Page 8 of Maksim
This man is dangerous. He lacks Nikita’s aura but compensates with strength and size. He wouldn’t need a knife to kill me, probably wouldn’t even think to use a weapon beyond those bare hands.
I lower my eyes and scrub the carpet harder.
He returns from the closet carrying something, but I don’t look to see what it is until he sets it down beside me. It’s a large plastic bottle with no label. I look up at him, waiting for him to tell me what it is, to give me some kind of instruction, but it occurs to me that he won’t because he doesn’t think I’d understand him. Obviously, he wants me to use the stuff on the carpet.
He picks up the bucket of water and leaves while I unscrew the cap to the mystery bottle that isn’t a mystery for long. I put my nose to it, but it really isn’t necessary. The ammonia smell is so strong, I turn my head away and slap the cap back on the bottle.
Roman laughs behind me, and before I can think about it, I toss a glare his way.
His eyebrows raise as a smile blooms, making me aware of the look I’m giving him. I snap my head forward and pray he doesn’t hurt me for that.
Can he hurt me?
Is he allowed?
Would he have to get Maksim’s permission?
How does this work?
My shoulders hunch as Maksim returns, fresh bucket of water in hand, and when he sets it in front of me, I get to work, pouring a small amount of ammonia in before soaking up the blood. It works so much better.
“I think I like your girl,” Roman tells Maksim. “Or as Nikita calls her, your used-up, grimy cunt of a bitch who doesn’t understand your language well enough for you to relay how you like your dick sucked.”
“Are you trying to set me off?” Maksim asks with a hint of anger.
Roman laughs. “Come on, it’s a funny punishment, and you know it. It could be worse.”
“You understand the problem this causes for me.” Now Maksim sounds serious. Really serious. I am very obviously a burden for him.
Is it too much to hope that he’ll simply let me go?
“Just don’t take her home,” Roman suggests. “Keep her at Hugh’s. Or my place.” That last part sounds like a joke. I hope he’s joking. But I don’t know who Hugh is.
Why can’t he just let me go? I’m an illegal immigrant in this country, and these people obviously have a lot of money. They probably own the police, so I won’t be going to them for help. I’ll head straight to New York to find James, then I’ll figure out a way home. Fuck America.
“And look like I’m rejecting a gift from the Pakhan? He’s punishing me for having a meager relationship with a Gruco. The last thing to do when he believes my loyalty to the Bratva is compromised is reject him personally.” I peek over my shoulder to see Maksim wave his hand dismissively. “You’re right, it’s a punishment. Not the first, not the last. I will handle it.”
“You could just kill her,” Roman suggests, making my spine stiffen. I should look away, but I can’t. Not until I see Maksim’s reaction. “Say she tried to run.”
Maksim rubs his thumb over his chin as his eyes drift to me. When they find mine, I don’t look away. Don’t move. We stare into each other’s eyes, me quietly panicking, him weighing Roman’s words, thinking I understand none of them.
He’s going to kill me.
Slowly, I face forward and will my heart to slow, trying to calm the panic. I close my eyes and scrub leisurely, just enough to keep them from yelling at me while I think.
Where did that knife go?
Opening my eyes, I glance around but don’t see it. Did Maksim pick it up when he took care of the body?
He must have.
Does he still have it on him?
Maybe. If he doesn’t, he probably has some kind of weapon.
Could I get to it? Could I get to anything?
I reposition myself so I can see the men while I clean. First, I check out Maksim, searching for a gun holster more out of fear than preparation. I don’t actually know how to use a gun. When I don’t find anything, I move on to the room, and it doesn’t take long before I spot the knife Nikita used on the desk.