by Nicole Fox
I want to punch the man in his ruddy face and pile him on top of Joel in the entryway along with anyone else who dares stand in the way of Eve and I making it out of here alive.
That isn’t possible, though. So instead, I shrug.
“Yes, he was, but that is hardly reason to kill the man,” I say. “How did he die? No one here has any weapons, so surely that could narrow down the search. Perhaps Mr. Foli angered one of your guards and found himself in over his head.”
Edgar whispers something to the guard next to him and then addresses the room. “Joel Foli was stabbed in the neck with the stem of a wineglass.”
Eve clutches at her chest and turns her face into me. A rumble of shock moves through the room.
“Then I guess that doesn’t narrow it down,” I say, shaking my head. “How horrible.”
Edgar narrows his eyes in my direction. “Not that I am accusing you, sir, but where were you exactly?”
“Exactly when?” I ask. “Do we have any way to know how long the man has been dead? I spoke with him an hour ago, but haven’t seen him since then.”
“You spoke with him?” Edgar asks.
I nod. “As many of you have this morning, as well. Believe me, if I’d known he was going to be murdered, I would have kept my distance to help maintain my innocence.”
The guards on either side of Edgar take a step forward, and Eve tenses beside me. I didn’t tell her what is going on, but I’m sure she has guessed by now.
“His body is still warm,” Edgar says. “The blood hasn’t congealed yet.”
A woman whimpers behind me.
“I can’t say where I was the exact moment he was killed since we don’t know when that was,” I say. “But I was talking to Number Eleven before coming to see Number Seven.”
I see Maddie’s attention snap towards me from the corner of my eye, and then everyone is looking at her.
It is to my advantage that she is naturally nervous already because it doesn’t raise any eyebrows when she bites her lip and twiddles her fingers.
I would have used Eve as my alibi except Edgar must think I killed Joel to keep him from bidding on Eve. So, they could think Eve was in on the murder. I have to find another witness, and Maddie seems like the best bet.
I can only hope she’ll play along.
“Is that true?” Edgar asks, looking at Maddie from beneath dark brows.
Maddie glances over at me and Eve and then nods quickly, eyes wide. “Yes. I spoke with him.”
Eve shifts closer to me, nudging my arm, and I don’t need to look at her to know she is upset with me for bringing Maddie into this. For whatever reason, she has a soft spot for the young girl, and I am putting her at great risk by involving her in my crime. Though, she was already in great risk. At least this way, if she backs up my story, I’ll be a lot more inclined to try and save her once Eve and I get out of here.
If we get out of here.
“I was talking with Number Eleven,” one of the female bidders against the back wall says. “For the last twenty minutes, at least.”
Edgar pulls his top lip back in a snarl and looks from me to Maddie. “Are you lying to me?”
“No,” Maddie insists. “I really did talk with him. Maybe I’m confused about the timing.”
The soft-spoken man who showed me to my room and promised to take care of any of my needs the first day I arrived is nowhere to be seen as Edgar rounds on me. “What are you not saying? Where were you?” he hisses in a venomous voice.
Eve wraps her arm around my elbow, clinging to me, and I pat her hand.
“I’m telling you everything I know.”
Edgar nods to the guards behind him, and they move forward. But they’ve only taken a few steps when Eve suddenly pulls away and moves to stand in front of me, acting as a guard between me and Edgar.
“He isn’t telling you everything,” she says.
The room goes perfectly quiet, and I’m too surprised to say anything.
Is she going to reveal our secret? Is she going to tell them I was the one who killed Joel?
At this point, anything could happen, so I’m not really sure.
“Then please enlighten us,” Edgar snarls.
Eve takes a deep breath, her narrow shoulders rising and falling. “I killed Joel.”
“No.” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. I lunge forward to grab Eve, but she moves out of my reach.
“I killed him,” Eve said. “Because he tried to assault me, and I didn’t want him to own me. He was a horrible man, and I’d kill him again if I was given the chance.”
My chest feels like it has been cracked open. The world around me is chaotic and unrecognizable, and I have no way to bring it back into focus.
Edgar is yelling something and the room is a flurry of voices and movement. Then, my vision clears, focusing on the only thing that matters: two Cartel guards are moving towards Eve.
One of the men clamps his hands on Eve’s arm, but before the second guy can, I run forward and pound my fist into his nose.
Blood spurts out and the man yells, falling back.
The second guard lets Eve go to focus on me. I kick him in the stomach and am about to crack his kneecap backward when Edgar claps his hands the way he has all week long. I turn and see him with his arm around Eve’s throat.
“Touch anyone else, and I’ll kill her,” he says.
Just to be sure I know he is serious, he pulls a concealed weapon from inside his jacket.
I stumble away from the guard and back into the crowd. They step back to form a large circle around me.
I only realize when I reach up to wipe the sweat from my forehead that my mask is gone. It is lying on the floor near the bloody guard. It must have fallen off during the fight.
Edgar instructs the bloody guard to call more soldiers to keep watch over the room and then leads Eve towards the entrance hall. I move to follow, but three fresh guards appear, weapons lifted and at the ready.
Eve looks back at me once as she is dragged from the room, and then she is gone.
Hopelessness spreads in my chest, along with a kind of gnawing desire to do something, anything.
I can’t watch her be taken from me again.
I can’t let this happen.
I spin in a circle, trying to understand my options. I’ve been mapping the inn since the moment I arrived, memorizing windows and exits and potential weapons, but all of that information seems to be inaccessible to me now. Now that Eve is gone and our entire plan is in jeopardy, I’m panicking.
I don’t usually panic. Years of training have taught me to remain cool under pressure. But right now, I’m losing my shit.
That is when I see Rian Morrison standing in the corner.
Her eyes are wide, mouth hanging open.
My mask is gone.
I understand the importance of that now.
Rian Morrison knows who I am. She recognizes me, and she knows who Eve is to me, and she knows why I’m here.
She darts from the corner to a nearby guard. He looks at me as she speaks, and the fog in my brain seems to lift for a moment.
The guard gestures to his friends by the door and they all move in at the same time. But just as the men get within arm’s reach, I spin around and grab the fireplace poker from the stand behind me. I plunge it through the nearest guard’s chest, grab his weapon, and kick him back.
Time feels like it is moving in slow motion, but I know I only have precious seconds before I’m killed. I lift the man’s gun to my shoulder and take aim at the second closest guard, hitting him straight between the eyes. The man drops to the floor, dead.
I know people around me are screaming and hiding, but I don’t hear them. Don’t see them.
I’m only focused on the threats to my life and, by extension, Eve’s life.
My second shot hits the next guard in the chest and takes him down. The third guard, however, lowers his weapons and raises his hands.
“Don’
t shoot,” he begs, looking down at his feet. “This is just a job for me. I don’t care about any of it. Don’t kill me.”
I gesture for him to drop his weapon, and he does. I take it and the guns from the other two guards, as well.
When I turn to find Rian Morrison, I realize she is gone, having slipped out sometime during the fighting.
That is fine. I’ll find her soon enough.
But first, Eve.
I make it to the entryway, following where I saw Edgar take Eve, before more guards flood in.
I shoot at them in an orderly fashion at first, but my aim quickly grows erratic.
There are too many guards coming from too many directions for me to keep up with.
I pass the main hallway and move towards the dining room and a narrow servants’ hallway I’ve never been in before; all the while I can hear more guards approaching from behind.
Then, suddenly, there is a guard standing in front of me.
I fire, hitting him in the shoulder, but not before he gets me in the leg.
Adrenaline is pouring through me, dampening my senses until the shot is nothing more than a burning sensation. Just heat. That’s all it is. I can handle heat.
I fire again, this time hitting the man in the neck. Blood paints the wall next to him. But then there is another explosion behind me. And fire.
Not real fire, but a deep, throbbing heat coming from my side, and I don’t need to look down to know I’ve been shot a second time.
I spin and fire at the man who shot me, but he darts behind a wall. I turn and keep going.
That is when I see an open door ahead of me. It is dark, and then I see guards coming up a set of stairs.
That must be where Edgar took her.
So, into the basement I go.
I move towards the stairs blindly, firing shots at random, hoping some of them hit their mark because I don’t have the time or energy to aim.
My vision is going black around the edges, and my legs feel heavy and wooden. I try to put one foot in front of the other, but it feels like my right leg is dragging behind me, and before I realize what is happening, I’m face-first on the floor.
I know I need to get up. I know I need to stand and keep moving and fight, but darkness clouds my vision and pushes back my fear. It eases my worries until I let my eyes fall closed and sink into the thin carpet of the hallway.
19
Eve
Edgar’s hand cracks across my face, snapping my head to the side so hard I worry about my neck breaking under the pressure.
“What happened between you and Joel Foli?” he asks for the tenth time.
“I told you.” I spit blood on the concrete floor. “He tried to sleep with me without paying and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I panicked and stabbed him with my wineglass.”
Edgar sighs and paces around the room, his hands folded behind his back.
The space is small. It looks like the servants’ quarters I was first brought to after arriving at the inn, but the furniture and carpeting are gone. If there ever was a window, it was long ago boarded up with cracking plaster. There are only two doors; one that leads to the bathroom and a second that leads to the hallway.
I heard a commotion coming from the front of the inn earlier, but I haven’t heard anything in a while.
I try to convince myself that Luka is fine.
“And you acted alone?” he asks.
I nod. “The other man only confessed because he didn’t want me to get in trouble. He thought he wouldn’t be punished for it in the same way I would be.”
“Luka, you mean,” Edgar says, his mouth tilting up in a half smile.
My heart stutters, and I nod.
“I saw his face when he first arrived and suspected his identity, but once he showed such a great interest in you, I was certain.”
He knew all along.
I can’t believe we were both so naïve to believe we were actually fooling anyone.
“Why didn’t you do anything?” I ask.
“Because he was paying for you,” Edgar said. “Large amounts of money. By every account, it seemed as though Luka Volkov was going to play by our rules, and that was fine by us. Regardless of what Rian Morrison wanted, if he bid on you and won, we would honor that purchase.”
I drop my chin to my chest, exhaustion taking over all at once.
Our plan would have worked. If we could have just kept our heads down and finished out the last two days, it would have worked.
“But you two had to go and fuck it up,” Edgar said, clicking his tongue. “By killing one of our largest contributors, too. Big mistake.”
“It was me,” I say. “Only me. I told you.”
Edgar sighs and tilts his head to the side. “You look sincere, but I’m not sure I believe you. I didn’t have constant eyes on you, but I think I saw you in the lounge all morning.”
“I was only with Joel for a few minutes before he attacked me,” I say. “It was fast.”
“Are you sure you’re telling the truth?”
If they kill me, that’s fine. Luka can still get out. He can still find Milaya. They can still have a life together. And that is all that matters.
I nod. “Yes.”
Edgar moves towards me, stopping when he is just a breath away. He grabs the front of my robe and lifts me up until we are standing nose to nose, looking into each other’s eyes.
Then, his fist buries itself in my stomach.
The air rushes out of me, and I gasp, trying to fill my lungs.
Edgar lets go of my robe, letting me drop back down into the metal chair. “I still don’t believe you.”
Just then, the door opens and a guard steps inside. There is blood splattered on his face, and even Edgar’s eyes widen when he sees him.
“We’ve lost men,” the guard says. “Not sure on numbers yet.”
“And Luka?” Edgar asks.
I’m still fighting for air, but I pause, hanging on every word.
Please be alive. Please be alive. Please be alive.
“Shot,” the guard says. “Several times.”
My world narrows. My heart shrivels in my chest, and it takes every ounce of strength left in my body to stay seated and not slide to the floor.
I thought I couldn’t breathe a minute ago, but that was heaven compared to this. Compared to the vise-like grip of despair wrapping around my ribs and squeezing me with a crushing force.
I won’t survive this. I won’t. I can’t.
“Is he still alive?” Edgar asks.
The guard nods. “Unconscious, but breathing.”
A mixture between a sob and a laugh tears out of me, and I lean forward, pressing my palms into my knees and focusing on the floor between my feet. I have a bad case of emotional whiplash, and I feel like I could hurl. I take slow, deep breaths through my nose and out of my mouth, trying to stabilize my jagged heartbeat.
Edgar turns to me. “You hear that, Eve? Your husband is alive. Good news, yes?”
I don’t look up. I’m focusing on keeping my wits about me.
“Make sure he stays alive,” Edgar says to the guard. “There are plenty of people who would pay good money to torture and kill the leader of the Volkov Bratva. Or use him as a slave. Hell, I myself would pay good money for that.”
All at once, I understand why Luka came to the Crooked Tree Inn to save me. I was angry with him for not going after Milaya, but now I get it. Thinking about him being sold to someone and tortured and used, possibly even killed—it is too much. Too horrific.
If the roles had been reversed, I would have gone after him.
He didn’t know where Milaya was. Neither of us did. So, he did what he could. He used the information he had and tried to save me, and now more than ever, I wish I could kiss him. I wish I could apologize and tell him that I understand.
When the guard leaves, Edgar turns back to me, arms crossed over his chest. “So, now that your identities are out in the open, you might as well t
ell me your plan.”
I shake my head. “We didn’t have a plan.”
His hand burns across my face before I realize it is coming, and the blow sends me slipping off the chair and falling to the floor.
My knee cracks against the concrete, and I wince. But there isn’t time to recover. Edgar is moving towards me again. I try to scoot back across the floor, but he kicks my feet out from under me and then presses his foot against my chest until I’m flat on the cold floor.
“Does anyone else know you are here?” he asks.
“No.”
He presses harder until all I’m capable of are tiny, shallow breaths. “Tell me.”
“I am!” I cry, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I didn’t even know Luka was coming for me until he showed up. He didn’t want to anger the Cartel, so he came alone.”
Edgar shakes his head. “The leader of a Bratva wouldn’t go anywhere alone.”
“Luka would,” I assure him. “If he did bring someone, don’t you think they would have stepped forward to help when he was being attacked by guards?”
The thought seems to ring true, and Edgar contemplates it for a moment before he presses down harder on my chest until I’m sure my ribs will crack under his heel. “I was surprised he came for you at all, honestly. Men like Luka? They always have mistresses. Plenty of women they can turn to whenever the desire to get their dick wet strikes. And while you are sexy, you hardly seem worth all of this trouble.”
I want to grab his foot and knock him on his back for questioning Luka and insulting me, but my body is tired. The Cartel takes great care of their guests, but they keep their slaves weak on purpose. Dinner has been the only substantial meal we’ve had all week, and even then it was bland and seasonless.
Lying there on the floor beneath Edgar’s foot, all I can think about is baked macaroni and cheese. I make it with breadcrumbs on top and three different kinds of cheeses. It was one of Luka’s favorite meals, especially when I added grilled chicken.
Edgar lifts his foot, allowing me a breath, and then kicks me in the ribs.
Pain explodes in my side, but I think about dinner with my family. I can see Luka in the kitchen, eating from the pan before the meal is finished, Milaya tucked in his arms.