Selena
It’s only two. I have been sexually assaulted and had Finn in here freaking out and it’s only two in the afternoon. How can that be?
After a quick check to confirm that Sergei is in a scheduled meeting, I head back into his office and hack back into his files. He hasn’t changed the passwords, which I hope means he hasn’t figured out that I’ve been stealing information.
This time, I don’t look at files, I just copy them to a thumb drive. I am quick and efficient, in and out in only twenty minutes, back to work, all the while hating and fearing Sergei in equal measure. I still can’t get the taste of him out of my mouth. It makes me gag again just thinking about it.
Sergei comes back around four, a wide smile on his face fading as he faces me at my desk. He leans in and says, “I fucked a woman twice as hot as you at lunch. Ate pussy and made her scream with pleasure.”
“That’s nice for you,” I say, looking at my computer.
“Stand up,” he says sharply. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
I look up and see that his eyes are dark. Rage? Sadism? Challenge? Arousal? Maybe all of the above, and it scares me, but I stand, hands at my sides. Act normal. Act normal. Don’t act scared.
I stand, and pain in my stomach feels like a knife. It’s like menstrual cramps times ten and I feel my face contort as I double over. “I just,” I gasp, “Just one second, please.” I run out the door and down the hall to the restroom, shutting myself in the stall, sitting bent half over as I wait for the cramping to subside.
I focus on my breathing, using my yoga practice to guide me. Maybe I’m just stressed out. Anyone would be under these circumstances. It’s going to be fine. I just need to get up and go back to work and tell him I’m fine.
Finally, the pain subsides and I walk slowly back to the office. Sergei is back at his desk, on a phone call, when I sit back down. He eyes me warily but seems less angry, less contentious. He speaks in Russian, as usual, and fiddles with a rubber band as he talks. I get back to trying to finish my day, reading email, though the cramping persists, and I feel suddenly extremely nauseated.
A little after five, I get up and collect my things, but just as I step out from behind my desk, my skin goes cold and clammy and my vision goes fuzzy. I reach out, trying to find anything to brace myself, but find nothing as my knees buckle.
I wake up with Sergei standing over me. He’s saying my name, snapping his fingers in my face. I blink a few times and then realize I must have fainted. Great. I manage to sit up, collecting my things. My purse has fallen, contents are scattered across the floor, including the thumb drive of evidence. A pit forms in my stomach. I’ve got to get that in my purse without him seeing it.
“What happened, Selena?” he asks. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just …” I start, reaching out to pull all of my things toward me. I manage to grab the thumb drive and a hairbrush together, throwing them into my bag, flustered. “I just don’t feel well today. I’m sorry.”
“Well, perhaps I should drive you to the hospital,” he says.
“No,” I say. “No, that’s not necessary. I’m sure it’s just a stomach bug or something.”
He narrows his eyes as he looks at my stomach. I’m not more than seven or eight weeks pregnant. I don’t even have an appointment to confirm it for another two weeks. I can’t possibly look pregnant, though he told me earlier I looked like a whale. I give him a rueful smile as I gather my things back into my purse. As I stand, though, I feel woozy again, the cramps forcing me to sit back down in a nearby office chair.
“That’s it,” he says. “I am taking you to the hospital. No arguments.”
Sergei holds my elbow the whole way out to the parking garage. He insists on helping me put on my seatbelt. As it clicks into place, I feel sick with a sense that I am not safe, even as he says, “I’ll take good care of you, Selena.”
He drops me at the emergency room at Brooklyn Hospital and says he’s going to go park the car. I assure him he doesn’t need to stay, that I’ll be fine, but he says he insists. He wants to personally oversee my care.
I head to the check-in desk and share as quickly as I can that I believe I’m pregnant. I tell them my boss brought me here, that I don’t want him to know any of my medical business. I can hear in my voice the threat of tears. The nurse assures me that she’ll make a note that doctors and nurses are not to discuss my medical information with anyone but me. I breathe for the first time since I arrived.
After filling out paperwork and getting a plastic wristband, a young woman in a candy-striped dress brings a wheelchair. She wheels me to the elevator, up a few levels, and then down a few hallways. I’m taken immediately to an area cordoned off into four tiny triage suites, surrounded by curtains and each with only enough room for a bed and a sink.
I’m helped out of the chair and told to put on the hospital gown that is neatly folded on the bed, that a nurse will be in in just a moment. After doing as told and climbing onto the bed, I send Finn a quick text.
Selena: Hospital. Don’t Come. S is here.
Finn: Hospital?
Selena: Cramping. No stress.
I delete everything as soon as I get a thumbs-up in response.
When the nurse comes in, she takes my temperature, blood pressure, and asks me my weight and height. She says, “The notes say you fainted today, and that you experienced extreme cramping. And that you’re pregnant? Do you know about how far along?”
I give a little shrug, peering past her just to make sure Sergei isn’t waiting outside the curtain. “My boss brought me here,” I say in a low, desperate voice. “He can’t know I’m pregnant. Not yet.”
She gives one big, knowing nod. “What does he look like?” she asks.
I give a description and she promises that he’ll be asked to wait in the waiting room and not permitted into my hospital room before she tells me she’ll be back with the doctor in a few minutes.
A few minutes stretches into a few more, and it has been nearly an hour before anyone comes back into the little triage suite. A squat but kind-looking female doctor introduces herself as Doctor McElroy.
“Have you had any bleeding?” she asks.
“No,” I say.
“Morning sickness?”
“Lots, yes,” I say. “And I’ve been stressed at work, so it’s probably just that.”
“Well, maybe,” she says before giving a pointed look at my wedding rings. “Husband?”
I open my mouth then shut it quickly. “He’s not around.”
“Asshole,” the doctor says with a wink. “And I’m told that you’re worried about your boss learning you’re pregnant?”
“Yes,” I say. “It’s so early, and I just started this job a few weeks ago. I just … he can be volatile. I’m not ready to tell him. I need this job. You know?”
“I got you, girl,” she says, patting my arm.
“Thank you,” I say with a relieved sigh. “Do you … do you think the baby’s okay? I mean … do you think I’m miscarrying?”
“I need to do a few things before I can answer that question. For now, I need you to lie back and relax.”
Doctor McElroy pokes around my abdomen, asking me where things hurt. She finds a tender spot and I cringe, which makes her cringe and ask a nurse to have an ultrasound machine brought in. When that nurse leaves, another comes in and whispers something in the doctor’s ear. She frowns and excuses herself, scurrying out of the small space, the sound of the surrounding curtain scraping on the rail and sending a shiver down my spine.
***
Finn
Well, shit. Now I’m worried. Selena’s at the hospital and that murderous criminal is there with her. What would Kovolov do if he knew she was pregnant? I have images of him kicking her in the stomach in my head and it makes me sick, bile rising in my throat as I debate about going in and just putting the guy down right there in the hospital, come what may.
Of course, walking into a hospital and blasting away like some gangster is not the best course of action. I know that. So I decide I need to use the empty office to my advantage. If Kovolov is focused on Selena, and Selena is in a fairly safe and public place, then that means the office is dark. Selena’s given me a lot of good stuff, but I need more. And I need to see it myself. This is my chance.
I park a couple of blocks away, happy to find a new security guard on duty at the front desk. He’s on the phone, engaged in what sounds like an intense argument with someone. He doesn’t even see me slip past him and to the stairwell.
The hallway is dark, leaving me the opportunity to jimmy the lock on the door and slip inside. I waste no time, rifling through every filing cabinet, box, and pile of papers in the place. It will look like a break-in, because I’ve left a huge mess, and that’s fine with me. I want it to look random. I realize Selena’s found most of the relevant paper files, so I move on to Kovolov’s computer. I just need a few more pieces of evidence in order to pull this off.
Selena’s already shared the passwords and I told her what I needed but with her out of commission at the hospital, I know the time is now to finish this. I find what I need and send it to a private email address that I only use for private business. Just as I hit send, though, I feel my whole body go cold.
I didn’t even hear them come in, but there they are. Two of Kovolov’s thugs, both in black, both packing serious heat, staring me right in the face, smug grins on their faces.
“You think our boss does not have security in place?” one asks.
I open my mouth and only a light laugh comes out. Selena never mentioned any security system, which means he’s been watching everything she’s done. Every copy she’s made. Every file she’s printed. Everything. My stomach drops straight into my shoes.
“We can see that you understand the gravity of the situation,” the other says. “Come with us. Quietly.”
I stand, really wishing I had armed myself before this impulsive mission. Fuck. These guys are going to put me in a concrete boot and shove me into the East River. The guys pat me down, taking my phone before grabbing me by the arms. I’m shocked at how big they are. I mean, I’m a big dude and these guys seem humongous. One is blond and one is dark-haired but other than that, they look very similar. They look like clones. It’s weird.
It won’t be possible to muscle my way out of this. Even if I could get away, they’ve got guns and I’d bet money they can draw and shoot faster than I can run out of this maze. That means I’ll have to think my way out of this. It’s not my life I’m so worried about—it’s Selena’s. I need to get out of this so I can get to her, get her to safety.
I walk calmly and they take me down several flights of stairs, into a basement storage area full of locked cages of office supplies and furniture. One, bare apart from a single chair, shows the stains of previous guests on the concrete floor.
I’m shoved to the chair but not tied up. One guy keeps watch, arms crossed over his chest, while the other stands outside the cage, making a phone call. With no way to warn Selena, I start to sweat. There’s really no way out of this that isn’t bloody, and Kovolov’s likely to just tell them to shoot me.
I can’t hear the conversation over the loud fan that runs in this dank space. Some sort of air management system to keep all of this storage stuff from getting moldy or something, but it provides perfect cover for violence, as well. It’s like being in a tomb in the center of the earth.
As the second thug steps back into the space, he walks right up and takes a swing, busting me in the nose. I hear the sickening crack and then taste the coppery tang of blood as it leaks down to my lips.
Another punch. “What were you looking for?”
I don’t answer, so I get a boot to the chest that sends me and the chair backward, my head smacking on the hard floor. I see stars and in the moment I’m disoriented, they kick me in the stomach and ribs.
This goes on and on, until they get bored. The blond one finally says, “We already know your girlfriend was stealing information. We know you’re collecting. But why?”
“Does it matter why?” I ask.
“Mm,” the blond guy grunts. “No. Boss is just curious. He’ll kill you either way.”
Ah, so there we go. He wants to kill me himself. If I had to guess, probably with Selena watching. This may be a good thing for me. It means I have time. I just need to think.