by Sadie Jacks
I smiled up at him. “Yes, we are. And don’t you forget it.”
He held his hands up in surrender. “I never do.” Something in his eyes darkened for a moment. But it passed so quickly that I probably imagined it.
“So…” I tapped my fingers against my thigh. This was a little awkward. I was technically a prisoner, but had fought my way to earning at least a couple of luxuries. I wasn’t really sure what the protocol was in this situation.
Arkady smiled again. Drawing my attention to his lips. A little thin, the lower one was slightly bigger than its upper mate. But it still looked delectable.
I mentally jerked. Was I seriously thinking about the kissability of my captor’s lips? Could Stockholm Syndrome sink in this quickly?
His lips quirked. “For someone who has remarkable control of her face, I have to know what caused you to look like someone tried to slip his dick in your ass.”
A laugh escaped my control. I shook my head. “My head is still private, thank Chase’s goddess.”
He lowered down, got in my face. “Who is this Chase?” He glared at me.
A giddy feeling spread through me. “My best friend.”
One of his brows arrowed up. “Male or female?”
He was good at asking precise questions, damn him. Interrogations did have a way of streamlining the questioning process.
“Female.”
He relaxed. “But the Italian Princess must have many men panting after her. Wanting what sits between those long legs of yours. To feast on your delicious cunt and make you scream his name.”
I blinked rapidly. Uh, what now?
He smiled as he straightened. His dick now at eye level. Sliding his hand over his cock, he fisted the length I could see pushing against his jeans.
My eyes widened. Fucking shit balls. That was huge.
A low curling chuckle slid through the room.
It was cut off as two men brought in a huge bucket full of supplies.
Arkady stepped back, all the fire gone from his face as if he’d cut it from his expression with a sharp knife. “Good.” He looked down at me. “Now fix yourself up. We are giving you tools to make yourself presentable. Use them well.”
I nodded, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. He’d gone from one extreme to the other with little more than a singular breath. And people accused women of being moody.
He walked out behind his men, wrenched the wheel of the door knob closed. “I will be back in three hours for you to begin cleaning the bathroom. That will also be your bathroom break. Make sure you are ready for it.”
Before I could say anything, silence fell on the other side of the door. Pulling my abused body over to the giant bucket, I put my back into sliding it over the floor. I blinked as I looked into the depths.
More than a first aid kit, I had a veritable nurse’s station at my fingertips. Triple antibiotic cream, bandages of every size imaginable, enough gauze to create Santa’s Village. Needles and thread. Blunted scissors and tape. Alcohol, peroxide, sanitizer, and some other liquids that I didn’t really understand considering most of the labels were in Russian.
I got busy lining everything up. From my lessons with Rafe, I knew that I should have everything laid out first. That way, once I got into the serious business of cleaning and healing, I wouldn’t have to go scavenging around trying to find what I needed.
Once everything was where I could easily see it and access it, I got started. Most of the mess was blood. And someone else’s at that. So other than taking some swipes at my skin with alcohol soaked gauze, I focused on the areas that were in actual pain. Keeping my hands clean was more important than scrubbing the rest of my body.
From the feel of it and the lack of air moving through it, I knew my nose was screwed up. It might not be broken, but something was definitely out of whack with it. Wishing they’d packed me a mirror, I felt around on my face with gentle fingers.
The middle of my nose was tender and brought immediate tears to my eyes when I even grazed it. I blinked through the gathering liquid and took a couple of quick breaths. With a prayer that I was doing this right, I smashed my thumbs against the bumpy part right in the middle.
With a shriek that hurt my own ears and a quick sickly roll of my tummy, I could finally breathe through my nose. Searching through my pack of stuff, I saw a disposable ice pack. Breaking the interior thingamabob that made it cold, I shook it. Once it was freezing my fingers off, I placed it against my face.
My eyes fluttered shut on a sigh as the cold washed over my inflamed tissues. That was heaven. I leaned forward just in case my nose wanted to start bleeding again. Having that shit slide down my throat was disgusting and not something else I wanted to deal with right now.
After it felt like I was getting ice crystals on my eyelashes, I pulled the ice pack away. Put it against my belly. Unsure what to do for a belly hit, I left it there while I waited for the feeling to come back into my face.
I looked through the stuff on my bed. They’d given me some little white pills, but since I didn’t know what they were, I’d have to wait to take some. Hoping they were aspirin or anti-inflammatories did not make them safe.
And I was getting damn tired of having to use the word ‘hope’ in any form. Nothing was for sure in this life, even on days I wasn’t kidnapped. But the fact that everything in my life currently was even more unsettled... Hoping was really all that was keeping me going. And that pissed me off.
Brushing it all aside, I needed to clean the wound on my leg. No telling what kind of disgusting stuff was in the wound. I’d have to make sure to ask Arkady for some antibiotics at some point.
Snorted at the idea of my jailor giving me anything but a blackeye and the need for a pregnancy test, I shimmied out of my pants. Winced when they caught on the bullet wound. Getting shot…one out of ten, would not recommend.
Planting my ass on the edge of the springy bed, I bent and twisted so I could see the wound. Clenching my jaw, I saw that it was almost the width and depth of my pinkie finger. That fucker, Lev—was it?, was going to get his ass beat.
How the hell was I supposed to clean and cover that? Where the hell was Rafe when I needed him? Where was Foster? Where was my family? Did they even know I was gone? Had Foster told them, or was he running around like he was fucking Super Spy Man and able to do everything better alone?
Everything I’d been holding back came flooding out. I pulled my knees up to my chest, ducked my chin and rested my forehead on my knees. Here I was, in the middle of BFE for all I knew, having a girly melt down.
But I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t pack it away. Couldn’t hold it back.
I’d been fucking kidnapped! Me. Talia Maria Amatucci. Beloved daughter of the Amatucci crime family, and it was me who’d been taken. Not one of my brothers. Me. The idiot who has a dirty house filled with moles and spies. The one not trusted with anything but washing the family money and giving it away.
I’d gone to that meet to prove that I was capable of so much more than Momma had given me. It would have been me that helped save Amara. Me that pointed Mas in the right direction. Given my broken brother something to help heal his shattered heart.
But no. Here I was, bloodied and bruised. Feeling sorry for myself.
Get your head out of your ass, you stupid bitch. Would the boys be crying in their stitches that they got kidnapped? No. They would be scheming and planning and fixing the damn situation. They would save themselves, not wait for someone to do it for them. Shut your trap, pull out your tampon, and get on with it. Crying is for later. You know, when you’re not kidnapped. Idiot.
My inner bitch was right. Sitting here whining and crying wasn’t going to help me out of this situation. It was doing nothing but making it worse. And no, the boys probably wouldn’t be crying. They’d be smashing faces, breaking bones, and slitting throats.
I’d only managed one of those so far.
A dark smile pulled at my mouth as I thought of those men, S
car Dude and Helper Man. They were gone. And by some magical twist of fate, I wasn’t dead for killing them.
Wiping my eyes, I blinked away the tears. I would stitch myself up. Be ready for that bathroom break.
Hell, my life sucked so much right now, I was looking forward to cleaning a bathroom? I snorted. How the seemingly mighty have fallen.
Using the bottle of liquid that tasted of salty water, I flushed the bullet furrow. Patted it dry with some clean gauze. Wishing the alcohol they’d given me wasn’t isopropyl, I got to the business of threading a needle.
Once I had a good length loaded on the curved sticker, I took a couple of deep, rapid breaths. Setting the needle against my flesh, I pierced the skin of my thigh on a heavy exhale. Wincing through the pain, I tried to close the wound the best I could.
Right now, I really wish I’d given needlework a better go as a kid. This fucking hurt like Hades himself was pissing in my wound with lemon juice and vinegar. Shit, shit, shit.
Sweat covered my brow, but I got it closed. Granted, it probably looked like I was harboring a large spider in my thigh, but at least it was done. Finally.
I laid back on the too lumpy bed and just stared at the ceiling while my chest billowed with my racing breaths. My heartbeat was a heavy bass in my ears. My fingers shook with the fading adrenaline.
Suck my balls, brothers. Had they ever had to sew up their own wounds? I didn’t fucking think so. They used Rafe for that. But I’d done it. Like a fucking queen.
Shivering in the chilled air as it slid over my sweat-misted body, I sat back up. Held still for the dizziness to abate. Loading everything back into the bucket, I pushed it over to the far wall. Taking a seat on the floor, I hissed as my naked flesh met the cold cement floor. But I pushed that away as well, and I got everything back out of the bucket and organized. Hopefully, I wouldn’t need it again. But at least this way I would know what I had and where it was if I did.
I’d also have a bucket for the bathroom cleaning adventure I was going to embark on. The only bottle that looked like dish soap was a bright green color. When I popped the lid, it smelled of green apples.
At least the bathroom should smell better once I was done in there. Please let them give me gloves and a scrubber. Please let them give me gloves and a scrubber.
I sent my silent prayers up to Chase’s goddess. She was a lady. I was a lady. Maybe she’d hear my words and send me a damn scrubber.
Laying back down on the mattress, I tried to come up with a reason I’d been kidnapped. Who the hell had even known, besides Foster the Asshole, that I had a meet with the Medvedev family anyway?
Foster had taught me a couple of tradecraft things. Like how to spot surveillance. Lose a tail. Keeping to the shadows and blending in.
I’d been so proud of myself. I snorted, more like gotten too full of myself, it seemed. When I’d caught him doing weird things in my loft, I’d cornered him on it. I had to give him credit, he never lied to me. That I’d been able to tell, anyway. Nik had checked and rechecked the information he’d given me.
He’d told me that his work for Ryker was a natural choice given his previous work in clandestine operations. I didn’t know what clandestine missions he went on, but I made damn sure he understood that my family was not a bargaining chip.
I smiled as I remembered that night. I’d held a knife to his balls. Nicked them even. Fresh from a fuck session that rattled my brain, it had cleared quickly when I heard him say, “What they wouldn’t give for some insider gossip.”
He stared at the ceiling, his chest heaving and glistening with sweat. Bright white hair he swore wasn’t dyed plastered against his head. His blue eyes dreamy.
Palming the knife in my hand, I had him literally by the balls as I pushed up into his face. “Tell anyone anything about my family and I’ll make sure you die slowly and painfully. I’ll strip pieces of flesh from you with a rusty knife. Spritz your bleeding body with mercury and napalm.”
He stilled under me, his blue eyes widening quickly before he wiped every trace of expression from his face. “I would never tell anyone anything.” He shook his head. “But that was a very inventive threat.”
I sank the knife deeper into his scrotum. “It wasn’t a threat, pretty boy. It was a promise.”
He studied me for long moments before he nodded slowly. “Understood.”
A tense, heated moment passed.
“Can you remove that blade? I want to fuck you again.”
I rolled my eyes, pushed off of him. “No. You can leave though. Thanks for coming by.”
Confusion and irritation rolled over his handsome face. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Threading the knife through my fingers, I shook my head. “No. I’m not. Get your shit together and leave.” I stood at the door. Unashamed of my nakedness, I cocked a hip out and waited as I tapped my foot.
The message finally sank into his brain. He threw the sheet off. Stomped around like a butthurt varsity football player. “Don’t get uptight with me, Talia. You’re the one who played the game with me. You started this.” He shoved his legs into his pants, buckled the belt as he glared at me. “You like what I did to you.”
I nodded. “Of course I did. I think all the yelling and screaming was evidence of that.”
He smirked.
I ground my teeth together. “Just get the fuck out, Foster. Before I actually castrate you.”
He hurried to put his shirt on. A huge smile stretched his mouth as his face appeared again. “You could certainly try. But then how will I fuck you when you want what only I can give you?”
The knife was sailing through the air before I had a moment to think. He was so infuriating. And the shit that kept coming from his mouth?
He caught the knife as easy as plucking a leaf from a tree branch on a still summer day. Weighed it in his hand as he studied the balance of it over his index finger. “Not bad. Not exactly a good throwing knife.” He sent it shooting through the air. A silent killer.
It smacked into the wall right next to my head. I felt the quivering blade caress the shell of my ear. My body went hot and tight. Fuck.
Foster smiled. “Too bad you kicked me out, huh?” With that, he shoved his feet into his shoes and left like the shadow he claimed to be.
I held my ground until I heard the soft snick of the lock on the front door. Asshole! I gripped the handle of the knife and pulled it from the wall.
A loud knock sounded on the door, pulling me from my memories. I blinked against the bright light. I’d actually fallen asleep?
“Bathroom time,” Arkady announced.
I rolled my eyes as I sat up.
The screeching metal was almost welcome. Arkady stood there, his eyes wide as he looked at me. “Princess, you shouldn’t have.” His voice was smoke and sex.
Hot, dirty, filthy sex.
I looked down. Saw I was just in my panties and shirt with my bra still on.
Heat rushed my cheeks like I was a virgin. Because that wasn’t embarrassing. I was a modern woman. Not some blushing school girl too afraid of her own sexuality to know what she wanted.
Pushing the heat of shame away, I stood up. Grabbed up my pants. Smiled when I thought I heard a low groan come from the big man standing guard at my door.
Something dawned on me. My brow furrowed. “Where are my shoes?”
Arkady burst into laughter.
I whirled around, glared at him. What? What was so damn funny?
After a couple minutes, he finally settled down. “You just now realized you don’t have shoes? Am I understanding that correctly?”
Again, something about his accent shifted. As if his tongue caressed the words in a different way, my ear picked up on the change. But for the life of me, I still couldn’t put a name to what it was about it that was different.
In the end, it didn’t really matter, so I moved on. Nodding, I said, “Yes.” I looked down at his feet. Saw the heavy-duty boots that had more scars and burns than
an ER probably saw on a Friday night. Glaring, I looked back up at his face. “Where are my shoes?”
He smirked, crossed his arms over his chest. “You negotiated for bathroom breaks, blankets, first aid, and no contact. I didn’t hear a single word about shoes.”
I narrowed my eyes. Damn it. I hadn’t realized I didn’t have them on. Honestly, now that I thought about it, I don’t remember having them since I woke up on the dang plane. But I couldn’t say that. Couldn’t let him think I was too stupid to live.
He smiled widely. “Do you want your bathroom break or not?” He shot one eyebrow up high.
I nodded. “Do you have hot water?”
“Yes, the facility has it run.”
I heard what he didn’t say. “Will I have access to it?”
His smile turned into one that spoke of pride. He nodded. “Yes. You will.”
I smiled back. “Thank you.”
He dipped his chin. “I even brought you a set of gloves and a handful of rags.” He tapped his foot against a cardboard box.
Everything inside me sagged with relief. Thank Chase’s goddess. I nodded, tried to keep my expression bland.
The necessities settled, I stepped towards him. Brushed by the heat of his body as he let me pass. I sucked in a deep breath. Call it pheromones or adrenaline and basic instinct, but this man…something about him called to my body.
Maybe I could use that to my advantage? I’d have to think about it.
Right now, I did actually have to pee again. And if I wanted a clean seat to do my business with, I needed to get cleaning.
I picked up the box just outside the door. “Oh, can you grab that bucket, please?” I asked as I turned back.
He rolled his eyes but fetched it for me. “I’m the boss, you know?”
I smiled. Nodded. “I know. And I truly appreciate everything you’ve done for me. First and foremost for not killing me for killing your men.”
Arkady dipped his head. “Don’t forget my generosity.”
I heard the promise of violence. The threat of doom. “I won’t.” Turning back down the hall, I watched where I put my feet. For once, I was very conscious of the knowledge that I didn’t have shoes on. And there was no telling what was down here.