  He doesn’t even flinch as I yell in his face.

  “Is it doing you any good to be hysterical about it?”

  “I’m not hys—” I snap my mouth shut. I am. I am hysterical. I’m not the kind of woman to get hysterical. “But… we’re stuck.” I swallow hard and try to suppress the claustrophobia that wants to resurface.

  “Yes.”

  “How are we getting out?”

  “Frankly, I don’t know.” He shakes his head and sighs. “My guess is it’s gonna be a long night. Or possibly weekend.”

  Oh God. “Mm-hmm,” I say in a small voice that barely carries the words.

  “Unless,” he says in a brighter tone.

  I look up. Hopeful. Maybe he has a plan, some miraculous way out of this hell?

  “Unless you still have my phone. The one you stole from me after you pummeled me.” He speaks slowly, almost as if to a child.

  I inhale shakily with renewed fear, and my heart slams in my chest as I squirm under his penetrating gaze.

  “Then all we have to do is make a phone call. Right? And everybody will come rushing to our rescue and we’ll be out of here in no time.” He smiles, but not very friendly. Then his smile falters and his face turns serious. “And you will go free, because I can’t get to you. Sound good?”