by Anita Gray
With both hands, I grab under James' arms. He's heavy like deadweight so I use my lower body strength to move him.
Charlie appears in front of me and takes James' forearms; tries to throw him over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” I snap, standing up straight. “Will you go away?” My eyes dart over to the doors. Fortunately, Maksim and his friends are out of sight.
“Will you calm down?” Charlie scowls at me, putting James back down on the floor. “I'm just helping you.”
“Helping me?” I squeak in shock, my hands trembling to hit him. “If you didn't provoke Maksim, James wouldn't be lying here unconscious.” I'm struggling to keep my voice down. He really gets under my skin. “Why don't you go play a hand of poker? Leave the hard work to those of us who have no other choice but to do the heavy lifting.”
“Why do you stay with Maksim?” he asks completely off topic, cocking his head.
I scoff. Another stupid question. He seems to be full of them.
“I know your friend here is fitted with a tracking device,” he says, waving a hand at James, “yet, you're not and you stick around... Why is that?”
My jaw drops.He's been asking around about us? Not well enough though, it seems. I'm not fitted with a tracking device because I have my master's absolute trust. James is because Maksim isn't a silly man. He knows that if James had half the chance he'd try to leg it. It would be a foolish mistake however. Maksim has the British government in his pocket because he brings millions to the economy with his trafficked girls, so if James ever did run, he'd be picked up by the police within the day.
“Why do you address Maksim with such insolence?” I say, putting Charlie under the spotlight. “Don't you think you ought to learn some respect?”
He snorts with affront. “Because I'd speak up to someone who's below me, wouldn't I?”
I shake my head in obvious loathing, refusing to argue cat and dog style.“I don't know who you think you are...”
I grip my friend's ankles and haul him across the floor, toward the doors. Charlie takes James' wrists and lifts him off the ground, his arm muscles bulging with tension.
“Charlie,” I growl his name, curling my lips against my teeth.
“Look,” he says, releasing James again, “you can drag your friend out like a dead body, or you can let me help you.” Though he's giving me an option, his tone doesn't really leave any room for argument. “The choice is yours.”He snatches the towel off his shoulder and flings it at me. “Wipe your face. You're bleeding.”
Dropping James' legs, I catch the towel with both hands, wondering why he's doing this. Why is he provoking me? And then why is he trying to help me?
Charlie nods at the towel and I don't know why, but I wipe my sweaty forehead before cleaning up my bloody mouth, wincing when I press it to my busted lip. I'm bleeding more than I thought. The white towel soaks through with claret.
Charlie walks up to me, his stride confident and unhesitant. Reaching out, he lifts my chin with a single finger, forcing us to look at each other. A rush of heat sweeps through me, making my skin flush, and then my stomach tingles with... I don't know.
I do nothing. I just stand there like a brainless statue; swallow past the restriction in my throat.
“Your eye is bleeding quite a lot,” he says softly, glancing between my eyes and my mouth. With his other hand, he covers mine where I'm holding the towel to my lip and forces me to press it to my eye, dabbing there.
It stings, but that isn't what's bothering me.
I back up out of his grip to put some well needed distance between us, unable to think or speak. I just look at him, unnerved.
He observes me from a few feet away, running his tongue across the sharp of his upper teeth. I'm sure he knows how he makes me feel when he touches me. I can see it in his eyes.
He nods a few times, confirming something to himself.
“What?” I say, but he doesn't answer me.
Breaking eye contact, he crouches down, grips James around the waist andtosses him over his shoulder. Straightening, he heads for the exit with steady grace, as if carrying a shopping bag rather than a fully grown man.
For a time, I'm frozen in the middle of the ballroom, watching him leave. What is it with the way he touches me? Why does he make me feel weird?
Tossing the towel on the floor, I jog through the house to go after him. Outside, the floodlights are beaming in full force. I squint, catching up with Charlie.
He seems to know exactly where he's going because he's heading straight for the SUV James arrived in.
“Open the back door,” he says, nodding at the car, so I do. He bends at the knees to put James across the back seats and tells the other two in the car to just let him rest. “If you give him water when he wakes up, make sure he takes it in small sips.”
“Eh, okay,” they say in union, glancing at each other, then back at Charlie.
Now James is safely in his car, I relax somewhat. I turn for the house, heading back to Maksim.
“Are you gonna answer my question?” Charlie says, walking up beside me. “I just had your back in there, so the least you could do is-”
“What question, Charlie?”
“Why'd you stay with Maksim? Why doesn't he insist you wear a tracking device?”
I roll my eyes, refusing to go there.
We jog up the porch steps together.
“Blaire?” He gently touches my arm.
“Are you stupid or just deaf?” I face him, stepping back because we're too close for comfort. “I'm not allowed to talk about Maksim. Do you want to get me fucking whipped?”
“He whips you?” Charlie says this like he's surprised, raising his eyebrows. “We'll have to remedy your situation then, won't we?”
“Fuck you.” I step for him, craning my head back so I can defiantly meet his wicked gaze. “Fuck you and whatever you're up to.”
He looks down on me like I'm small and harmless. “I'm not up to anything.”
I laugh under my breath, jabbing a finger at my temple. “You must think me a fool, Charlie.”
“Not at all. Far from it, actually.”
“Yes,” I huff at him, looking between his eyes as he looks between mine. “I've seen men like you my whole life. I know when one is up to no good.”
“I'm not up to anything. I'm just curious as to why a pretty girl like you who has immense discipline and fighting skills, bows to a motherfucker like Maksim.” His eyes pour over my body, and the lust that burns in his expression... it’s back in full force. “It's crazy. I mean, look at you... how strong you are.” He gestures at me with a sturdy hand. “You could choose your own path, Blaire, and you damn well know it.”
I point at the ground between us. “This is all I know—it's all I've ever known.”
Leaning down, putting us eye to eye, he whispers, “You can learn something new.”
“Oh?” I cross my arms, stepping away from him. “Because it's that easy, is it?”
“If you had me on your side it'd be easy.”
I don't for a second entertain what he's offering. I'll never be ready to abandon Maksim.
“I'm going nowhere. I'm going nowhere until Maksim orders me away. Have you got that?” The veins in my neck tick. “Now, just leave me alone.”
He sidesteps me when I try to rush past him.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask in frustration, uncrossing my arms to squeeze my fists at my sides. “Last night you had Maksim send me home, tonight you're provoking him into making me fight, and then you almost call it off because you didn't want to see me 'half dead',” I air quote 'half dead'. I know it was him who shouted for Maksim to stop the fight. He's the only person I've ever heard address Maksim by only his first name. “And now you're trying to influence me into turning my back on Maksim?”
“I'm not doing that.” The tranquil expression on his face makes my blood boil.
“Then what are you doing, Charlie?” I have to squee
ze out every word through clenched teeth. “Because I can't work you out.”
“Maybe I just think you are a waste as 'his little pet'.” He also uses air quotations, to mock me, I think.
“That's not an explanation for all your actions,” I say with anger. “Why won't you leave me alone?”
“Okay...” shrugging and nodding at once, he gives in to me, “I don't think I need to explain why I made him send you home last night—no young girl wants to watch that perverted shit—and as for the fight tonight, I wouldn't have let it go too far. If I thought you were in trouble, I would've stopped it myself.” He sounds genuine, and given his actions, I think I believe him. I'm not sure.
Maybe I'm just too proud to admit to myself that I believe him.
“I can't be doing this.” I push him out of the way, using both hands to move his large body. “Maksim is waiting for me.” As I walk past him, he grabs my wrist, forcing me to gasp in anger.
“Don't do that, Charlie,” I warn, looking down at his hand wrapped around my wrist. “I don't want to hurt you.”
He yanks me into him with powerful force, causing my head to jerk back.
“I'm not afraid of you, Blaire,” he whispers in my face, his brandy seasoned breath warm on my cheeks.
I glance between his blue eyes, fear and fury surging through me. “You should be.”
We're like this for a moment, staring at each other in a power standoff, and then I realize...
...All of Maksim's men are surrounding us in the SUV's. They can see what's going on.
I'm going to get in trouble if Charlie doesn't back off.
“Blaire, listen to me-”
“Let me go,” I say to cut him off. “Please, Charlie. All of Maksim's men are here and they're probably watching. Just let me go.”
He frees me then without hesitation this time. I stumble back a step and hug my middle, letting out the breath I've been holding.
“You don't have to go back in there,” he says, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. “My car's over there. You can come and work for me if you want. You can utilize yourself in a better way, Blaire—you don't have to live like an emotionless robot.”
There it is. The way the world sees me.
“You know nothing about me,” I say, boldly meeting his gaze. “You know nothing about what I've been through or what I feel.” There's so much more that I want to say to him, but I won't. I won't let him break me down because Maksim will only have to put me back together again. “Leave me alone, Charlie.”
My eyes on the ground, I walk past him, through the welcome hall and into the snooker room where I take my position next to Maksim.
My hands are shaking like crazy. I hide them behind my back, gathering my composure.
“Do you think Charlie will attend?” Umberto says, blathering on about some party Maksim is holding next week. I don't pay attention to the rest of their conversation. It dawns on me that I didn't once attack Charlie for touching me. No one but Maksim has ever laid a finger on me without reaping my wrath.
My head is a vapor of confusion. I don't get this.
Maybe I didn't attack because Maksim said in his office that I'm not allowed to fight Charlie.
I put it down to that. It's the only thing that makes sense.
“My little pet,” Maksim says, and when I look up at him, I see he's proffering my gun.
Taking it, I nod by way of respect.
Charlie returns around ten minutes later, his ink black hair a little ruffled, as if he's been running his fingers through the strands.
“Where were you?” Carl asks, examining Charlie as he takes to his seat. “We've been waiting.”
“I was helping Blaire with James.” He scoops up his cards from the table, focusing his attention. “We can get on with the game now.”
“You helped her with James?” Maksim raises his eyebrows at Charlie, then he peers back at me with the same shocked expression on his iron face. “Ohhh, isn't that nice, my little pet?”
My bones chill from the tone of his voice. He isn't happy.
———
The rest of the night goes by smoothly, thankfully, and Charlie doesn't say another word to me. (Double thankfully).
The men talk business and ask Charlie to attend the next poker game. He says he will if he's in town, which pleases Carl. “But I can't guarantee anything. I've got a lot of work that needs my focus.”
I'm glad to hear that he might be leaving. He's causing too much bother around me. He's fucking with my chi.
By the time the clock strikes four A.M., I'm relieved the game is over. We're all leaving to go home.
At the front doors, while Rumo is bidding us all goodbye, Charlie gives me this weird look, blatantly staring at me in front of everyone.
“We still on for tomorrow then, Charlie?” Carl repeats his question because Charlie isn't paying attention. He's just... well, he's looking at me, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets.
I disregard his scrutiny and link arms with Maksim because he's out of his mind drunk. I help him stagger across the driveway and into my car. When he's slumped in the passenger seat, I jump into the driver's seat, fire up the engine, and reverse out of the driveway.
“Here you go.” He passes me a bundle of cash for fighting. He always pays me for what I do, which is sort of odd, given he doesn't pay James.
“Thank you,cэp Maksim.” Leaning over him, I click open the glove compartment and shove the bundle inside.
We're quiet for a while, the only sound being the car engine rumbling as I steer out of the suburban street; the security detail on our trail.
“My friend Charlie has taken a liking to you,” Maksim says eventually, and randomly. I can feel his golden eyes on my face, scanning my reaction.
“I wouldn't know,” I lie for the second time tonight, my expression impassive. I'm not sure Charlie's reasons are genuine, but he's definitely pursuing me. I'm not an idiot.
“You would tell me if he tries anything with you, wouldn't you, my little pet?”
My stomach twists with disloyalty—it's almost crushing. I should tell Maksim about the things Charlie said to me, that he's curious and that I can choose my own path if I really wanted to, that he'd be on my side, but I just... I just can't. I've never kept anything from Maksim before, but this, what Charlie and I spoke about, it feels... weirdly private. And, I don't want to go over it at all, if I'm truly honest. I don't want to analyze. I just want to forget. I want Charlie to piss off back to wherever he came from so my life can go back to normal.
“After I've broken his nose for touching me,” I say in response to Maksim's question, blank of emotion, “of course.”
This makes him laugh, though in a lazy manner—he's tired.
“You are a good, loyal, little pet.” He snuggles down in his coat and rests his eyes, and I cannot help thinking over what he just said: Charlie has taken a liking to you.
The man is out to cause trouble. I know it. I wish I knew why.
“Do you have anything you want to ask?” Maksim says in a sleepy voice.
There's a million things I want to ask, but only one question makes sense. I brace myself for a blow as I say, “Who is Charlie exactly?”
The blow doesn't come. Maksim doesn't move in his seat.
He's quiet for a while. I train my attention on the road so I don't look too interested.
“Remember last month?” he says in time. “Tatiana and I had you study Mexico and the Los Zetas?”
Tatiana is his boss—and more, the Russian Mafia leader. She never makes an appearance unless it’s absolutely necessary, and that’s only ever when she needs to cause bloody murder.
I nod when Maksim looks at me, then I turn right onto the motorway.
“Charlie... Charlie Decena is the son of the man who first deserted his army rank and created the Los Zetas.” Maksim doesn't sound too comfortable speaking about this. He pauses every so often. “They are considered the most dangerous criminal organi
zation in the world... famous for their torture techniques and power throughout Southern America.”
That explains the American accent with a touch of Latin.
“Charlie in particular is known famously for his wicked torture techniques,” Maksim continues. “He... he likes to break women down with pleasure and pain, always ensuring their humanity remains intact.” Maksim laughs like he's proud of this, his voice a bit croaky. “Women are nothing if not weak when it comes to humanity.”
I cannot relate to this, so I don't ponder over it too much.
“And the men?” I ask, swerving into the fast lane. “How does he torture men?”
Maksim stares at me with grave, golden eyes. “He will chop off their cocks inch by inch, and so slow that time feels like it no longer exists.”
7
After a long, emotionally grueling weekend of watching Maksim's back, I return home and try for the fifteen minutes Charlie wants to shut down London.
James texts to say he's okay, informing me that he has a few broken ribs, bruised kidneys, and a bloody, messed up face, but he'll be right as rain in a few weeks.
- You know I'm sorry, don't you? -
Though I never usually would, I text him back. I just feel so guilty about what I did—it's fucking weird. I never feel guilt for anything. I don't know what's sparking my emotions.
- I know you're sorry. Don't worry about me. I'm fine. And I hope that you are too. Text or call if you need me. -
That makes me smile, a little. Hopefully by the time I see him again, he'll look as good as new and this frustrating guilty feeling will leave me the hell alone.
Putting everything and everyone out of my mind, I focus on the job at hand, working my butt off in my office.
I'm exhausted by day three.
The swelling on my left eye and lip has gone down a bit, so I'm almost back to normal—well, physically I am. Mentally, I'm fucked.
Regardless, I continue punching in codes and filling London's CCTV system with glitches so I can take over it, but by the end of the week, it's confirmed that it is impossible to grasp fifteen minutes. When the system locks me out, that's it, and it's always on eleven minutes. I can do no more, and my time to try is up.