Chapter 4 The Death Wish
The Death Wish
Mira
The next day starts typically. I briefly shoot the breeze with the security officer who checks me in, and make a mad dash to the employee breakroom for coffee.
Switching to nights to guard Nikolai has messed with my circadian rhythm, and most mornings I’m only stealing a few hours of sleep, which results in multiple trips to the coffee maker.
I ride down to the basement with my thermos in one hand and the other clutching the shoulder strap of the overladen lunchbox in the other.
Nikolai has officially gone on a hunger strike. He refuses to eat anything prepared by the staff, claiming mistrust and attempts to poison him. I reassured him that he was worth more alive than dead, and he and I knew the real reason he wouldn’t eat his food.
Nikolai was being a child, throwing a tantrum because he wanted to eat what I was eating. And like the stupid, dumb bitch I am, I found myself going out of my way to cook elaborate meals and pack extra helpings just for him.
The elevator jolts to a stop, and my boots thud against the concrete floors. I find Officer Driscoll reclining back in the chair with his feet on the desk and a toothpick sticking out of the corner of his mouth, looking smug.
Too fucking smug for my tastes.
“Good evening, Mira,” he greets, returning his feet to the floor.
“That’s Officer Talbert,” I correct, placing my thermos and lunchbox onto the desk.
He clears his throat and murmurs, “Right.”
“How is our prisoner?” I ask lightly, making polite conversation until the shift change in two minutes.
“Combative and aggressive? Need I say more?”
“Combative and aggressive, how?” I ask with a raised brow.
With the exception of his first day when he pulverized Officer McDaniel, and the other night when Nikolai left me hot and bothered, he’s been a model prisoner…
for me at least. If you fuck with him, he’s coming for you, but for the most part, he remains glued to the shadows.
“It’s in the report.”
He rounds the desk, and I take a step back when he gets too close. A low snarl emanates from the shadows, halting Officer Driscoll in his tracks.
“Fucking animal,” he spits, sneering in disgust.
“Hey! Leave him alone!”
He snaps his head towards me and narrows his eyes.
“You alright, Officer Talbert?” he questions, voice full of suspicion.
“I’m fine. But I don’t need you riling him up and then he’s a fucking problem on my hands all night. Why antagonize him and make my job harder, huh?”
For a second, he looks remorseful before fortifying his gaze and straightening his spine.
“He’s your problem now,” he responds gruffly before taking his leave. The door slams shut behind him, and the lock engages. I let out the breath I was holding.
“You should ignore him. Men like that are only tough behind the badge and gun on his hip,” I say, sitting in the chair and logging into the desktop with my credentials.
It doesn’t alarm me when I don’t receive an immediate answer from Nikolai.
But what does alarm me is Officer Driscoll’s incident report, where he details using excessive but necessary force on Nikolai by repeatedly deploying his taser and spraying him with gel mace.
“Nikolai, do you require medical attention?”
He chuckles humorlessly and darkly.
“I am fine, my sweet Mira, but I cannot say the same for him. He’s signed his death warrant.”
I sigh and retrieve the medical kit.
“Threatening a federal officer is another charge.”
“It’s the least severe charge of them all.”
I shiver, squirting hand sanitizer into my open palm. I rub my hands together and try not to remember that I’m stuck with a heinous murderer for twelve hours a day.
I pull on a pair of blue nitrile gloves, and my curiosity gets the better of me.
“You’ve murdered people before, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“What…what was the most gruesome murder you’ve ever committed?”
He laughs, a deep rumble that shakes the tension loose in my chest.
“You want information, then you have to barter something for it.”
I smirk.
“How does gumbo and cornbread sound?”
“Did you cook it?”
“I did,” I confirm, approaching the cell.
“Then it suffices.”
“Wonderful. Let me examine you first, then you’ll eat and spill the beans. Come to me, Niko.”
He moves to the bars in a flash.
“Niko…I like that,” he comments warmly.
He’s flirting, but I barely notice it. I’m focused on the severe redness and swelling around his eyes.
“He pulled a number on you. Are you experiencing any wheezing or shortness of breath?”
“No.”
“How about blurry vision?”
“This is senseless. I’ve been shot and stabbed multiple times.”
“Congratulations. Do you want a cookie?”
“Mira,” he whispers, hissing a low warning for me to watch my tone. I clear my throat and continue my examination.
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Two.”
“How about now?”
“One.”
“Any dizziness, headache, nausea, confusion, or unusual fatigue?”
“Yes. Confusion.”
My breath catches.
“Tell me about the confusion.”
“I’m confused why you are asking all these questions.”
“You’re not taking me seriously,” I say, huffing under my breath, snapping my gloves off.
I dispose of them before unzipping my lunchbox and retrieving Nikolai’s portion.
I slide his meal through the opening meant for his hands instead of the meal slot.
He accepts it, and my eyes widen when he jerks me forward.
I throw my arm up, providing cushion for my face before colliding into the bars.
“Niko—”
“I am sorry that I upset you, my sweet Mira,” he apologizes, gently stroking my wrist and palm. “As you can imagine, there isn’t much to stimulate me down here—well, besides you,” he teases. “How about it, Officer?”
“How about what?” I ask, voice shaky and uncertain.
“Please me, and I’ll give you the world.”
I balk at his proposition, but that’s all for show because the thought of pleasuring him under the guise of duress is titillating.
“Nikolai…we can’t,” I say softly.
“Oh, we can,” he replies with a wolfish grin, holding up my keys that were attached to my belt and jangling them in my face.
Horrified, my mouth drops, and I attempt to wrench my arm from his grip.
“Nikolai, that’s enough! Give me the keys back!”
“Mmmm. I don’t think so,” he claims, reaching through the bars and sliding the key into the lock.
At this point, I’m frantic, trying and failing to wrestle my arm from his hold.
My heart seizes when the lock turns. He shoves me, and the force knocks me on my ass.
The cell door is wide open, and Nikolai stares down at me with a triumphant grin.
He advances, and I scramble back. He grabs me by one ankle, fingers curling around the bone like a vice grip, and pulls me towards the cell.
“Nikolai! Stop!” I shout, reaching for my taser.
“You’ll need something stronger than that. Ask Driscoll.”
With a powerful yank, I’m entirely in the cell, and the slamming of the cell door is as loud as a bomb detonating.
And now he’s staring down at me, wearing a sadistic grin.
God only knows what he plans to do with me.
But under the sheer terror that grips my heart, and my fight or flight that’s been activated, begging me to fight him off and escape while I still have the chance, a part of me wonders if Nikolai can work me the way he says.
Because if he can? I’m exactly where I want to be.
Nikolai
I stare down at my captive and wonder why she’s not screaming for her life or aiming her service weapon at me. Her body trembles with fear, but her eyes—those glorious, wide, brown eyes tell a different story—a story of complete surrender and submission.
My gaze drags over her pressed uniform, slow and unapologetic, until it lands on her mouth—the same mouth that speaks to me in my dreams—the mouth I want pressing against my hot skin.
“You’re not afraid of me,” I declare.
“I am,” she whispers, and I shake my head.
“Not enough to run.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she says confidently, striking me in a peculiar way that gives me pause.
“You don’t know that.”
“If you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve done it by now.”
I nod, wishing I had a cigarette.
“No…I won’t hurt you, my sweet Mira. But I will ruin you.”
The air between us snaps tightly, and Mira’s body betrays her. She clenches her thighs and her breath shallows as she lies before me. It’s an invitation, but I have to be sure.
“You have ten seconds to get out of here,” I say, tossing her keys at her. They smack her chest and fall onto the floor with a clank.
“And if I’m not fast enough?” she questions, propping herself up on her elbows, shooting me a sultry look that nearly makes me finish in my pants before we even begin.
“Then I’m not liable for what might happen to you. Ten…nine….”
She climbs to her feet and reaches for the buckle of her belt, pinning me with her gaze. Slowly, she lowers the belt with her only means of survival down to the floor.
“You have a fucking death wish,” I bite out, praying she’ll listen to reason and high-tail it out of my cell. Instead, she pushes on, fingers leisurely tugging her top out of her pants.
“You only live once,” she challenges, moving to the buttons.
“Four…three….”
“Two…one….”