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“Unless you wantto die young, do not even think about it.”
Does this American girl think we’re stupid? And that with her spoiled girl ‘street smarts’ she can outwit three Russian gangsters?
Americans watch too many fucking movies. They’re clueless. About everything. It’s baffling to me. How did they ever become the world power they are, aside from winning the Cold War just because they had money and the USSR was broke?
One might expect this woman, this Abby, to be in a better mood. She just had her brains fucked out by Ilya, and yet, when she comes up for cocktails and then dinner, she’s brooding and silent, glowering at anyone trying to start a conversation with her.
I do want to know more about her, if just out of morbid curiosity. What kind of woman does a crook like her father raise? Is she just like him? Or has she been sheltered, with no idea of his business dealings? And moral failings? And lack of character?
The more time she spends aboard the boat, the more certain I am she has no idea what her father does to put a roof over their heads, nor how many people he fucks over to do it.
Unfortunately for him, he’s recently gone too far, and it’s time to pay. He’s politely been asked to rectify his mistakes, but he refuses. And this refusal puts him at the top of what I call our ‘shit list,’ an American saying I love so much. So, to teach him the error of his ways, convince him to right his wrongs, and let him know our faction will not be fucked with, we’ve taken hold of his most precious possession. His daughter.
Unless he’s a total idiot, he’ll stop infringing on our territory without delay. Abby will be sent home, and everyone will be happy.
Well, maybe except for her father.
Of course, Abby knows none of this.Yet. I’m a big believer in ‘need to know,’ another lovely American saying. All she needs to understand for now is that she’s on our boat for an unknown period of time, and that if she behaves, we’ll treat her well.
Very well.
Fuck, I wish I’d been treated a fraction as well as she’s already been, when I was a prisoner during my military service. But I’m not the kind of person people cut slack for. I still have scars to prove it.
I have to say, Abby’s earlier escape attempt was funny as hell. Poor little fool. She had no fucking idea what she was doing, and yet she gave it a try anyway. Can’t fault someone for that. In fact, I’m kind of impressed. She was out of the tender and back on the goddamn boat so fast, Bogdan hadn’t even finished his first scotch of the day.
And if Ilya was true to form, she got her nice little ass spanked for her trouble.
But we haven’t broken her yet, as evidenced by her behavior—not only is she just picking at her food in silence, but she’s also clearly looking around, casing the place to see if there are any other ways to get off the boat and back to the island. She needn’t be so impatient, though. She will get off the boat eventually. Just not until we are ready.
The sooner she accepts her predicament, the easier her life will be. She can make a little vacation out of being here if she just gives it a chance. At least she’s not been thrown in a damp, dark basement teeming with rodents, like I was when I was her age.
Ourlives will be easier too, once she settles in. Because of today’s escape attempt, we’ll be locking her in her room overnight rather than giving her free run of the place. That shit is a pain in my ass. I’m not down with babysitting.
“Put the fork down,” I sigh.
Bogdan and Ilya are watching her too. Nothing gets past us. She will learn that quickly.
If she thinks she can stab one of us with her goddamn fork, she’s not as smart as I think she is.
Say she does manage to drive her fork through someone’s hand, all the way through to the table below. What the hell will she do next? Take control of the boat and return to Ibiza?
Come on, honey.
She can’t possibly think that would work.
I reach over, take her fork out of her hand, and lay it back on the table on the left side of her plate where it had been set.
For Christ’s sake, woman.
Her nostrils flare. “Are you going to tell me what I’m doing here? Or did you just need a new sex slave?” she asks, her chin high to show how bad ass she is.
“Zolotse,” Bogdan begins, “you’ve seen how easily women flock to our boat. Do you really think we need to coerce someone to have sex with us? You’re smarter than that. I know you are.”
She stiffens at his patronizing tone but says nothing. Just continues looking at us expectantly.
Oh, what the fuck.
“Abby, your father, Mr. Madden, has… broken the rules of engagement. He needs to make good on his mistakes,” I say.
