by Nadia Lee
I can see the driver’s smirk in the rearview mirror. “Roy says hi.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Tolyan
My phone rings. Rhonda. The lunch break isn’t over yet, and she went out with the little fawn.
So Roy has finally made his move.
“Tolyan,” I answer.
“Oh my God!” She sounds like she’s been crying. Her breathing is staccato with panicked hitches. Is she going to be able to talk coherently?
Consoling an emotionally unstable woman isn’t my forte. Besides, I have a job to do.
“Somebody kidnapped Angelika!” she shrieks.
I wince at the volume. “Calm down. Did you call 911?”
“No. Somebody else did. I figured I should call you.”
She’s cleverer than I thought. “You did well.”
“I have their plate.”
“No need.” It’s likely fake. “Just tell me what happened.”
She does, her words rushing out so fast that each syllable tumbles over one another in a hurry. I pull out the pertinent facts and quietly add Eric Jones to my non-urgent to-do list.
When she continues to babble, I cut her off. “Let me talk to my contacts and see what I can do.” Then I hang up before she can add more unnecessary information in the name of “helping.”
As I stand, Lizochka comes out of her office. “I just got a text from Rhonda. Is Angelika okay?”
She must’ve ended her conference call early. No matter how important the foundation’s mission is to her, she isn’t the type who can ignore what happens to her people.
“Let’s go into your office,” I say.
Once we’re in her office, she whirls around. “Our intern gets kidnapped in broad daylight, only three blocks away?”
I nod. Unlike Rhonda, Lizochka doesn’t panic. But then, she has a core of steel underneath that pretty exterior.
“I need to talk to Paul,” she says.
Paul is the chief of police. “That should help. I’ll track her my way.”
“Please tell me you put a tracker on her.”
I smile a little. I didn’t just hack Angelika’s phone, but put a tracking code in the OS. And right now, it’s traveling down the 110 toward Long Beach. My guess is they’re heading to one of the empty warehouses near the port. That’s the most logical and easiest option someone like Roy would choose for kidnapping a defenseless young woman.
He should’ve hired a better-quality crew. Third-rate thugs don’t pay attention to important details like tossing the kidnapped person’s phone. Rhonda said three people were involved. Bet they’re smug and overconfident. How can three gangbangers lose one unarmed woman?
“You can find her, right?” Lizochka says.
“Yes.”
“And bring her back safely?”
I put my hands on her shoulders. “I promise. She’ll be fine.”
I didn’t come up with a backup plan just to botch it. And after I dispose of Roy today, she won’t leave me.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Angelika
The men park in a deserted lot with weeds growing between cracks. I look around…but there’s nobody. Just empty service roads with no traffic. The air has a hint of the sea, but I doubt we’re near a crowded beach.
Are they going to kill me and throw my body into the water?
I clench my teeth so they don’t chatter. I don’t want to die. Not like this. But I don’t want to beg for my life, either. Roy would enjoy that, but it wouldn’t save me. He said he’d come kill me when I was at my happiest.
The irony makes me want to laugh. When I was truly at my happiest, he didn’t show. Now that I’m in a cold war with Tolyan, Roy’s here.
As Rings hauls me out of the car, I consider resisting. I could kick him…and then what? Run? He and his buddies could be carrying guns. I’d only end up getting shot, which means if the universe decides to give me a real opening, I might be too hurt to take advantage. So for now, I’m going to play along and look for a way to escape.
The three drag me inside a huge, dilapidated building. There is only one room in the left corner with a door still intact. Two folding chairs. One is empty. Obviously for me.
The other…
The other is occupied by the monster I never wanted to come face to face with again.
“Hey there, sis.” Roy smiles like he does every time he sees me. It’s friendly, almost brotherly on the surface. But underneath it’s devoid of sincerity or any sort of genuinely friendly emotion.
And it’s always made my skin crawl.
He’s a tanned six foot one, with hair that’s impeccably, stylishly cut. His V-neck shirt and slacks are casual but look expensive. He wears black Air Jordans, all cool and comfy. Everything he puts on enhances his even features. He’d be handsome if it weren’t for the mean gleam in his eyes. No matter what he does, he can’t hide that from the world.
The men haul me over to the chair, handcuff my hands to it and then stand to the side, like an audience before a play. Roy’s grin widens. A cat thrilled to see a mouse trapped.
“I’m not your sister,” I say, unable to stop myself from showing how much disgust he inspires in me. I want to wipe that smile off his face. “You disgusting piece of trash!”
He jumps to his feet fast enough that his chair tilts back and crashes to the concrete floor. “Me? A piece of trash?” He points his finger in my face. “You shameless bitch! You’ve been acting like a complete filthy slut all your life!”
“I’m a slut when you’re the pervert who always snuck into my room?”
“Because you begged me to!”
What the fuck?
He starts ranting. “Yeah, that’s right. You begged me! I could see it in your eyes! Filthy bitch. I was going to just kill you, but now that isn’t going to be enough. I’m going to kill your boyfriend, too! This is what happens when you’re an ungrateful slut bitch! You didn’t even thank me right for the birthday present!” He reaches into his pants pocket and throws something at my face.
I squeeze my eyes shut and duck, in case it’s something hard or a bag of acid. I wouldn’t put it past him. But it hits my face limply and falls. I look at the pink, rubbery thing in my lap. It’s a life-sized penis replica. It isn’t that big, and it droops badly.
What the—
Then I remember Tolyan telling me he intercepted the package from Roy and took care of it. I shouldn’t laugh, but it bubbles up anyway. I clench my teeth and press my lips together tightly. Tolyan claimed Roy has some kind of sexual dysfunction. I didn’t believe it at first, but now I wonder…
“Are you laughing at me?” Roy demands.
I shake my head. I don’t want him pushed over the limit—and mocking his sexual dysfunction would be going too far. There’s no way he could kill Tolyan if he faced him fair and square. But Roy doesn’t believe in fair.
“You are laughing at me! You cunt!” He walks up rapidly and backhands me.
My head snaps to the side and pain explodes. A coppery tang fills my mouth. I blink a little. My vision clears slowly.
Roy’s breathing hard, his chest heaving. He towers over me, his legs braced apart. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s facing a woman who’s at least fifty pounds lighter than him and tied to a chair, he could pass for a warrior.
“You bitch! I’m gonna make you sorry—”
A loud crash outside cuts him off. He swivels his head.
Please let it be a SWAT team!
“Little fawn!”
Tolyan! I strain for the sound of police or backup, but no. It’s just him. Just one pair of feet running on the concrete outside the door.
No, no! Oh my God! Please, Tolyan! You should’ve brought backup. Are they coming in from the back door or something?
“Is that your boyfriend, Angelika?” Roy sneers. “I heard he’s an old loser. I’m going to make him cry like a baby!”
The trio of thugs looks at him. “Want some help?” one of the men asks.
“Nah. You watch her. I don’t need your help carving up that ol’ bag of shit.”
He swaggers out, pulling out a knife. It looks amazingly sharp, like the ones Tolyan keeps in his home.
I lick my bloodied lips, then wince at the pain. Tolyan has tons of guns and explosives at home, but I don’t know if he carries when he’s at work. I’ve never seen him with a gun in the office, not that he would flash it around. But he keeps a gun in his fridge, so he has to have one in his SUV. Hopefully one with a lot of bullets.
But there’s no gunshot. I hear some grunts, can’t tell whose.
Please, don’t let that be Tolyan’s!
The thugs laugh. They start betting on how exactly Roy will kill Tolyan.
“I say he uses the knife.”
“I don’t know… Hard to win a knife fight, if the other guy knows you’re coming.”
The driver nods. “He’ll use the gun.”
I shudder. He has a gun? But he hasn’t fired yet, which means he’s doing fine with just the knife. If Tolyan were winning, Roy would’ve pulled the trigger by now. My palms grow damp.
Please! Universe, God or Buddha or anybody up there listening! Please, help Tolyan!
“How about if we bet on how long it’s gonna take before her boyfriend’s dead?”
“You been timing from the beginning?”
No, no, no.
With every breath I take, with every beat of my heart, the hope that’s been shining in my chest since meeting Tolyan grows darker. Roy enjoys doling out pain. And he said he wanted to make Tolyan pay.
This is my fault. If I hadn’t been such a stubborn bitch and stuck to Tolyan tighter, I wouldn’t have been kidnapped, and Roy wouldn’t have gotten the upper hand.
So what if I was supposed to be bait? Tolyan would’ve made sure I was safe.
Now I’ve messed up everything. If anything happens to Tolyan, it’ll be my fault. If I die, that’s my fault, too.
Stupid. I’ve been so damn stupid!
Grunts. A strangled yell. Then silence.
My heart pumps adrenaline. I can’t stop shaking. Tears bead in my eyes, and I blink them away. Crying would only make Roy happier. On top of that, Tolyan wouldn’t want me to cry like a helpless damsel. He would want me to look for an opportunity to escape.
Rings glances at his phone to check the time, then make a rough sound in his throat.
“Man, what’s takin’ so long?” No Rings says.
“How am I supposed to know? Maybe Roy’s taking his time kicking the other guy’s ass.”
“Maybe I should go see.”
Rings starts to move forward; the door bursts open with a bang. I flinch, then muster the courage to look.
Relief rushes through me. Tolyan is at the entrance, his shoulders impossibly wide, his strong, large hands on his hips, booted feet braced apart. No bruises, swelling, cuts or blood on his face. No tears or bloodstains on his clothes, either. His features are set in a mildly bored mask that taunts his opponents—Is that the best you’ve got?
The trio of thugs make little sounds of confusion. Then they start to pull out their guns from the waistbands of their low-slung pants.
Tolyan throws a knife at the driver, the blade flashing as it spins through the air, and then suddenly it’s protruding from his throat. He makes a gurgling noise, then pulls at the knife. Blood spurts, falling on my calves and shoes and the area around his body. I jerk back—or try to while tied to the chair.
A gunshot rings out. I cry out in terror.
Something crunches, and No Rings drops. From the unnatural angle of his neck, I think he’s dead, too. Just without the bleeding.
I jerk my head up to see Tolyan. He’s still standing, no gunshot wound that I can see. The blood on his pants is from the driver, the one who’s dying—or maybe is already dead—from the massive hemorrhage.
Rings tries to aim. Tolyan kicks up, connecting with the thug’s right arm. He drops the gun, then pulls a knife with his left hand.
“Fucker. I’m ambidexters!” The thug’s scream rings with a gleeful “gotcha.”
What?
“I’m gonna skin her, bitch!”
He tries to lunge closer. Tolyan kicks again. The thug scrambles out of range. Now Tolyan’s between me and Rings. My angel of protection and retribution standing like an impenetrable shield.
Hot tears gather in my eyes. I can’t decide if they’re from relief, remorse, gratitude or love. Maybe all of the above.
“You fucker! I’m gonna kill you!” Rings is screaming, but there’s a shakiness to his words that betrays his fear.
Tolyan has a hooded, almost sleepy look, like he’s bored. “Less talking, more fighting.”
The thug swings his knife. Tolyan twists, but the thug drops a little, shifting to his right. The blade sinks into Tolyan’s torso, and I scream.
Tolyan grabs Rings by his hair and drops his whole weight on the man while at the same time sweeping his leg and destroying the thug’s balance. The thug falls, his face hitting the concrete floor hard. There’s a wet, crunching sound and Rings quits moving, blood pouring out of his now-crooked nose and mouth.
Tolyan slowly rises to his feet. The blood continues to seep from his wound. The knife’s still buried, to the hilt. My vision blurs.
“Hello, little fawn.”
My breath hitches. His thumbs brush over my face. I realize I’ve been crying. He glances at the handcuffs, then searches the thugs’ pockets until he finds the key and frees me. My arms tingle, and my fingertips feel like a million ants are crawling over them.
“Oh my God, Tolyan… You’re hurt.” I start to reach for him, then stop. I don’t know if he has other injuries that I can’t see. I don’t want to inadvertently touch them and hurt him. And I still don’t know what to do about the knife. If I should pull it out or not… “I’m so sorry.”
He smiles. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.” He dries my tears again. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
Then slowly, like a folding ladder, he collapses in front of me. I kneel by his side and hold his hands until the quiet of the warehouse is broken by the approaching police sirens.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Tolyan
The police questioning is tedious. But it’s their job to dig, and they follow me all the way to the hospital to do so. Lizochka freaked out when she heard from the sobbing Angelika that I had been stabbed. I hope a doctor here gave them both something to calm down.
Lizochka sends a lawyer to stand by my side while the police get my statement. I cooperate with the cops, since it’s part of the plan.
See? I’m not the bad guy, officer. I’m the good guy who went out and saved a girl.
Some of the officers look at me funny. Or in awe. The foundation donates significant sums of money every year to the department, to be used for fallen officers’ surviving families and for college scholarships for the officers’ children. Many of them know me as Elizabeth King’s assistant. They probably suspect I don’t spend my entire day alphabetizing files and organizing paper clips. But it’s the first time they’ve gotten a sense of what I’m capable of. I’ve always wanted to avoid that, but keeping Angelika after Roy’s gone is the higher priority.
I respond to everything, then act like I’m shaken by what happened. My voice trembles, my hands clenching and unclenching. The heels of my feet tap, then stop, then tap again. I bury my face in my hands every so often, like I can’t bear the memory of the thugs lying on the bloody floor. Two are dead, and the third one is alive, but he’s an idiot now.
God, I’m good. I wanted the third alive as a brain-damaged fool. And I know just how much force to exert to get the result I want.
But I can’t let the police see how satisfied I am with the outcome. So I keep on acting.
Yes, I am a longtime practitioner of many different types of martial arts. Of course I was scared, but I was more fearful for Angelika’s safety than mine. Yes, I care about her. We live together, and
I like her. I wanted to help. I wasn’t sure if I should have waited. I don’t know.
The police nod. They found three guns that belonged to the gangbangers. Plus the knives. It’s obvious what I did was self-defense.
Even if they suspect something, Lizochka’s lawyer will make sure the jury thinks it was self-defense. And I give the cops nothing they can use against me.
Lizochka’s lawyer leaves along with the cops. Finally alone. Lizochka got me a private room, in case I need to stay overnight. I don’t, not because of some little prick with a cheap knife. I unbutton my dress shirt and untuck it as well. Must display my battle scar for full effect.
The door opens. I perk up a little, thinking the doctors are done looking Angelika over and she’s here to check up on me. But no. It’s Antoine.
I don’t bother to hide my displeasure. “What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t want to come either, but I figure you might want your car.”
Point taken, but other than Lyosha, I don’t like it when others drive my vehicle.
He adds, “Plus Elizabeth wants me here, just in case. She doesn’t like it that the guy who hired the thugs is still out there.”
“Was she that distraught?” And confused? She and I have known each other for a long, long time. She should know by now that Roy Wilks didn’t escape…contrary to what the police think.
“You’re obviously slipping. Getting stabbed? Really?” Antoine gives me a “you’re such a pathetic has-been” look.
I fantasize about kicking him in the face, but restrain myself. Angelika could walk in on us. I don’t want to show her my aggression. It’s time she becomes overwhelmed with gratitude and love.
“That guy’s a low-level thug who got initiated into the gang six months ago,” Antoine adds, obviously determined to taunt me until I lose my temper. But the day I let Antoine irritate me enough to deviate from my plan is the day I eat the cream of corn in my pantry.
“Maybe he got lucky,” I say nonchalantly.
He lowers his voice. “You faked it, didn’t you?”