Page 39 of Bad Saint
Saint watches me, nodding when I’m dressed.
The temperature down here is already stifling, so being covered this way has me instantly breaking out into a sweat. It’s quite disconcerting to view the world this way— a sliver at a time. But I suppose both Saint and I now have the same viewpoint.
“Our new boat is a few yards away. Kazimir will bring your clothes and other supplies. You are not to move from my side. Are we clear?” he cautions.
When I remain quiet, he steps forward. His presence is suffocating. “I asked you a question.”
We’re on equal ground seeing as he can’t read me as well as he once could. The only clue he has to what I’m thinking is my eyes, which is the only thing I’ve had for the past eight days. “Yes, we’re clear,” I finally reply, crossing my fingers beneath my robe.
The apprehension rolls off his broad shoulders as he watches me carefully, but he has no other choice but to trust me. He gestures with his head to head upstairs. The moment of truth has arrived.
Taking one last look at what was my prison for the past eight days, I march up the stairs but suddenly come to a standstill on the top step, wishing I wasn’t covered. I’d give anything to feel the fresh air on my skin. I tilt my chin upward, peering into the starless sky, and beg the universe shows me mercy.
Please give me the strength to do this.
But Saint clearly doesn’t have any time for sentiments as he nudges me from behind, hinting I’m to keep moving.
When I’m up on the deck, I see Kazimir and the other Russian. The hair on the back of my neck instantly prickles as I get a foreboding sense that something awful lingers around the corner. “Kazimir, go downstairs and get everything.”
Kazimir’s glower is directed my way, and I immediately avert my gaze, terrified. “Luka called. There’s been a mix-up with the boat.”
“What?” Saint spits, as this clearly wasn’t part of the plans. “That’s impossible. I just spoke to him.”
“He just called. Two minutes ago. Go see Mohammed now.”
“Fuck,” Saint curses under his breath. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”
My heart begins to race. “Take me with you,” I plead, not wanting to be left alone with Kazimir. I latch onto his arm, hoping he sees reason, but then quickly shrink back when he makes it clear that touching him is forbidden.
Saint appears stunned by my request as his gaze flicks back and forth between Kazimir and me. “I won’t be long,” he promises, affirming I’m staying put. There is no point in arguing, so I can only hope he’s right.
He expresses something to both men in Russian, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was giving them a warning. He gives me one last look, before jumping from the yacht and hurrying down the dock.
When he’s no longer in sight, the need to flee overcomes me because I know my life is in danger. But it’s too late. Kazimir storms forward, gripping my bicep firmly and drawing my face to his. There is fire behind his soulless eyes. “Now’s your chance to run,” he says, which was not what I was expecting.
“What?” I question, licking my dry lips.
He responds by sweeping his hand outward, hinting I’m free to go. But I’m not stupid. Nothing in this world is free. “No.” I shake my head. “He told me to stay here.”
“Well, I tell you to go.”
Before I know what’s happening, the other Russian steps forward and punches Kazimir in the face— once, twice. I almost sigh in relief, but it’s too good to be true to believe he’s come to my rescue. They’re both in on whatever scheme they’re plotting when they laugh and exchange animated words in Russian.
Just as I’m about to question what the hell is going on, Kazimir yanks me forward and drags me toward the dock. My shoulder pops, and I yelp. “Let me go!” I shriek, attempting to pry myself free, but that isn’t an option. “Help!”
My screams are useless when he slaps his hand violently over my mouth to muffle them.
I dig in my heels, but my flip-flops are almost ripped from my feet as he tugs me forward. “No!” I yell, over and over, but it’s a muted mess as he continues to muzzle me. I can’t believe this is happening again.
I’m finally getting off this boat, and all I want to do is stay.
When I see a disgusting brute standing by the yacht with his arms open, ready to catch me, it’s apparent being here is far safer than wherever this man wants to take me. He snaps his head from left to right, ensuring the coast is clear as he snarls something in Russian to Kazimir.
“See you soon,” Kazimir says into my ear before pushing me between my shoulder blades. I trip over the edge and into the arms of yet another captor. I squirm madly, but his hold on me is tight.
His stench of rotten fish and piss assaults me as he laughs at my pathetic attempts to get free. “No!” I scream, but he pays no attention to my cries for help as he runs down the dock with me thrown over his shoulder.
I have no idea where we’re going, but it’s clear Kazimir set Saint up. There never was a call. It was just a ruse to send Saint away. When I see two men wave us over to their tattered blue fishing boat, I know why.