Chapter 7 - Maria
My heart is pounding as I slip the phone into my pocket, biting down hard on my lip and glancing nervously left and right to make sure it’s not a trap.
I don’t know who left it unattended in the kitchen, but I can’t let this opportunity slip by.
When no one jumps out at me to scold me, I bolt upstairs to my room and close the door.
My hands are shaking slightly when I navigate through the phone to the dial pad.
It looks like a backup phone of some kind.
Maybe it belongs to the security team. Right now, I don’t care.
I just need to be quick enough to have a chance to call my brother before I put it back and hope no one notices.
I punch in his number and wait for the line to connect. It rings. It rings again and again, and my stomach knots tighten and tighter. My eyes are locked on the closed door, waiting for it to burst open and for one of the men to rush in.
“Hello…”
“Misha!” My heart leaps, then sinks.
“This is Misha, leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
Dammit.
I wait for the voice recording to end so I can leave a message. I have no choice. I’m not even sure if he checks his voicemail, but I have to try.
“Misha, it’s me. It’s Maria. I’m in Chicago. I was taken. I think I can slip out. Can you meet me at the Forster Avenue Pier? I’ll be there at sunset. Please, please come.”
I select yes when it asks me if I’m happy with my message. Maybe I should have explained more. Anyway, all I can hope now is that he’s there tonight. He can arrange a flight for me to get home. He can come and fetch me. I know my brother. He will fix this. He will help me.
Hanging up, I delete the call from the phone’s history. Then I slip the phone back into my pocket. Now the challenge is to put it back without anyone seeing me.
Instead of delaying it, I hurry right back down to the kitchen. When I get there, Kaz is there, making a grilled cheese sandwich.
“Hello,” I say, hoping my voice sounds more relaxed to him than it does to me.
“Hello, baby bird, are you hungry? Can I make you something?” he asks, glancing at me and letting his eyes drift up and down my body.
I smile and nod. “Yes, actually. It smells pretty good. I’ll have the same as whatever you’re having,” I reply, thinking that if he’s busy, I might get a chance to return the phone to the position I found it in. I was even careful to note the way it lay.
“I’d love to cook for you,” he winks, and again, as always, I know he’s using his remark as a euphemism for something else. Something kinky.
His constant flirtatious playfulness is fun, except it often feels fake. Or like he’s only flirting to avoid having a real conversation with me because he doesn’t know how to talk to me.
I imagine he flirts with literally every single woman he comes in contact with, so it certainly doesn’t make me feel special in any way.
Kazimir walks over to the fridge and tugs it open. He ducks inside, gathering ingredients, and I steal the chance. Hurriedly, almost dropping the phone, I slip it back onto the corner of the counter near the wall, face down, slightly turned.
Looking back at him, he’s still focused on the fridge.
Thank goodness. I did it. It’s done.
Now I have to find a way to get out of this mansion and make it to the pier at sunset.
***
Kazimir leans against the kitchen counter with a lazy smile on his face and his eyes hooded, watching me as I bite into the grilled cheese.
“And?” he asks eagerly.
“Oh wow, that’s amazing,” I mumble with food in my mouth and my hand covering my lips.
“I told you, the secret is in the spice,” he says, impressed with himself.
Hovering in the kitchen to eat with him, we chat about random things, but he’s still flirtatious and suggestive. My mind is racing with ways to get out while I try to pay attention and not act aloof with him.
After our little kitchen brunch, I mutter something about reading and excuse myself. At least Kazimir is nice to me. He might be overly forward, but it’s better than how Artur treats me.
It’s interesting how each of them behaves around me.
Kaz, the flirtatious bad boy, is always playful, never serious.
Benedikt, the protective bear of a man who goes out of his way to be patient and tender with me, easing the tension however he can.
Joseph, the authoritative leader. I know he likes things done a certain way. He likes things to be in order. He treats me with careful respect. Although the moment we had in the pool the other day was not as careful. It was…intently intimate, actually.
Then there’s Artur. He’s a fucking asshole. A tall, dark, and handsome glass of nastiness that I want to avoid at all costs. Still hot, though. But it doesn’t make up for his personality.
At three in the afternoon, I’ve found that the guys are all busy with their own things. Benedikt is in the gym, and Artur is yelling at someone on the phone. Kaz is in his room, and Joseph is in the library working. It’s usually around this time every day that no one seems to bother watching me.
It’s the perfect time to make my move.
I slip out of the patio doors into the garden, down the path that leads to the private beach. I haven’t been there yet because I was certain the guards would stop me, but today it’s a risk I need to take.
I smile at the guard walking past in the garden, and he nods politely.
Act like you’re going for a little beach stroll. Or a suntan session. This is totally normal, and you aren’t trying to escape.
I have no idea how, but it works. The guard ignores me when I push the little gate open that leads to the beach. He continues along his patrol path, and suddenly, I’m alone without anyone watching.
This is it. This is my chance.
So I run.
I drop the beach bag I packed for show, and I sprint across the sand toward the far side of the beach that leads up to the public road.
I tell you what, running in sand is a nightmare. By the time I get to the road, I can barely breathe.
But I’m here, and I can’t risk stopping.
I walk briskly in the opposite direction of the mansion, waving down passing cars in hopes that one of them is a taxi.
A cab pulls over and pushes its door open for me.
“Where to, miss?” he asks.
“The pier, please,” I say, hopping in. I have a crumpled ten and twenty in my pocket, and I hope like hell it’s enough to cover the tab. You never know with these independent taxis if they’re going to overcharge or not.
The driver can sense my tension and decides not to try and make conversation, but he keeps glancing at me in the rearview mirror. Thank goodness it’s not a far trip.
“Here you go, that’ll be eighteen…”
I hand him the money, relieved it’s enough for the trip and a generous tip.
“Thank you, wow, okay, you have a lovely day then, miss.”
I’m already out and slamming the door without saying goodbye because my entire body is flooded with anticipation of seeing my brother. Of going home.
My gaze traces the horizon near the pier. I look up and down the street, searching for him and anyone who might have followed me.
I’m so nervous I feel sick.
“Maria,” a deep voice grabs my attention. I spin to see three men standing near me, all wearing dark suits despite the scorching heat.
“Who are you?” I ask cautiously. “Where is Misha?”
“Misha sent us,” the shortest one says quickly to reassure me.
“My brother didn’t come himself?” I blurt out, disappointed.
“He really wanted to, but he couldn’t. We have a car to take you to the airport. He’s arranged a flight for you so you can leave right away.”
I shake my head, pressing my lips together and fighting tears. Why wouldn’t he come himself? Hasn’t he been worried about me? It’s so disrespectful of him to send some random security guys to fetch me.
“Fine,” I huff. “Let’s go before the others notice I’m missing.”
The short guy nods, smiling. His eyes are weird. Shifty. It makes me uncomfortable. I follow them along the walkway past the entrance to the pier. My stomach knots as I walk. Something seems off.
“Where is Misha?” I ask casually.
“Back home. He had things he couldn’t leave at such short notice.”
The answer is pretty straightforward. And it was very short notice.
But still, I can’t shake this uneasy sensation rippling over my skin. Like bugs crawling on me.
Your mind is trying to warn you, Maria. Something is off.
“Where is the flight taking me?” I ask, trying to ask more specific questions. The short guy’s phone beeps, and he pauses to read the message.
“Sorry, one moment,” he says politely.
I wait, following them, wondering where the hell they parked.
“What is it, Ivan?” one of the other guys asks.
Ivan smiles tightly, shooting a look of warning at his colleague.
Then his smile shifts, changes when he looks at me. My stomach twists and flips.
Something isn’t right!
“That was your brother. He said he’s sorry and he’ll meet you at the airport. He’ll be there when you get off the plane,” he smiles.
But he won’t. Because you’re not part of my brother’s team and you have no intention of taking me home to him.
Act casual. Keep moving. Don’t let them know you know.
I want to scream and run, but instead I maintain my calm veneer. However, when I see a dark van ahead of us, and the guy pulls a set of keys from his pocket, the van door opens, and three more men get out. I realize it’s now or never, and I run.
I run like my life depends on it, because it literally might.
“What the fuck!” Ivan snarls. “Get her!”
The first two men and two from the van bolt after me.
I’m already across the street by the time they spring into action, and I’m convinced the head start will save me. But they are much faster and catch up quickly.
The bulky man grabs me, and when I try to kick him, he slaps me hard across the face. I yelp in surprise as pain shoots through my jaw.
He slaps me again, even harder.
“Stupid bitch, do as you’re told!” he growls.
I kick him as hard as I can. Unfortunately, it hurts me more than it hurts him, and it aggravates him.
He lifts me right off the ground and throws me against the brick wall behind me.
Air is punched from my lungs, and I collapse to the ground, gasping, desperate to take a breath in but unable to, badly winded. My body is aching everywhere.
The bulky man leans over me and grabs my arm, yanking me to my feet as tears well in my eyes and spill over my cheeks.
“If you cry, I’ll fucking slap you again, and this time I’ll slap the daylights out of you,” he warns me, and I can see he means it.
But the tears won’t stop falling, and I begin to panic.
He growls, his eyes darkening.
Behind him, I hear a shout, the snap of gunfire. I jump and scream, already on edge. One of the men from the van falls flat on his face, and a pool of red immediately spreads around him.
The man next to the hulk makes a gurgling sound, and when I look at him, the entire front of his face has been blown away by a bullet that hit the back of his skull.
I hear a scream. A loud, piercing, terrified scream. It takes me a few seconds before I realize it’s me.
The hulk pulls his gun from his belt and spins toward the attackers, dragging me along with him. I can’t tear my eyes off the other guy’s lifeless body, slumped half on the sidewalk and half in the road, his brains splattered out and chunks of flesh and goop bubbling from the open hole in his head.
“Maria!” a familiar voice demands my attention.
I drag my eyes off the corpse and look up to see Benedikt running toward me.
The Hulk tries to put himself between Benedikt and me, taking a shot and missing. And from behind Benedikt, Kaz takes a shot and hits the hulk in the shoulder, then, as he spins in pain, puts a bullet in his head.
I don’t know when the other van guy got taken down, but he’s also dead.
Where’s Ivan? Where’s the other guy who was with him?
I stare in utter disbelief at Benedikt’s and Kazimir’s efficiency in dispatching the would-be kidnappers. My feet won’t move. My mind won’t stop spinning. I can still hear screaming, but I’m not making a sound.
“Maria?”
“Baby bird?”
The two men crowd me. Behind us, tires screech, and Kaz turns to fire three shots at Ivan, making a getaway in the van. The passenger hangs out the window to take a shot at Kazimir, but Kaz shoots him right in the head with deadly accuracy.
Benedikt scoops me into his arms and cradles me against his massive chest.
As I bury my face against his warmth, a familiar scent and a sense of security envelop me.