Page 5 of Mistaken
Driving down the dirt frontage road from the lodge, I drove just past her location and parked the jeep. Prepping the syringe, I grinned, listening to her muttering as she headed up the highway. So that smart mouth of hers was always in gear, even when she was talking to herself.
“...This suuuucks…. How far is this? A couple of miles? I bet it’s about two miles.”
“Two point three miles.” I corrected, stepping out of the trees. Her fury at seeing me made me want to laugh, but I had to look stern.
She looked pretty rough, scrapes and bruises from her plunge into the ditch from the car, but still beautiful, pale green eyes flashing and those pretty, pink lips snarling at me.
“You just don’t know when it’s in your best interests to keep quiet, do you?” I chuckled, on her in two steps and throwing her over my shoulder, enjoying her little pained grunt as her stomach landed on me, knocking the breath out of her. I could feel her angry little feet and fists hammering on me, but she was too tired to make it feel like anything more than a tap. Still, I slapped her hard on the ass, enjoying her outraged shriek before plunging the needle through her skin and knocking this mouthy little thief out again.
Back at the lodge, I had my housekeeper Megumi clean her up and get her dressed again. Megumi gave me her usual hostile stare. She was the only one of my employees who got away with that look, but she’d been with the Morozov family for years. I’d rescued her from a human trafficking ring when she was sixteen and made her a member of our staff, the only one who wasn’t Russian. This caused a minor stir until I shut it down.
But now that I had Rachel back, I was in the mood to play. And I had the perfect opponent.
Ella…
At least I’m more comfortable this time.
Groggily sitting up, I held my forehead and looked around.Yeah, an optimist, that’s me,I thought bitterly. It was a big room, it had the hunting lodge feel: big timbered beams, old-world plastered walls, and a ton of dead animal heads nailed to the wall. At least I was warm, the fireplace was blazing and I thought it looked really cheerful. Stumbling a bit, I stood up, rubbing my eyes and looking for a door.
“The door’s locked, Rachel.”
And there he was, lounging in a huge wingback chair by the fire. “What, no velvet smoking jacket, Maksim?”
The gigantic lunatic had the nerve to chuckle indulgently. “You’re very focused on my wardrobe, Rachel.”
“I find my humor deflects from more serious issues, like getting kidnapped. And my name’s not Rachel, it’s- what am I wearing?”
Maksim made a stern tsk’ing sound. “Well, I couldn’t leave you in that dress, as pretty as it was.”
I didn’t answer, too distracted by what I was wearing. I looked like a model at a Survival Con, all dressed up in boots, cargo pants and some stretchy turtleneck thing.
Rising from his giant, stupid ostentatious leather chair, Maksim strolled over. He towered over me with a scary little grin. “Here,” handing me a cold bottle of water, “you must be very thirsty. Three Mojitos….”
“Two roofies…” I added, slowly taking the bottle. There were beads of condensation on the surface of the bottle and I was seconds away from just licking them right off the plastic. He was right, I was dying of thirst and the water bottle in my hand made it so much worse. I gingerly tried the cap. Was the seal broken?
He caught the movement, chuckling again. “I wouldn’t bother to spike the water, Rachel. I’ve already knocked you out twice. And you need your strength.”
With that ominous statement, I cracked the bottle and drank thirstily, aware that Maksim was watching every movement of my throat with unsettling intensity. Putting the back of my hand against my wet lips, I managed, “Uh, thank you, Maksim.”
“I want you in top shape for what comes next.” He leaned in closer as I stifled a desperate need to start weeping and begging for my life. He smelled good, like expensive cologne and minty toothpaste.
It was silent for a moment, the only sound was the crackling of the blaze in the fireplace, and I realized he was waiting for me to fearfully ask, “What comes next?”
So, I didn’t.
Grinning as if he could read my mind, Maksim pulled away, strolling over to the fireplace. “You’re stubborn, I like that. Usually, traitors are begging for their lives right now, trying to volunteer information.”
A weak puff of air escaped my slack lips as I watched him pull on a heavy glove and lift an iron poker, red-hot from the fireplace.
I should be seeking an immediate exit from this room, I knew that. I also knew this beefy mental patient would be on me before I could take more than three steps. So, my stupid mouth opened again.
“You know, you’re going to get ash all over this paramilitary outfit if you get too close with that thing.”
“Still concerned about the clothes, I see.” He shook his head in mock reproach, coming closer with the poker in his gloved hand.
“Cl- clothes make the man, Maksim.”
“And red-hot pokers severely disfigure the traitor, Rachel.”
