Chloe
I turned on him as we got into the room. “Axel. Now isn’t the time to go all silent hard man on me. Tell me what the fuck is going on!”
He didn’t say anything. His gaze was fixed on the door. He was thinking.
“Now ain’t the time. I need to think.” He didn’t even look at me.
I felt emotion rising up inside me, selfish indignation at him. I wondered if he’d even cared about me, or had just used me last night. I worried that maybe his charms had been false. I was scared, and suddenly lonely even in his company.
“Do you even care? Or was everything last night just fake? Are you going to just fuck off when your job’s done?” I didn’t know where the words were coming from, confused emotions bubbling to the surface. I needed comforting; I was feeling isolated and scared.
“Talk to me, Axel! I need you!” I saw him clench his jaw at my voice.
“Chloe! I can’t keep you safe if you’re shouting at me. I need a minute.”
“Oh fuck off then, Axel. Just do what you’ve been paid to do, then.” I turned on my heels and headed for what I hoped was a bedroom. I felt warm tears falling down my face.
What was up with me? And what the fuck was up with Axel? Fucking iceman. Switches his emotions off and on like a fucking light bulb.
I got to the main bedroom and stepped inside, slamming the door behind me.
Axel
My head was swimming. I’d desperately tried to shut Chloe out. I needed to focus.
All day she was all I could think about. I was obsessed. Her proximity to me, her smile, her smell… It was all driving me crazy.
I let her storm off. I’d give her a minute to see if we’d been followed all the way to the hotel. Then I’d go explain.
Fuck. I need a drink. My nerves are in tatters.
A feeling of shaky unease came over me as the adrenaline from the car chase began to fade. I backed away from the door, keeping my body facing it at all times. Nothing, so far.
I absently poured a big whiskey into a glass from a decanter to my left.
No ice. And this is my fourth whiskey. Fuck it.
I took a gulp, pleased at the burn as it went down.
I sipped at the whiskey for a minute or two. Then I sighed.
Time to go and see little miss stressy pants, I guess.
Women are emotional creatures, I knew. I didn’t blame Chloe for her outburst. It hadn’t even bothered me really. I knew she was scared, lonely and probably homesick. I felt a welling of confused emotion, and an overwhelming urge to make her feel safe.
With one last glance at the front door I strode to the room she’d holed herself up in. I knocked loudly.
“Chlo’. It’s me, doll.” No answer.
Cmon Chlo’. Don’t play around now. This ain’t the time.
“I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. Let me in so I can talk to you,” I shouted, banging at the door again.
I tried the handle, pushing at the door. It was open…
An icy feeling of dread seeped into my stomach. I dropped my whiskey, glass shattering and contents splashing.
The room was empty.
Chloe
I turned to face the centre of the bedroom after making a show of slamming the door as hard as I could. My vision was blurred with tears.
But I could still make out the shape of three big, dark figures in the room around me. I froze, instinctively.
Before I had time to scream a rough hand had grabbed me from behind. I bit his hand as hard as I could. I heard angry Russian words close to my ear.
Good. Hope it fucking hurt.
My mouth was quickly taped before I could use my teeth again to any good effect. My hands were then tied roughly with strong duct tape behind my back.
I remembered, probably from some survival book or movie, to ball my fists and tense my muscles as they were bound. I found that I still had circulation and could move my hands slightly.
One of the men knelt at my feet, and was about to bind my feet too. He was struggling with the tape. Another Russian gestured angrily at his watch. The kneeling Russian’s face was deliciously close to my knee.
I smashed it into his face as hard as I could, satisfied when he reeled back, grunting. Blood poured from his nose.
If you think I’m gonna make this easy, you’re oh so wrong. You’re messing with the wrong girl.
The largest of the three in front of me pushed him away and roughly grabbed my legs, while the other completed the task of taping my legs together.
I stared triumphantly at the man whose nose I’d hopefully broken. He glared back, angrily. He hadn’t even bothered to stem the flow of blood, letting it run down his body.
The last thing I saw was him standing up before a burlap sack was put roughly over my head. I could barely see anything as I was carried from the room.
I panicked as I was carried, disorientated. The whole kidnap had taken just over a minute, I guess. Though my perception of time was next to useless. Everything had seemed to happen in an instant.
Axel. I’m sorry. Help me!
Axel
I surveyed the room, eyes jumping between points of interest. There was little disturbance, except for a pool of congealing blood near the centre of the room.
Good girl. Don’t make it easy for them.
A window was open, the curtain billowing softly in a cool breeze. Whether they’d actually entered through the window I had no idea. Could be a fire escape there, I guessed.
I heard the sound of heavy footsteps out in the living room, heading slowly into the corridor…
Boots. A Russian. He’s armed, I’m not.
I waited for my would-be assassin to enter the bedroom, turning slowly as I did so.
I suppressed the burning rage that was growing in my chest, switching it off like a light. I breathed deeply, powerfully, rolling my shoulders to loosen the muscles.
The Russian turned the corner, his gun extended. He was a few feet away from the entrance.
Clever bastard.
He moved slowly, professionally. Probably ex-KGB.
“Ah, Dmitry.” I recognised him from the plane.
He grinned viciously as he saw the recognition in my face. His left eye was half closed, the other staring at me down the sights of his silver Tokarev pistol.
“If you do not give me some useful information, I will not kill you slowly.” His face turned dark as he stepped close, his gun inches from my heart. “Talk, now. American.”
I was relaxed, composed. Motionless.
“Ok. I’ll talk. I have some information that you might find important.” His eyebrow raised as he looked into my eyes.
I saw the gleam of excitement on his ugly face. I could read the thoughts crossing his small brain. Kill the American and return with vital information? I could almost see the Ruble signs light up in his eyes.
Now’s my chance.
I had been standing in a powerful fighters stance, my right foot slightly forward, weight favouring my good left knee. In an instant I swivelled my torso to the right, my heart moved out of the line of fire in a fraction of a second. I knew a gunshot then would be painful and probably collapse my lung if he was quick, or merely graze my ribs if I was lucky.
But I’d distracted him. My hand shot to his gun arm like lightning, pushing the weapon away from my body. The gun bucked, gunshot ringing loud. A bullet sliced through the skin of my left bicep. It felt like a scratch from Chloe’s nails.
I pushed my powerful thumb into his palm, savagely forcing the gun from his grip. As was usual in these situations, he focused on holding onto the gun. As soon as it was out of harm's way it was next to useless, especially against a powerful fighter like me. If I was holding the gun, I would have dropped it, surprising my assailant.
Then a headbut or palm to the bridge of the nose, followed by drawing of my combat knife. It would have been over in two seconds.
With his focus on the gun, I turned my back to him. His arm over my shoulder.
I pulled his palm down to my waist with all my strength, using my shoulder as a pivot. His elbow shattered with a sickening crack.
I heard him scream out in agony behind me. I followed up with a backwards elbow into his ribs, violent force cracking bones. I felt him reel back from the blow, but I wasn’t finished with him yet.
Pivoting on my feet, using my hips to accentuate the blows, I laid into him with fists like iron. Two, three, four, five body blows to the chest and abdomen. Ribs cracked, collarbone smashed.
He collapsed to the floor.
I stood over him, breathing steadily. He writhed in pain at my feet.
“Oh, yeah. As I was saying. I’ve got some information for you.” I kicked him savagely in the gut.
“If you don’t tell me where she is now, I’m going to break your fucking legs. And then I’m going to strangle you to death.”
I wasn’t really going to strangle him. But I thought it might help the persuasion.
“You fucking American! Fuck off!” He was delirious with pain, half laughing and half crying as he spat a torrent of filthy-sounding Russian words at me.
I jumped into the air, my full weight coming down on my left foot onto his knee. I heard a satisfying crack and a loud pop.
He screamed again.
“Last fucking chance!” I pointed at him, barely checked rage building within me. An image of Chloe formed in my mind, dragged from here against her will.
The Russian was useless, sobbing in front of me. Pathetic.
I went back into the room to grab his gun. I checked the chamber. Loaded. On the way out of the building I coldly shot him between the eyes. I heard the sound of distant sirens.
“I told you that you wouldn’t be fucking breathing if I saw you again. Same goes for your friends. They’re all dead men.”