Chapter 5Monroe
5
Monroe
I regret opening the door, but I didn’t want it to be broken down. I thought it might be the police, or maybe some special forces tasked with retrieving top secret information. It’s not. It’s so much worse.
“Search the place. It wasn’t in the box so it must be in here somewhere. Leave me with the girl.”
The man speaking is a tall, thin man in his forties with a gaunt face and eyes that lack the soul of a normal person. They remind me of those historical photos from World War 2, where shellshocked soldiers with piercing eyes stared far past the camera into the great unknown.
He limps when he approaches me, but he’s fast, like he’s used to moving that way. His fingers wrap around my upper arm, pulling me toward him before I can even think about running. There’s a back door to the house, but I’m not going to be able to reach it now. I’m stuck with this monster and his two goons.
He pulls me closer, and I can smell the acrid smoke clinging to his charcoal suit. Even though he’s well-dressed, I know he’s not a good guy. Men in suits rarely are, especially when they try to break down your door.
“Where is the drive?” he asks, shaking me so hard my teeth rattle.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.
“Don’t be cute with me,” he growls, pushing me up against the wall. He uses his entire body to keep me there, a sick smile on his face as he pins me in place. “How did a sweet little woman like you get something like this? How much did they pay you?”
“Please,” I whimper, wishing I could dissolve into the wall. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He pulls his hand back like his about to slap me, the gold ring on his pinky promising a word of pain should he follow through.
“It’s on the table. Your guys have probably already found it,” I blurt. “Please, I don’t have anything to do with this.”
“You have everything to do with this,” he insists, pulling me away from the wall and pushing me into the kitchen. “Now, I’d like you to start talking. Tell me everything.”
I stumble into the kitchen, where one of the burly goons is holding the box I tore open to get the flash drive. I look even more guilty, more involved in whatever is going on, by having opened it.
“That wasn’t meant for me,” I say, looking around for a way to escape. A big kitchen knife in the sink calls to me, but it wouldn’t do much good if these men have guns. I doubt they’d come here unarmed.
“Let’s get a name first,” the tall man says, leaning over me and casting a shadow across my face. “Mine is Maksim. Pleased to meet you.”
He extends his hand, but I’d rather die than shake it. I recoil, backing myself against the sink. The knife is my backup, but I’m not even sure if I have the heart to use it. I’ve never been in a fight before.
Maksim closes the distance between us, lowering his hand. His expression follows, his eyebrows coming down so low that his eyes almost disappear. “We already have what we came for. It’s over for you unless you start talking. I’m sure you have some dirt on Zane.”
“Zane?” I ask, having never heard the name. “I’m sorry, but this is honestly a mistake. That package came to my house by accident. It was dumb of me to open it, but I promise I don’t even know what it’s for.”
Maksim chuckles, but his face stays rigid. He pulls a pistol from his waistband, pointing it at me. My stomach drops, my heart skipping several beats. This is really happening. I don't know who the hell Zane is or why I have the flash drive, but Maksim isn't taking chances.
He takes another step toward me, the barrel of his gun aimed right at my chest. "I've had a very long day, and I'm tired of playing games. Let's make a deal. You tell me everything you know, and I'll let you live."
"I told you, I don't know anything."
"Don't play stupid," Maksim hisses. "How did you get the drive? Either you're a dumb pawn for Zane or you're working close to him."
"I told you," I reply, my voice cracking. "It came to my house by accident. Someone dropped off a package and I thought it was a birthday gift."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Yes," I plead. "Because it's the truth."
Maksim cocks his head to the side, his hand tightening around his gun.
"Look," I stutter. "I can't give you any information because I don't have any. Maybe if you explain to me what this is all about, I can help you."
"You'd do anything to save your life?" Maksim asks, his tongue flicking across his lower lip. His eyes travel over my chest, and there's a hint of something warm in his frozen eyes. It's not the type of warmth that indicates kindness, however. It's something so much more devious than that.
I nod, trying not to cry. My body is shaking uncontrollably, and there's a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don't understand what this is about or what he wants, but I have no choice but to comply.
"You can help me," Maksim grumbles. "You see, I've been in prison for a long time. I'm hungry. They don't feed us well there." He steps closer, pressing his knee between my legs. I'm forced to lean back against the counter, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
"Please," I beg.
Maksim reaches down and unbuckles his belt. I'm frozen in fear, unable to move. The knife in the sink is my only defense, but can I reach it before he shoots me? Would it be better to submit to him and allow him to ruin my life like this?
"Please what?" Maksim growls.
I turn my head away, squeezing my eyes shut as tightly as possible. I can hear his fingers fumbling with his pants, the hot air from his mouth wafting against my neck. Tears roll down my cheeks as I realize what I have to do. I'm not going to go out like this. I can't let such a horrid man have this much power over me.
I reach back into the sink and find the knife, my fingers curling around the wet wooden handle. Maksim doesn’t notice. He’s too focused on my body, his eyes popping out of his gaunt face as he imagines what he’s going to do to me.
But I’m not going to let it get that far. Just as Maksim pushes up against me, I pull the knife out in front of me to defend myself, the blade flashing in the light as though it’s winking at me.
Is it useless to bring a knife to a gunfight? I’m about to find out.