Selena
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I nod. “I took a test a couple of days ago. And I’ve been tired, nauseous.”
I feel the threat of tears for, like, the hundredth time in this endless night. I haven’t really thought about it yet, about the baby. I was so shocked, so not ready, and I was just trying to get situated in my new job. I just couldn’t quite … wrap my mind around it. I’m not sure I would have been happy even if Matt had still been around. We weren’t exactly happy together. Anymore.
I’m not sure if we ever really were.
I watch Finn’s face as he thinks about what I’ve just told him. I’m positive he’s about to tell me to piss off, to get the hell out of his apartment. I’m not sure what to do—this whole situation is so fucked up. What would my mother say now? I’ve just come on the face of my kidnapper while pregnant with my husband’s baby. I’m about to go into the den of a lion, my boss, who will probably expect … sexual favors. This is insanity.
I should run. I should …
“Hey,” Finn says. “It’s a complication but … we’ll make it work. Now, let’s go through the plan. You’re going to go to work tomorrow like usual. We’ll sneak into your apartment early in the morning, get you showered and changed. You’ll tell Sergei I kidnapped you, raped you. That you ran out in the middle of the night and hitched a ride home. You’ll beg his forgiveness; beg him to help you. Tell him you just want to go back to normal; you’ll do whatever he wants.”
He makes me go over the plan several more times until my eyelids are so heavy, my head is aching, and I simply can’t hear him anymore. Finally, he lets me drift off.
When I wake up, I’m still in a torn dress, bra, and totally naked from the waist down. Finn, however, is freshly showered and dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and his work boots.
“Time to get up, princess,” he says. “It’s four-thirty. I think whoever is on guard duty will have nodded off, but not for much longer.”
I get up, my wrists sore from being bound the night before. Finn tosses me a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants and ushers me out the door as soon as I’m dressed. We get into a different car than the one we came in, Finn telling me it’s safer. I agree.
Traffic is light this early in the morning, so we make it in under a half hour, Finn driving around the block, spotting the watcher asleep in his vehicle as predicted. We park around the block and go in through the back door.
“Take a shower,” Finn orders.
“Bossy,” I mutter, heading into the bathroom.
It will feel good to get clean. Just as I go to shut the door, his big body blocks me and he steps inside.
“I assure you I don’t need a chaperone in order to take a shower,” I say.
“I’m sure you don’t, but I’ll stay just the same,” he says. “Hurry up.”
I let out an annoyed sigh, but turn on the shower without any more argument. I know little about Finn, but I’ve figured out that he’s about as hardheaded as they come.
I pull off the hoodie and sweatpants and toss them at him. Undoing my bra and stepping into the warm spray, I think I let out a moan of pleasure. The water feels so good, so soothing, on my knotted muscles. Finn watches me through the glass door.
Fine. He wants to be a big perv? Then I’ll give him a show. Maybe playing around will help calm my nerves.
I stand in the spray, tilting my head back under the water, running my hands through my long locks, my breasts jutting out as my back arches. I know my body looks good. I’m not showing any baby bump yet, not even close, and my workout regimen is the only thing that keeps me sane.
I soap my hair first, making sure to take a long time, knowing that the sight of suds running down the length of my body is turning Finn on. His cock strains under his jeans, even though he leans nonchalantly against the bathroom wall, trying to look unaffected.
I take the bar soap and run it under the water, lathering it along my breasts, playing with my nipples until they’re hard nubs. I feel the heat of Finn’s stare and it goes straight to my core. Why does he make me feel this way? I should be afraid of him. He’s easily as dangerous as Sergei. Maybe more so, honestly. With Sergei, I know to be on my guard. I know he’s a snake, that he’ll hurt anyone to get what he wants, that his business, his family business, comes first. His own desires come first. He’ll burn everything else to the ground.
With Finn, though … I don’t know. He’s beautiful. There’s attraction between us, in spite of the circumstances. And I’m not stupid enough to think that it’s anything more than sexual, I want to trust him. I want to trust that he’s going to help me through this, that he’ll get me out safely, get his money, and let me go live my life.
It’s probably really stupid, but I want to believe that this will work. If I let myself think otherwise, it will eat me up.
So I play along, reaching between my legs, rubbing at the ache building there. I close my eyes as I work my fingers along my throbbing clit, my mind on Finn, on his talented tongue, on his massive cock. I open my eyes, ready to invite him in the shower to finish me off, but he’s gone. The door to the bathroom is open, and Finn is nowhere to be seen.
I feel a little rejected, honestly. I thought for sure that the whole display would end up differently, not with him leaving right before I was ready to climax. Go figure though, just another little measure of control through indifference. Whatever.
I turn around to face the spray, finishing my shower quickly, stepping out, drying off. When I wander into the bedroom, I find him sitting in my reading chair. There’s a work outfit laid out on the bed for me.
“What if I don’t want to wear that?” I ask, nodding to the slim skirt and blouse he’s chosen.
“Just put it on. Get dressed. Do your makeup and hair like normal. Pretend I’m not here. If anyone’s watching, they’ll just see you moving around, getting ready for your day.”
“You know,” I say tersely, “You’re a real piece of work. You eat me out last night, make me come like a champ. Today you force your way into the bathroom with me, let me do a show for you, and then disappear. What the fuck?”
“Maybe it wasn’t a very good show,” he says.
“You fucking asshole,” I say, inflamed, stalking over to him. I slap him across the face and he doesn’t even flinch, so I raise a hand to do it again. This time, he grabs my wrist mid-air.
“I am an asshole,” he agrees. “It’s best you don’t get too comfortable, too familiar.”
“Fuck you,” I say. “What game are you playing?”
“You know the answer to that question, Selena,” he says.
“Why do that last night?” I ask.
“Because I wanted to,” he says with a shrug. “Because you needed it. Because I needed it.”
“But now you don’t?” I ask. “I put on a show for you in there and you walked out.”
“Don’t get your feelings hurt,” he says. “We don’t have time for what I want to do to you. It’s not personal.”
I wrench my hand away and head over to the bed, pulling on the bra and underwear he’s chosen for me. These are sexier than I’ve been wearing of late, a black lace thong and matching push-up bra. My breasts spill over, bigger now that I’m pregnant. I look at myself in the mirror with a frown.
“Looks good,” Finn says. “Sexy.”
“Looks like it doesn’t fit,” I say. “I’m surely going to be a hippo. I’ll be one of those very fat pregnant woman, I know it.”
“You’ll be fine,” he says.
I head back into the bathroom to dry and style my hair. It takes a long time because there’s a lot of it, and I don’t really feel like taking the time. I wonder, for a moment, if my scared act will come off better if I pull it into a bun or ponytail. If I’m too made up, look too much like my normal self, will he think that’s weird? Or will it be better if I go in looking good?
I decide that I should look as normal as possible. He wants me, and it’s likely he won’t be as interested if I don’t look like someone he wants to fuck. The snake. I can hardly wipe the snarl off my face as I finish my hair and makeup, it pisses me off so much.
Once all that is done, I put on the outfit Finn has chosen. It looks good; he’s got decent taste. I pull on my shoes and head to the kitchen to grab a breakfast bar and a glass of milk.
“Milk?” he asks.
“Weird craving lately,” I say with a shrug. “Normally I’d drink coffee but …”
“Yeah, got it,” he says. “You ready to go?”
“I am,” I say, taking a deep breath.
“You got the story down?” he asks.
“Yes, Finn, you only made me go over it a hundred times. I’ve got it.”
“This is your life, Selena,” he says. “You can’t afford to fuck it up.”
There are about fifty things I want to say, but I decide it’s not worth starting something with him. He’s right. Sergei is a piece of shit, but he’s got resources. If we can pull this off, my debt will be paid. I’ll be able to walk away from all of this. Start over. Raise my child in peace.
As I head for the door, he says he’ll hang around until the watcher leaves to follow me. He’s added himself as an alias in my phone. I’m to text him updates if it is safe to do so. He’s going to do some research of his own.
“Good luck,” he says as I head out the door.
I feel like I’m going to need a lot more than luck.
***
Finn
I have never wanted to fuck someone more than when I watched Selena rub her perfect, pink nipples in the shower. It took every single bit of my self-control to act as if I didn’t care. In fact, leaving was the only thing I could do in the moment. I wasn’t lying—what I wanted to do to her would have derailed our whole plan. We didn’t have time.
And frankly, I can’t afford to want her. I want her to get in and get information. I want her to help make good on her husband’s debt while helping me take out the piece of shit who almost raped her. And then I want to let her go. I want her to go off and live on a beach somewhere, preferably on the Kovolovs’ stolen dime.
She doesn’t need another asshole in her life. And that’s all I would be, someone who would hurt her, put her in danger. Why get all wrapped up, even for the best-tasting pussy in town?
I let out a little laugh to myself. I feel like a little pussy. I’m worried about her. She’s a mark, for Christ’s sake. This is business only. What the fuck is wrong with me that I want nothing more than to bring her back, to take her to bed, to fuck her until the screams my name? I want to pleasure her, make her come again and again, in all sorts of depraved ways.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t want to protect her. I should just let this shit go, let the cards fall where they will with her boss. It’s her fucking problem. Let her deal with it. Take the car and whatever else she offered and fucking take my losses. It’s not the first time some asshole’s run out on a debt. Matt Russell isn’t that fucking smart; he’ll turn up and I’ll get my payment in blood.
I made the mistake of falling for a mark once before. Long time ago, another life. I was so young. Stupid. Hadn’t learned a goddamned thing about human nature yet. And she fucked me over royally.
Selena Russell is not that woman, of course. And I haven’t fallen for her. But still, a good cautionary tale never hurt anyone, and I need to get this done and over with as soon as possible. Wash my hands of this whole fucking mess.
Once I see her tail leave, I step out the back door and head back to my car. I’m suddenly famished, so I go straight over to my favorite diner, just blocks from Selena’s work.
Tina, one of my favorite regular waitresses, comes over to greet me with a steaming cup of coffee. “Hey, stranger, long time no see.”
“Yep, it’s been, what, twenty-four whole hours?” I ask jokingly.
“I assume you don’t want a Reuben at seven in the morning?” she asks.
“Nope,” I say, “How about the breakfast special? Over easy eggs, wheat toast?”
She nods and walks off to put in my order. I send a few texts to some of my contacts in Brooklyn to see who’s around. I want to make a few inquiries into the Kovolov family, see what I can come up with that might help our plan.
“You look deep in thought today,” Tina says, putting my breakfast plate in front of me.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ve got a … friend … I’m kind of worried about. She’s got a boss that she’s afraid of and I’m trying to figure out who this guy is.”
“Someone local?” Tina asks, her gossip-meter buzzing.
“I think so. Guy keeps an office not too far from here,” I say. “Kovolov?”
She makes a distasteful face, her button nose crinkling. “No wonder she’s scared. That guy’s got a bad reputation.”
“You know him?” I ask.
“I know of him,” she says. “Nasty piece of work, from what I hear. Girls came in from the club down the street maybe a month ago. Said he came in and paid royally for a private party. Had guards blocking the doors, asked them to do all kinds of abnormal stuff.”
“Abnormal?” I ask. “Like?”
She actually blushes. And this woman has a mouth like a sailor, so it must be something insane. She shakes her head and lowers her voice, slipping into the booth across from me, leaning in close. “Like, he cut one of them … with a knife … down there. Then made her ride him while bleeding. Not a deep cut or anything and she said he paid her some crazy amount of money to do it, but who the hell does something like that?”
“Whoa,” I say. “Anything else?”
She grimaces. “He wanted the other one to lick the blood off of his … you know. She refused. You know, said it was unsanitary, and he grabbed her by the hair and shoved her face into his crotch. Laughed at her when she screamed. I guess he was real rough with her. And he made the girls sign an agreement that they wouldn’t talk about it.”
“But they did talk about it,” I say.
“Yeah, I suppose they did,” she says. She goes a little pale and slides back out of the booth. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen those girls in a while …”
She heads off to check on another customer and I feel pretty damn good about my decision to intervene in Kovolov’s effort to rape Selena. I didn’t feel too bad about it in the first place, but now that I know just how fucked up his sexual tastes are, I definitely don’t mind that I broke that fucker’s nose.
I am a little worried for Selena today, though. I can only hope that he’ll keep up the charade of businesslike behavior while he’s in the office. As I eat my breakfast, I think about all the clowns I’ve dealt with in my career. I started in the loan business after my dad died. I was only about twenty-two and I’d helped out in his payday lending shop in Queens since I was a teenager. Saved up enough money working for him in high school that I bought my first car, a used and really beat-up Porsche 911. It had a busted muffler and a body that looked like it’d been through the demolition derby but I thought I was hot shit because I was a senior and had a Porsche.
I learned how to restore cars and fixed it up over the course of a couple of years; thought I might actually open a body shop or something. But my dad died and left me his business, which was fine but boring. I got a little restless and took on a side loan with a guy I knew was into organized crime. This guy, Lenny, he was a worm of a guy and I guess he wanted to invest in a side shipment of weapons to sell. He ran his mouth all the time, about how the mob didn’t pay him enough and didn’t give him big jobs and he was going to build up his own clientele and show them he could be in the big leagues and blah, blah, blah.
Well, his bosses found out. They paid triple on his loan to keep me quiet, killed him, and then took his shipment. I made so much bank that I thought, “Shit, I should do these side loans all the time.” And a loan shark was born.
I’ve had really violent deals before, too. Been in a few nasty fights that, by all rights, should’ve buried me. But I’ve never tried to extort anyone. I’ve never done a shakedown like this one, and I’m sort of thinking I’m a brainless idiot to be trying it for the first time with a guy like this.
However, seeing as this guy cuts women for fun, I feel even more resolved that he needs to go down. I could just kill him. Go in and blast him up in his office and be done with it. But then I’d have his guys after me and no money. No, I need to take him for what he’s worth and leave him with nothing, just a pissing, crying, naked baby on the floor.
After I eat, I head out to see a customer and collect a payment. Ernie’s an all right guy, usually makes good on his payments, especially when I visit in person. While he opens his safe, I ask him what he knows about Kovolov.
“Fucking prick,” he says. “Ruthless. Watched him bash a guy’s head in just because he looked at him sideways across the bar.”
“Really?” I ask. “Just … for looking at him?”
“Yep,” he says. “Guy side-eyed him while he was talking in Russian on his phone and he put the phone down mid-call, walked over, grabbed the guy by the neck and shoved him into the bar like, three, four, times. They had to call the squad.”
“Jesus,” I say.
“Jesus ain’t gonna touch that creep with a ten-foot-pole,” Ernie says, handing me a stack of cash. “You don’t want to do business with him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Nah,” I say, “Just have a friend who works for him. Curious.”
“Well, get your friend a new job and get un-curious,” Ernie advises. “Stay as far from that shit as you can. Guy’s bat-shit crazy.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I say. “See you next month.”
I head to the car and send a text to check in on Selena.
Me: U Ok?
Selena: All good. He cursed your name but bought my story. Apologized for last night. Said he drank too much.
Me: Right. Text if u need me. See u after work.
I head out to collect on some more loans but I can hardly focus as my thoughts keep looping back to Selena. I sent her into the lion’s den. I put a pregnant woman in danger, and to what end? My own greed? Certainly not to protect her, certainly not to put her in a better situation.
I’ve done a hell of a lot of things I’m not proud of. This might be the worst.