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Ouch.
Okay.
I didn’t really expect to be so called out during my kidnapping.
“I’m writing a book,” I grumbled. “That’s why I write silly articles. To pay bills while I write a book.”
“About what? A hot biker?” she asked.
Well, damn.
This was a little too much reality for me. I missed talking about the mafia and snakes and rats.
“How do you think Donovan is going to find you?” I asked, ready to steer the conversation away from me and my life. The life I would be allowed to go back to, but without Donovan. And that was a possibility that hurt too much to let myself harp on.
“True, he is not the smartest man,” she said, and I wanted to bristle at that, but being on this woman’s side seemed to be where I needed to be right then. “But he has friends that have skills.”
That was true.
Booker with his private security.
And there was Arty, who was the hacker.
And, of course, Teddy. Who had the kind of money that could buy all sorts of information.
“Besides, he is motivated.”
“But what if he isn’t?” I asked, feeling my own insecurities well up. “What if he doesn’t come for me?”
“He will.”
“What if he doesn’t?” I asked.
She seemed to think on that for a moment.
“Then I will have to go after him again,” she said, shrugging. “And you, the deal remains the same. But I would advise you to stay away from him. While I don’t want to hurt you, if you happen to be in the car…” she said, waving a hand out.
Of course I knew that cold people existed. That there were criminals who killed and felt nothing. But it was truly chilling to be in the presence of someone who genuinely wouldn’t lose sleep over murdering me.
“When does it end?” I ask.
“What?” she asked.
“When does it end? When Donovan and Rolan are dead? Or will you track down every single person who ever betrayed Iosif? You make fun of my life, but yours sounds just as empty,” I said, feeling my eyes widen at my own words.
I wasn’t typically someone who thought on their toes like that. I always thought of clever things to say well after the fact when I was rolling the situation over in bed or in the shower, trying to figure out how it could have gone differently.
“Don’t speak on things you don’t understand,” she said, tone tight.
“You don’t know anything about my life either,” I said, chin jerking up.
“I know enough for what I need,” she said, then waved at me. “I like this. This is better than that meek mouse act.”
“It’s not an… act,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m just…”
“What? Shy?” she scoffed, almost as if she didn’t think that existed.
“Yes.”
“You know what I think? That shy is just a nice way to say scared of everything.”
Well, okay then.
The hits just keep on coming.
I wasn’t expecting a kick-in-the-ass therapy session from my kidnapper.
Because the thing was, she wasn’t wrong. I mean, yes, I did just genuinely like my solitude. And I liked writing and reading and gardening, all solitary hobbies.
That said, I let that “shyness” hold me back so much in life. I used it as a shield. To protect me from things that made me uncomfortable. But was it possible that true happiness might lie on the other side of those uncomfortable things?
Really, it was.
Sure, there was some legitimacy to fear. Falling out of a rollercoaster. Rejection when you tried to make friends with someone.
But was that really enough reason never to… try?
I was just starting to step out of my comfort zone with Donovan, with his brothers, with a life so different from my own. And the thing was, I was really liking it.
I was never going to be the girl playing strip beer pong, but I could be a part of the festivities, not just watching from the sidelines.
I owed learning that about myself to Donovan.
And now he was going to potentially get killed by trying to come save me?
No.
No, I couldn’t let that happen.
Luckily, all the talking with Natalya had made her feel at ease with me. Enough that she turned her back on me fully to go and look out the back windows for a moment.
Not a long time.
But long enough for me to jump up and grab one of the knives from the wall.
Not long enough, though, to get back to my seat afterward.
“Good for you,” she said, nodding. “But you don’t have it in you,” she said, shrugging.
“To protect myself? No, you’re right. But to protect him? Yes, yes, I do.”
“Have you heard this very American phrase?” Natalya asked as she reached backward. “About knives and gunfights?” she asked.
“Put it the fuck down, Natalya,” a voice said from behind me, making both of us jolt.
Donovan.
“No!” I squeaked, rushing toward him, throwing my body in front of his. “No, you have to leave.”
