2. Matthew
2
Matthew
Fuck, fuck, fuck . They got me! I need to do something or I’m dead!
I yank and thrash, but whoever caught me is just too strong. He is bigger than me, too. Panic surges through me, unleashing a mighty shudder I am sure he can feel.
I really really don’t want to die. But for that, I need to free myself and get away from my attacker.
I try. I do my damned best to overpower him. But the issue is that he’s not exactly on board with letting me go. And he’s way too strong. The harder I struggle, the firmer his hold becomes. He’s got one arm around my waist and one around my neck. I’m practically plastered against him. And the worst part? He’s so fit, I can feel the indents of his muscles. In very different circumstances, this situation would’ve been kind of hot, but alas, this is not one of those kinky experiences I’ve heard you can book. I am in actual danger.
“Let me go!” I thrash in his arms, trying to scratch him. I suspect it won’t do much even if I managed, but it’s worth a try. Right? I’d go for his eyes and claw them out, but he’s got me in a tight lock, and I can’t quite reach.
His hand leaves my neck, pressing my mouth. “Be quiet. We are not alone,” he says in a raspy baritone that has no right to be so sexy.
But I’m not falling for that. Nuh-uh.
“Let me go!” I yank again.
He pulls me closer, effectively ruining my attempt to free myself before I’ve even executed it. The hand he has around my mouth slides away, cupping my cheek and tilting my head to the side.
I smell pomegranate and cigarette smoke. My brain shorts a little because why does he smell so nice? Bad guys aren’t supposed to smell so nice. Unable to help it, I breathe him in, letting his scent invade all my senses.
“Do you have it?”
I push against him, struggling to find leverage. “Get off me!”
“Do you have it? The asset?” he insists.
“ What ?” How does he know about that?
He exhales against my ear. “You called me. Red Molniya . Stop fighting me and do as I say,” he orders with a slight hiss.
It takes my overwhelmed brain a few moments of us awkwardly standing in the shadows to comprehend his words. Oh . Ooooh . This is whoever Gordon called… Which means he’s here to help me! Okay, I can work with that.
“Yeah. Right, yes. I can totally do that, Mr. Molniya. I was just a little confused, okay?”
He snorts, his laugh pleasantly quiet. It touches me in the confined space of the alley, dragging its ghostly fingers across my skin. I half-suppress a shiver. His thumb rubs my jaw and then he slowly lets me go and steps away. The loss of contact twists my stomach. Now that I know he’s here to protect me, I want him close. His touch was reassuring, his solidity and strength intimidating in the best way.
I spin around so abruptly, I get whiplash. It’s so dark that I can’t really see him. But he’s there, standing across from me with the sparse streetlight surrounding him like a full-body halo. He’s taller and bigger than me, and I’m pretty sure he’s wearing black, but that’s about all I can make out. An outline. A general idea. It’s like I’m facing a ghostly apparition. A mystical spirit sent to save my sorry ass.
I suck in a deep breath, my chest suddenly too tight. This can’t be happening. I’d hoped it was all a bad dream, but there’s no denying it now. This is real. I’m in danger and Chrissy… She’s probably already—
“Come on,” the man’s authoritative voice commands before I’ve spiraled down even further. He pulls me deeper into the alley, positioning himself between me and the entrance. “Keep quiet.”
The space is very narrow. It stinks of trash. But I press on. His hand doesn’t leave my back, there to guide and anchor me so I don’t surrender to the rising panic. To this excruciating but invisible chokehold around my neck. I know I need to stay calm. But I’m not running anymore. I’ve had time to slow down. The rush of adrenaline is leaving me and now everything that happened is catching up to me terrifyingly fast.
The hand on my back moves to my forearm and squeezes firmly. “There should be a ladder to your left. We’ll climb up to the roof.”
I feel the rough wall for the ladder, frowning when I find it. It’s rope and not metal as I expected. “Uh, not that I am arguing with you, but isn’t the roof a bit of a dead end with nowhere to run?”
I put my foot on the first rung and pull myself up. It’s harder than it looks, the stupid rain making it slippery as hell. And as if that isn’t enough, the damn ladder sways left and right, too.
“I attached the ladder. It’s retractable. They won’t find it.” He grabs the bottom of the ladder and stabilizes it. I swear he lets out a chuckle too, but it’s kind of hard to say with the rain banging against metal and glass like it identifies as fireworks on the fourth of July. “Less talking, more moving. They are close.”
Did he just make fun of me? Or did he underestimate me because of my size? How rude. We might be in a life-or-death situation, but that doesn’t mean he gets away with being an ass.
Just as I’m about to express my dissatisfaction, I hear voices. Heart pounding, I bite my lip to suppress the urge to snap at him and focus on the climb. By the time I can touch the edge of the garage’s roof, I’m panting. I also don’t dare look down. It’s not that high and I can’t see much, but, knowing my luck, if I slip and fall, I’ll not only break a leg or an arm, but I’ll also give away our position.
Mustering all the strength I have left, I pull myself up and sprawl on the wet concrete. I close my eyes and let the rain cool my overheated body, shivering when the coldness soaks through my clothes.
Fuck, this is a nightmare of epic proportions. I’m a mess. I’m barely keeping it together. But I have to, despite everything. Because if I don’t, it won’t matter that I have a savior.
When I get up to help Mr. Molniya, he’s already retracted the ladder. His hood and half-face mask obscure everything but his eyes, but it’s hard to say what color they are as there just isn’t sufficient light. It’s a little creepy, but also exciting, even if, for all I know, he could be tricking me.
My hunch tells me he’s not though. I can’t explain why, but this masked man makes me feel safe. Or, well, safer than I was on my own while running from a bunch of assassins in the middle of a stormy night. Besides, everything just kind of lines up. He knew both the code phrases and the codeword. And, so far, he hasn’t asked me about the box again. If he was one of the bad guys, he’d have refused to help me until I handed it over.
The voices below become louder. Molniya Guy presses a finger to his mouth—or the approximation of where his mouth would be under the mask—and shuffles toward the edge of the roof, keeping low.
I follow.
I am a lot clumsier than him and end up with scrapes all over my knees. But he only glares at me and shushes me once, so I must be doing okay. I’m not exactly the sneaky type—I mean, just look at my gaming history. I’m the charging type that hits you with the barrel of the sniper gun in the head instead of landing a headshot from a mile away.
“Hey, which agen—”
Mr. Black Ops twists around and silences me with his hand. It’s not the one he used earlier; this one is gloved and tastes of dirt.
“Quiet,” he mouths, frowning so hard I can actually see it.
Okay, well, clearly, I’m not cut out for this. What the fuck did he expect? I doubt other civilians would fare any better than me. But whatever, I’ll be angry with him later. Right now, my breathing is elevating quickly and I’m starting to suffocate. I think I might be going into shock. Which is bad. Like, really, really bad.
I squeeze his hand, holding onto it for dear life. I’m wheezing now. His eyes narrow further. God, he looks even more pissed off. I bet this is where he does a 180 and tells me he’s one of the bad guys after all and was only pretending to be on my side because he was bored. Then he’ll stab me in the neck and steal the mysterious box Chrissy tasked me with safekeeping.
Okay. No. I’m not ready to die. Nuh-uh. I better leg it.
Only, Mr. Molniya is faster. He grabs me by the shoulder and yanks me on top of him, right at the edge of the roof. His free hand cradles the back of my head, and a heartbeat later, I am pinned under him. His bigger size protects me from the rain and I just blink at him, not quite able to keep up with the way things are playing out.
He leans down, placing the hand he used to roll me over on my heaving chest. “You are fine. You got this. I won’t let anything happen to you. I am here to protect you. Just try to calm down,” he whispers softly into my ear, exhaling air through the mask.
A surge of warmth spreads across me, chasing away the ongoing panic. I coil my fingers around his wrist and hold on to it while my other hand presses against his chest. His heart is beating as madly as mine. I seek out his eyes. They are sparkling, almost glowing. But not in fear. Or at least, not only.
He’s excited. Confident. Determined to save me.
I inhale sharply. Fuck. This is so intense. Too intense. It lights a spark in me. But instead of inviting adrenaline and nerves, it calms me down. I regain control of my breathing and push down the remaining panic.
I got this.
He believes in me. I survived this far and now he’s here to help me make it through the rest of this nightmare.
Fuck, but what if I can’t do this?
“You got this,” he whispers, as if he can read my mind. As if he knows exactly what I need to hear.
I close my eyes. I breathe him in. Pomegranates and smoke.
The truth is, I don’t know if I can do this. But he believes in me. So, I’ll do the only thing my freaked-out self can do.
I’ll believe the man who believes in me.