Rip

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “But…” I pressed my fingers to my head. “I remember the accident.”

  “I showed you pictures.” He sighed. “Of your wrecked car, and I did…”He swallowed. “Inflict some pain, I made the cuts on your arm because regardless of your mental state, I needed to show you I was in control and usually the only way to do that is through some sort of pain, it can be minor, I’m sorry yours wasn’t.”

  It was too much to process. Almost.

  “How did you get me back?” I whispered. “Why am I with you now?”

  “Because I lied and told your father that the Italians knew where the rest of his whorehouses were… he believed me because ever since he attacked one of their own a few months ago, some key pieces of information have been missing. I asked for you… and told him I would take care of the Italians in return.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No… and there were... terms. He said I could have you for a year but that if I touched you and triggered one of the real memories of seeing him in the whorehouse with the girls… he’d kill both of us, so…” He stood and spread his arms wide. “I re-created a nearly identical room to the one you were held in, even kept masks nearby.” He walked over to the dresser then with a cry tossed it onto its side and slumped to the floor.

  He was losing his mind.

  Or maybe just allowing me to see he wasn’t as in control as I’d always thought.

  Slowly, I slid out of bed and joined him on the floor.

  “You should go,” he whispered.

  “And where would I go? To my father’s house? The same one who tortured me for a week? No thanks, I think I’ll take my chance with the person who tried to save me.”

  My body trembled all over again at the thought. He might not be my flesh and blood but he was still a father, he was supposed to protect me, not break me and scatter the ashes while laughing.

  Warm tears streamed down my face.

  Nikolai pulled me against him, wrapping a muscled arm around my body as I continued to sob quietly against his chest.

  “I didn’t.” Nikolai cursed under his breath. “I didn’t save you. I made it worse, so much worse. Saving you, would have been trying to get you out of the building, saving you, would be handing you over the Italians and faking your death, saving you—” He turned to cup my face, his eyes filled with tears. “—would be letting you go, rather than keeping you for myself.”

  “What if I want to be kept?”

  “You realize,” he said, then swallowed slowly, his mouth inches from mine. “That you say you want to be kept by the very monster that made you believe you were in a car accident, by the same person who took advantage of a sixteen year old girl because he couldn’t help himself.”

  “You kissed me, hardly a crime.”

  “I didn’t just kiss you. I desired you. I wanted you, from the minute I saw you with your father that year, and it disgusted me that I was so much older yet was drawn to someone so young, so bright. You wore your emotions on the outside, while I’d been taught emotions were frivolous wicked things that would get me nowhere in life.”

  “And yet the beast somehow still managed to turn into a prince.”

  “I’m not your prince.”

  “You’re right.” I nodded. “I think the beast is hotter anyways.”

  He cracked a smile. “You should be sleeping, running, possibly screaming and pulling a gun on me.”

  “But I remember,” I whispered kissing his mouth. “I remember you telling me to work hard in school… I remember you telling me how special I was… I remember everything…”

  “I can make you forget again, it could be dangerous, and I’d have to disappear from your—”

  I kissed his mouth hard, pulling him into my arms, our tongues tangled in a wild frenzy.

  We broke apart.

  “I had your picture in my room,” I blurted.

  His eyebrows drew together in shock. “You what?”

  “In my room. You know how some people have pictures of bands or move stars? I had pictures of you… you’d always been my idol, maybe that’s why I was so crazy to meet you, or maybe—”

  “—maybe you just wanted to come home.”

  “You’re my home,” I whispered tugging at his shirt.

  “God, I’ve waited years to hear you say that.” His lips found mine again, and then he was tearing at my clothes, ripping them from my body as he laid me back against the cold slate floor. I didn’t care, I needed him, wanted him, with such desperateness it was hard to breathe.

  Clothes flew over his head and then his warm body was pressing against mine, our mouths fused as he thrust into me without warning.

  My head fell back, brushing the slate as he made love to me.

  The piece that had always been missing, finally, with a resounding click, locked into place.

  Ask a lot but take what is offered. –Russian Proverb

  I BRUSHED HER DARK HAIR AWAY from her face and kissed her soft cheek, my lips sliding down to her mouth. I craved more of her with every breath I took.

  “Nik?” She’d been calling me that since we made love on the floor, and this time, when she referred to me the way I’d originally instructed her to so long ago, I was okay with it, knowing she wasn’t reverting back to some altered state of consciousness but completely aware that it was my nickname crossing her lips.

  “Yes?”

  “Tell me about the clinic.”

  I sighed, as the last bit of heaviness washed over me. It was my burden to carry not hers, and telling her only added stress to what she was already dealing with. “I study the girls, the ones given to me by your father, and when they can no longer work because of sickness, disease…” my voice trailed off.

  “Nik?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You don’t have to tell me the rest.”

  I relaxed, as if my body made a giant sigh against hers. “Maya?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When you were under… I asked you about the addresses, do you remember?”

  It was her turn to tense, and then turn around in my arms a frown marred her pretty face. “It was on the Pier, and I recognized Everett, but I don’t remember the address, just thinking about it makes my head hurt.”

  “Sorry.” I kissed her forehead.

  “Why is it important?”

  Burdens, so many burdens I was sharing, I hated myself for it, but maybe it was time to extend the weight and trust the other person wouldn’t let it slip through their fingers. “You’ll never be safe, as long as those houses exist. I want to destroy them… if they’re gone, then I’m hoping you won’t be as big of a threat to your father as he thinks… right now, if he saw you on the street, he’d recognize the fear, even if you tried to hide it. You’d flinch, you’d back away into another person walking in the other direction, you’d gasp, your eyes would widen, there are any number of physical responses you would have. And he would know, and he would either kill you, or capture you, then do it right in front of me to make an example. The only way to be free is to eliminate the threat, and right now, those two houses existing, making him a shit load of money…” I looked away.

  Maya tilted her head thoughtfully. “You said the Italians owed you.”

  “I owe them.”

  “That’s not what they said.”

  “I don’t really think they see it that way, Maya. They’re being kind.”

  “The Italians? The ones with the scary guns and weird even more terrifying tattoos and sneers, those people? You have seen that big guy right? The one with the permanent frown on his face?”

  “Nixon?”

  “No not the lip ring guy.” She waved me off. “The other one.”

  “Tex?”

  “No, the other one.” She snapped her fingers. “With the…” She gulped. “Darkness, I know this sounds crazy but he has this… weird aura about him.”

  I nodded my head and whispered. “You’re talking about Phoenix.”

  “Scary
.” She shuddered.

  And in that moment it was like all the possibilities of how they really could help me were brought to light.

  “His father and yours used to work together.” I didn’t want to give too much away, better she never find out about that. “He may be able to help more, but his wife’s six months pregnant.” I sighed. “I’ll call him. I think that may be the only choice we have.”

  “Other than running away together,” Maya whispered, brushing a kiss across my mouth. “That sounds good too.”

  “Someone like me… can’t disappear without making CNN.”

  She sighed, pulling her mouth away. “I know.”

  “But…” I tilted her chin toward me. “We can stay here… for at least a few more moments, let the world go to hell… while I give you a glimpse of heaven.”

  “Arrogant bastard.”

  “I’ve never pretended to be otherwise.” I full on grinned.

  Her breath caught. “You’re sexy when you smile.”

  “It’s why I don’t do it often, too hard to be taken seriously.” I toyed with a piece of her hair.

  “Wow look at you. Such a good mood, I wonder why.”

  “Sex,” I said truthfully. “But first… love.”

  “First comes love?”

  “Yes, Maya.” I closed my eyes, breathing her in. “With you? First, always comes love.”

  Another body has been discovered in Pikes Market, Jane Doe had no identification, and no missing reports have been filed. She was believed to be a prostitute and homeless. –The Seattle Tribune

  WE TALKED ABOUT EVERYTHING THAT HAD to do with nothing important. And then, when we ran out of words to say and silence filled the air, we kissed, communicating with our mouths, hands, bodies, what we were feeling.

  Sunlight crept through the window early that morning. I forced my eyes shut, not wanting to leave the bed or deal with the heavy stuff, the questions still rolling around in my brain, the memories, the flashbacks. Over the course of a few hours I felt like I’d regained my entire childhood only to wish it would have been kept under lock and key for eternity.

  I shivered.

  It wasn’t pretty.

  My memories had always been about the later years, when I pushed myself in school and sports.

  The early years? Were filled with getting pushed out of the house at age five because my father’s associates were coming to visit. Why did it matter? I’d ask my mom, what if I play quietly.

  At such a young age I didn’t understand, that those men, the ones that were in our house once a week, dealt child pornography to the masses, making millions off of a sick addiction that should equal the death penalty in my mind.

  I stumbled past one of the men as my mom ushered me out the back door, he grabbed her arm, then looked down at me with a frown.

  “Leave it,” she snapped.

  My mom was rarely rude, especially to my father’s associates.

  The man bent down to my eye level, his breath smelled sour and his face was white as a ghost. “So, you’re the bastard.”

  Those were his words. I didn’t know what the name meant, but the way he said it had made me think it was a bad name to be called. He also leered, made me feel like I should hide behind my mama’s skirts or maybe just disappear altogether.

  When I brought it up to Nikolai, he simply kissed me and told me he was sorry he couldn’t keep the bad away—sorry that he had failed.

  If anyone failed in this scenario it was my father… he was a complete lunatic. My only saving grace was that I wasn’t actually related to him, only to my mother. Thank God.

  My gut clenched. Was my mother even safe?

  “You look very deep in thought.” Nikolai said without opening his eyes.

  “You can’t even see me.”

  “I can feel you,” he murmured, “and you feel stressed.”

  “I’m not stressed,” I grumbled, frowning harder.

  His eyes blinked open. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  “I better be, I put on lip gloss and brushed my hair at least a hundred times throughout the night in fear you’d wake up and scream.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Don’t believe me?”

  He ran his left hand through my hair, and of course his fingers got caught in the tangles, I tried to pull away but he continued combing it with his fingers. “I think I like you messy… less polished. It fits you.”

  “Are you calling me a mess?”

  “A hot mess. The adjective changes everything don’t you think?” The corners of his mouth lifted into a heart stopping smile.

  An enemy will agree, but a friend will argue.—Russian Proverb

  I HATED THAT I CALLED HIM in, almost as much as I hated the fact that I needed to ask for help.

  Help had always been a weakness, as if I was down, bleeding out, and needed someone to put pressure on the wound in order to stay alive.

  My blood heated at the thought, the mere, idea that I would need to call an Italian to aid me.

  I glanced back at Maya as she slept in the bed.

  I would do anything, anything for her. Legal. Illegal. There wasn’t a line I would not cross, a job I would not do. A life I would not take.

  The phone rang once.

  “Yes?” The voice clipped on one end.

  “I need you.” Damn the words were out before I could stop them, my hand clenching the phone as if it was the only object in my existence and the pressure aided by my fingertips only helped persuade the voice on the other end in saying yes, in making sure I kept the woman I loved safe.

  “Okay.”

  A click. And the conversation ended. No persuading. No banter, nothing that would help me understand the situation further, just a simple okay.

  I would have been a hell of a lot more at ease had he been argumentative.

  I let out a sigh of frustration. I hadn’t intended on relying on anyone else. I didn’t trust people, but I did trust the Italians. And maybe that made me the worst betrayer of them all… the fact that I so easily trusted outside of the Russians, the family my father bet his very life on.

  With a sigh I turned away from Maya as she slept and dialed Jac’s number.

  “Hello?” She picked up right away.

  “Jac,” I said relieved. “How are you?”

  She was silent and then. “I haven’t heard from you all day, will you be in tonight?”

  I glanced nervously at Maya. “Of course, why not?”

  “Well, a lot of things have been changing lately.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Jac, I will always do my research. You know this.”

  “Do I?”

  A challenge. “Yes. You do.”

  “Fine.” She sighed heavily. “I’ll see you tonight at the regular time.”

  “Yes,” I hissed. “And maybe, during that time, you can help me locate the missing girl?”

  “Missing girl?”

  “The one you led into the clinic the other night? The one who we can’t find? That girl.”

  “What’s one girl, Nik?”

  “What is one girl, Jac?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m not saying anything, merely asking… You led her in, did you see where she ran off to?”

  The phone went deathly still as if Jac was holding her breath. “I don’t like being attacked by my own family, my own grandson.”

  “Is that what this feels like? I’m asking a question. That’s all.”

  Jac cursed. “You’re accusing me. There’s a difference, think I can’t tell the tone you’re using? The girl ran off, just like I told you. If you paid more attention to your own damn records, you’d know that. Now. Can I please get back to work? The real work we’re supposed to be doing? As a family?” I didn’t miss how she said that last part with venom, how she spat the word, disgusted with having to even discuss it with me in the first place.

  “Yes.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Yes, get back to work.”


  The phone line went dead.

  Maya made a small noise in her sleep. I’d exhausted her, so relieved that I could be with her that I hadn’t given her a break at all, just taken my pleasure, offered her hers, and gone on with life.

  The clock chimed three in the afternoon.

  Our time would be up soon.

  Our number called.

  And as if her father could read my mind, a text sounded on my phone.

  Petrov: Tsk, Tsk, Tsk good doctor. Have your hand in the cookie jar, do you? Meet me tonight at Pier 49, 10:00. Being late, means her life… I’ll find her, I always find them. I always succeed.

  With a curse I tossed my phone onto the bed and ran my hands through my hair.

  Maya awoke and squinted up at me. “Is everything okay?”

  “Of course,” I lied smoothly. “Just… anxious to lie next to you, to hold you in my arms. Can I do that?”

  “Yes...” She yawned, stretched, then opened her arms. “Are you sure it’s okay to take today off?”

  “Yes,” I snapped unintentionally. “Bosses orders, he’s an ass after all.”

  She reached around and pinched my ass. “Yes, yes he is… better pull the wool over his eyes while we can.”

  I kissed her hot mouth. “Yes.” I growled. “While we can.”

  I wished moments like that could last forever.

  But my wish was in vain.

  I couldn’t be reborn, and ask to be part of a different family, ask to be something other than what I was.

  I cringed, just thinking about what Jac was doing.

  About what she’d been doing.

  Maya moaned. “Make love to me again.”

  “Okay,” I whispered against her lips. “Okay.” I prayed she’d never find out the other half, why I agreed to Petrov in the first place, why I still allowed myself to be controlled.