Deviant Fixation

by Valencia Carmelita

  Tilting my chin up in defiance at him. "You can take your fake mafia bravado and shove it up where the sun don't shine!" I bellow, anger fuelling my courage. " I'm going to scream for help if you don't get the fudge out of my way !!"

  For a split second he quirks a dark brow up, a glint of challenge flashes like lightening in his eyes.

  "I'm afraid you leave us no choice." I suddenly hear Huxley's dismayed voice very close behind me. Swiftly, an arm wraps around my shoulder.

  I'm being suffocated by a piece of white cloth. Before I can make any move, my vision dims and completely darkens.

  ◆◆◆

  I awaken with a sudden jolt due to the slamming of a car door in close proximity.

  Faint smell of cigars and expensive cologne wafts to my nose before my blurry vision has a chance to clear.

  I reach up to rub my eyes but my arms are bound in the back of me by handcuffs.

  What the fudge ?!! Instantaneously I remember the park incident. Have I been abducted ?

  I want to scream but as soon as I try to, my lips are left immovable by firmly pressed duct tape.

  I'm beyond terrified as I strive to shift myself out of this position by kicking my legs around, yet they too are immobilised by foot shackles.

  Feeling cool leather against my palms as I press them around behind me, I realize I'm sitting on some sort of plush leathery couch ?

  "Mmphhh hmmnmphhh." Through the duct tape, escape my helpless muffling sobs.

  The haziness diminishes from my vision within a few seconds, and my eyes distend in panic at the sight before me.

  I'm seated in a what appears to be a moving limo with black tainted windows .

  Infront of me there are five men reclining in the leather seat lining the interior of the limo, all facing me.

  Two of those men I recognize are Vladimir and Huxley,along with the others. They are all clad in long varying shades of dark trench coats over black business suits and top hats.

  Their expressions are unfathomable as they all sit there scrutinizing me.

  "Finally awake miss." With a casual tone, Huxley addresses me.

  "Blacked out so long, it appears the chloroform effects you very strongly in comparison to others"

  I knit my brows at him in dread mixed with worry as my tears spill across my cheeks. The sinister and foreboding appearance of these men only increases my trembling.

  "If you nod in agreement to keep to your promise from screaming, I'd be obliged to allow you a voice in this matter." Huxley leans forward,propping his arms atop his thighs. He quirks an eyebrow at me questioningly.

  The answer he receives from me is a hiccuped sob with a frantic bob of my head in agreement.

  "We will not inflict you harm miss, just some questions. Now if you had been willing to cooperate in the park, you'd not be in this state." Huxley consoles, but his face is as stony as the others.

  He tilts his chin up in a gesture to one of the men near me, to free my mouth from the duct tape.

  "Don't snatch it off, be gentle." He adds, as the man delicately peels away the tape.

  "I didn't do anything!" I yelp as soon as my lips are movable, yet I feel the sticky residue remaining on them from the tape.

  "Typical response from a potential terrorist." Vladimir mutters under his breath disapprovingly.

  Clutching at his cane, he brings it forth to my face-the handle part mere inches away from my lips.

  I notice it's encrusted with the same silvery dragon encircling a Cross as the buttons on his coat.

  "Just because you're a she-muzzie, think not it enables you to dodge consequences for your fabrications." He continues coldly.

  "I swear to God, I didn't do anything!" I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing for the impending assault from his cane.

  "Do not blasphemy the name of my God by your filthy mouth." He glowers.

  "You think me a fool, Saracen ? By swearing an oath to a God you believe in not is just one of the many low tactics I'd expect from your kind."

  I blink a few times in disbelief at him and then shed a quick glance on the other men to witness their reactions of such shocking remarks.

  They still sport unwavering stony faced expressions as they gaze at me.

  Except for Huxley, who's eyeing Vladimir blankly. He proceeds to hook the handle of his own cane onto Vladimir's and draws it away from my face.

  This earns him a scowl from Vladimir. I let out a small sigh of relief and gulp inwardly.

  "Shall we get on direct interrogation of the young lady." Huxley's tone is more of a reminder than a question.

  "Huxley, you easily entrap yourself in her tactics." Vladimir continues loathfully, evading Huxley's suggestion.

  "You're the one who's instilling the terror by abducting me for I don't know what !" I blurt in irritation, seeing that Huxley had this jerk in control again.

  In an instant his eyes narrow frigidly at me, prompting a cold shiver to run down my spine as goosebumps appear on my skin. If he stares at me like that for any longer I'd probably end up frost bitten. I had never seen such an expressive set of enthralling eyes before.

  Inadvertently, by now I've noted that his eyes reveal his inner inclinations shifting from Scathingly hot to hyper-boreal.

  How unfortunate, such beautiful pair of eyes belong to one of the most biggest jerks I've ever had the displeasure of running into in my life.

  "In my presence, you'd better consider carefully the filth you allow out of that mouth, little girl." He cautions in a low voice.

  "Hopefully I'm not subjected to your abominable presence after today ever again! I feel very sorry for these guys who probably have to be around you too much." I retort, finding my courage because I sense Huxley would hold him back. "It's likely you've rubbed your abomination on to them as well." I add, scrunching up my nose slightly in disgust.

  I lock my gaze with his wintry one while I ponder inwardly. Nobody dares insult my faith infront of me without getting a proper insult of their own disrespectful personality back. Although I wouldn't stoop to his level by insulting his religion or anyone else's.

  Now I notice the other men's expressions slip, revealing their amusement at my responses to Vladimir. He stares at them daggers which promptly wipes their expressions back to resolute faces.

  Huxley heaves a sigh of apparent agitation, disregarding Vladimir's treatment of me. He asks "What is your name, young lady?"

  "I'm not telling you my name, Mister. I don't even know you people and I have nothing to do with whatever it is that you suspect me of doing." I look towards him pleadingly. "Let me go please!"

  "You are not cooperating, Miss." Huxley lets out a slight groan of weariness.

  "Answer the fucking simple question or I shall have you shipped back to the Middle East." Vladimir interjects. "Auctioned off to some hairy sheek, even if you're worth only one dinar."

  I knit my brows at him in disbelief.

  Is he serious ?

  "It's not sheek its Sheikh!" I snap before further correcting him. "Secondly, I'm not Middle Eastern, my family is from Central Asia! Not all Muslims are from the Mid East and not all Middle Easterners are Muslim!"

  "You all bare a similar resemblance, that sneaky Muslim-ish appearance." He replies dryly.

  "Thirdly I doubt you'd ever ship me to the Middle East because I doubt you've ever done it before!" I counter irately.

  "Well there is always a first for everything." He snidely remarks, a proud smirk tugging at the corners of his lip as he sits back.

  Then suddenly it vanishes and his expression turns grave as he continues looking me in the eyes. "Don't test my patience, little girl. Need I remind, that you are handcuffed, surrounded by my men and I."

  Fear nearly chokes me at his words masking dark intent. I throw a worrisome glance at Huxley. He nods helplessly and solemnly in confirmation of Vladimir's statement.

  This silent exchange between us doesn't go unnoticed by Vladimir-who proceeds to comment on it.

&nbs
p; "Huxley works for me, cast aside any thoughts of him as your saviour." Vladimir's low voice full of warning further increases the knot I feel in my throat.

  I try gulping inwardly and my tears resurface. I squeeze my eyes shut while in silent prayer, feeling the hot sting of the tears brushing my cheeks.

  Suddenly the limo has arrived to a stop. The humming of the engine has cut off and one of only doors on the end at my side pulls open from the outside.

  I blink a few times in astonishment at the familiar individual before me, just as he does when his eyes clash with mine.

  It's that other brunette guy probably named Serge, the one who stood next to Grigori, Katie and Bev at the recreation center.

  Holding the door open right now next to him is a cheerful and chubby limo chauffeur. His cheeriness slips at the state of my condition-prompting him to avert his gaze down at his shoes.

  Serge and I stare at one another with complete shock.

  What the heck is going on here !!!?

  "Sir, it's Serge." one of the men nearest my seat, informs Vladimir.

  "No one is dismissed till this mud-slime admits to her iniquity." Vladimir orders effortlessly.

  "Miss what's your name ?" Huxley inquires again.

  Swiftly, Serge pokes half of his upper body into the limo and responds for me instead "This girl here is miss Sanam Kashani, sir."

  I stare at him wide eyed, he knows my name already.

  How ?!

  Perhaps his pal Grigori rattled ..or Bev ...or Rachael.

  Albeit, he would have eventually found out. Serge smoothly slips into the limo and takes off his top hat, shrugs off his trench coat, revealing a lavish business suit underneath. He folds his coat over his leg neatly and sits back on the space next to mine.

  By now I notice all of them clad in a similar suave and polished attires as if it's a uniform dress code of their supposed mafia.

  I can't help but acknowledge the apparel gives these men an air of elegance. Like an old-fashioned vibe, as if they are nobility or gentry belonging to the Victorian era.

  Then I scoff inwardly, that jerk face Vladimir is anything but a gentleman. No matter how much he tries to dress like one-he will never be a gentlman.

  Serge looks right into Vladimir's interrogating eyes and continues. "Miss Kashani here rescued Rachael's daughter from one of Pierre's men."

  I shift in my seat uncomfortably when all undivided attention from the men settles on me again. Yet only this time, it is a much heavier kind of regard, full of intrigue.

  Except I notice Vladimir's expression has gone inscrutable, cerulean eyes locked with mine.

  Chapter 5

  Silence.

  Heavy unwieldy silence cloaks the atmosphere. It constricts my lungs as if I am being crushed and suffocated under massive boulders.

  With difficulty I attempt to swallow back the knot in my throat. Seemingly perpetual tears leave a hot trail down my cheeks.

  I continue staring out of the car window aimlessly at places and people whizzing past, my back facing the man who offered plea on my behalf few hours ago.

  I am Seated in the front passenger seat, with only the two of us occupying the luxury vehicle.

  I hear Serge clear his throat loudly, attempting to gain my attention. I refuse to face him, only hoping he would quickly dispense me to my destination.

  Thanking him for coming to my rescue from his fellow Mafia friends was currently the least of my concerns.

  Inwardly a part of me is grateful for him showing up at the right place and at the right time. Another part of me is very much upset for the fact that he distributed details of who I am and where I reside without my permission to my abductors.

  As if reading my thoughts, I hear him confess. "It was the only way Vladimir would have let you off the hook. I'm deeply sorry, but I had to inform him about you."

  My jaw clenches in complete ire at the mention of Vladimir.

  Still facing the window, I strive to clear my throat. Yet end up responding in a raspy voice due to excessive weeping. "Well, that did little to exonerate me. But I guess I would have been in deeper trouble had you not objected to his abduction and mistreatment of me."

  ◆◆◆

  Scenes of what occurred hours ago replay in my mind. After Serge revealed of my involvement in rescuing Arielle from what they perceived as their enemies, all the men excluding Vladimir pleaded to have me freed.

  Wearing a callous expression, he wouldn't flinch or utter one word in agreement. The ferocity of his eyes narrowed on me for what seemed like eternity before he provided a nod of his chin in a gesture to free me of my bonds.

  I was uncuffed and allowed to step out of the limo. I was very much hoping that I was amongst normal public in order for my escape.

  To my disappointment, I was greeted by a secluded setting of a lone well built massive wooden lodge in the middle of nowhere.

  I did consider making a sprint to the trees. That would prove futile since these men made visible the guns holstered at their belts as soon as they disrobed of their trench coats.

  I had no doubt they would merely just pull the trigger on me if I so much as took one step without Vladimir's approval.

  Huxley had approached me with a guilty exterior, eyes downcast and apologized for the third time. " I'm sincerely sorry for this misconstrued mess, I will ensure you are safely escorted home by Serge."

  I refused to acknowledge him or his apology by turning my face away till I heard him retreat eventually.

  The rest of the men except for Vladimir, strolled two feet away from me. They had conversed in low voices-barely audible to me as they would throw furtive glances my way. Vladimir was nowhere in sight.

  I wondered where the jerk face had disappeared to when he was with them just moments ago.

  But before I could have further searched around with my eyes, I felt a cold metal object touching the side of my forehead firmly.

  In a matter of seconds I froze in absolute horror as soon as the prompt realisation dawned on me of what was being aimed at my head.

  Staring straight ahead, I witnessed the rest of the men silently gaping in shock and disbelief at the individual who is holding the gun against me.

  The only sounds audible were of someone weeping and the erratic thundering of their heart beat. I realized that someone was me.

  I was trembling, my body was quaking like an earthquake as my legs grew numb and the numbness crept upwards. I was going to die, murdered by ruthless killer. No one would know what occurred of me.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and inadvertently bit down on my own tongue, tasting blood.

  I wanted to scream and plead to them to spare me. But my body and my voice were no longer under my control from the extreme trepidation flooding my veins.

  The individual who was holding the gun against me from behind, finally took a step infront of my vision.