4. Elira
4
ELIRA
T he blond-haired devil passed out fifteen minutes ago.
Every now and then, I look over to make sure he's breathing, and he is, steadily. Sometimes I'm relieved. Sometimes I'm disappointed. Sometimes I wonder why I haven't pushed him out of the car and driven somewhere safe.
But I know the answer. There isn't anywhere safe. These people, they could find me, they could find James , and then it'll be his body in the ground along with mine. The only way to keep him safe is to not call, but without help… They would find me before the sun came up. And if I let Maksim die, I'm terrified of what my death would look like.
I've gone over it a thousand times in my head. My best chance of survival is keeping Maksim alive and praying he has a forgiving side. I at least need to get him to safety before I run.
Right?
I'm still so unsure.
Maksim grunts, snapping my spine straight as I'm pulled from my thoughts. I look beside me at his closed eyes, clenched with pain.
I stare out the windshield, following the GPS's directions as well as I can. The roads are confusing, and I have to follow close behind cars just to make sure I'm in appropriate lanes, but I do okay. I rarely drive back home, but the weeks that my father came to visit us when I was a child, he always had a car.
When I was thirteen, the last time I saw him, he stayed with us for an entire month. It was the longest I'd ever seen him in a single stretch of time, and in it, he taught me how to drive. He told me about America, his home country, and the traffic in Chicago.
For a minute, I pretend that's where I am. That it's my dad's car that I'm following close to, that he'll look in his rearview mirror, see me through the windshield, and recognize the daughter he forgot about over a decade ago.
A horn blares behind me, making my shoulders hunch as I lift my hands in an apologetic wave. I don't know what I'm apologizing for, but I turn the car to get away from the angry driver and let the GPS reroute.
The GPS doesn't take us to Maksim's house.
I'm assuming. If this is his house, he doesn't mind guests. Lots of guests.
I slow the car to a crawl as we pull up to an open, iron gate that people walk through while laughing and hanging on each other like they're drunk. They're piling into one of many cars on the street when I turn my attention to the front of the house.
Music is so loud, there's no way the police haven't been called at least once, but it doesn't seem to discourage the two guys running across the roof of the two-story, red brick home.
When they jump from the roof, I gasp and slam my foot on the brake. I put the car in park and fling the door open, angling myself outside to hear what I think will be screams of terror but wind up being cheers.
What is going on?
I climb back in the car and nudge a sleeping Maksim. "We're here," I whisper. Why I'm whispering, I don't know. " Maksim ."
Movement up ahead draws my attention, and my breath catches when I see a man bounding through a gate, his arms spread out wide in a welcoming gesture as a grin stretches his lips. When I say man , what I really mean is giant . Goliath himself.
Did I say Maksim is big?
I take it back.
"Dobro pozhalovat' drug," the man calls, his voice cheerful, but his hands lower when he sees me. I sink in the seat.
"Maksim?" He walks quickly to the passenger door and yanks it open. Maksim's hand limply covers his wound with the cloth that's soaked with blood.
The man gasps, his eyes going wide as he yanks the shirt away to reveal the stab wounds.
Something feels like it catches in my throat. I try to breathe, but no air passes, so I put my hands on the steering wheel and try not to panic.
" Zinovy !" the man screams.
Breathe. Just breathe.
I manage to wheeze.
"What happened?" he asks me. I can see him inspecting Maksim's injuries in my periphery. "Zinovy!" he screams again. I don't look at him, but I can feel it when his impatience flings my way. "What happened?!"
A man appears from the backyard, running this way.
I still don't have it in me to speak. I'm having trouble breathing as it is, there's little I can do to form words.
I can put the car into reverse. I can get the hell out of here. That's what I can do.
Maksim stirs but doesn't open his eyes when the man shakes him. "Maksim, wake up."
"What happened?" the runner who must be Zinovy asks. I don't look at him either. I just wait for them to lug Maksim's body out of the car, and as soon as they do, I shove the car in reverse and let off the brake, my foot sliding to the gas pedal.
"Stop!" the large man yells, but I don't listen. I slam on the pedal, and the car jolts as I wiggle the wheel, trying to get control. I speed past the gate only to crash into a car parked on a curb.
My blood running hot, I go to put the car into drive but recoil as the windshield shatters from a bullet. I scream, raising my hands while tucking my head into my shoulder to announce my surrender.
Seconds later, a different man appears and drags me from the car while I struggle half-heartedly, still conflicted about what to do. One part of me says run, the other part says stop, and I can't seem to make up my mind.
When we get inside, I'm taken upstairs to the same bedroom they took Maksim to. He's laying on the mattress while Zinovy, a skinny guy with full-sleeve tattoos on both arms, works on him with antiseptic.
The big one stands over them, looking even more massive than he did outside. His bushy eyebrows are furrowed as he stares at Maksim, acne scars covering his troubled face.
He turns to me when he must realize I'm here, and I cower from his angry glare.
"Why did you run?"
Great question .
I don't answer. My instinct to not know English suddenly kicks back in, and I just stare, pushing my bottom lip out to look as pathetically innocent as a wounded dog.
They don't think I did this to Maksim. No sane person would believe that. Look at me. Look at him. I'm just a stupid girl. He's a big, strong man. A killer .
They won't know I did this until he wakes up and tells them. I move my eyes to Maksim, praying he won't wake up.
Maybe I should've stabbed him one more time.
"Hey." The giant takes one long stride to me and grabs me by the back of my neck, jerking my head up to look at him. "Answer my fucking question."
"Jesus, Hugh, she's scared. " Zinovy looks up from tending to Maksim. "Give the girl a break."
"Stay out of this," Hugh snaps over his shoulder.
Zinovy holds up his hands. "I'm just saying. She saved Maksim's life by bringing him here. The least you could do is not be an asshole."
"I'm not being an asshole."
"I mean…" He shrugs and grabs a bottle of vodka. " Prosti menya brat ."
Maksim's face twists as vodka pours over his wound, and his mouth opens in a bellow. "Fuuck," he growls, opening his eyes.
"There he is," Zinovy cackles.
Maksim falls back, his arm covering his eyes as Zinovy works on the punctures.
"That's right, Sleeping Beauty . Back to bed."
Hugh's attention moves to me once again.
I shake my head before he can ask me another question. "Nuk flas anglisht."
His head tilts backward with a sigh, and he gives it a shake before addressing the guy with the gun behind me. "Can you get her to clean up? She smells worse than your mother's cunt."
His chest hits my back as he laughs. "Go fuck yourself."
A sense of shame washes over me, but the idea of soap and water on my body is pleasant enough that I forgive the crass comment.
This house feels similar to the warehouse Anton took me to in that there are a bunch of Russian guys, but if there's a hierarchy here, I wouldn't know what it is. They feel relaxed with each other.
The man with the gun takes my arm and leads me from the room. Hugh calls behind us, "Put her in the basement when you're done."
The basement .
That doesn't sound like a place you put a girl who just saved your friend's life. If that's how they'll treat me thinking I'm Maksim's savior, I can only imagine how they'll treat me when he tells them what really happened.