Dangerous Games

14

All right. If it’s games he wants, it’s games he’ll get.

After all, I learned from the master.

“Why, yes, there is,” I say in that same solicitous tone. “In all seven years we were together, you never once made me orgasm. But I suppose the victim’s pleasure isn’t the goal of rape.”

Dimitri’s expression remains unchanged, but the bomb explodes on the bodyguards’ faces. Their shock is so total the room echoes with it.

But I know Dimitri too well. He’s got his eye on the brass ring, and not even a direct insult to his manhood in front of underlings will budge it.

“Your manners are atrocious,” he says, flicking an invisible piece of lint from his sleeve. “I’ll deal with that later. But you know very well what I was referring to.”

“I do. I didn’t want to bring it up in front of company, dear, but if you insist.”

He glances at me, waiting.

“Your halitosis has gotten completely out of control. It’s crop-wilting at this point. Every time you speak, I’m not sure if you need a breath mint or toilet paper.”

“Funny,” he says, deadly soft. “But I’m talking about the lighter.”

So there are cameras. Hidden somewhere in the dark so Dimitri could spy on me. I should have guessed.

Vlad falls still.

Don’t react! Let me handle this!

I try to send it to him telepathically, but he doesn’t receive the message. His face pales to white, and his throat works. He swallows reflexively, taking a slow step back.

“You didn’t leave me matches,” I say, holding Dimitri’s gaze. “You knew I would ask. You set this up. You can’t blame anyone but yourself.”

“Oh, but I can. And I will.” Dimitri stands, shooting a lethal glance at Vlad.

Weary is all I feel. Tired to the marrow of my bones. I’m sick to death of carrying so much fear, of enduring so much violence, of everything to do with this childish, sadistic bully.

If you’re testing me, God, I’m sick of that, too.

I stand, let the blanket fall, and face Dimitri fully. “I’ll take his punishment for him.”

The slight upward curl of Dimitri’s lip tells me he already knew I’d do that. Vlad and his friend stare at me as if they can’t decide if I’m a miracle or insane.

Dimitri clasps his hands behind his back and begins to pace thoughtfully at the end of my bed, as if in deliberation, as if he hasn’t already seen this entire sordid thing to its end. I want to shout at him to cut the crap, but so far his temper is holding, and any sudden loud noises might push poor Vlad over the edge. I don’t feel like being riddled with bullet holes.

So I stand there and wait while the viper furls and unfurls his shiny black coils, delighting in the ways he makes his puppets dance.

“All right,” he says finally, stopping to pull himself upright. He gazes down his nose at Vlad with an air of disappointment. “What you’ve done is a breach of my trust, but I assume you’re willing to make amends.”

Vlad nearly prostrates himself in his relief. “Yes, sir, please, yes, anything.”

Anything. The moment the word leaves his lips, I know it’s a mistake.

I’m proven right when Dimitri turns to me, lit up like the sun. He reaches behind himself, under his suit jacket at his waist, and produces a thin black length of metal, folded in thirds. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he snaps the whip open, locking it into place.

He holds the whip out to Vlad, who takes it, looking confused.

Dimitri and I stare at each other. Neither of us is confused about what’s going to happen, but only one of us is smiling.

Poison dripping from his fangs, the viper says to me, “Strip.”

SIX

NAZ

“You must have a guardian angel looking out for you, man, because none of these wounds are life-threatening. The bullets didn’t hit any major organs, blood vessels, or bones.”

“If I have a guardian angel, that fucker drinks.”

I’m flat on my back on the cot, feeling like a bag of smashed assholes, desperate to get up and get going because the X-rays, ultrasound, and other parts of Doc’s exam have already taken way too much time.

Every second I’m apart from Eva is a lifetime.

“What’s the deal with my lungs? It hurts to breathe.”

“The blast wave from the bullet is traumatic to soft tissues and hollow organs, but you caught another bit of luck in that you were hit with small-caliber, full-metal-jacket ammo. If they’d had rifles with hollow points and you were hit in the same spots, you’d be a goner. Your organs would’ve been liquefied.”

“So my gut’s not as bad as it looks?”

“It’s a clean in-and-out, man. No perforation of the small bowel. No bullet shards in the wound. Internal bleeding is minimal. I’m telling you, it’s a miracle.”

Somehow I don’t feel blessed.

“I’m gonna start you on antibiotics for now to make sure infection doesn’t set in. You’ll need to be stationary until you’re fully stabilized and no secondary issues show up.”

“Secondary issues?”

“Gunshot wounds are sneaky. What looks straightforward can turn real fast into something catastrophic.”

“How long will it take before we know if I’m outta the woods?”

“A few days, at a minimum.”

“That’s way too f*****g long!”

Doc shrugs, turning away from the black-and-white picture of my abdomen he’s been peering at on a laptop hooked up to the X-ray machine. “Or I let you go now and you could die in a few hours from anything from hemorrhage and infection to shock. Up to you.”