Текст книги "Transparent"
Автор книги: Erin Noelle
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 13 страниц)
AS I STEP OUTSIDE THE cabin to make the phone call, I stare up at the starry midnight sky and question my sanity for the hundredth time today. If I get caught doing what I’m about to do, we all die. No questions asked. I would be remembered as the most disgraceful, dishonorable man in my family’s entire history. A man who would risk the entire Bratva for a woman. An American woman I’ve known a week.
But it’s not just for her. It’s for moi Darya too. My way of making it up to her. Everything I did wrong the first time, at least I can get it right now. ‘Cause she was right . . . love is the only thing that can heal our fucked-up brokenness. I may not be able to fix me, but there is a way I can help fix that innocent girl in there. A girl who needs the one person she has in this world who truly loves her.
With that mental reminder, I scroll down my contact list until I land on the name Easton Decker, then press the green connect button. The phone rings several times, and just as I begin to fear I’m going to get his voicemail, I hear his voice.
“Hey, Raze. I’m sorry I haven’t called. Things have been kinda crazy around here, some family stuff, and I . . . uh, I just haven’t gotten a chance to get the funds together.” He rambles on nervously, not letting me get a word in, and it’s then I remember he’s unaware that his friend, Emerson, exchanged Blake for his gambling debts. He thinks I’m contacting him about the money.
In my hastiness to put this ridiculous plan in motion, I failed to realize they don’t even know I have the girl they’re looking for. This conversation is going to go a little differently than I planned.
“Easton, I’m not calling about that,” I reply gruffly, careful to keep my intimidation factor at play. Him thinking he still owes me a bunch of money, I can definitely use in my favor. “I have a different matter I need your help with, and if you do what I need you to do, without asking questions, I’ll consider calling us even.”
The line goes quiet as I imagine he’s contemplating all of the illegal acts I could possibly ask him to carry out. “I’ll even tell you what it is before you agree,” I offer, holding back a chuckle.
“Okay,” he responds immediately.
“I need your brother to call me on this number from a secure line.”
Another moment of silence. “Madden? Why? What’s going on?”
“I told you no questions, and the first thing you did was spout off three in a row,” I snarl into the receiver. This guy wouldn’t make it a week in my life without his mouth getting him killed.
“Yeah, uh, okay. I can do that. When? In the morning?”
“Tonight. As soon as possible.”
I hear keys jingle in the background and a door close. “Leaving for his place now. I can be there in about fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Disconnecting the call, I exhale the deep, anxious breath I held throughout the entire conversation then begin counting the minutes.
“HOLY SHIT, MADDEN! WHAT THE fuck is going on?” My eyes snap open when I hear my brother’s voice shouting from the doorway of the master bathroom. “Are you okay?”
His head swivels back and forth between where I’m lying face down on the floor next to the toilet and a still naked, blindfolded Emerson handcuffed to my bed. One minute, she’s screaming how much she hates me and wants to chop by balls off, and then the next, she’s crying about how sorry she is and begging me to forgive her because she loves me so much. I have no clue why he’s here or how long I’ve been in this position. After I threw up, everything started spinning and I thought my heart was literally going to explode out of my chest, so I closed my eyes. And now, somehow Easton is here.
His name flashes red in my mind as Emerson’s words from earlier reverberate in my ears. ‘I don’t know what the Russians did with her, and I really don’t care.’
With a surge of manic energy, I leap to my feet and charge Easton at full force. Catching him completely off-guard, his eyes bulge and jaw drops to say something, but he doesn’t get a sound out before I full-body tackle him onto the ground and begin swinging my furious fists.
“You. Fucking. Piece. Of. Shit. You. Promised. Me.” With each word, I throw a punch to his face, and despite his efforts to defend himself, I land several good blows before he manages to knee me in the gut and shove me off of him. The brutal force from his jab slices through the adrenaline, and all of the pain from my encounter with Tony earlier in the week returns tenfold. Afraid I’m going to pass out, I stumble to the sink and grab hold of the countertop, struggling to catch my breath.
Wiping at the blood streaming from his nose and mouth with his forearm, he staggers to his feet, a combination of confusion and annoyance radiating from him. “What the fuck is your problem, Madden? What happened? And why is she here?” He glances back toward the bedroom, where Emerson has now grown quiet, listening to the scuffle between us.
“She told me!” I roar, squeezing my eyes shut to block out the unbearable agony. “She told me everything!”
He stomps over next to me and slams his hands down on the vanity so hard the mirror shakes. “She told you what exactly?” he seethes.
Prying my lids open slightly, I glower at his reflection, unable to even turn to look at him. “About the Russians, Easton. You don’t have to play stupid anymore,” I spit. “You turned in the woman I love to the goddamn fucking Russians. And I swear to God, if you don’t get her back to me in one fucking piece, I will kill you with my bare hands.”
All of the color drains from his face as alarm glazes over his shocked expression.
“Don’t act so surprised. You had to know Emerson wouldn’t keep her fucking mouth shut. The second I got her naked in my bed, she couldn’t wait to tell me of y’all’s little secrets,” I hiss, my body trembling with pure hate.
“Madden, listen to me right fucking now.” His voice drops several octaves lower than normal as he grabs my shoulders and forces me to look him directly in the eye. “I don’t know what in the hell she told you, but I swear to God, on our parents’ lives: I had nothing to do with Blake’s disappearance. Absolutely fucking nothing!”
He pauses a few seconds to allow his words to sink in then continues, “The reason I’m even here at your house is because I got a phone call tonight from Raze, Kabinov’s grandson. I thought he was calling about the money I owed, because with everything that’s happened this week, I haven’t even thought to touch base with him, but that wasn’t it . . .”
“Raze? Are you fucking kidding me, Easton?” I almost have to laugh at the absurdness of my life. “You got involved with a Russian mobster named Raze? And no alarms went off in that fucking thick skull of yours that maybe, just fucking maybe, that wasn’t a good idea?”
Scrubbing his hands over his face, my younger brother blows out an exasperated sigh and mumbles, “I know. I know. I’m a dumbass, but it all makes sense now.”
“What?!” I snap. “What makes sense? What are you talking about?”
“H-he wanted me to have you call him. On an untraceable line. Said it was urgent.”
Sharp, shooting pains in my chest steal my breath yet again as I try to process all of the information. “Why? What? That’s all he said?”
“Yeah,” he nods, extracting his phone from his back pocket and bringing it to life, “he called at nine-forty-two. Look. Right here.” I drop my gaze down to the call history screen and confirm he received a call from a Raze K. at the time he claims. “I don’t know why. He wouldn’t answer any questions, but obviously, when he told me to have you call him, I assumed it had something to do with Blake. I just . . . I just didn’t know the hows or whys or anything about Emerson. I jumped straight in my car and flew over here then let myself in with my key after you didn’t answer the door or your phone. Only to find her like that, and you nearly comatose on the floor in here.”
I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him so badly. I look into his eyes for any indication of him not telling the truth. He’s my brother. My own flesh and blood. But I don’t know who to trust anymore. It feels like the entire universe is working against me.
“Madden?” Easton pulls the guy’s contact information up on his cell and hands it over to me. “You knew you were going to need that extra line I dropped off yesterday. Now it’s time to use it. Let’s get your girl back, and we’ll deal with Emerson and prove my innocence later. Time is of the essence with these people.”
I accept the rectangular device and tip my chin toward the door. “Let me grab it from the safe, and we’ll go to another room to make the call. I don’t want her to hear any of this.”
Five minutes later, I’m standing in the guest room down the hall, punching in the numbers with my shaking hands. I say a quick prayer as I press connect and hold my breath while I wait. Luckily, it only rings once before a gruff male voice answers.
“Decker.” He states my name with full certainty it’s me on the other end of the call. “Are you confident this line is secure?”
Clearing my throat, I nod like he can see me. “I am.”
“Good. I’m sure you’ve got a pretty good idea about why I’m calling, and it’s not about your brother’s gambling debts.”
“Blake.” Her name falls from my lips with a breath of hope. “You have her.”
He grunts something in Russian then replies, “I do, but before you start asking a thousand questions, let me talk. You interrupt me and piss me off, I’ll hang up and this offer is dead.”
My ears perk up at the word ‘offer’, and I agree to hear him out. After all, I have no leverage to make any demands at this point. So as he begins to speak, I pace in a circle around the room, listening closely to what he has to say.
“For the safety of both of us, I’d prefer to answer most of the questions you have—the whos, hows, and whys of everything—in person. In addition, she has asked to see you, and I’ve granted her this wish. However, make no mistake about it, if you decide to agree to my terms, your life will be in danger. No one else is aware of this phone call, and as I’d be the one getting you in to see her, we will both be putting our lives on the line in the event we’re caught.”
Even if I wanted to ask questions, I couldn’t. I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say or think or do. This could very well be a setup to kill me, to get rid of the pain-in-the-ass boyfriend who won’t stop sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. But that seems too messy and like too much risk for an outfit the size of the Kabinovs. It would be too obvious. Or maybe I just want it to be.
The Russian takes my silence as his invitation to continue. “I’m aware you’ve been assigned an agent full-time, so you’d need to find a way to evade his watch. Also, it goes without saying, but if you whisper a word of this to any authorities whatsoever, you may as well pull the trigger yourself on your sweet Blake, because that’s the only option you’ll leave me. And, Decker, I promise I will find out.”
“H-how do I know this isn’t a set-up?” I sputter nervously. “That you’re not just luring me somewhere to kill me?”
He snickers. “If I wanted you dead, you’d know it. ‘Cause you’d already be fucking dead. I don’t play games. I don’t talk shit just to talk shit. I’ve got a girl here who’s got some pretty fucked up shit on her plate right now, and that’s not even talking about her god-awful fucking past. She wished she could see you, so I’m trying to help her out and let that happen. For Blake, not you.” I don’t miss the subtle change in his intonation when he talks about her, his voice softening involuntarily. Then he barks, “Now either you’re in or you’re out.”
I stop walking. Every nerve ending in my body is tingling. My tongue feels like it’s swollen to twice its size, and my salivary glands have completely dried up. My heart is fluttering faster than the wings of a hummingbird. So fast it may not be beating at all.
This. This right here. This is one of those self-defining moments. My decision, whether I choose to put my trust in this crazy Russian murderer named Raze or not, will forever shape the outcome of who I become. If my life was a choose-your-own-adventure book, right now I’d be deciding whether or not to continue on to chapter fifteen, which is the safe, responsible choice of calling the FBI and telling them what I know, or jumping straight to chapter twenty-three, where I find out just how dauntless I can be, going up against the big, bad captor who has fallen in love with my woman.
I choose chapter twenty-three; there’s really no other choice. “I’m in. Tell me what to do.”
SIX. IT’S BEEN SIX LONG, miserable days since I spoke with Raze on what has to be one of the craziest nights of my life. After he gave me the details of when and where to meet him, I flat-out asked him about Easton’s involvement, and he verified my brother has no idea what’s going on. Then when I told him about Emerson’s confession, he asked that I hold the phone up to her ear. I’m not sure what he told her, but based on the terror streaked across her face, you’d have thought she heard the voice of the devil himself. Even with the blindfold still on, I could tell she was scared shitless.
When I got back on the line, he instructed me to let her get dressed and leave so that Lance wouldn’t be on alert outside, and then gave me his word that she’d be properly dealt with. I have no idea what that means, but I don’t fucking care what happens to her. She’s been off the map since she walked out of my house that night, and I can only hope I never have to see her again in my life.
Now the day is here. Friday. Exactly two weeks since this entire nightmare began. Two weeks since I spoke to her, and eighteen days since I’ve held her, touched her, or kissed her. And if all goes as planned, at the very least I’ll be able to see my sweet Blake again tonight.
“Are you ready to head out?” Easton asks as he sticks his head into my bedroom. “You guys need to leave soon if you’re gonna make the flight.”
Nodding, I shuffle through the documents in my hand for at least the hundredth time, making sure I haven’t forgotten anything. “Yep. I’ve got your ID, a credit card in your name, the plane ticket, and my boarding pass.”
He offers a supportive smile. “See? Looking so much like me is finally coming in handy.”
“Yeah, if we can pull this off, it will more than make up for all those times I nearly got my ass kicked because you messed around with someone else’s girlfriend.” I chuckle nervously as I take a last glance in the mirror. Dressed in black jeans with a matching t-shirt and baseball cap, I’m thankful the swelling in my face has receded and the abrasions are beginning to fade. I definitely don’t look my best, but at least I won’t scare her when she sees me.
“All right, let’s do this,” I announce as I join him on the top landing of the staircase. “Enjoy being me. I’ll let you know when I book my flight home.”
Surprising me, Easton pulls me into a warm, brotherly embrace and pounds my back with his closed fist. “Be careful, bro. I know you’re a badass and all, but think before you speak or act. This guy is a scary fucking dude.”
I hug him back, hoping this won’t be the last time, but understanding that’s a realistic possibility. Neither of us knows for sure what’s waiting for me when I get off that plane in Reno, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take.
Careful to not be seen through the windows opening to the front of the house, where Lance could possibly catch a glimpse of him, Easton disappears back into my room. He’ll be staying there until I return home, as he’s pretending to be me, home for the weekend. Sneaking him inside this morning from Jae’s trunk wasn’t too difficult, while I kept the federal agent’s attention by walking outside to let him know who Jae was and that she was visiting for breakfast. At that exact time, she pulled around to the back of the house, up near the garage.
Getting me out of here inside her vehicle won’t be nearly as easy. Easton can’t go out to distract him, since Lance obviously has no idea he’s even here, so Jae struts out to the government-issued SUV, sidetracking him by asking random questions, while I make a mad dash to the unlocked back door. I dive in, quickly closing the door behind me, and pray it works.
It’s nearly five excruciatingly long minutes before the driver’s door swings open and Blake’s friend slides onto the driver’s seat. Cool as a cucumber. Like she’s got no idea at all I’m stowed away on the back floorboard of her Infiniti.
Neither of us says a word for at least a couple of miles until Jae feels positive no one’s following her, and then she finally exhales a giant sigh of relief. “Okay, I think we’re good,” she mutters, taking a big swallow from the bottle of water in the drink holder. “I’ll let you know when I’m exiting the freeway for the airport, and you can crawl up here so you look like a normal person getting out of the passenger seat at the drop-off.”
“Sounds good,” I reply, dropping my head back against the door as I close my eyes and focus on the low hum of the tires against the pavement.
Since the night everything went down, I’ve been a fucking basket case. Work is out of the question. The one day I attempted to go in, I made the mistake of opening my desk drawer, and the second I saw the picture of Blake tucked away in the back, I lost my shit. Like a pissed-off bull in a china shop full of red dishes, nothing was spared from my wrath.
After that episode, Easton and I agreed it’d be best if I stayed home until after whatever happens this weekend. But home hasn’t been much better. With my ribs still pretty sore, I can’t use working out as an outlet to release my tension. I’ve even tried jacking myself off in the shower every morning, but that just increases my frustration, not finding a release with Blake slipping further and further away from me.
At night, I’ve been lying awake in the guest bedroom, staring at the ceiling as every possible scenario of what could happen on this trip runs through my head. I could get caught by the TSA, FBI, or the US Marshal Service for using a fake ID on a flight, which, in and of itself, is a felony with guaranteed jail time. This could all be a set-up to take me hostage, to torture me for information, or worse, to be killed. I could discover they’ve been brutally mistreating Blake. And that’s the one that gets me every time. Makes me physically sick to think about.
The thought of my suffering for a chance to get to see her is nothing compared to the possibility of me having to witness her being abused. Beaten. Molested. Dehumanized. I will probably end up dead if that happens, so I’m really fucking praying that’s not the case. This Raze guy seems to have a soft spot for her, and if what he said is true about doing this as a favor for Blake, and my gut says it is, then I doubt he’s letting someone mistreat her. But then again, he’s a Russian mobster and trained killer, so he could be blowing smoke up my ass, as I’m sure lying is second nature to him. Trying to stay optimistic in this entire fucked up situation is proving to be a major task.
About an hour or so after we leave my house, Jae taps the back of her headrest to get my attention. “We’ll be there in about five minutes or so,” she announces. “Go ahead and climb up here.”
Grateful to finally unfold from the cramped position, I crawl over the center console and slide down onto the seat, fastening my seat belt, even though we’re almost there. I don’t want to give the police any reason to pull us over.
She drives up to the drop-off zone and shifts the transmission into park. Even though Jae and I don’t know each other all that well, I know she’s one of Blake’s only friends and that she cares about her quite a bit, and she just put her neck out on the line to help make this trip happen. I smile at her appreciatively. “I can’t thank you enough, Jae. As soon as I know what flight I’m coming back on, I’ll text you.”
“I’ll be here to pick you up, Easton,” she teasingly reminds me of my alias for the next however long this takes. “Good luck, and bring our girl home.”
I hop out of the car and onto the curb, giving her one last wave before she pulls away into the busy merging traffic of LAX. Turning around on my heel, I pull the baseball cap down low on my head and stride inside. Here goes nothing.
The Reno-Tahoe airport is a lot smaller than I expected. And a lot seedier. I guess I assumed it’d be a lot like the Vegas airport, but as I walk from the gate to the exit where the buses are, it’s clear I was way off base. The furniture is outdated, a funny odor lingers in the air, the few workers I’ve seen are not exactly approachable, and everything is so dingy and weathered that it feels as if I’m viewing it all through a hazy yellow camera lens. Like a B-list movie from 1980.
Oh, and don’t get me started on the old people. At least seventy percent of the people I pass are eligible for social security benefits. I’ve even seen six or seven with oxygen tanks strapped to them. That’s when I place the odd smell: a nursing home.
I move quickly to get outside into some fresh air, hoping I won’t have to wait long for the bus I need to catch. The online schedule indicated an eleven-thirty departure time, but was footnoted that based on traffic and weather conditions, the times could vary by up to an hour. The last place I want to hang out for an hour is on the splintery wooden bench outside the most depressing airport in the country, and luckily, when I approach the line of buses parked outside, I immediately see mine. Truckee, California, here I come.
In a back row by myself, I sit with the bill of my ball cap pressed against the window, half-listening to the music playing in my headphones, but mostly trying to memorize every sign and landmark we drive by. If I ever need to find my way back here again, I want to have as much information as possible.
It’s just after twelve-thirty when the bus driver pumps the brakes several times before bringing us to a complete stop in front of a tiny bus station. We all stand to get off, beginning with the front rows first, and by the time I hop down the two big steps and onto the cement, my teeth are chattering uncontrollably with nerves. I’m almost there.
As instructed, I hoof it the two blocks north to the famous golden arches high in the sky. When the soles of my shoes hit the blacktop of the parking lot, I slow my pace and scan the vehicles around me. At first, I don’t see the old blue and white Ford pickup I was told would be here, but as I reach to the back corner of the fast-food restaurant, I see the truck parked next to the dumpster.
Swallowing back my fears, I lower my chin to my chest and walk as inconspicuously as possible to the passenger side of the truck. I grab the handle and open the door, hauling myself into the cab, before I talk myself out of this. Only then do I turn to look at my girlfriend’s captor. Face-to-face. Man-to-man.
And he might just be the most intimidating man I’ve ever seen in my life. As if his enormous body frame isn’t threatening enough, the broken nose that was never fixed and the ugly jagged scar on the side of his face definitely seal the deal.
“Decker.” He tips his chin in acknowledgement as he grunts my name.
“Raze,” I reply, praying he doesn’t hear the shakiness in my voice.
Then, without another word, he turns the key over in the ignition and the engine roars to life. And we’re on the road.
He finally breaks the silence after we’ve been driving for about ten minutes. “I’m gonna pull over off the highway once we’re out of town and blindfold you for the rest of the trip. For obvious reasons, I don’t want you to know where we’re going. You know too much already. I won’t bind your feet and wrists, unless you give me a reason to. I’m trying to make this as easy as possible. No one else other than you, Blake, and myself will be at our final destination, but to make sure none of my men show up unexpectedly, I will stand guard outside while you are with her. Do you understand?”
Nodding, I keep my eyes on the road in front of me. “How long do I have with her?”
“One night. We will leave before daybreak in the morning, and I will drop you back off at the McDonald’s for you to go back the same way you got here.” His accusing eyes cut over to me, pinning me to the seat. “And don’t try anything fucking stupid like taking her back with you. That can’t happen yet. It’ll fuck everything up, and then we will all be running for our lives.”
I hang on the yet he drops, hoping that’s a good indicator he’s eventually planning on letting her go. “You have my word. I won’t try to take her back home with me this time.”
Conversation halts for a little while, and then as promised, Raze steers the truck off onto the shoulder of the highway and pulls out a black sash. Before he covers my eyes with the dark piece of fabric, he inhales a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, and then releases it in a whoosh. For a brief moment, he actually looks vulnerable. But then it’s gone.
After securing the blindfold around my eyes, he makes me huddle up on the floorboard so nobody who may possibly pass us in traffic can see me. Never in my life have I spent so much time on the floors of vehicles until today. And this ride, wherever it is we’re going that’s somewhere north of Truckee, is a curvy, bumpy one that has me struggling to not be thrown around between the door and glove box.
Raze isn’t much of a talker, but he said on the phone he’d answer some of my questions in person, so I build the nerve up and take a chance. “Emerson told me she figured out who Blake was by an old picture she Google searched, but I’m still not sure how or why she handed her over to your family. Are you at liberty to tell me?”
“Well, I never knew how she discovered who Blake was, but somehow she was aware of the money Easton owed us. It was really kind of bizarre.” Until now, that I can’t see, I never realized how much I use people’s facial expressions to read the other half of the story they’re telling.
“Bizarre?” I push him to keep talking.
“Yeah, I got this strange call one afternoon,” he divulges, “and I almost didn’t answer it because I didn’t recognize the number, but for whatever reason, I did. It was Emerson on the other end of the line. She said she was good friends with Easton and wanted to pay off his debt, but instead of using money, she wanted to trade Blake, or Bryleigh . . . whatever.
“At first I thought she was crazy and told her to stop playing games, but she swore she could deliver her that night. It had to be that night, though. It took us about twenty minutes to verify she was telling the truth, and then the drop-off was set up. And that was that.”
I don’t ask any other questions for a while as I try to piece together the details of times and happenings from that Friday, even though it really doesn’t matter much anymore. It happened, and there’s nothing I can do to go back in time to prevent it. Now, I have to move forward. I have to focus on getting her back.
“Can you tell me what you plan to do with her?”
“No. Not yet.”
There’s that yet word again.
We ride for the next couple hours or so without talking. My legs cramp up several times throughout the trip from being bent into positions they’re not used to going in, and just as I’m about to ask him if I can get out to stretch for a few minutes, the truck slows to a halt and he turns it off.
“Okay, we’re here. You can sit back on the seat now.” He unties the sash from behind my head, and it takes my eyes several moments to adjust to the afternoon sunlight. As soon as I can focus, I scan the surrounding area, taking in nothing but a heavily wooded forest and a rustic cabin. “She’s inside, and she doesn’t know you’re coming. I didn’t want to get her hopes up in case something happened on your trip,” he explains. “So expect her to be more than a little surprised when she sees you.”
I sit and wait for what happens next, as I fail epically in trying to keep my emotions in check. This is all too much.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Raze barks, causing me to jump in the seat. “I didn’t bring you all this fucking way so we could hang out in my truck. Go inside and see her. You’re on the clock.”
