Downswing Page 6

  The first time I had just run at the first chance that presented itself. There hadn’t really been a plan in place, but I had needed to know what I was up against as far as defenses were while Korol was gone. After being caught and tied back up - and then punished severely once Korol had returned - I had come to realize I would never make it on my own.

  The other times I had ‘escaped’ had been very intentional. Every single time was coldly calculated but made to look desperate. I had been caught, punished, and laughed at - the same as the first time. Though by the third time, all the guards’ attention had shifted to watching me while the Pakhan left to attend his business in the city. It had become a game of sorts, the fun ways to catch the Pakhan's woman while the boss was away. Once Zakhar left the compound, the guards made bets with each other over just how I would escape and who would be the one to catch me. The last time the Pakhan had left, Sergei’s entire unit had been sleeping on my floor, lying in wait for me to make my move. They had turned it into a big party, and only had the barest of skeleton staff posted outside to watch the perimeter. They weren’t threatened by outside forces, not in the heart of Korol’s domain. They didn’t need to staff appropriately around the perimeter, nobody would dare come after Korol’s country house. They would have to find it first, and as I had been told, that was a difficult enough task. So, while the Pakhan went off to do business, I had become the main attraction. All eyes would be on me once the Pakhan left so the game could begin.

  I looked up slowly, and almost smiled.

  Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

  There would be twenty guards sticking close to me. I knew the maid staff, the doctor and his assistant- and now the criminals in the basement - could handle the fifteen or so guards that would be loitering around the direct perimeter of the house.

  And that was only if I didn’t handle them first.

  I opened the doors to my terrace, and stepped out into the sunlight. I stepped up to the small table that sat outside, withdrew a cigarette from the box that lay there, and picked up the pink lighter that read Gangsta on the side in black lettering. I flicked the lighter, and a dancing red flame jumped to attention.

  I stared at the small flame flickering hungrily in the breeze.

  And my lips curled into a cold, hard smile that stretched the entirety of my face while I sang softly to myself. The same song I always sang when I let my other side take control. The song I sang when all the chips were on the table, and I was clutching a royal flush in my hand.

  I sang the song my grandmother had sung to me many, many years ago.

  The song about the gambler.

  • • •

  Zakhar Vasilek, otherwise known as Korol, the most feared Pakhan in all of Russia, looked over his image in the mirror with a critical eye. A tall, lean man stared back at him, handsome face adorned with professional wire-rimmed glasses, and black hair tied back for a sleek, professional look. His suit hugged his frame perfectly, and looked crisp and expensive. He was immaculately styled and looked every inch the ruthless businessman everyone knew him to be. Though many didn't know his real face or name, when they did see him for the first time, no one dared to stand in his way. He was sleek, professional, and ruthless.

  And he didn't give a fuck about any of that at that moment.

  He wanted to go up to the luscious woman that he had laid claim to and spend his every waking moment with her. After the session days ago where he had lost all control, he was almost ready to face the fierce woman again. Shame had kept him from seeing her for days and it was putting him on edge not to have her by his side. Shame wasn’t an emotion he was comfortable with, either, so he was dealing with it poorly.

  By turning it into burning, festering fury.

  Zakhar watched his reflection in the mirror push his glasses further onto his nose, and then promptly give a scream of pure, unadulterated rage that lasted a full minute and had his handsome face contorting into a gruesome shell of its former beauty. When he was done, Zak cleared his throat, forced his facial muscles back into their usual impassive state, and straightened his tie.

  Emilia Fox. The woman had been his obsession the moment he had laid eyes on her, and he was slowly going mad from it. She was gorgeous, to be sure, but her beauty could be trumped easily by any number of the models who immediately clung to him whenever he went to social functions. Hell, she wasn't even the most beautiful woman in the house and yet… he was drawn to her to the point of unhealthy obsession.

  Ah, probably a little past unhealthy at this point.

  He remained baffled and enraged that Emilia Fox had seeped into his every thought and he knew he took it out on her often enough. It was a vicious cycle, because even after he had raped her innumerous times and beat her senseless, she still sprung back, even more bright and stunning than before.

  He hated her for how much he loved her.

  Zakhar turned from the mirror and walked brusquely to the doors of his study. Flinging them open, he began walking to the front door of his mansion, followed by his eight highly trained personal bodyguards. His right-hand man, Alexei, stepped up beside him and opened his planner, clicking open his pen as they walked. The foot soldiers, as Alexei referred to them, were already in the vans, armed to the brink, and ready to move.

  These meetings were a show of power, and Zakhar always showed his hand firmly and swiftly so there was no question of his all-powerful hold on the criminal underworld.

  "Korol, the doctor would like to know if you want to leave any instructions for the care of Miss Emilia." The very matter-of-fact Alexei looked at him dispassionately with familiar amber eyes. His words registered after a moment, and the mention of Emilia's name was enough to make Zakhar sweat.

  He turned to Alexei, but glanced over the man's shoulder to look up at Emilia's terrace. And there she was. Zakhar stared up at the figure of his beautiful doll standing so proudly, hair blowing in the breeze as she stared down at them. Alexei glanced over his shoulder, saw Emilia, and turned back to Zakhar with a sigh.

  "If I may be so bold as to suggest that Miss Emilia be confined to her room with a locked door this time. You know very well she will try to run again."

  His personal bodyguards, an elite team made up of some of the world's most efficient killers, all looked over to Emilia as Alexei gave the suggestion. They all watched as the beautifully curved woman leaned against the railing, her shirt slipping down to show her bruised cleavage, and promptly flipped them all off with a smile on her face.

  Zane, a man who was so tall, slender and expressionless that some joked - very quietly - that he was the inspiration behind the Slender Man legend, heaved a long sigh and reached for his gun. Alexei had his pulled and pointed at Zane's head in less than a second, warning the man with a lift of his brow. Zane sighed again, expression unchanging, and took his hand from his gun.

  "Ooh, Zane, I think Alexei just ass-fucked you with his authority. Looked raw, too. That must sting." Emilia gave a thumbs-up high in the air as she shouted this, and Zakhar found the corners of his mouth twitching.

  Zane merely rolled his eyes, but the woman next to Zane, Lenora Munez, one of the deadliest snipers in the world, laughed loudly and gave a thumbs-up back to his wild flower. Zakhar shook his head and waved at Emilia.

  "Be good, angel moy." He called affectionately to her.

  Emilia stood then, standing up to her full height, hair still blowing in the breeze, and raised the lit cigarette she had to her mouth. She stared at Zakhar for long moments, took a long drag, then blew the smoke out slowly. She turned to walk back into the room, but not before she raised her middle finger one more time into the air, slamming the doors to her terrace behind her.

  Zakhar stared after her for a long moment, imprinting the image of those fierce, cold grey eyes into his mind, and then stepped down the steps to his limo. He stopped, turned back to Alexei, and finally answered the man.

  "Let her have the run of the house. The men do enjoy their l
ittle hunt. She knows she will never escape me by now, wouldn’t you say?"

  Alexei merely lifted a brow, but gave a nod, and barked orders at the remaining guards.

  Zakhar slid into his limo, settled into his seat, and smiled to himself as they pulled away from the mansion.

  Angels have nowhere to fly once the devil has clipped their wings.

  Chapter Seven

  The Hand

  Night had fallen. The cool breeze blew throughout the grounds of Korol's compound. Male laughter could be heard from the second-floor corridor, along with the indignant cries of women who were groped against their will as they served the men food and vodka. After a few hours, the cries died down, and the laughter with it. Clocks could be heard throughout the mansion chiming three in the morning, and an eerie quiet followed the third ominous ding.

  A long-legged woman in a lab coat walked the second floor of the mansion, looking inside doorways at men sprawled about in a drugged sleep on various pieces of furniture inside the rooms. As she walked the corridor, she swiftly and silently closed and locked all the doors from the outside. She paused at the last door that had already been closed, blew a kiss at the room she knew was now empty, and just as silently as she had appeared, disappeared into the shadows.

  Emerging again on the first floor, her footfalls still silent, she made her way swiftly past several rooms where guards lay sprawled, unconscious or dead. Checking the watch on her wrist, she clicked her tongue at the time. She walked past the entrance to the basement prison and made eye contact with the guard standing there. She tapped her watch twice with her index finger, watched the man nod his head once, then silently open the door and walk through. She continued her silent stride onwards through the mansion. She walked inside the kitchen, looked around at the empty space, confirmed that the maids were nowhere to be found, and emerged again into the hallway.

  The woman smiled slowly, and began to whistle a tune from her childhood as she stopped in front of a door. Keying in a code on the side of it, the door slid open for her and lights flickered on to reveal a large garage with many vehicles of different makes and models inside. Still whistling, she walked her silent walk to the only large van left in the garage, reached in her pocket, pulled the keys out, and unlocked the vehicle.

  "Smith! Where do you think you're going?!"

  The tall, blonde woman stopped at the sound of the voice coming from the doorway. She turned, her stunning face expressing surprise at the two guards running towards her. They had their guns drawn, pointing them at her, though their hands were shaking, and their faces were pale. She saw the two men swallow nervously, but they tried to force brave faces.

  "Where is everyone, Smith?! There's no communication inside the house. What happened?" The first guard, looking a little more stable than the second, yelled at her in Russian, his pupils enlarged and his breath uneven.

  "Why, gentlemen, you were stationed here this entire evening? Did you not partake of supper?" The sultry English-accented voice expressed surprise, and the stunning blonde woman just tilted her head at the guards, hands raised in the air.

  The guards frowned in confusion, and then held their pistols higher at attention, pointed directly at her.

  "What did you do to the food, Smith? You're coming with us to rouse the men, and then you're going with us to the interrogation room." The first guard said firmly, his gun still shaking slightly.

  The blonde woman merely tilted her head, glanced at her watch, and then smiled.

  "I'm afraid that's impossible, gentlemen."

  "Why is tha-"

  A gurgle sounded, and blood seeped from the throat of the talkative guard. The second guard's hand that was holding the gun was suddenly disconnected from his body, and he let out a bloodcurdling scream and dropped to the ground, holding his arm to his chest. The blonde woman, holding a large knife looked on dispassionately at the pleading guard, and then with a flick of her wrist sliced his throat.

  The woman tilted her head again, wiped her knife with a cloth from her pocket and then gave a long sigh. The sound of gurgling stopped, and blood soaked the basement floor as the woman turned unceremoniously back to the van.

  "Well, because you're too busy dying."

  The woman climbed into the van, turned the key to start the engine, and just smiled calmly. Her whistling resumed as she drove the van to the door, pressed a button on the dashboard, and watched the large door at the entrance slide up. The woman rolled the windows down, leaned her head out, sniffed the night air that was slowly being covered by a thick cloud, and smiled brightly.

  “What a beautiful night for a fire.”

  • • •

  Viktor

  "Something’s happening."

  I looked up sharply, having deduced the same thing myself, and listened to the other prisoners rousing themselves. All the prisoners stood by the door to their cells, sniffing the air, and began dressing hurriedly.

  "Smoke." Meiling stood at the door to our cell, confirming the smell that was permeating through even the reinforced door.

  I tensed as the doors to every cell were suddenly flung open wide. The inmates all stood in shock but launched into action after only a moment. Ludo ran to our cell and tugged on my chains with all his might. Surprise showed on his face as he fell back on his ass, and I rose slowly to my full height. Towering over the young boy, I saw fear cross his face as I rolled my neck around on my shoulders. Stretching my back, I heaved a long sigh of relief at the muscles groaning.

  I looked on at the other cellmates, and they all looked to me, though some with surprised faces. Standing to my full height of six-foot-four, I strode to the front of the cell and out the door. My body moved a bit sluggishly, but was quickly becoming reacquainted with the movement, thanks to the stretches I had been doing.

  Standing at the front of the group, I addressed them all for the first time.

  "When that door opens, shield the young ones."

  Meiling was right at my back, and she swiftly moved in front of Ludo, while Roy moved in front of Kamili. We all waited a few moments that seemed to last eternity, bodies poised and ready to fight.

  The door to the dungeon slid open, and without thought I rushed forward, springing to a crouch into the hallway outside. Three guards lined the hallway, all with single gunshot wounds to the head, and I stood to full attention once again. I turned back to the group and nodded.

  We moved as a solid unit through the hallway, me taking the lead and Fritz bringing up the rear. We came out to the control room, lined with monitors that depicted the now empty cells. The two chairs that were in front of the monitors held bodies of more victims of whoever had shot the others, and we moved on as a group to the stairway that led to the first floor.

  Smoke had begun circling down and was growing thicker as we jogged up the stone steps to the main basement door. A keypad lock was on the wall next to the doorframe, and I tried punching in my old code, but knew Zakhar’s security team didn’t leave loose ends. Predictably, nothing happened, but I still let out a strew of colorful curses as the smoke began billowing faster through the cracks in the heavy door.

  Kamili was the first to start coughing, and Roy drew her into his arms and held her head to his chest. I looked back at our ragtag group, and then down at the small Mexican boy who was trying his best to hold in his coughs.

  Fuck. This is reinforced steel, even Fritz couldn't break through.

  Just as I thought it, the door suddenly slid open and, in the doorway, stood one of the guards that had accompanied Sergei down to the dungeon when he had taunted me. When I registered who it was, I held up a staying hand at Masamune who had slid forward to take out the guard.

  "Mark."

  "Captain. The front is your exit and there is only a five-minute window before reinforcements rally. May God never find you."

  The guard's face was pale, and he wore a terrified, shell-shocked look. He dropped a bag at my feet, handed me the pistol at his waist, inclined his head,
and then took off in the opposite direction towards the back of the house at full speed.

  Masamune came forward, opened the bag, and with a click of his tongue drew out a long samurai sword. He dumped the rest of the bag out, and I recognized the weapons we had confiscated from all the prisoners pouring out. I clutched the pistol in my hand and looked to Masamune. He raised a brow, shrugging his shoulders.

  "Either that or we let the smoke suffocate us."

  I nodded my agreement, looked back at the group, now all armed with their beloved weapons, and gave my order.

  "We go through the front door. Anyone not willing to follow, go now."

  I saw Cin look at Silas, whom he was supporting, but the Frenchman nodded at me. Cin nodded at me as well, and the rest of the group followed suit.

  "Let's move." I flicked off the safety on the pistol and we moved as a unit through the hallway out to the main floor of the house. As we ran past the study, dining room, and living rooms, I glanced inside each, and found random bodies splayed about, unconscious or dead. There had still been no sign of Sergei, and that knowledge was at the forefront of my mind as we came to the front door, and I kicked it open.

  We all coughed as we emerged into the fresh air of the night and began to run. The guards usually at station outside the house were screaming in confusion at each other, paying no attention to the front door. A pair of headlights suddenly flashed in the night, and a van came screeching around the corner from the garage. We all watched in shock as the van purposefully moved to hit as many guards as it could, and screeched to a halt in front of our group.

  A stunning woman in a white lab coat was at the wheel, and she waved out the open window. The side door slid open by itself, and a sultry voiced sounded with an English accent.

  "Hallo! Will you please kill the rest of those annoying fellows for me?"

  I looked back to the guards that had recovered from dodging the madwoman, and they began to fire on the van.

  Our elite group sprang into action. Roy grabbed Kamili and Ludo and launched into the van, one kid clutched beneath each arm. Kiernan was suddenly in front of me, hiking a sniper rifle expertly onto his shoulder. Jazz slid out from my other side, and had no sooner cleared the door before she started firing the two pistols clutched tightly in her fists. The deadly duo had most of the guards down within a matter of seconds, and the others scattered to find cover. Our group moved swiftly to the van, but I paused at the open door, looking to the mansion.