by Tara Brown
I pressed my hand against the locked door and whispered, “I trust you.” I forced myself to, no matter how bad it was about to get. I pushed off of the door and walked into the bathroom off to the side of the room. My face was bloody and swollen. Thinking about touching it hurt. I slid my fingers along either side of my crooked nose, took a deep breath, and I cracked it back into place. Tears streamed down my cheeks, taking dried blood with them. My hands and face trembled from the overwhelming pain. New blood poured from my nostrils as I stripped down and climbed into the shower.
Servario's words trickled into my brain as the hot water poured over me, “Evie, I need you to remember I’ll be back for you. It'll feel like I'm leaving. You'll feel alone.” He lifted my face up to his. “I will be back for you.”
I shivered in the hot water, shaking with terror and uncertainty. I closed my eyes, remembering the day at boot camp. I was young, fit, and determined.
The water poured down my head as the image of that day and the pain from the fall that broke my wrist danced behind my eyes. I had ripped my sleeve off and wrapped it around my wrist as a feeling I never experienced before took over my body. It wasn’t fear or apprehension like it should’ve been. It was bitter hatred and determination. I finished that course with angry tears washing my cheeks and a bone sticking out of my skin. Coop was right. There was a girl inside me that was like no other girl. She could and would do anything for her country. My country was still important, but there in the shower it was mostly about my kids.
I stepped out of the shower and smiled at the horror facing me in the mirror. No matter what James or anyone else did to me, I was that girl. I was stronger, meaner, and more determined than any man could ever be. I pushed my kids to the back of my mind. I let old Evie crawl her wicked way from my skin.
I wiped the steam from the mirror and prepared myself for it.
13
Mommy Dearest
I pulled on a dress from the closetful of shitty clothes. I almost missed Roxy and her collection. At least those clothes were top shelf. These were nasty. I smoothed the sides of the simple dress against me, gaping at the girl in the mirror. She looked like hell.
I ignored it and lay back on the bed. I took a deep breath of confidence in. I curled up into a ball on the bed and prepared myself for the intrusion I was no doubt about to face. I had to consider the possibility a man might enter my body. I might be raped. I might not be able to fight back. I had to make a huge decision: was the entrance of my vagina the death of me?
My vagina had an answer, a hearty “fuck yes.” There was no way I was getting raped. I would die before I allowed that. With that new rule in place in my mind, I tried to come up with a plan.
Fortunately, I was alone for some time before the handle of the door jiggled. With wide eyes and a pounding heart, I jerked as the door opened. Michele, a man I knew well, gave me a wide smile. “Evie, how are you?”
“Please, Michele, don’t do this. You know my father, you were his friend.”
He laughed, making my stomach curdle. His dark-brown eyes were sinister beneath the huge hairy eyebrows and greasy dark hair. His wide nose and broad lips reminded me of a cartoon character. He licked his fat lips. “Evie, this isn’t personal. This is business. You have stolen from your husband and worked against him with the government. You have to be taught a lesson. Besides, your father is a double-crossing bastard.”
I flinched, hugging my legs into my body tighter.
He locked the door, dropping his gun onto the bed. “Do I need that, Evie, or are you going to be a good girl?”
“No,” I replied, squeezing my eyes shut. “Please, don’t do this. Please. I'm not an agent anymore, James dragged me into this.”
“Then I guess it won't be much of a fight.” He laughed louder.
Fury burned inside me, but I kept the façade going as the boat took off, rocking us slightly.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes for a second of grounding before I opened them to find him undoing his pants. “Because you used to be CI and your father was my friend, I'll give you the benefit of choosing how you get fucked.”
He was serious but I didn't answer.
He shrugged. “Okay, I choose."
He climbed onto the bed, pinning me and squishing me into the soft foam mattress. His garlic breath and BO mixed harshly with the idea of his body inside of mine. I gagged again. He sat up. “Turn over. I don’t want to look at the bruising. That’s not my style. I like pretty girls. You look like shit. Tired shit.”
I swallowed my pride hard. “Okay.”
He climbed off me, watching the sheer linen dress shift over my naked body. I was breathing heavily, acting like this was a big deal. But my head was somewhere else. I was already in the act I was about to commit.
I began to roll over, lifting my leg high, letting him get a good view up my dress. His eyes widened as he saw my pussy. I could almost see his lips turn up into a grin. He didn’t see my leg pull in or my foot flex. He never stood a chance.
By the time my heel made contact with his windpipe, his eyes were just leaving my thighs. The crack of his throat was nasty.
I pushed off the bed, wrapping my legs around his fat throat and slamming him on the bed behind me. I sat on his fat face and snatched his gun up from the bottom of the bed. His huge hands grasped at my legs, but I grabbed the gun and held it to his red face. He was struggling for air and the pain of a crushed windpipe, when I smacked him in the face with his gun. I held him with my legs until I was sure he was unconscious. The crushed windpipe meant he would die, and he’d be quiet about it.
I pulled on his pants and shirt, gagging at the smell of them. I wrapped the belt around my waist twice and tied it together with a sock. A stinky, foul sock. At least it was better than the see through dresses.
I tied his shirt so it was tight to my body and rolled him into the sheets better. He was still gurgling slightly. I tucked him in tight, pulling the covers over his head. Taking a deep breath, I stuffed his gun into the back of my pants and tied my hair up into a bun. My eyes were swollen from the broken nose, but I ignored it as I opened the door.
Voices came down the hallway at me as I closed the door again and locked it, pushing a chair against the doorknob. I glanced around the room, stopping when I got to the curtains. The motion of the moving boat didn’t make me feel better about my decision. I rushed across the room, pulling the curtains back and moaned when I saw the small porthole. I looked down at the huge pants, sighing. “Shit.”
I stripped to my dirty underwear I’d put back on and opened the small window. The wind and spray blasted their way into the room. I glanced up into the dark night to see a metal railing.
I tucked the gun into my bra, eyeing its position nervously. Maybe not the smartest idea. I stuffed it in at a different angle. If it went off, at least it would only slightly maim me. I grabbed the railing, my hands almost slipping on the cold, wet metal as I pulled myself to a sitting position in the window. My torso was just able to slip through the round hole. I pulled the gun out of my bra and dropped it onto the deck above me. I squirmed my ass through the hole, gripping the railing and realizing, as we coasted along the Italian coastline, that it had been a bad idea to climb out the window.
I couldn’t get my knees through without doing a full pull-up. My arms quivered a bit, but I managed to drag myself through to the point my feet could stand on the ledge of the open porthole.
Narrowing my gaze, I tried to see what was what on the boat. The cool sea air made my broken nose burn. My eyes watered as I jumped and dragged myself as fast as I could to crawl with my toes up the side of the slippery boat until I was at the top. I flopped onto the deck, wincing and groaning.
I almost laughed, imagining Coop standing there telling me how graceful that was. My back ached where I had landed on the gun. I scanned around. No one was out on the deck. I picked up the gun and found my footing amongst the ropes and deck chairs. I slipped along the side, marveling at the beauty o
f the yacht. I imagined Servario's was similar.
Ducking and creeping along, I peeked in windows, hoping to get an idea of what to do or where James was.
Was James close to the man in charge of MI6? Is that why we're on the yacht?
The windows I peeked in revealed nothing but lounges and a huge kitchen. No one was there. I slipped to the back of the boat to find my jackpot. In a room, a young-looking girl I’d guess was Japanese in decent, sat on a chair in the corner. She wore a schoolgirl outfit. I wrinkled my nose.
A massive set of guards stood next to her. I peeked in the window a little better to see the legs of a black suit standing next to where James sat in the far corner. I couldn’t make them all out. The suit never sat. He talked to James but never budged.
I crouched watching, waiting, but nothing happened. They talked and the girl sat perfectly still, not moving or part of the conversation at all.
Finally, the guards got up. One put a hand out for the girl, and the other stayed in the room with James. The suit whose face I never saw left with one guard and the girl in tow.
I crept up on top of the roof, crawling to the far side of the boat. I opened a door and listened for movement. There was nothing.
I closed the door quietly and snuck along. Hearing footsteps, I jumped into a closet. As I stood there, I gripped my gun, waiting to be discovered.
When the footsteps neared the room, I knew they belonged to James. Not only was he a heavy walker, but also the limp made him distinguishable when he paused next to the room I was in.
I heard a lighter spark and inhaling. The smell of pot filled the small room. He was smoking weed right outside the bedroom? I almost sighed, groaning, but he would’ve heard that and recognized it as the soundtrack to our marriage.
What kind of wanker got high during a mission? He was too relaxed. He and the leader of MI6 were probably old friends. He must’ve been working for England all along. He was heavy-heel walking and smoking pot. He was not worried or on his guard.
How was he working for England? Why would they want him? He wasn’t a good agent.
I waited for the smell and the sound of the inhaling to be gone completely, and I opened the door. He had come up the stairs next to where I was. I tiptoed down them, praying not to be discovered.
Scared of being caught, I slipped into a room. It was fancy. The bed was huge and round, and the room was twice the size of the one I had snuck out of. The one Michele was dying in.
I checked behind all the doors off it and slipped into a shoe and jacket closet. I pushed the hangers of clothes in front of me and sat back on a shoe rack. I could see through the slats in the closet, but only the bed.
As I waited I slowed my breathing and heart rate. I didn’t know how long I’d been there; it felt like forever. I was close to nodding off when the guard came in with the girl. She was still in her schoolgirl skirt, but she wore a bathing suit top with it, not a blouse. Her hair was wet, so was the guard’s. The girl sat on the bed in her knee-high socks, grinning and sucking a lollipop. I grimaced a little but then the guard went and sat beside her.
A British woman spoke as the door closed, “Touch her chest. Sooky, you call him Uncle. Say ‘No, Uncle, we shouldn’t.’ Go from there.”
I lifted my fingers to my lips, horrified. The only thing that made me feel better was realizing Sooky was much older than seventeen. She had slight laugh lines and her skin wasn’t as plump as a teenager’s. Up close it was clear she was a woman. I thanked God silently as she smiled devilishly and spoke with an accent. It didn’t sound Japanese, but more like she was pretending to be Japanese. “No, Uncle, we shouldn’t.”
“Lemme see.” He slipped a hand inside her bathing suit top.
“Stop, Uncle. Mommy and Daddy could come in.”
“Just let me see, Sooky. Let me just see what you have in there.” The guard spoke like he was wooden and bad at acting.
I gagged a little and closed my eyes as the woman to the left spoke again, “Kneel and lift her skirt, pull her bathing suit to the side.” There was movement and she spoke again, “Yes, like that. Spread your legs more, Sooky. I want to see him lick.”
The sound of a vibrator turning on filled the room. Moaning and licking and sucking competed with the noise of it. I clenched my eyes shut, shaking my head.
“Bend her over the bed. Don’t give me that look. She isn’t sucking you off. I'm not paying for you to like this. Am I Sooky, baby? No. Mommy is paying for me and you.”
I plugged my ears. I was going to fucking kill James and Servario. Everyone on the fucking boat was going to die. I opened my eyes, seeing the arrangement in the room changing up. The British lady with the vibrator, and the penchant for seeing Sooky fucked, crossed in front of the closet door. Her black suit was in front of me so I couldn’t see what was happening. After a moment, I noticed she was moving, swaying maybe. My jaw dropped and the heat left my face as I realized she was thrusting. It dawned on me that the guard might be taking it in the hiney, just as Sooky was.
Dear sweet baby Jesus!
I didn’t breathe or move, terrified of the woman. She moaned, “You like that, Joseph? You like it like that? Sooky, can you feel me making him pump?”
“Yeah, Mommy! Yeah, make him make me come.” She didn’t sound so Japanese suddenly. She was British as well.
The poor guard grunted and groaned, and I assumed he wasn’t enjoying the party as much as they were.
I was almost rocking back and forth and sucking my thumb by the time it all ended.
They started moving and adjusting clothes and things. The guard got up and walked to the side of the closet. The British lady handed a massive black dildo to him. “Put it in the dishwasher, tell cook to run a load of toys. Me and Sooky will want to play later.”
He nodded and walked out with a slight limp. I didn’t even want to know what was with everyone putting dildos in the dishwasher? Why was the cook handling them in the kitchen? Was I the only person in the fucking world who thought dildos didn’t belong in a kitchen?
The British lady in the black suit stripped down to her underwear and bra and lay back on the bed, snuggling into Sooky. She was older, much older.
They were both out of breath but hugging each other, lovingly. “Servario's boat is beautiful. Is this the sort of thing you would want, my pet?”
We were on his boat?
“Yes." Sooky nodded. “We need a boat just like this.” Her smile was bright and beautiful. “I think he will give it to you, if you give him the thing he wants.”
The older lady shook her head. “You will recall I don’t have it. I can't find it anywhere. That fucking Burrow is about as likely to be discovered as a unicorn might be. Besides, if I found it, I would have to give it to the Brits. I am loyal to my country.” They both laughed at that. It was a Dr. Evil sort of laugh. How cliché, I thought.
After a moment, Sooky spoke in a whiny tone, “Mommy, Evie knows things. Evie's father was Burrow—we both remember this. Did you tell Michele not to kill her?”
The older lady laughed. “She has probably given the poor man a heart attack by now. She's been with Servario for weeks. God knows what nasty shit he's taught her. That man has a problem.”
My mouth hung open. He was the one with a problem?
Sooky nodded. “I really thought with him having her captive for that week, he’d have her father alive, not faking his death again. Even the Americans thought Servario could use Evie to get the Burrow.”
Dear God, they really knew everything. I took a breath and told myself Servario had a plan. He had to have a plan and was on the damned boat somewhere, and he’d get us off it.
The older lady smiled. I could hear it in her voice, “Baby, you and I both know, the only way we will find that damned Burrow is to get the Master Key. James had me convinced it was Servario, but you know the golden rule, and he's still alive. James just wanted him dead, but Servario is far too useful alive. He's almost too resourceful to kill. No, it was
never him. Besides, his quest for it is genuine. James' usefulness in all this has come to an end. He needs to see the bottom of the ocean. I'll see to it tomorrow. I want sleep now. We’ll figure a way out for him.”
Sooky reached for the light, stopping short. “What about Helena?”
The older lady complained, “I can't find her. She stopped answering her phone. Last time we tracked her, she was in California.”
I scowled. Helena was my mom's middle name. Had Servario made it so her phone tracked in California? Or was she in California? Were my kids in danger? The dildo lady was scary. She ran her hands through her short salt-and-pepper hair. “We sent Steve. He should have reported from there. He put the shoes in the house and did the foot work for the fire. His last report was from Montana, but we haven’t heard anything from him. I don’t know what to think. If Helena was onto him being mine, she might have killed him.”
My stomach dropped.
Sooky winced. “I liked Steve. He was so easy to be around.”
The older lady sighed. “Turn the light off.” It was dark in the room, and they were both sleeping soundly in no time. I sat there, trying to take it all in.
I had to kill James before they did. I wanted him to die at the hands of the evil dildo lady, but like the time Servario apparently killed him, he’d come back. He would find a way. I needed him to die by my hands, like my mom said. I needed to pull the fucking trigger myself.
That, and discovering Steve was bad, was all very alarming. Was it more alarming than watching a guard get a dildo in the ass? Maybe not.
I wanted to wait until they were both asleep, but I ended up falling asleep too. I woke to a sound that disappointed me. It was James' voice, “Mary, we need to leave Evie in Croatia with your friends.”
M.
Mary.
Mary was the name of the leader of MI6.
It was just like Bond.
Damn.
But that made me the bad guy in the Bond movie.
I narrowed my gaze and wiped the drool from my chin. If I was the bad guy, then this was one Bond where the bad guy won.