Chapter 3
RUSLAN
She’s a mess, but I can’t say I blame her.
Fair blonde hair lies in tangled clumps around her shoulders.
A deep bruise stands out on her forehead like spilled ink on a blank page, swirling around the stitched incision leading into her hairline.
The only color on her face exists on her full, cherry red lips that darken as her sobs overtake her.
What a way to deliver bad news.
Carl stares at Joseph and a silent conversation passes between them, not that I give a shit. Whatever else Carl has to say dies as Joseph lunges for him, takes his hand, and drags him out of the room, leaving me alone with the sobbing woman.
Ivy Meyer.
What a fucking mess.
I remain at the foot of her bed and watch as her grief takes hold of her. She jerks frantically against the cuffs keeping her locked to the bed while tears stream down her cheeks and hoarse sobs bubble past her lips.
“No, no, no. It’s not true. It’s not. Let me go. Let me go home. It’s not true!”
“Tell me your name.”
She doesn’t respond to my question. She doesn’t even react to the sound of my voice.
“Help me,” she gasps to no one, wrapping her hand around her trapped wrist and pulling with all of her might. As she shifts against the unyielding metal, something must be hurting her, given how she gasps between her sobs and stops moving.
“Tell me your name.”
Again she doesn’t respond. She shakes her head back and forth and her hair moves around her face like curtains drifting back and forth. It’s long enough to hide her from view but fair enough that it offers no protection.
“I want my mom,” she begs while crying and hiccupping.
“I want my mom. I want my dad! I want to leave, please let me leave. I need to get out of here, please, please, please—” Her words end abruptly as she lunges over the side of her bed and tries to grab the emergency button discarded on the floor by Carl.
She can’t reach. She’s far too high up and the railing is visibly pressing into her abdominal stitches.
“Oi!” I slam my hand down on the table across her bed. The water jug jumps at the force and so does Ivy.
She throws herself back against the pillows, tears streaming from her vibrant green eyes, and she finally looks at me. “Let me go!”
“Tell. Me. Your. Name.”
“Let me go! Please, I’m not— I don’t want to be— I just want to go home. I want to go home, my parents are there, I want to go home, I want to I want to I want to—”
Louder and louder her voice climbs as her breaths become shorter and sharper. She’s panicking. She’s losing control. If I wait any longer, she’ll end up killing herself and giving what those cops and everyone else out there wants.
“Ivy!” My voice bellows around the room, filling the space like the din of a drum, and finally, it’s enough to make Ivy freeze and stare at me with wide, saucer-like eyes.
Tears continue to stream.
I hold her gaze, unmoving, with my arms crossed so tightly across my chest that the leather of my jacket cuts into my shoulders.
Then she takes a breath.
Then another.
Ragged gasp after ragged gasp replaces her frantic panting until her shoulders slump and she watches me through those waterfalls.
“Tell me your name.”
She blinks slowly. “Ivy.”
“Ivy what?”
“I-Ivy Meyer.”
“What age are you?”
She swallows thickly and her tongue slowly swipes over her thick lower lip. “Twenty-seven.”
“What do you do for work?”
A sob rolls through her once more, causing her chest to rise rapidly and a whimper of distress to escape when she parts her lips. “I work…” She swallows again. “I work for Alpine Airlines.”
“As what?”
“C-Cabin crew.”
“For how long?”
“Uhm… j-just… just under a year.”
“Before that?”
“A-Atlantic Travel.”
“You were on a plane.”
My questions are firm and measured, no longer needing to raise my voice now that I have her attention. While my intent was to calm her enough to get real answers, it’s clear she’s dissociating quickly. If those fuckers hadn’t dropped the worst news of her life on her, I’d have a better chance here.
“Ivy, where did the plane take off?”
“M-Madrid.”
“What was your destination?”
Her tinted brows twitch and she slowly shakes her head. “Uhm… L.A. W-We were going to L.A.”
“Who was your captain?”
“George. George Thomas.”
“You found drugs on your plane, didn’t you?”
Ivy blinks, and for the first time since we made eye contact, it’s like she really sees me standing in front of her. “Is it true?”
A pulse of irritation rises in my chest. I was so close. “Is what true?”
“My dad. My mom… is it true?”
I run my tongue along my teeth, debating the worth of answering her here. The damage is already done, though. “Yes.”
Ivy’s face crumples, her shoulders hunch forward, and she curls into her palms, her sobs renewed. “I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t understand!”
That makes two of us.
Silence falls and I halt my questioning to let her cry.
This is not going to plan. A plane crash is one thing, but this wasn’t any regular plane crash.
That plane was the peace agreement between two families who had been tearing each other apart for the better part of two years.
Rather small fish in regard to what my line of work is supposed to deal with, or so I’m told, but something about this entire situation sours my tongue and turns my stomach.
Six passengers survived that crash. Six passengers and Ivy. The other six seem as in the dark as Ivy is, but she’s the only one with the supposed means to know those drugs were stashed there. They asked me to take care of her, but I can’t until I know the truth.
I never pull the trigger until I understand why.
“I want to go home.” Ivy, her sobs subsiding once more, looks up at me with raw, red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t deserve to be under arrest.”
“That’s what everyone says,” I reply.
“So, you’re really going to arrest me?”
I lift one shoulder. “I’m not a cop. Not my problem.”
Ivy’s brow creases once more and she glances at the door.
“But those… those two. They left when you told them to. What do you mean you’re not a cop?
” Her eyes drift down me, from my leather-clad shoulders to the white T-shirt clinging to my body, then down further to my dark blue jeans. “You’re really not a cop?”
“Do you think I look like one?”
“I don’t know. I’ve n-never dealt with the cops before.”
“Like I said, I’m not a cop. Now, let’s get back to the drugs.” If she’s calm enough to talk, then I don’t have time to waste. “Where were they?”
“Are you from the airline?” She clean ignores my question.
“No.”
“Are you a lawyer?”
I fight the slightest hint of amusement. “No.”
“Then…” Her eyes dart back and forth and her nose scrunches. “I don’t think I should be talking to you.”
“I’m the only one you should be talking to.”
“No…” Despite the tears continuing to leak down her cheeks, she looks back up at me with a flash of defiance in her eyes. “I’m n-not talking to anyone except… except my doctor.”
“Ivy.”
“No, no, I don’t know you. I don’t know them. I don’t know why I’m trapped here. I just want to go home! My parents live in New York, I want to go see them!”
“You can’t go home, Ivy. Now, the drugs—”
“No!” Ivy surges upward, grasps her trapped wrist with her other hand, and starts pulling at it with all of her limited strength. “Let me go! Help me! Someone help me, please! Let me go! Let me go, let me go, please! Doctor! Nurse! Someone please help me!”
She screams at the top of her lungs, effectively ending my interrogation just like that. The irritation fizzing beneath my breastbone worsens and my stomach twists into knots. I’d hoped we’d get through this without incident, but Ivy’s too far gone.
I blame those cunts from earlier.
She thrashes and yells, screaming herself hoarse, but no one comes.
They know better than to interrupt me.
Moving around the side of her bed, Ivy throws herself away from me, but she doesn’t get far. My hand darts into her hair, grabs a handful, and drags her back down to the bed while she wails in pain and panic.
“Get off me! Get off, get off me! No! Someone please, someone help me! Get off me, get off!”
She’s like a wildcat, throwing every available limb at me, but her weakened state prevents her from doing any real damage.
It’s almost too easy to grasp her by the throat and pin her firmly back onto her bed.
My hand around her throat panics her enough that she stops trying to escape and instead claws at my wrist to free herself.
Her nails scrape down my thick wrist while I keep my grip firm enough to pin her.
Her trapped hand turns into a claw, desperate to reach for me and protect herself but unable to do so because of the handcuffs.
“Ivy,” I say, drawing a needle from my pocket.
Her eyes bulge when she sees it, but no words escape her, only strangled squeals of terror.
I slide the cap off with my teeth and hold it up to the single light above us, then balance it between my two fingers and flick it with my thumb. Once satisfied, I plunge the needle into the elbow of her trapped arm and release the plunger.
She screams so loud, my jaw throbs and a pulse of sympathy finally makes it through my heart.
But it’s not enough.
Some things are more important than her comfort.
The drug starts to take effect almost immediately and her frantic thrashing fades. Ten seconds pass and she’s boneless on the bed with heavy eyelids, rapidly losing consciousness.
“I’m the only one that’s trying to help you,” I say as I remove my hand from her throat.
She doesn’t reply. She’s under within thirty seconds, and silence falls.
“Fuck.” This didn’t go the way I’d planned at all. As soon as those fuckers walked in here, I should have booted them, but I was curious what dogs had come sniffing after her. Lucky I was here or this mystery would have died with her.
Moving away from her bed, I slide my phone from my back pocket and call the first number in my contacts.
“Queen? It’s Ace.”
A long sigh rumbles on the other side of the phone.
“Listen. I need transport.”
“How many?”
“Just one.”
“Alright. You too?”
“No. I’ll walk. Just make sure she gets there in one piece.”
“Have I ever let you down before?” Queen asks, her voice sharp.
“No. But there’s always a first time.”
“Fuck you. Transport’s on its way.”
“Thanks.” I hang up and adjust my jacket, but just before I leave, I lift the bedsheets and drape them back over Ivy’s unconscious body.
I don’t want her to be cold while she travels.