A blind bat
1223 Words
Chapter Seventeen
Viktor was finally dozing.
Between the blood loss and the cocktail of painkillers and antibiotics Gloria had forced down his throat, his body had finally surrendered.
Gloria sat in the sagging corner chair, watching him battle the pull of sleep and only when his breathing turned heavy and even did she finally stand up. Her own adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a bone-deep ache.
She retreated to the cramped bathroom and peeled off her blood-stained clothes. After scrubbing them in the sink until the water stopped running a murky pink, she hung them over the shower rod.
It was only then, as she stood there cold, that she realized the grim reality of the motel: there were no robes, no extra towels, and certainly no complimentary pajamas.
With a frustrated huff, she stepped into the tiny shower to wash off the night. When she emerged, she was left with nothing but her underwear.
She caught her reflection in the cracked mirror and sighed; she looked haggard. Her eyes were sunken, and the flickering fluorescent light overhead made her skin look like ghost-flesh.
The night was supposed to be a simple meeting with her sister for the first time in years. Instead, it had spiraled into a bloodbath.
A cold knot of dread tightened in her stomach. Had her sister escaped when the gunfire erupted? The thought of her sister lying alone on that dirty club floor made Gloria’s eyes sting.
She couldn't push the guilt eating at her. She'd saved a random stranger who held her captive, without once thinking about her sister.
She forced herself back into the bedroom. The tired ceiling fan had hummed to life, and no matter how much she fumbled the switch, the blades kept spinning.
Letting out a defeated breath, she dropped a pillow onto the floor and curled into a ball, trying to find sleep on the hard, cold linoleum.
She woke up hours later, her teeth practically chattering. Without her phone, she had no way to tell the time, but the room felt like a tomb. Between the whirring fan and a window that was jammed half-open, she was going to freeze to death.
She looked at the small space left on the bed. Viktor hadn't moved. He lay there shirtless, his broad chest rising and falling with labored breaths, the bandages she’d applied standing out stark white against his tanned skin.
Since his trousers had been ruined by the blood, he was down to his black briefs, his long, muscular legs taking up most of the mattress.
Gloria sighed, her pride finally losing the battle against her freezing limbs.
She climbed onto the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle his wound. Viktor stirred, a low grunt vibrating in his chest, but he didn't wake.
She held her breath, waiting until his breathing leveled out before she slid under the thin duvet. She pulled the covers to her chin, snuggling into the furnace-like heat radiating from his large frame.
The warmth was intoxicating. Surrounded by the scent of antiseptic and the faint, musky smell of his skin, sleep greeted her almost instantly.
*
Sunlight tickled Gloria’s eyelids, and she woke with a small, hazy smile. She felt warm, heavy hands draped over her waist, the heat of a body pressing into her back.
In her half-conscious state, she assumed she was having one of her usual s*x dreams; the kind where a tantalizing hero bent her over a mahogany desk and showed her exactly why he was the hero.
This fantasy though, shattered with a loud, metallic thud.
Gloria’s eyes flew open, landing on a man standing by the door who definitely wasn't in her dreams. Reality crashed down on her almost immediately: she wasn't just in bed; she was in bed with her captor.
"s**t! s**t!" She scrambled to sit up, violently shoving the hands off her.
"What the f**k! That’s my injured arm!" Viktor roared, his face contorted in pain as he was jolted awake.
"And you had it wrapped around my f*****g waist, you pervert!" she fired back, her heart racing. In her panic, she’d completely forgotten about the intruder at the door.
Viktor hauled himself up into a sitting position, his dark hair a mess. "You climbed into bed with me, remember?"
"Because the floor was freezing and I’m the one who paid for this dump! Why should I freeze to death while you hog the duvet?" She c****d an eyebrow, her face reddening.
"I told you to stay two feet away from me at all times!"
"Maybe I should have remembered that while I was wrist-deep in your gut looking for a bullet! Maybe I should have just let you bleed out, you cocky, ungrateful s**t!"
"And maybe I should have let Miguel sell you off to..."
"Guys!" A voice sliced through the bickering.
They both froze, heads snapping toward the source. It was the man at the door. He was about 5'10", wearing round glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose.
"Maybe save the lovers' quarrel for the limousine waiting outside?" The man c****d an eyebrow, a smug, knowing smile threatening to break across his face.
Gloria’s brow shot up as she looked him up and down.
Her hand reached for the heavy ceramic nightlight on the bedside table, ready to swing. "Who the hell are you? You just barge into our room without knocking and start giving orders?"
"That’s Ethan. He’s my assistant," Viktor answered, his voice a gravelly rasp as he climbed out of bed, wincing as his feet hit the floor.
Gloria’s eyes scanned Ethan again. She’d imagined the personal assistant of a Russian Mafia boss would be a walking tank with a neck thicker than his head.
This man looked like he should be teaching a high school history class or grading papers.
"Your PA is a gay man who wears spectacles?" she asked, turning to look at Viktor, who was currently limping around the room in nothing but his black briefs.
Viktor stopped mid-stride. "Ethan is not gay."
"Uh... Ethan is very much gay," Gloria countered, her eye for detail taking over. "I mean, look at the shirt. Only a gay man has taste that impeccable. And the perfectly manicured, pink-painted nails? What planet are you on, Viktor?"
Viktor paused, slowly turning to look at Ethan, who was now leaning against the doorframe as if trying to shield his soul from the scrutiny. "He... he just likes the color pink."
"How stupid are you?" Gloria laughed. "How long has he been your right hand man without you realizing he's playing for your team?"
"But I’ve never seen him with a man... or a woman..." Viktor trailed off, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion. "Ethan? Are you gay?"
Ethan let out a long, theatrical sigh. He walked deeper into the room, fixed Viktor with a look of pure, exhausted exasperation, and adjusted his glasses.
"Why do you think I put up with your shitty attitude and 3:00 AM phone calls, Viktor? It’s certainly not for charity. It’s because of that Greek-god body of yours. So, yes. I’m gay."
Viktor stood there, looking genuinely stunned, and a loud, bubbly laugh spilled out of her. Viktor Koshnov was as blind as a bat, and Ethan... Ethan was her new favorite person.
- Writer
