7
I listen with rocks in my stomach as Charlie explains what happened.
I was in a coma for six weeks, recovering from extreme blood poisoning, a bullet wound to the stomach, extensive lashings from my shoulders to my ass, and severely bruised kidneys due to Maksim’s beatings. To wake me in that state would have been hell for me, so the doctor and Charlie agreed it was best to keep me sedated.
“You also had skin grafts to remove the...” Charlie nods down at my waist area, and I assume he’s emphasizing the branding I had on my lower back, Maksim’s name seared into my flesh letter for letter. “When that was nearly healed, everything else was, too, and the doctor decided it was time to bring you around. But I wanted to take you home first since I promised you’d wake in your bed here at the house, do you remember?”
I nod, incapable of speaking right now. I don’t care about the coma or the illnesses I suffered or coming home. I just want him to get to the point. I need to know why he thinks James kidnapped me and try to figure out how I ended up with Robert.
“James got wind that I was bringing you home,” Charlie says. “He confronted me, threatening to take you...”
“Take me?” I ask, and I pull out of Charlie’s hands, demanding to know what that even means.
“He didn’t want to leave you with me. He said I couldn’t control you, that you’re dangerous without boundaries. After a heated discussion”—my body stiffens as Charlie says heated discussion because I know he means they had a fight—“I told him to leave, and he did. I assumed that was the end of it, so I carried on with arranging to bring you home...”
“Then what happened?”
“I loaded you in the medical van with my usual security precautions, surrounded by my detail, but I got a call from an unknown, foreign number. When I answered, a team of assailants shot down some of my men. It was madness, Blaire—a raging shootout in the middle of fucking London. While it was happening, one of the assailants snuck in the van, killed the driver, and sped off with you.” He pauses to scoff, still baffled with disbelief that anyone outwitted him. “My detail nor I had a chance to catch up with the van because James planned it so well. There was a road block at the hospital”—he waves out an angry hand, highlighting the chaos—“my detail and I had to cause bloody mayhem to get through it.”
I feel pale, sinking with dread. This is exactly what Robert said, except, he told me the Arabs hijacked the van. Not James.
“You said one of them snuck into the van,” I stress, thinking it could have been the Arabs. Charlie didn’t actually see who kidnapped me. “You-you don’t know for sure that it was James. And, even if it was, he-he thought I was better,” I insist, stuttering to plead my brother’s case. “He knew you were bringing me home.”
“That’s no excuse!” Charlie shouts, and I flinch in reaction. “Yeah, you were a lot better at that stage, but we didn’t know what your physical state would be when you woke. Your body had been starved of oxygen and besieged with sepsis, Blaire—you nearly died. I had a whole medical team on standby for you just in case anything went wrong. James knew all this, and he still took you.”
“But—”
“No, Blaire. No buts. I know it was him. We had his tracker removed, for a gift to mark his freedom from Maksim”—I cringe as he mentions Maksim’s name—“then he went into hiding. Why would James hide if he didn’t kidnap you, hmm? Why would he hide if he’d done nothing wrong?”
I don’t have an answer. I blink away in a state of skepticism, refusing to believe it. I can’t imagine James would put me in danger. He spent the better part of his life trying to spare me from torment, so why would he put me in the heart of conflict?
No. I won’t believe it. It makes more sense that the Arabs took me and sold me to Robert.
“I’ve told you what happened. Now you need to talk to me, baby. Why do you look so ill?” Charlie gives me the once over, rubbing my arms and shoulders, stroking his way up to my face. “Whose clothes are you wearing? Where have you been?”
“I-I can’t tell you anything like that.” My eyes find his, burning with guilt. “I’m not allowed.”
“Not allowed?” His expression turns dark with barely controlled rage. “Like hell you’re not allowed. You can speak to me—you know you can! Tell me where you’ve been and why your damn brother sold you at a trafficking auction.” He tugs on my hand, dominating himself over me. “I want to know where your motherfucking brother is, now. I’m not kidding, Blaire. Speak!”
“I haven’t been with James.”
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not!” I shout in his face, and he flinches this time. “I don’t lie! I haven’t been with him, I swear! I don’t know where he is! And you don’t know for sure it was him who took me! You can’t—”
“You don’t believe me, no?”
“What? No! It’s not that I don’t believe you.” I grab my face, rubbing my throbbing temples. “It’s...I do believe you. It’s just...” How do I put this in words without landing Robert in trouble? “It wasn’t James.”
Without wasting another second, Charlie digs a mobile out of his trouser pocket, swipes across the screen, and passes it to me. “I understand your desire to prove his innocence, but why don’t you see for yourself what he planned, hmm? Maybe then you’ll trust my word.”
I take Charlie’s phone with rife curiosity and tap the glass screen to press play, stomach wrapped up in knots.
It wasn’t James. It wasn’t James.
The room on the video footage is large with high ceilings, ashen paneled walls, and old, scuffed wooden floors scattered in guns and other combat machinery. There’s a desk in the heart of the space, stacked with paperwork and an open laptop glowing over a large figure: Charlie. He’s slouched in a big swivel chair, dressed down in gray joggers and a slack black t-shirt. Flicking up his wrist, he checks the time as if waiting for someone.
My eyes flicker down when James walks in to view from a corner camera, his left arm wrapped in gauze. He’s wearing green camouflage attire: combat trousers, black boots, and a heavy jacket. His dark red hair is longer, framing a pale, serious face.
His arm must be wrapped up from where Maksim shot him. How could I forget?
“Andres said you wanted to see me?” Charlie’s deep voice fills the speaker as he drapes his hands over the chair arms. “I left Blaire at the hospital for this, so it’d better be important.”
James folds his good arm behind his back and voices in Russian-tinted English, “I overheard that you’re bringing her home, and the doctor is waking her?”
Charlie nods.
“When?”
“When, doesn’t concern you,” Charlie says, matter of a fact. “You’ll see her when I say you can.”
From the phone in my hands, I glare up at Charlie crouched before me, furious at his insolence toward my brother. I know he’s arrogant, but being this cold toward James isn’t okay. I won’t stand for it. James and I come as a pair. He’s my family. If Charlie cannot accept that...
Unbothered by my reaction, he nods at the phone. “Pay attention.”
I focus, even though I want to punch him. On the video, I notice my brother is holding his tongue, staring out in a moment of musing. Strategizing, that’s what he’s doing. When James goes quiet, he’s strategizing.
This isn’t good.
“What else do you want, boy?” Charlie asks, flipping his laptop shut. “I haven’t got all day. I only agreed to speak with you personally out of respect for Blaire, so spit it out.”
“If that is how you want it.” James turns up his lips, shrugging with conceit. “Thought I’d let you know that when she’s awake, we’re leaving. I’m taking her with me.”
My eyes zero in.
In the video, Charlie throws his head back laughing, the sound menacing and utterly sarcastic. “Dios mío, you’ve got some kahunas.”
“I’m serious, Decena.” James squares his shoulders as best as he can, reserving himself. “She’s lived ten years in misery under Maksim, but she’s free now. She has a shot at a semi-normal life. I can give her that.”
“And you thought you’d tell me, hmm?”
“Something like that.” James nods on an arrogant shrug. “But I’m only telling you because it seems like she’s fond of you. And if that really is the case, she will want to say goodbye before we leave.”
“Before you leave, yeah?” Charlie is still laughing, eyes watering in dark amusement. He sits forward with elbows on the desk, entwines his fingers, and asks, “Tell me, boy, how exactly are you gonna take her, hmm? If I’m not at the hospital with her surrounded by my detail, Andres is with her, or Nic is. I wouldn’t dream of leaving her unprotected.”
“I will ask, and she will come. It really is that simple.”
James’ boldness surprises me. He was never this verbally audacious before.
Charlie explodes in another bout of laughter, shaking his head at my brother’s nerve. “You will ask, and she will come, yeah? Damn, you Russians really do lay ignorant claim to her, don’t you?” He rubs his eyes, coming down from his rush of amusement. “You want her like everybody else does, but that’s just tough. I will tell you in plain English exactly what I told them. Fuck you”—he points out for every fuck—“Fuck your cause. Fuck your reason. And if you dare bring this to me again, I’ll fuck you up. Got that, boy? I don’t give a crap if you’re her brother.”
“You are being selfish, Decena,” James says Decena with bitterness, twisting his nose. “You fancy her for yourself. I get that. Blaire is mysterious and alluring. But this isn’t about you and what you want. This is about Blaire and helping her find a sense of peace. She deserves some happiness.”
“Blaire will be more than happy with me. Anything that girl wants, she’ll have. Rest assured.” He motions at the door behind James. “You can leave now. We’re done.”
Charlie attempts to open his laptop, business as usual, but my brother paces across the room and slams it shut. “You obviously don’t know Blaire if you think things will bring her peace.”
“My, my...” Intoning his dissatisfaction, Charlie shoves the laptop aside. “You are one brave maricón idiota, coming here and disrespecting me. I’ve killed better men for less.”
“I’m not disrespecting you.” James lifts his chin, an air of Russian egotism blooming in him. “I’m just telling you what is happening.”
“And, what if she doesn’t want to come, hmm?”
“I have a plan in place for her resistance. If she doesn’t agree to come, I will take her anyway, one way or the other.”
“Yeah?” Charlie says, raising his eyebrows.
“You bet.” My brother nods. “I’m not scared of you, Decena. I won’t let anyone hurt her again. I love her—I have loved her since the day I saw her.”
My jaw drops.
“I fucking knew it.” Charlie gets up to round the desk and meets James toe to toe. He bends at the neck so their faces are mere inches from each other. “She’s your sister. ¡Tonto del culo!”
James shrugs, unbothered. “I’m sure this isn’t the first time a brother has been in love with his sister, and I doubt it will be the last.”
Charlie’s teeth flash as he hisses, “You need to leave, boy, before I lose my patience.”
“Not without her.”
The tension in the room hits high, and my brother’s daring reaches a whole other level. “She can’t stay with you,” he says. “Not only do you not deserve such a captivating girl, but you don’t have the mental tools to control her.”
“I don’t need to control her, idiota.” Charlie grimaces, looking James up and down. “I need to set her free.”
“Set her free?” James snorts, doubtful. “You’re insane. Do you even know what she is or what she can do? Do you even know how Maksim conditioned her?”
Charlie doesn’t offer a remark, and James laughs, mocking him. “No, I didn’t think so because if you did, then you would understand my concerns. You would understand why she needs controlling and boundaries, rewards for being good and punishments for being bad. Without those restrictions, she’s dangerous.”
“She’s no more dangerous than you.” Charlie lazily gestures at my brother. “And I’ve set you free.”
James shakes his head, watching Charlie with intense concentration. “I wasn’t conditioned the same way she was. I was just a means to tap into her emotional side in the beginning, before Maksim obtained the serum that wiped our memories.”
“If that was the case,” Charlie says, pointing at the ground between them, “then why did he keep you for all those years? Why not just get rid of you?”
James shrugs. “Since he’s dead now, that’s something I guess we’ll never know.”
“And good fucking riddance,” Charlie spits, turning to walk away. “Now fuck off.”
“No, Decena, you can’t turn a blind eye to this. I won’t let you!” My brother snatches for Charlie’s arm, tugging him back a step. “You enjoyed three months with a mysterious girl you didn’t know...I understand your desires. But it’s just fascination. What happens when she no longer fascinates you? What happens when she cracks and mentally blacks out—because she does that, you know? What happens when she goes on a rampage in your village in Mexico, slaughtering your people, and there is no Maksim around to rein her in?” James’ voice deepens with insistence as Charlie pulls out of his hold, determined to state his case. “Blaire thinks killing people for wrongdoings is normal! She thinks everything she does is normal, so what happens if the authorities catch up with her?”
“I’ll deal with it!” Charlie spins around to shout in my brother’s face, making the mobile speaker crackle. “I’ll handle her as she’s my business now. Mine. Not yours.” He pauses for a breath, simmering about to boil over. “Get the fuck out of my office, James. I’m holding on by a thread, wanting to wring your damn neck.”
“I’m not going without her. I can’t allow this! I can’t leave her with someone who cannot handle her! Only when she’s told no with a beating will she realize what is right and what is wrong. That’s the only way to keep her safe. Can you do that, Decena?”
My heart sinks, gutted that he seriously wants to hit me to keep me in check. What’s happened to him?
Charlie snaps his neck forward and head-butts James, knocking him to the floor. “You ever lay a finger on that girl, and I’ll cut off your fucking hands.”
———
I shut off the video, staring out in disbelief.
“I have a plan in place for her resistance.”
It wasn’t my resistance that drove James, but I believe it did happen. I believe James kidnapped me. Then the Arabs somehow seized his heist, and I got sold at a human trafficking auction.
I can’t believe this is happening.
“Now, do you see?” Charlie says, still crouched at my feet. “He’s in love with you, Blaire. That’s why he took you.”
I shake my head, numb to the notion. I just can’t digest it.
“Oh, c’mon...” Charlie gasps in disbelief. “You can’t genuinely think it wasn’t him after watching the footage? Who else would have dared to kidnap you, Blaire? Everyone knows you’re mine. Even Tatiana bargains for a moment to talk with you but accepts it will never happen.”
I shrug, wordless. I feel like my world has imploded. I feel like the artifacts of my being—Maksim and James—are total strangers. Maksim was my master, and he cherished me above all in his own twisted way, but he tried to kill me. As weak as his position was, James was my hero, but he handed the reins of my life to an enemy.
They’ve both screwed me over.
“Blaire?” Charlie’s hand lifts to my face and curves my cheek, covering half my features. “I don’t believe he meant to cause you harm, baby. I know he loves you.”
It’s sweet of Charlie to assume I’m heartbroken or whatever by what James has done, but I’m not. I’m just in shock.
I try to analyze the situation, aware James couldn’t have hack-called someone to give off the impression he’s in another country. It takes experience, and the right equipment to call someone on a foreign number while in the same country. He must have been working with someone hardcore, which makes the whole situation worse. To know my brother not only stole me while I was ill, but had help from another who was possibly dangerous, sickens me. He must’ve known no one small-time would willingly help him rob the Los Zetas.
And then begs the question: how did the Arabs get their hands on me?
“I’m not lying when I say I haven’t been with James,” I confess, giving Charlie the right amount of information without blowing my cover. “He might have stolen me, but he didn’t sell me at the auction. I haven’t been with him.”
“I don’t understand,” Charlie says, turning up my chin to make me look at him.
“They’ve got him,” I point out to subconsciously motion at Robert, “and if I rat on them, they’ll hurt James, or worse.”
“They?” Charlie glances at my mouth as if I’m going to keep talking, then up at my eyes. “Who are they? Where is James?”
“I don’t know where he is—that’s the point!” I push him away, so he’s not touching me, because I just can’t focus when he touches me. “They’re using James to control me, threatening to hurt him if I reveal who they are or refuse to do jobs.” I sigh, devastated by what my brother has done.
He’s fucked it all up.
“All right,” Charlie says, sounding like he’s cataloging things. “So, who are they?”
My face crumples with bitter regret as I look at him. “I can’t tell you. I won’t risk James’ life, Charlie. I...I just can’t. I know he’s caused a lot of trouble, but he’s...he’s my brother.”
He doesn’t answer me, too wired with frustration. The muscles in his jaw are twitching like crazy.
“I’m supposed to return in a week,” I say. “I was ordered to get Maksim’s body, make you lift the sanctions, and then I must go back.”
“That’s never gonna happen. I won’t let you outa my sight again.” Charlie gets up to rest on the coffee table, hunched over with elbows on his knees. “Blaire, tell me why you look ill, please? I fucking love you. I just want to know why you’re still unwell so my doctor can treat you properly.”
My chest squeezes as he says that he loves me. I crumble, knowing I have to give him something. He came for me in my most desperate hour. He fought the Russians to save me. If I can ease his torment by explaining my state of health, I must.
Shame washes over me, so I glance down at my lap to say, “They...hooked me on...heroin, and I—” I can’t finish. I tell him I’m sorry, shaking my head in dishonor. It’s all I’ve got, apologies for what others have done.
“The pills in your bag,” he says, reaching out to lift my chin with a single finger, “are they opiate based?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I think so.”
“Have you taken them?”
“No. I haven’t touched anything since...you know...”
“No, baby, I don’t know, so you’re gonna have to explain.”
I pause to find the words. He doesn’t seem ashamed of me, and it makes confessing a lot easier, but I have to find the right words.
“When I woke up a few weeks ago, I felt a deep, burning need, a high fever, and confusion”—I pat my chest to motion where the burning was—“they told me it was because they addicted me to heroin.”
Charlie is horrified. His expression is drenched in repulsion.
“I fought through the withdrawals,” I say, searching deep within myself for just an ounce of self-respect. “It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I don’t know why they have given me those pills.”
Charlie’s throat contracts, and his hand drops from my face. In that very second, I feel abandoned. Cold. Desperate. Please don’t back away from me. There’s nothing worse than the feeling of rejection from Charlie.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, unable to look at me. His hesitant eyes wander, unable to focus on one thing. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that. I was supposed to be there when you woke up from the operation. I was supposed to help you recover.”
“No! It’s not your fault, Charlie. I-I don’t blame you.”
He doesn’t answer me. He leans over to take the mobile in my hands, pushes to his feet, and walks out of the living room.
My heart sinks.
He thinks I’m disgusting. I know it. I don’t blame him. I think I’m disgusting, too.
Burying my face in my knees, I want to cry. As pathetic as it is, I just want to curl up somewhere, cry, and fucking die.
“I’ll take the samples,” Charlie says when he walks back through the open doorway. I glance up to see he’s holding a mobile to his ear with his shoulder, carrying a large, green medical bag with a big, red cross printed on the side. He pulls it open on the coffee table, barking down the phone to his caller, “No, not in an hour. Get to my house now, or I’ll pay your family a visit later tonight.”
When he hangs up, he flings the mobile on the couch. He digs an elastic band, some thick clear tubes, and a cannula out of the bag.
I jump back on the couch, pulling up my knees to my chest. “What the hell is that needle for?”
“I need to take a blood sample.” He nods at my arm, assuring me it’s okay. “Roll up your sleeve.”
“Charlie, no—”
“We don’t have time for this, Blaire.” He puts the cannula in his mouth, holding it with his teeth, and grabs my wrist. I try to pry him off, snapping at him to let me go, but he won’t yield.
“Listen to me”—he yanks on my arm, forcing my attention—“using dirty needles can result in dangerous diseases. I need to take a blood sample, so my doctor can run tests to make sure you’re okay.”
“And what if I’m not?” I sob unwillingly, tears rushing to my eyes.
No hesitation, he says, “Then we’ll handle it.”
My throat clogs with more tears, and my chin quivers, but I fight to keep my shit together. I loosen my grip on Charlie’s hand, giving him my arm. He can see the fear in my eyes. He can sense I’m terrified. “It’s just me,” he whispers, stroking down the side of my face with his other hand. “You know I’d never hurt you like this.”
I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth as he pushes my sleeve up my forearm, past my elbow. He stares at the little bruises from the needles they stabbed me with, twisting and turning my arm as if they’ll vanish at any moment.
I try to pull away in disgrace, but he won’t let me.
“Whoever did this,” he hisses, “will die a painful, slow death.” He reaches back for the elastic band and wraps it around my bicep so it pinches. The blue vein there swells, and he sticks me with the needle several times to enter my bloodstream, making me wince through gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable,” he says softly, eyes flittering up to mine. “Where they pierced your vein so many times, it’s collapsing.”
I nearly heave, vivid images of the Arabs stabbing me over and over filling my mind.
I didn’t even think to wonder why they stabbed me in so many different places. It makes sense if my veins were collapsing.
There’s not an ounce of uncertainty in Charlie’s actions as he connects the thick, clear tubes to the cannula and fills them one by one with my blood. Five in total. I’m glad when it’s over.
“Everything’s gonna be all right, Blaire.” He gently pulls out the cannula needle and presses a cotton ball on the tiny scratch, adding pressure to stop the bleeding. “If there’s anything wrong, I promise we’ll handle it together, okay? I’ll look after you.”
I shrug, blinking away from him. He won’t want me if I’m sick. I know it. Who would?
He fiddles with a ball of medical tape, biting off a length. He tapes that over the piece of cotton on my arm and carefully rolls down my sleeve. Then I feel the pressure of his lips on my inner wrist, kissing me there.
My chest squeezes, stomach coiling with sudden, mad flutters. Maybe he will look after me if I’m sick. I want to believe he will. I care about Charlie. I don’t want to be without him ever again.
That’s hell incarnate.
He lets go of my wrist to put all my blood samples in a large see-through bag. That’s when his brother comes in, asking, “What’s the plan?”
“It wasn’t James who sold her at the auction,” Charlie says, elaborating on all I’ve divulged—including the fact that I won’t spill my guts on who is pulling my strings.
Nic glances at me. I can’t look at either of them at this point. I feel like a traitor.
“Are you okay, Señorita Blaire?” I’m surprised by the eldest Decena’s concern, and I don’t know how to react.
“She’s supposed to return in a week with Maksim’s body,” Charlie says, “plus a promise that I’ve lifted all the sanctions.”
Nic raises his eyebrows, and Charlie nods. It’s like they’re silently communicating to each other.
“We need to get the boy back,” Charlie says, speaking with his hands in a display of confidence. “If we don’t retrieve him within the week, Blaire will call them to say I’ve lifted the sanctions. She’ll then request a few more days because...”
“She could say she hasn’t asked for Maksim’s body yet?” Nic jumps in, adding to the plan.
“Yeah,” Charlie agrees. “She could say...I dunno...I’ve been proving difficult on the sanctions alone, and she wanted to focus on one thing at a time.”
“That could buy us a few days,” Nic says.
“Why?” I ask, scowling when I catch Charlie and his brother sharing more suspicious looks.
“Because, as Nic stated, it’ll buy us more time to find James—if we need it. Whoever they are, they should know it takes up to five days to arrange an uncharted flight. That means we have the week they gave you, plus—at the very least—a few more days to track your brother. In the meantime, we’ll continue following the trail we had on you in hopes that it leads us to something.”
I nod a few times, mentally going over potential plot issues. It actually sounds like a good idea. It actually sounds bulletproof—unless Robert refuses to give me more time.
“I think it’s best Blaire doesn’t disclose where she was or who had her,” Nic says, resting against the doorframe with crossed arms. “If they somehow manage to get their hands on her, they could wire her up to a polygraph or use truth serum. It’s what we’d do.” He shrugs. “They’re likely to punish her if they find out she’s been feeding us intelligence.”
“No, you’re right.” Charlie paces about with his bristly chin in his palm. “For now, let’s just try to bargain time. Call Andres and tell him to fly in with his squad. He is to bring Luna, too. She can keep an eye on Blaire if we’re away.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I snort in offence, and they look at each other with sly glances again.
I figure there’s a reason they want someone watching over me. I think they’re worried that if they don’t get my brother back, I will leave with or without Charlie’s permission—and they’re right to assume that because I will. I know James has done wrong and caused a lot of trouble, but his purpose in taking me was good. He just wanted to keep me safe. He’d never hurt me.
“Does this sound good, Blaire? Are you all right with the plan?”
I shrug at Charlie. “I need that mobile.”
“I’ve got it, baby. You can have it when you need to make the call, okay?”
I nod in response, glad we’re all on the same page. If they find James, it’s a score for me. If they don’t, at least I haven’t ratted on Robert, so he shouldn’t harm my brother.
“What happened with the adversaries?” Charlie asks, walking up to Nic.
“No good. They chewed off their own tongues before we even got started.”