The Runaway & The Russian (The Runaway Trilogy Book 1)

by Helen Bright

  “Grayson said he was confident there had been no nerve damage, so you are very lucky in that respect. Just promise me you will never come to my rescue again, malyutka. I could not stand to see you hurt any more than you are.”

  * * *

  After looking around the downstairs kitchen area, dining room, and another sitting room, Kolya showed me the sunroom which housed the indoor pool. Lucas had been swimming, and Kolya spoke to him regarding the next round of London meetings before we left. We then made our way to the gym, which was next door to the sunroom. Kolya informed me that this room had been used as a ballroom many years ago, and when he opened the grand double doors I could definitely see that.

  The whole downstairs of the property had medium oak parquet flooring, but in this room it was designed differently. There was an inner rectangle of paler oak with a single strip of black wood surrounding it, marking out the area in which everyone would have danced. But now, the sides of the room were surrounded by various pieces of fitness equipment, including treadmills, rowing machines, and bikes. In the centre of the room sat what looked like a boxing ring, where two men were fighting using some sort of martial arts. Franco was refereeing. When he spotted us he stopped the fight and came over.

  “Boss.” Franco nodded, acknowledging Kolya. Then he turned to me and said my name, his gaze boring into mine. For some reason right then I felt intimidated by Franco. Not fearful, just…I don’t really know. His brown eyes held a kind of intensity that made me hyperaware of him.

  “Franco, I was just telling Tess that once we get the go-ahead from the physiotherapist, we will set her up with a gentle exercise program she can build upon. I will arrange for you and Jonesy to meet with them to discuss how best to implement those exercises with the equipment we have here. Tess tells me she likes to swim, so once the wound has healed enough, that could be the first step.”

  “I agree. Once we have her fighting fit, she could show us her moves in the ring. After all, Tess here is one tough cookie—taking a bullet like that.”

  “In the ring? Oh, no, I wouldn’t be up for that…stuff,” I told him, gesturing at the ring.

  “Would you not like to learn how best to defend yourself against a would-be attacker?” Kolya asked.

  “And would you like to be able to fight back, if only enough to get away?” questioned Franco.

  “Well of course I would. But those guys were really going for it in there, and they are about six feet of muscle. I’m only about five foot four and hardly any muscle at all. I would be no good against someone like them.”

  “You wouldn’t be fighting, Tess. Just training, that’s all. I’ll make sure you’re safe.” Franco’s words would have calmed my nerves a little, if he hadn’t then replied with, “Me and Jonesy are gonna make sure you’re a crack shot, too. So you got all sides covered when it comes to protecting yourself.”

  “What? You mean shooting a gun? Like with real bullets? Why the hell would I need to learn how to shoot?”

  “Malyutka, weaponry is my business. And I think you will enjoy the firing range. Women can be very competitive in there. Nan trained with Jonesy for ten weeks so she could beat Jack. She is exceptionally good with a rifle, although she does not seem as keen with a handgun,” Kolya said with a smile.

  “Why don’t you take her down and show her, boss? Maybe she won’t look as scared once she’s had a look around,” Franco said, while giving me an odd look. Like he was trying to get the measure of me. As if he knew I wouldn’t want to go. And what was with the whole “scared” comment? I wasn’t scared…just bloody anxious that I had bitten off more than I could chew coming to live here—with all the counselling, fight-training, gun-firing bullshit they wanted to put me through. But then again, that seemed like a normal reaction for a seventeen-year-old girl who’d just been shot. And I didn’t need to be qualified in psychology or counselling to determine that!

  Kolya took my hand and began leading me out of the gym. I looked back to find Franco watching us. His eyes seemed fixed on our joined hands. It made me feel uncomfortable, so I tried to pull my hand away. But Kolya wouldn’t let go, taking it as though I didn’t want to see the firing range.

  In truth, I was a little bit curious. I imagined we would go outside to find targets on platforms, or that it would be a similar setup to what the paintball ads depicted—with little shacks and wooden structures to hide behind. What I hadn’t expected was for him to lead me to a doorway just inside the kitchen, then down steep steps into the cellar. When we got to the bottom, Kolya guided me towards a wooden shelving rack that housed numerous bottles of wines and spirits.

  Kolya took out a bottle of port, five rows down and three rows in, then pulled out what appeared to be a small smartphone attached to a wire. He held his thumb over it for a few seconds before something clicked. The wine rack began to slide to the left, a doorway appearing in its place. He then keyed a series of numbers into a keypad attached to the thick steel door before it opened. As we stepped inside he turned, flicking a number of switches, lighting up a room that looked a little like I’d seen on American cop shows.

  There were four firing lanes on each side of the room, with a door to the far wall. Behind the door a small room housed twenty-five steel gun cabinets, which were locked by what looked to be some sort of futuristic iris scanner. I looked on in silence as Kolya stared into the scanner, until a red beam moved along the device and the cabinet opened.

  “How come you have all this technology locking the guns away? Surely the fingerprint scan thing was enough?” I asked, curious as to why he would go to these lengths.

  “There are weapons in here that one cannot obtain licences for in the UK. Handguns of course, but you can own some semi-automatic rifles if you have the correct licence.”

  He took out a large black rifle that had a scope at the top, which he took a few moments to adjust. He then reached into the cabinet and took out a box of ammunition, explaining how to load the bullets into the magazine. He also showed me how to make the gun safe, then walked to the first firing lane, handing me a set of ear defenders from a rack by the door, before loading the magazine into the rifle.

  There was a male silhouette on white card, just like the targets on those cop shows, which kind of made this whole experience seem unreal. After showing me how to take aim, Kolya slipped two small earplugs into his ears, removed the safety from the rifle and proceeded to fire five shots at the target.

  I flinched a little when he fired the first shot, but the rest didn’t bother me at all. It didn’t sound anything like the shot that hit me less than a week ago. But then again, I wasn’t wearing ear defenders then, and this was an entirely different gun.

  After the last shot was fired, Kolya made the rifle safe and ejected the magazine before lowering it onto the counter top in front of him. He pressed a button on the outside of the cage-like wire that framed each lane, and brought the target towards us. All the bullets had hit the target in the centre where he looked to be pointing a gun from his midsection. This confused me, as I always thought you aimed for the head. In almost all the TV shows the bad guys seemed to end up with a hole in the centre of their forehead or the chest. Kolya told me you were less likely to miss if you aimed for the midsection, which is obviously larger than the head.

  “If they move slightly you are still likely to get a shot in,” he said. It did make sense, and bizarrely, for someone who had just been shot and had zero interest in guns before, I found the whole thing fascinating.

  The room was quite cold, and I shivered a little. Kolya noticed and apologised for the temperature. He told me it was the ventilation system that made it so cool. It was there to remove contaminants from the bullets and any smoke that may arise. It also had to keep the building at negative air pressure. Kolya gave me loads of scientific information with regards to this, which I barely took in as it was way above my head.

  I shivered again and began to feel a little strange, like I was looking at Kolya through some
sort of glass that distorted his image. Within seconds I felt alright again, but Kolya had noticed and became concerned. He took out his phone and called Nate to come and lock the gun away, before apologising again. He said he should have known it was too soon to take me exploring the property like this.

  He put his arm around me and guided me out of the firing range towards the cellar steps, telling me to take it steady as we climbed them.

  Once we were back in the kitchen, he pulled out a chair and crouched down in front of me until he was sure I wouldn’t pass out. I told him he was fussing for nothing, as I was perfectly fine now—which was true. But Kolya was having none of it. He took out a glass from a cupboard and walked over to a large refrigerator. After pouring me a glass of orange juice and commanding I drink it, he set off back to the cellar to lock the doors until Nate got there. He said they would never normally leave guns out of their cabinets or the cellar unlocked, as there were aspects of some of its contents that weren’t exactly legal. He told me that it wasn’t spoken of outside his property, so if asked, I should deny all knowledge of it.

  I wondered, in that moment, why he’d let me see it. For him to do so showed a level of trust that both surprised and flattered me in equal measure. He wasn’t treating me like some poor, misguided teenager. He was treating me as an adult—something I appreciated more than he could ever know.

  21

  Tess

  I love my Kindle! The little device Kolya bought eased the boredom while he demanded I rest. After nearly passing out during our trip to the gun range, he forbade me from venturing any further than the part of the property we lived in.

  Danny and Bess had been coming over to visit every day, which I was thrilled about. It helped relieve some of the boredom that my confinement created. I know it helped Danny, too. He was loving it here. Being part of a “unit” as he called it, felt familiar to him, even if the people in his unit weren’t. He’d had two visits with Devina—the counsellor—which he said he found more exhausting than the workouts that Franco had created for him.

  He was due to start helping Jack out around the grounds of the property over the next few days, which he told me he was ready for. Danny said having a purpose in life felt like another step on the road to recovery, and just now, the handyman/gardener job was his purpose.

  It got me thinking… What was my purpose?

  At the moment I had to remain hidden. No one had come looking for me yet. There were no news reports about two missing teenagers from South Yorkshire with regards to Sarah and I—other than on the local police Facebook page. Kevin had been keeping an eye on all avenues of media.

  The only person that would miss us in any way was Jean. Kolya allowed me to speak to her by way of the mobile phone he’d had delivered to her. She’d been so worried about me, and wanted to come and see for herself that I was okay.

  We talked about Sarah a lot, both of us desperate for information. The police had paid Jean three visits about the two of us—asking her if she had heard from us or if she had any idea where we might be. Beth had told the police that we’d gone to live with our boyfriends. Of course, Sarah had run away numerous times before, so I think they weren’t overly concerned at first. She’d always come home within a day or two. But this time it was different, so why weren’t they doing more to find her? Did not having a family to care for you mean your life was less important?

  I knew that Kolya had a long conversation with Jean the day I came out of hospital. He’d reassured her that he was looking after me, and would keep me safe. He also said he would arrange for her to come and visit—something I was looking forward to more than anything.

  I never thought I would say this, but I was missing school. I should have been preparing for the exams I’d studied so hard for, but it looked unlikely that I would ever be going back to my school at this point. Kolya told me he would try and arrange something with the education authority when it was safe for me to reveal where I was. But when would that be? All Kolya ever said about the Tariq, Hassan, and Farid situation was that he was taking care of it, but it would take time. He said I should forget about everything and concentrate on getting better.

  It wasn’t that I was feeling ill or weak anymore—just a little sore. Something to be expected after being shot ten days ago. Over the last couple of days moving my arm and shoulder had become easier. Layla, the physiotherapist Kolya had hired, had given me what she called “exercises” to do, to help prevent the muscles getting stiff. They weren’t really exercises, just repetitive, everyday movements. Within the last day or so, I had been able to stop taking painkillers throughout the day. To my dismay, I’d had to take them again last night. I’d fallen asleep reading a new vampire series on my Kindle, and had slept awkwardly. I woke up at 4 a.m. with a throbbing pain throughout my shoulder and upper back. So it was my own fault really, and as I found my Kindle hard to put down, I needed to find a more comfortable way to read at night. There was no way I was giving up reading in bed, or anywhere else for that matter.

  Reading provided me with an escape from reality that I so desperately needed. One where I didn’t have to think about what Sarah’s disappearance might mean. One where I wasn’t recovering from a gunshot wound, unable to go back to the life I lived before. Not that I’d want to. My life here with Kolya and his staff was completely different from either my time at The Willows, or with my mum. I wanted for nothing. Anything that I expressed an interest in became mine. Hence the Kindle. Accompanying that was an iPad and MacBook. Now those I hadn’t even mentioned in passing, but I loved them all the same. I’d never had anything like my own tablet or laptop before. We used computers at school, obviously, and there were two at The Willows we could use, although one was nearly always broken, and the lads would always hog the other one.

  Jean had a laptop she let us use any time we wanted. She only had it for ordering her shopping and paying bills online, so it was nearly always free. But to have one of my very own…it was like I’d come up in the world. No longer Tess the poor foster kid, I was now Tess the spoiled little princess. And all it had taken was a bullet to the shoulder… Yep, my thoughts did go down that dark, sarcastic route at times. A defence mechanism I think, in case one day it was all taken away from me.

  I couldn’t log in to my Hotmail account—Kevin said someone might be able to trace it—so I mostly spent my time online Googling random stuff, and watching YouTube videos with Ivan and Jonesy. They both loved to watch those gross, yet strangely satisfying, pimple popping videos, or those that showed people miss-timing leaps on to Tarzan swings or other stupid, wholly avoidable accidents. Both Ivan and Jonesy together were like a comedy duo, and often had me howling with laughter at their antics.

  Ivan had brought me flowers and chocolate every day since I arrived at Kolya’s home. Granted, he always ate more of the chocolate than I did, but the thought was there. The flowers were wild ones he’d picked on his daily morning walk with Danny and Bess, and for the last three days I’d been going with them.

  The grounds of Kolya’s home were so pretty. There were one hundred acres of well-kept lawns, an orchard and a small wooded area. The prettiest place of all was the wildflower meadow. The day we walked to that I spotted two different types of butterflies and three rabbits.

  We were now in the month of May, and the weather was unusually hot for this time of the year. As per what usually happens when any part of my body sees the sun, my freckles had become more obvious. I’d had a little sunburn, too, so Nan gave me some of her sun cream until the high SPF ones Kolya had ordered for me arrived.

  I hate my colouring. I’d always wanted the type of complexion you see on the models in magazines. But that perfectly flawless look would never happen for me due to my ever-increasing freckles.

  Nan said she loved my colouring, as did Kolya, but they weren’t the ones stuck with it. If I had blue or green eyes, maybe I would have gotten away with the Celtic look. But at times my eye colour looked almost amber. Kolya told me t
hat they were mesmerisingly beautiful. But it was his eyes that were mesmerising. I could stare into them all day long and never tire of doing so. I often had to stop myself looking at him; there wasn’t anything about his appearance that I didn’t like.

  The first time I saw him coming out of the gym wearing just his workout shorts—shirtless and covered with a light sheen of sweat—I stood there open-mouthed, unable to move. I felt warm all over and had a strong compulsion to reach out and touch him. To place my hand on his chest or those abs that tapered down to the waistband of his shorts. My mouth became dry and I was sure he would be able to hear how fast and loud my heart was beating. He leaned in to kiss me on the cheek as he passed by me, and that slight touch was enough to have me growing hot and wet between my legs. I was so embarrassed by my body’s reaction that I tried to avoid Kolya for a few days. Of course, he wasn’t having any of it. Other than working out, he spent as much of his free time with me as he could.

  We watched movies together, talked about literature, current affairs, Ivan’s obsession with pizza and all things sugary…anything really. Not once did he treat me like a child.

  I suppose my experiences over the years had ripped any semblance of a normal childhood away from me. From the years spent taking care of my drug-addicted mother, to the reasons why I ended up in foster care. I couldn’t remember ever really feeling like a child. Jonesy and Ivan treated me like their little sister, I suppose, and Nan babied me like she did all the guys that worked for Kolya.

  Nate and Kevin I considered to be my friends. I knew they shared a room but I wasn’t aware of their relationship—until I caught them in a passionate kiss outside the room with the security monitors. I was so shocked I stood there staring. I mean, the only gay men I had ever seen before were the camp characters in TV shows, and one lad at school who was more effeminate than most of the girls he hung around with. So to me, with my limited experience of the world outside Doncaster, it didn’t seem possible that men as musclebound and tough looking as Nate and Kevin could be gay.