Beyond Taken (The Beyond Series Book 5)

by Ashley Logan

  Pachenko had better cleavage than I did.

  Sitting up with a sigh, I was quick to flatten myself against the wall as Pachenko lurched awake and was across the room in less than a second with his fist raised and ready to slam into my face.

  Our eyes met and he snapped back as if startled by his own actions. Breathing hard, he saw his arm still raised and lowered it before dragging his other hand down his face.

  Moving into the bathroom, he turned the shower on and shut the door.

  When he eventually reappeared, I was still frozen in the same position. Imagining myself as a part of the wall, I'd made myself as still as possible, hoping to be overlooked.

  His wet hair had been raked and smoothed back by his fingers and his jaw was tight again, as were his shoulders. He made no attempt to even look at me.

  "You should shower," he said, pulling on a fresh shirt and then his jacket. He left without another word, leaving me to sit in my cage, clueless yet again.

  Waiting until my nerves had settled enough to move, I inched off the bed and entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. It had no lock.

  There was a fresh towel folded on the small cabinet next to the sink, and a small bar of soap rested on top of it. His towel hung from a rail by the shower and it smelled of him. It wasn't an unpleasant smell. He smelled of man and soap and some sort of faint cologne or deodorant. He smelled better than a lot of the men I'd had to brush up against back at the club.

  Undressing, I washed my underwear in the sink and hung them to dry.

  I purposely chose not to look in the mirror and just went straight into the shower.

  The water was warm and forgiving and I didn't want to leave it, but it started to turn cold and I had no choice. Drying off, I slid back into Pachenko's over-sized undershirt and wrapped my hair in a towel.

  Moving back into the empty cabin, I frowned when I saw two more tablets sitting on the desk next to a bottle of water and an apple.

  He had come and gone and I was still in horrible suspense about my fate.

  Sipping the water, I took the pills and walked in restricted circles until I heard crying.

  Rushing back to the bathroom, I stood on the closed toilet to get closer to the vent. The girl on the other side mumbled to herself in Estonian between sobs.

  "Are you alone?" I asked her quietly, angling my voice upward to the simple grate.

  Her crying stopped, but she said nothing.

  "Hello? My monster has gone. Has yours?"

  "No," she whispered. "Please don't speak so loud or he will come."

  Shrinking a little, I touched the wall between us. "I heard you last night. I'm sorry it happened. I'm sorry I couldn't help."

  Her sobs began again, more quietly. "Can you escape?"

  "I'm locked in. There are no windows. The door only opens when he comes, but I'll never be able to damage him enough to get by. He's a tank."

  "What's your name?" she asked.

  I hesitated before responding. "Saskia. On this ship I am Saskia."

  "On this ship?" she asked, confused.

  "Saskia is strong. She's tough and she can handle what lies ahead. What's your name?"

  There was a long pause.

  "Keeristorm." She whispered the word for whirlwind with more strength in her voice and I smiled.

  "That's a good name."

  I backed away from the wall at the sound of a man's voice. I looked behind me, but there was nobody there, and when I heard Keeristorm respond in a hateful tone, I took another step back.

  Working as an exotic dancer had taught me never to provoke an angry man. An angry man is best appeased if you want to keep yourself safe when you are vulnerable.

  I shook my head, whispering for her to stop it, wondering what scathing words she was even using. She spoke Russian. Ukrainian? I wasn't sure, but I knew it was bad.

  I felt the slap as much as heard it. It took my breath away.

  Keeristorm wasn't silenced. She yelled at him again - as loud as he yelled at her.

  "No," I whispered, climbing back onto the toilet to reach the vent. I slammed my hand against the wall as I heard her scream.

  "Don't you touch her!" I yelled. I didn't stop yelling until the thumping on the other side of the wall stopped.

  "Keeristorm?" I whispered when I heard moaning.

  A loud thumping started behind me and I rushed back out to the cabin. The man was thumping outside my door now, his shouting muffled by its sturdiness.

  Silently thanking Pachenko for double-locking the thing, I returned to the bathroom when the pounding stopped.

  "Keeristorm!" I hissed through the grate. "You mustn't anger him like that. He'll only do worse to you."

  "He can't do worse," she muttered between moans. "I'd beg for that injection if I thought he was kind enough to ease my suffering."

  The yelling started again behind her and I thumped and yelled as much as he did until strong arms wrapped around me and ripped me from my perch.

  The screaming died when the bathroom door was closed behind us, but I was still fighting for her. I yelled at Pachenko and fought to free myself from his firm hold.

  "Stop!" he commanded in a voice that I instantly obeyed.

  I became limp in his arms, but he kept hold of me until he must have deemed me calm enough to release. Setting me on his bed, he ran a hand through his hair before pointing one of his large fingers at me. It shook with anger until he changed direction and pointed at the bed instead.

  "You stay."

  Eyes round with fear, I nodded.

  He left again after what I interpreted as cursing at me in Russian.

  Pachenko stayed gone all day. Or what I presumed was all day. I had no way of knowing.

  I spent the whole day staring at the closed bathroom door, wondering if I could disobey Pachenko. Eventually I needed to pee so bad that I had to.

  I was as quick as I could be, in case he came back and caught me, but as I dried my hands, I heard Keeristorm softly weeping.

  Climbing up onto the toilet, I pressed my hand against the wall.

  "Keeristorm? Is he gone?" I whispered.

  "Yes," came her weak reply.

  "Are you hurt badly?"

  "Not bad enough," she replied. There was a dragging sound and then a soft thump and I imagined she now leaned against the wall. "Did you get in trouble for yelling?"

  She asked this; having suffered as she had.

  My guilt at being left unharmed was overwhelming.

  "I'm alright. I'm so sorry," I squeaked out before my tears fell. "What can I do?"

  "Keep me company?" she asked, crying more loudly.

  I looked over my shoulder to the empty cabin behind me and nodded. "I will. Where are you from?"

  "Narva."

  "By the border? No wonder you speak Russian so well. I don't have a clue what they're saying."

  "You'll be glad," she said quietly.

  Ignoring the chill that ran down my spine, I pressed my forehead to the wall. "What do you do for a living in Narva?"

  "I'm only in upper secondary."

  "Oh." Fighting the urge to throw up, I took several deep breaths.

  "Are you in high school too?" she asked, sniffing.

  "No. Do you have family that will be looking for you?"

  Her sobs grew louder and I cursed myself for upsetting her further.

  "Mama told me not to go out that night," she mumbled before she was lost to her misery.

  "Sh-sh, you could not know. This is not your fault. Be strong and you'll see your mother again. She will not blame you."

  Her sobs became even louder and more out of control. There was nothing I could do or say through a wall that would comfort her.

  Hanging my head, I closed my eyes as I listened to her weep.

  Before I even realized I was doing it, I was singing to her. An old lullaby that my mother had once sung to me. It was a sad, story-like song, but it held a power to it that was undeniable.

 
; Standing on the toilet lid, my fingers hooked through the grate of the vent, I sang to comfort a friend.

  I didn't hear the door unlock. I didn't notice Pachenko in the room. I just sang, pouring my heart through that vent in the hopes that Keeristorm would feel it; that it would give her strength.

  As the song came to an end and my voice faded to nothing, her crying was much quieter. "Stay strong mu kallis," I whispered before climbing down.

  When I saw him, I froze.

  Neither of us moved.

  The only sounds were the gentle sobs from the room next door and Pachenko eyed the vent briefly before returning his gaze to me. Without saying a word, he pointed out of the bathroom to the bed.

  As much as I wanted to edge along the wall and squeeze past him, I didn't. I raised my chin, walked directly to him at the bathroom door and waited for him to let me pass.

  He didn't move.

  I looked up at him.

  "Pachenko does not move for Saskia," he said with a frown.

  Folding his arms over his chest, he studied my face a moment. "Then again, Saskia does not sing." Stepping aside, he let me by without issue.

  Once I was seated on the bed again, he shut the bathroom door and sat in the chair.

  "Which one does not obey?" he mused before taking a slow drink from his flask.

  I gulped as he did, preparing myself for some form of punishment, but not letting myself imagine what that might entail. His eyes never left me.

  "Lie down Saskia."

  Moving backwards just a little, I lay on the bed and stared up at the plain ceiling. Still a ways from the head of the bed, I found I couldn't pull myself any higher. My body had almost seized up in fear, but I figured he wouldn't think that I'd need to rest upon the pillows like a human anyway.

  Standing, he moved to where my feet hung off the end of his bed. I could feel his eyes on me, but I looked only at the ceiling, wishing there was something to look at that would keep my mind off what was coming.

  "Close your eyes Saskia."

  Bracing myself for the worst, I closed my eyes.

  Pachenko moved about the cabin a moment, leaving me in suspense yet again. I didn't dare open my eyes, lest it bring a sooner end to my clearly preferable, untouched version of captivity so far.

  "Sleep soon Saskia, the obedient one," he said, just moments before the locks sounded and I found myself alone once more.

  Eventually I did sleep, only to wake and find him sleeping in his chair. I hadn't even heard the locks turn, or the screeching door that should have signaled his return.

  As soon as I made the slightest noise, he snapped awake ready to thump me, but soon lowered his fist again.

  I apologized for waking him and asked if I could go to the bathroom. He nodded and when I returned to the cabin, he was gone.

  This time he had left more food and I did not see him at all until I awoke again the next night. It was the same again the next day. And the next.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I don't know how many days passed with Pachenko avoiding me, and I didn't hear from Keeristorm again, which concerned me much more.

  Building up my courage, I sat on the bed and watched the cabin door while I waited for him.

  I was very almost asleep when I heard the locks softly opening. Sitting up straighter, I met his eyes as he poked his head around the door.

  He frowned.

  "Go to sleep Saskia."

  Shutting the door without coming in, he locked it twice and I sank to the mattress, where I lay for more countless hours wondering about this strange punishment. Was it a ploy to destabilize me?

  Isolation was almost a reward under the circumstances, though I admit, without any frame of reference for time, or capability of predicting my future, I was not feeling especially stabilized.

  Luckily, Saskia did not mind protecting me from wayward thoughts.

  My eyes were just starting to get heavy again when I heard the locks quietly shifting. Not wanting to anger him, I pretended to sleep, but even with my eyes shut, I could feel him watching me.

  Sighing, he sank into his chair. "You are still awake."

  Opening my eyes just a little, I found him waiting for a response.

  "Yes," I admitted, sitting up.

  "It is late. You should sleep."

  "I do not know what time it is," I told him. "I do not know if it is night or day. You fixed the door to make it quiet so I will not know when you come and go. It could be time for breakfast and I would not know if it was time to eat or sleep." Taking in his dark eyes and unshaven face, I yanked the blankets up to my shoulders and flopped back down. "You look tired. Maybe you should sleep."

  Trying to keep my emotions from bubbling forth any further, I rolled over to face the wall. "Sorry. I am scared for my friend. I think she is dead and this makes me say things."

  "Not scared for yourself?" he asked.

  Petrified. But I definitely felt more brave when I didn't have to look directly at him.

  "Should I be? I do not know what to think. It makes my head hurt trying to understand what you want from me."

  "I think maybe your head hurts anyway," he countered with a chuckle.

  He was laughing at me now. I pulled the blanket up over my ears.

  "It doesn't."

  His chair creaked softly and I heard him shrug out of his jacket and set it over the chair. Walking past me, he entered the bathroom and ran the water at the sink.

  He soon appeared in the doorway, wiping the drips from his face with a towel.

  "She's been moved."

  I sat up and stared at him. "Not dead?"

  "Not dead. Go to sleep."

  Returning to the bathroom, he shut the door.

  Rolling over, I stared at his empty chair until it was filled again. Freshly shaved and smelling much nicer, he eased back against the chair. Seeing my eyes open, he sighed again.

  "What?"

  "Thank you."

  With his dark brows sinking lower, he tried to get comfortable against the wall. "Don't thank me."

  Surprised by his admonishing tone, I shrank further under the covers, but peering out at him a while, I felt no anger radiating from him. Pushing the blanket lower, I put my arm over the top and met his eyes.

  One of his eyebrows twitched and he avoided my eyes as he sought to position himself more comfortably. Without success.

  "Why do you not sleep in the bed?" I asked. "It is yours and it must be more comfortable than that chair."

  "I'm fine." Shifting the front legs off the floor, he balanced the chair and himself against the wall and closed his eyes.

  "You will get a sore neck."

  Giving me a hard look, he shifted in the chair again with a huff. "Go to sleep Saskia."

  Sighing, I rolled over and faced the wall again.

  "Will you be gone again when I wake up?"

  "Probably."

  Seeking some sort of time-frame for my captivity, I snuggled down and tried my luck.

  "Will you be gone all day?"

  "Probably."

  "You must be very busy."

  "Hmm."

  "Am I still too ugly?"

  His chair went crashing back to the floor.

  "What did you say?"

  "My face," I replied, turning as I sat up in a hurry and pointed to the injured side in case he meant to lunge at me.

  I was safe from that though. He was just standing there. Frowning in eternal confusion, I boldly met his eyes.

  "Does it still look terrible?"

  Staring at me uncomprehendingly he sat back down.

  "You haven't looked in the mirror?"

  Fidgeting with the blanket, I shrugged. I couldn't tell him that Saskia could not see the wrong reflection. If she saw me when she looked in the mirror, I would see me too.

  "I looked the first day. I do not want to look now."

  His eyes softened around the edges. "The bruising is nearly gone. It's safe to look. You are still beautiful." Frowning, he
leaned back in his chair and ran his big hands over his face before launching out of his chair towards the bathroom.

  Pausing at the door, his posture hardened and he growled.

  "Go to sleep Saskia."

  "Yes Pachenko," I replied in a whisper.

  The end of the discussion was punctuated by the bathroom door shutting firmly behind him.

  I COULDN'T HELP BUT feel that Pachenko's efforts to avoid me had intensified. On one hand I was relieved that he was never there, but it was little comfort really. Locked in a confined space with no fresh air or daylight was eating at my resolve. I had heard of cabin fever, and while I had previously thought of it as referring to an isolated cabin in the woods, it was equally relevant to being stuck in a ship's cabin.

  Entertaining myself by cleaning the cabin, changing bed linen, dividing up the food he'd leave me into three square meals, I was beyond bored. I never let myself feel bad about my boredom. My time could definitely have been occupied by less pleasant tasks, but it is difficult to remain positive when your new hobby is washing yourself and your prison uniform.

  Too scared to ask for anything more, I continued to wear the same thing day in and day out. His undershirt and my underpants worked together to keep me largely indecent, but they were better than nothing. Often as I scrubbed them in the bathroom sink, I felt some sort of kinship to washerwomen of old and wished I had their wisdom of how best to wring clothes out to make them dry faster.

  While I waited, I wore my only other option - a dress fashioned from a towel. I had designed togas, and sarong twists, and off-the-shoulder numbers, but mostly I didn't bother anymore. Nobody but me was there to appreciate my talents and I was not so easily impressed myself.

  Nor was Pachenko. Not that I'd sought to impress him with my sexy toweling evening gown design. I didn't want to encourage special attention from him, though truth be told, I wasn't sure I could get even a little attention, given his constant avoidance of me. I was seriously starting to wonder if I had been lucky enough to be given to the only gay man aboard the Moskva-Liis.

  Arriving unexpectedly, he surprised me in the middle of my tidying processes and my heart nearly flipped out of my chest. He was all tense and twitchy.

  More so than usual.

  He looked at me and stopped short, as if he'd forgotten I was even his prisoner. I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he seemed highly irritated by my presence.