CHAPTER SEVEN

AMBER

I FOUND THE shower room at the back of the gym. I rinsed off all the blood, trying not to think too hard about where it came from.

“Mandy told me to give this to you.” Startled, I turned to an elderly man, who held a top out to me. He must have been in his sixties or seventies. His hair sat in thinned-out strands on top of his balding head. The grey, shiny tracksuit made his already pale and marked skin appear even sicklier. I took the black ladies’ top. “I’m Matthew, one of the managers,” he added when I didn’t speak.

“I need Emmett’s number.”  I said, ignoring him.

He raised both his eyebrows with a grin at my request. One hundred wrinkles appeared across his forehead. “Love, I know you're new here. But we don’t give out the boss man’s number,” he continued to grin, as if I was some silly little girl.

 I ain’t your love, jackass. That’s what I wanted to say, but I didn’t.  “Fine, I’ll just get it from his sister, then.” I turned to a row of stalls while entering the closest one to change my top.

“You do that,” Matthew said before leaving me.  I pulled off my destroyed top and put on the clean one that felt a bit snug, but it would do. I really didn’t want to text Grace and ask her for Emmett’s number. How many questions would it bring up? But what choice did I have?

“Amber?” Mandy’s sweet little voice had me mimicking her mutely. Yeah, she was pissing me off, and I was already in a bad mood after being kept in the dark.

I left the stall and threw my destroyed top into the bin. “Let me guess, the guy who was bleeding to death stumbled into a piece of gym equipment and hurt himself.” I folded my arms as I waited for Mandy’s explanation, but the too-tight top stretched too much, so I had to unfold them.

“The guy is Liam, and he’s only seventeen." Seeing the upset in her eyes had my anger leaving. She had known him.

“I’m sorry, but Mandy, this is madness. I mean, who takes a nursing job at a gym, and the first person they see has been stabbed?”

She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It happened out back, he and one of the guys were goofing around…" Lies, lies, lies.

“That’s the story you’re sticking with?” My anger rose.

“Yeah,” Mandy answered, folding her arms. She didn’t have to unfold hers. Nope, her top fit her perfectly.

“Fine!” I left the changing room and Mandy followed me. 

“That’s it?” she questioned, as I walked to our ‘station.’

“Yep, that’s it,” I answered softly as I poured a coffee. A curtain had been pulled around the bed where Liam lay. “How is he?” I asked as I turned to Mandy. She looked relieved, giving me a small, grateful smile before she spoke.

“He’s going to be fine.” She gave a full smile, now.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. It was mostly just the guys I had been introduced to earlier that came and went, visiting Liam. The chat was small and pointless, glances were passed around the room, then at me. They wanted to talk, but I was in the way. So, I stayed until everyone was giving me dirty looks. If they wanted me out they needed to ask me, but no one did because nothing odd had happened here, just a normal gym injury.

I was tired when I got back to the hotel. I texted Grace before I stripped off and jumped in the shower. Once dried and dressed for bed, I checked my messages. Grace had sent me Emmett’s number, no questions asked. What was she up to? I didn’t respond, but rang Emmett’s number instead. It rang out, but I got his voicemail. “You have reached Emmett Harrington. Leave your name and a brief message and I will return your call shortly.” The bleep was my indication to speak. I cleared my throat.

“Hi. It’s Amber. I wanted to speak about the nursing job you gave me, you know, the one in the gym?” I sat on the bed feeling awkward. “Look, today was scary and crazy so I...” Beeeep. That was it, the line cut off. Not much recording space on his phone. He was too important to listen to the ramblings of his employees. I threw the phone on the bed with irritation. This was such a mess.

***

 The noise of the phone ringing woke me up. I looked at the time–one in the morning. The number was one I didn’t recognize. So, I hung up and ducked down under the blankets, but the shrill persistence of the phone had me coming back up.

“Hello.” I grunted.

“Are you okay?” I was awake and alert at the sound of Emmett’s voice.

“Emmett, are you drunk?” He sounded like he was slurring his words, and the one o'clock in the morning phone call was another indication that he might have been drinking. 

“Are you okay?” He slurred again. This was weird.

“Yes, look, we can talk in the morning." I rubbed my eyes.

“It is morning," he added helpfully.

“You're drunk,” I stated again. He sounded drunk.

“Where are you?” Okay, his questions were silly.

“Look, Emmett, you woke me up. I’m going back to sleep in my hotel bed. In your hotel.” I hung up, not wanting to have a stupid conversation at this hour. Thankfully, I didn’t get any more drunk calls.

 

 EMMETT

Nine hours before...

We arrived at Kirill’s mansion, and I had been waiting two hours for him before he finally entered the room.

“Mr. Harrington.” Kirill entered with a party of six, all black suits, all tall and well-built. I could take them on…on an individual basis, just not all together. Kirill was the picture of diabetes, obesity, and heart disease. A cigar hung from his mouth as he spoke to me. 

“Mr. Kirill.” I took his outstretched, sweaty hand, each fat finger coated in rings. I wanted to wash my hands immediately, but right now, that wasn’t a possibility. When he let my hand go, he shook his finger at me like you might do to a bold child.

“You’ve upset me, Mr. Harrington.” He nodded at each word. He didn’t appear upset, but the way his men fanned around us showed me just how upset he really was.

“Sit.” I did, opening my suit jacket before I sat down. Kirill sat across from me. At first glance, his blue eyes looked friendly, and he actually appeared harmless, if you took all the suits away from the room. It was a comfortable room, where lots of friendly chats could take place. But the reality was that I was in a very dangerous place, and I wasn’t about to drop my guard. I studied him carefully.

“I loved Father Declan,” He leaned in, his voice lowering. His words were thick with his Russian accent. I strained to make sure I caught every word; I was sure my life depended on it.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Kirill,” I said, and he sat back before glancing at Albert. He switched to Russian, barking words at a reddening Albert. Their conversation was quick, but by the end, Albert had removed his glasses and wiped sweat from his forehead. He left with two suits on either side of him. Only four remained. The odds were better now.

“You did a bad thing, Mr. Harrington." Kirill’s tone still held a playfulness to it.

“There seems to be some confusion, Mr. Kirill. I untied Father Declan. I was trying to save him. He was the one that ran outside and must have stepped on a mine," I didn’t blink, but held his stare. His laughter sounded rough, like an un-sanded piece of wood under your palm.

“Every Friday Father Declan took my confession. It meant a lot to me, to have my sins forgiven. I see it in your eyes, Mr. Harrington. You are thinking just get another priest." I nodded, not speaking. It wasn’t what I was thinking. I was thinking about how I could take down five people in this room and walk away alive.

“This is how my confession goes with Father Declan. You know the start of the prayer?” I nodded again. “I beheaded a man today who betrayed me and fucked a woman who wasn’t my wife. He would give me one Hail Mary, and my sins would be forgiven.” He chuckled.  “Now Mr. Harrington, tell me, what priest would listen to my sins and give me such a lenient sentence?"

“The priest will do whatever you say, Mr. Kirill. I’m confident that you won’t have a problem finding another one."

“I don’t want another one; I want Father Declan,” he said, raising his voice. The silence grew heavy in the room. Mr. Kirill couldn’t seem to hold my stare any longer in silence, and he spoke. “Why did you kill him?”

I wasn’t stupid enough to say I didn’t kill him. That would only work once. “It was personal.” I eyed all the men around the room before I focused back at Mr. Kirill. When I didn’t expand on my explanation, he got up and his attention focused on a cage with three large birds in it. They looked like hawks, but I couldn’t be sure. He put a heavy glove on his right hand before putting it into the cage. The cage spanned half the length of the room.

“Come to me, my children,” he spoke to them, petting them one at a time. They each sat on his hand and then, when nudged by the next bird, they flew to the branches in the cage as the next one had its turn.

“Mr. Harrington, your father reneged on a shipment. I sent my men over there to talk to him." He took his hand out of the cage. Removing the glove, he turned to me. “And I find out that you have no connections anymore with your father, yet you expect privileges on my soil."  

This wasn’t good. “Our relationship is already fickle, and now you kill my priest. A punishment is required.” He lit another cigar. I held still, holding his stare, hoping I looked calm, but inside my mind scrambled for a way out.  “I have another shipment that needs to be collected on your side. You will pick it up in person and deliver it for me."

“I have left this all behind me.” I bit out the words, causing him to grin. 

“You will do this. I also want a life for a life. One of your crew you will sacrifice."

“That’s not happening.” I stood, now. I felt at a disadvantage sitting.

 “If you don’t, Mr. Harrington, I will select someone myself.”

I clenched and unclenched my fists. There was no room for an argument here; I knew the power this man had. I should have thought this through before killing the priest.  “How much time do I have?” I asked, trying to buy myself enough time to figure out how to get out of this situation.

Kirill smiled, and now I could see the cruel, calculating man that hid inside the fat body. “Once you touch American soil, you have seventy-two hours.”

“Ninety-six,” I bargained.

“Forty-eight,” he countered. My heart pounded, but I kept his stare and didn’t speak again. “Sit,” he instructed, while sitting himself. I did, stiffly. “Now for your punishment…you will fight in the pits.” His smile widened. “To the death,” he added.

This time, I looked away. I had no bargaining chips. I couldn’t call my father; I wouldn’t call my father. I had no choice. Looking back at Kirill, I tried to settle the fear that grew inside me as I nodded, keeping my face blank. “I’m ready.”