by Jocelyn Han
For a moment, she wanted to beg Chester not to go. Why did Bruce want her alone? Was he going to torture her or hurt her? He’d said she was more useful alive than dead, but alive didn’t mean uninjured. When he forcefully pushed her down onto the couch, she could feel her legs tremble.
“Well then, Miss Ivanova,” he said, lowering himself onto the coffee table so he sat facing her. “Let’s cut through the chase, shall we?”
Lana slowly nodded. “Okay,” she faltered, not quite knowing where this whole conversation would be going.
Bruce kept his gray eyes locked on hers as he leaned his elbows on his knees, making a steeple out of his fingers under his chin. “How much influence and power do you hold within Ivanov Mining Industries?”
Lana tensed up, casting around for a safe answer, but she had no idea what he was expecting. “None,” she finally admitted honestly. “I don’t work for my dad. I’m a trade liaison on Desida One.”
Bruce quirked an eyebrow. “Or so you say.”
“Well, it’s true.”
“As true as your name?” he mumbled in his dark and rough voice. “Lana Petrova?”
She blushed. “I used a fake name when I applied to North Mars Uni.”
“Why?”
“Because my dad wouldn’t let me go otherwise.”
“Why not?”
Lana wiped her clammy palms on the skinny jeans that John had dressed her up in. “He was afraid I’d be the target of rebel attacks,” she whispered. “Because they killed my mom.”
“Why did you apply for a job at the trade department on Desida One?”
“Because I studied Business Economics and it seemed like something I might enjoy.”
“How so?”
“I like the mixed culture of the space station, I’m good with people and I can speak several languages, Sir,” she replied a bit too cleverly. This whole cross examination was starting to tick her off.
When an icy silence followed her pedantic remark, Lana realized she shouldn’t have mocked his questions. Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to be smart, little girl?” he said, his voice suddenly so low and threatening that it made her quiver.
Oh, shit. “No,” she yelped, swallowing hard.
“You’re not under the impression that I’m conducting a job interview, are you?”
“No.” Silently, she pleaded for him to let her insolence slip this one time. He could kill her with one hand – she should have kept her big mouth shut.
“Good.” Bruce stared at her menacingly. “I didn’t drag you all the way here to listen to your wisecracks.”
“Why did you bring me here?” Lana asked timidly.
He was still fixing her with a burning stare, his face impassive. “I’m the one asking questions, Lana, not you. Besides, you probably know why.”
Lana blinked. “Because you’re my father’s sworn enemy?”
“That’s not really a reason, now, is it?”
She bit her lip. “You want him to pay a ransom?”
Bruce shook his head. “Not just that. I want him to do exactly as I say. And in order for that to work out, I have to keep you alive – and imprisoned, of course.”
“For... for how long?” Her voice was strangled.
The frighteningly tall, broad pirate opposite her smiled viciously. “For a long time to come, Lana. Unless you want to change that story about not having any influence in your daddy’s mining company. I just need one of the higher-ups to pull a few strings.”
“But why?” she blurted out. “I’m not saying I have any influence – I don’t, I swear. But if it’s money you want...”
Bruce opened his mouth, and for just a single second, he looked almost lost. “No, that’s not what I want,” he said. “Money is just a means to an end.”
“Then why do you always attack transport ships with precious cargo from Prometheus?” Lana asked softly, cowering a bit when Bruce’s scorching gaze landed on her once more. It was like a fire was burning behind his slate-colored eyes, sparked by a simmering anger that seemed to be part of his personality.
“You must be a really good actress,” he quietly replied. “Either that, or you honestly don’t know what kind of business your father is in.”
Lana blinked in confusion. “I don’t get it. We only mine for gemstones to sell them to the richest Elitists.”
“We?” His voice rose and his hand suddenly gripped her wrist violently. Bruce leaned forward, his face only inches away from hers. “Have you ever held a pick axe in your life? Have you even been inside one of those mines, you doe-eyed, velvety-skinned Elite princess?”
“N-no,” Lana whispered, her face growing hot. She couldn’t help but breathe in his nearness. To her horror, she realized it wasn’t just fear that made her heart beat faster. It was his warm hand on her delicate skin and his eyes looking at her from up close. “I’m sorry, Mr. Randall, just – I don’t know why I said ‘we’. My dad always speaks about the company like that,” she babbled.
Bruce’s mouth twitched bitterly. “Oh, you can call me Bruce. I haven’t been ‘Mister Randall’ for a long time.”
She gaped at him. “You mean you were Elite once?”
He exhaled slowly. “You ask too many questions,” he cut her off, getting up and dragging her with him, still holding her wrist in a death grip. “Let’s go.”
Lana didn’t dare ask him where to. She just followed him obediently as he walked over to the sliding doors on the other side of the room. It was only when he opened them and they stepped onto the patio that she paid any attention to the world outside.
The sky was blue. A gentle wind blew across the lawn surrounding the big house that belonged to Bruce. In the distance, she could see a patch of tall, green trees swaying in the breeze, and beyond that, a high fence. She was on Earth, and it was summertime.
“We’re on Earth,” she breathed, not being able to stop a little smile from erupting on her face. Here, the air wasn’t fake and filtered. This place was alive with buzzing energy. It reminded her of the happy times she’d spent on Earth with Tori.
“You like it here?” Bruce spoke, sounding a little bit incredulous.
Lana looked up at him and nodded timidly. “A lot. Well – I’d probably like it better if I weren’t a prisoner.”
An almost imperceptible smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Probably.”
“Am I allowed to walk around in the garden by myself?” she asked hopefully. “Is that why you’re showing me around?”
Bruce laughed briefly. “The main reason I’m showing you the grounds is because I want you to pay special attention to that electric fence down there. It keeps people out, and of course, it keeps you in.” He dipped his head and continued more softly: “Don’t even think about running. If that fence somehow doesn’t electrocute you, I will track you down and make you wish you’d died.”
“I won’t,” she stammered, shrinking away from him in terror.
“I’ve waited for this opportunity for years, you know,” he mused. “I found out where you were, despite your alias. It was too hard to abduct you from that fortified bubble they call New Berlin, but you shouldn’t have taken the DSD transport by checking in with your fake passport. John cracked that secure link to your dad’s office a long time ago. He probably found out where you were before your father did. He’s pretty good with computers.”
“You – you followed me all this time?”
“I would have chased you to the sun and back to get my hands on you,” Bruce said. “You’re here to stay, and there’s no escape.”
Lana wanted to know more – mostly, she wanted to know why this man hated her father so much. Bruce didn’t give her the chance to ask him any more questions, though. He grabbed her by the shoulder and marched her back inside. They crossed the sitting room and climbed the stairs. The second floor hallway had numerous doors on either side of the stairs. Bruce steered her left and opened a door leading to a large bedroom. “This is your room,”
he said. “If you behave, I won’t shackle you to the bed at night.”
Her cheeks flushed red. “I’ll be good,” she quickly promised, turning her head to scan the room and hide her terrible, unbidden blush from Bruce at the same time. His words somehow sounded way too kinky. “Oh – that’s my suitcase.” She spotted the old travel bag she’d brought on her trip.
“Containing your clothes,” he added. “You won’t get anything else to wear, so take good care of them. Now follow me.”
A few doors down was a room crammed full of computers, scanners and monitors. John and Chester were both there, frantically hammering away at keyboards on the big table in the middle.
“Are you in yet?” Bruce asked cryptically.
“Almost,” John replied, looking up at them. “Hello, angel.” He shot Lana a lascivious smile, clearly undressing her with his eyes.
Chester snapped his fingers in front of John’s face. “Focus, mate,” he muttered.
“Sit here,” Bruce ordered Lana, pushing her down on a chair next to a big iris scanner. “We need those beautiful, hazel eyes of yours.”
“What for?” she asked in confusion.
He cocked an eyebrow. “To get into Ivanov Mining’s computer system, of course.”
4.
“We’re in, Bruce,” John exclaimed. “Hooking up the scanner to their system.”
“But I...” Lana’s voice faltered. “I can’t get you in. I don’t work for them.”
“We’d like to see that for ourselves,” Bruce said icily. “And if I find out you’ve been lying...” His hand almost crushed the bones in her shoulder, making her cry out in pain.
The iris scanner fired up, automatically lowering itself to her eye-level. Lana held her breath and stared into it, trying not to blink. The device hummed as it scanned her iris from left to right and from top to bottom.
“Nothing,” Chester grumbled. “The system doesn’t recognize her eyes.”
“Is she wearing contacts?” John suggested.
Lana started when Bruce sat down next to her and forcefully turned her head, carefully looking at her eyes. “No. Let’s try her fingerprints.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it down on a different scanner on the desk in front of her.
Judging from John’s reaction to whatever was visible on his screen, this didn’t work either. “She was telling the truth,” he grudgingly admitted. “There’s nothing.”
Bruce let out a frustrated sigh. “Okay. Change of plans.” He looked sideways at Lana. “Let’s go. Back to your room.”
By that point, she was fed up with being ordered and dragged around without any explanation, but Lana didn’t think she should risk speaking up again. When Bruce brought her to her room and told her to go inside, she tiredly flopped down on the bed. This didn’t look good. He’d told her she would be his prisoner for a long time to come if she turned out not to have any power in her dad’s company. And she didn’t – he knew that now.
When the door opened again, Bruce stepped inside carrying a small pad. “Look this way,” he said, stopping by the side of the bed. Looking down on her, he took a few pictures of her sitting on the mattress staring up at him.
“What are those for?” she inquired when he put the pad away.
“To send to your father,” he replied. “To prove that you’re still alive.”
“Don’t you need me to hold up today’s newspaper or something?”
For a moment, he stared at her incredulously. “I think you’ve watched too many old movies,” he concluded, a slight grin tugging at his lips. “These photos will have chrono-stamps on them. I don’t need the paper to prove that these were taken today.”
“My dad will want to talk to me,” Lana said timidly. “Can’t you arrange a video call? Please, Mr. Randall.”
“I told you,” he said, shaking his head. “People call me Bruce. And so should you.”
“I’m – sorry. I just wanted to be respectful.” She exhaled shakily.
“Oh.” Bruce narrowed his eyes at her, still sporting that mocking little smile on his face. “So you respect me?”
“Uhm...” Lana felt like she was walking right into a trap. How could she, daughter of a respectable Russian Elitist, possibly respect a space pirate? Then again, if she said no, perhaps he’d get angry. “I really don’t know enough about you to answer that question,” she finally replied softly.
“Hmm.” He observed her with a mix of amusement and curiosity, still standing over her. “Very diplomatic. An Elite girl in heart and soul.”
“You’re Elite too,” Lana hazarded, not quite making it sound like a question.
Bruce laughed bitterly. “I was. They kicked me out of their club.”
“Why?”
“Because I wouldn’t play by their rules.”
Svetlana could only imagine what that meant. Had he always had a penchant for thievery and violence? Was that why he hadn’t fit in with the Elite? She knew next to nothing about this man, besides the fact that he always seemed to target the Ivanov business whenever he was out plundering ships in Jupiterian or Saturnian airspace. “What happened?” she inquired.
A few seconds of silence passed before Bruce’s eyes hardened. “Nothing, little girl,” he replied curtly. “Nothing you should rack your brains over. All is well with the world, your daddy’s a perfect gentleman, and I’m a dangerous rogue agent out for blood. End of story.”
Lana frowned, shaking her head in confusion. “You’re not telling the truth,” she observed.
He smiled coldly. “Oh, I’m not?” Unexpectedly, he bent down and balled a fist around her long, platinum-blonde hair, forcibly pulling her head back so she had to look up at him. “You don’t believe I’m dangerous?” he said ominously.
Oh, fuck. “I – I do,” Lana stuttered, resisting the urge to close her eyes in fear. She scooted back on the bed to get away from Bruce, but he refused to release his grip on her hair. Lana leaned back on her elbows and gave up pulling away. She just lay there, keeping still.
Her stomach clenched when Bruce slowly moved forward, one of his legs gently nudging her knees apart at the edge of the mattress. Speechlessly, she glanced up at him, her heart beating in her throat as she became agonizingly aware of the dark, brooding tension between them. He had to feel it too.
Bruce didn’t speak as he stood bent over her, still clutching a strand of her hair in his strong fist, his thumb brushing her earlobe very gently, almost absently. A quiet understanding dawned in his gray eyes as he observed the heat creeping up her face. Lana didn’t know how many beats of silence had passed between them when his dark, husky voice finally broke the silence. “Should I let go?” he mumbled.
“Yes,” she whispered. “You should.”
He smiled faintly. “Do you want me to, though?”
Lana licked her lips nervously. “Yes,” she repeated, her voice catching in her throat.
Bruce waited for a few seconds, then untangled his fingers from her hair and stood up straight. “Probably a wise choice,” he said calmly. “I’m not a very nice guy.”
Lana exhaled audibly when he swiveled around and quickly left the room. Her face burned with shame. Shit, he knew – Bruce knew she was attracted to him. Through the terror and the paralyzing fear she felt for him, this was something else entirely that she couldn’t deny, and she’d been stupid enough to show him. She was such an idiot. This had to be fixed ASAP. From now on, she wouldn’t speak in his presence, keep her eyes trained on the floor whenever he was around, and do as she was told. The last thing she needed were two villains lusting after her – it was pretty obvious what John wanted from her, and she had no idea how to handle that as it was. Should she tell someone? That Chester guy, maybe. He seemed sympathetic enough. Then again, why should he care what happened to her? As long as she was alive, these pirates were satisfied.
Her vision turned blurry as tears flooded her eyes. Lana rubbed her face impatiently, getting up to check her bedroom door. At least it could be lo
cked from the inside, so that was something. It was a very sophisticated lock, in fact – it worked with a 5-digit code. John would have to be a very good hacker indeed if he wanted to break down her door with this lock engaged. Her finger hovering over the keypad, she pondered what would be a suitable code, finally settling on her mom’s birthday: 3-11-50. Mrs. Ivanova would have been forty-nine this year if she’d still been alive.
With the door firmly locked behind her, Lana felt slightly more at ease. Maybe it was time to start unpacking – she might as well, since she wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. She strutted over to her old suitcase, a familiar object looking so out of place in this strange environment.
The house belonged to Bruce, and so did the grounds surrounding it. Where could it possibly be? Bruce was originally British, but that didn’t mean his mansion was on the British Isles as well. If anything, it made more sense for him to have property in a country where no one expected him to want to live. A war-torn region in Oceania, perhaps, or somewhere in the south of Arabic Africa. She should try and sneak out tonight to watch the stars if there were any – it might give her some clue about her location. Tori had taught her the difference between the constellations of the northern and southern hemisphere once, so it was time to put that girl-scout knowledge into practice.
Lana frowned when she flipped open the lid of her suitcase and it landed on the floor with an unexpectedly loud thud. It sounded like something heavy was stuffed inside the lid. Her fingers zipped open the compartment, expecting to find an old box of candy or a book. But what came out instead was an old-school smart phone.
“Bozhe moi,” she gasped, staring at the life-saving device in her hand. They’d missed this – her abductors hadn’t x-rayed her suitcase. They didn’t know she had a phone. Of course, it was ancient and the battery had completely run out, but that could easily be fixed by putting it somewhere in the sun screen-down. The solar cells on the back would have it recharged within the hour.
Lana thanked her lucky stars that she was on Earth. If her prison had been on a moon circling the outer planets, the solar cells would have been pretty much useless. But she could make this work. She had to make this work.