Page 63 of Kept in the Dark (Hitmen of Ulysses #2)

He crosses, uncrosses, then recrosses his arms, poking his tongue into his cheek and sighing. “I take it that means the Russian guy that stabbed Kyle is… Dimitri?”

He knows Dimitri? I guess if he knows James, it’s not that big of a leap, but… what the hell is going on?

“And… let me guess. You’re Dimitri’s woman.”

The act of looking at Eleanor for guidance is all the confirmation he needs. He heaves another huge sigh. “This payout was gonna be so fuckin’ good. Fuck. All right. Go get the car. I’ll meet you down there in five,” he instructs his men.

“Boss?”

“Do it,” he replies, not lifting his voice but hardening it.

The two of them look at each other, then hustle towards the elevator.

While it dings its way down to the lobby, he moves across the room to the chair where Eleanor is tied.

Grabbing something from his pocket, he squats next to her.

I hear a mechanical snap, then a sawing noise like he’s cutting through the tape.

It takes a few long seconds, then he rises and lays a heavy hand on Eleanor’s shoulder that makes her flinch away from the contact.

“Up you go, babydoll. You’re coming with me. ”

I open my mouth to ask what the fuck is going on, but there’s a loud shout from behind the closed door of the bedroom. “Ah! What the fuck?! You fucking bitch! You cunt!”

Bang! Bang!

My heart leaps into my throat.

“Yup, time to go,” Felix grinds out, lifting Eleanor from the chair with a firm grip under her armpit.

Locking eyes filled with tears on me, she struggles against him as he pulls her towards the elevator. I open my mouth to urge her to go, to save herself.

At that exact moment, Kyle emerges from the bedroom, face red and jerking at the buttons on his shirt with one free hand.

The other has a gun. He tears off the fabric and throws it furiously onto the ground.

“Fucking cunt,” he growls, wiping at a spot on his bare stomach where I recognize the color and consistency of vomit. “Fucking cunt ! Fuck!”

I flinch at his scream.

He sees me, pauses, then glances around until he finds Felix, before turning his attention back to me.

I know, then; this is real evil. Felix may have an air of malice, but Kyle is insane. One look and I know he tortured animals when he was a kid.

I’d hoped to go my entire life without ever seeing his horrible face again. My stomach is in knots. I might vomit all over him next.

“You found the cunt. Turns out you’re not totally useless, eh, amigo ?” Kyle asks, butchering the pronunciation of the last word so badly that it sounds like a hate crime. His eyes fall on Eleanor, and he frowns. “Who the fuck is that? Another hostage?”

“Boys thought I’d like to play with her,” Felix replies, sounding bored. Just then, the elevator dings and opens behind him. I think I see him flinch.

Kyle scowls. “Where the fuck are you going? ”

Felix rocks on his heels, considering the other man. After a beat, he tosses Eleanor towards the open elevator and steps into the doorway, preventing the doors from closing without him. She hits the back wall and nearly goes down, but recovers.

“That cabrón who had you shitting out a bag for four weeks... Did he have a big fuckin’ scar all down his face like this?” He gestures, miming a curved line with the side of his hand.

“Maybe. It was dark,” Kyle shrugs. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Felix nods a few times, mostly to himself. Then he straightens. “I’m out. Keep the money.”

This is obviously not what Kyle was expecting to hear. He clenches his fist around the gun, staring at Felix with bewilderment that quickly shifts into anger. “What? You’re backing out now? You’re the one who told me that signal was a trap! And my backup is nearly here—”

“Ain’t no amount of backup that’s gonna save your white ass.”

Felix’s eyes flick to me, and Kyle follows the movement, frowning. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You know how people like to say you’re playing with fire?

Well, you’re not playing with fire; you’re playing with fucking napalm.

That shit’s gonna burn down everything ,” Felix says, expression a bit unhinged, like he kind of wants to watch it happen.

“Smartest thing you can do now is leave her here and run for your sorry little life. He’ll still catch you, but maybe he’ll kill you quick. ”

“You’re telling me you’re running away? You’re afraid of some—” Kyle begins, his voice pitching higher in outrage and taunt.

Felix cuts through it with a chuckle. “Yup. Yeah. I am.”

“Pussy,” Kyle shakes his head and returns the laugh, though his is far more bitter. “Whatever, man, don’t come crying to me later. Deal’s off. I don’t owe you a dime. ”

As he presses the button in the elevator, Felix moves half behind the wall, ushering Eleanor over to the side and blocking her from my sight. Is he… protecting her?

“There are those finely tuned instincts that are gonna get you so far,” Felix taunts. “Piece of advice. Maybe take a couple seconds and ask yourself why I would walk away from a payout this big.” He taps his temple twice. “Think about it.”

The doors close.

Kyle turns back to me, jaw slack, eyes burning with blame and a whole mess of things I don’t even want to try to name. He stares for a few seconds, shakes his head, and strides past me to the kitchen island. Once there, he leans down over the quartz and makes a heavy, thick snorting noise.

Did he just do a line of cocaine? I slip into my Nurse Nicole skin and make my observations as discreetly as I can from here.

Judging from how unsteady he is on his feet, that probably wasn’t his first hit.

He’s having trouble with visual focus, his fine motor skills appear to be compromised, he’s unhinged, and his emotional state while he spoke with Felix seemed to shift quickly and unpredictably.

He falls back, making a groaning noise of relief, and goes slack in the low-backed chair.

Heart racing so fast I’m sick to my stomach with it, I grapple for something—anything—that might be helpful while I have a few seconds to think.

I know how to handle several different types of crises; I just have to try to remember my training—there had to have been one about how to handle an unstable, dangerous person with a gun.

Active shooter trainings advise running and hiding, but I know I took a seminar about dealing with patients with suspected psychosis.

And, sure, calling the doctor or security isn’t an option here, but there has to be something buried in my brain that I’ve learned about calming people down when they’re having a mental break.

That could be what’s happening here, or he could just be really high. The same tactics wouldn’t work on someone who was really high.

Okay, Nicole. Think.

If I play my cards right, I might be able to stall long enough to… I don’t know. I don’t know!

It feels reckless not to make a plan of my own and just hope for Dimitri to come for me, but I’m so out of my depth. How is he going to get up here without being noticed? Will he come in time?

The only thing I’m really sure of is that antagonizing Kyle is a bad idea. He might just shoot me for fun or by accident because he’s worked up. I have to be careful and use what I know about him to my advantage.

What do I know about him?

He’s entitled. He’s self-important. He thinks he’s smarter than he is. He thinks he’s more charming than he is. He’s a shitty dancer… Okay, that’s not immediately relevant… But there’s a theme here—he’s obviously got a huge ego.

So, though I want to rage at him, to taunt him, to scream obscenities and warn him that my big, scary boyfriend is going to come rescue me, I can’t. I have to pretend to be docile so he feels like he’s in control.

I might be able to confuse him or create some paranoia.

I might be able to fool him. He obviously wants the USB and the money, though he hasn’t even asked about it yet.

Felix knew I knew about it anyway. Something tells me it won’t go well for me if he realizes I don’t have it—or worse, that the money was transferred away and I have no idea where it is.

Every second that ticks by digs the pit in my stomach a little deeper. At least Eleanor got out. I hope she manages to fight off Felix, or holds out for long enough that Mac comes to get her …

Kyle groans again and shuffles to his feet, leaving the gun on the counter.

“What the fuck was Felix’s problem?” he asks, and I’m not totally sure if it’s directed at me. I stay silent in case it’s not.

He moves towards the windows, then remembers his gun is still on the counter.

When he picks it up and tucks it into his waistband, my stomach sinks.

Fuck. I’d really been hoping he would forget about it.

As if he can’t decide where he wants to keep it, he slides the weapon back out of his pants, fingers the trigger, and taps it against the outside of his leg.

Then, he turns, pointing the barrel right at me.

I flinch, nearly losing control of my bladder. Holy fuck, it is terrifying being on the wrong end of a gun. Staring down the barrel is bad enough—it steals rational thoughts—but feeling like the person holding it is unpredictable makes it so much worse.

My time for planning has just run out.

“Who’s the fucker with the scar and why is Felix pissing himself about him?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper the lie, hoping he’ll accept it because he wants to. “I don’t know what he was talking about.”

He makes a noise of satisfaction, dropping his arm.

Tears in my eyes, I decide to try pleading, “Why are you doing this, Kyle?”

He rolls his eyes. “A fuck-ton of money. Fucking obviously.”

“Okay, fine… everyone wants to be rich. But you’re not a bad guy, right? You don’t have to do it this way. You don’t want blood on your hands like this, right?”

The look he levels at me proves just how futile my plea was—apparently, appealing to his (nonexistent) good side was the wrong gamble.

“I’ve got so much blood on my hands, spilling yours doesn’t make a difference.

I’m a Volkevich, you stupid bitch,” he spits.

“ Bratva. Family first. I’ve killed for my family, did everything my uncle told me to…

” he tr ails off, his voice lowering like he’s no longer speaking to me.

“Matt agrees to marry some ugly cunt, and suddenly I’m not good enough anymore?

It was supposed to be mine. My money. My legacy. Mine .”

Okay. Motive. He stole the money because he clearly felt cheated out of his future. I can work with that. “And that’s not fair that they took that from you,” I say, trying to be gentle and sound sincere when the thought of his entitlement is turning my stomach. “I’d be pissed, too.”

“It was supposed to be me!” he roars.

He swings the gun around, finger pressed against the trigger, landing with it pointed at his own head. I hold my breath, hoping this issue is about to sort itself out, but he just scratches his scalp with the silenced end of the barrel.

I swallow my disappointment and try again. “Are you sure this is the best plan, Kyle? Have you really thought this through?” I ask as he crosses the room back towards the kitchen and the other lines of coke waiting for him on the quartz countertop.

He doesn’t answer for a few long seconds, staring longingly at the white lines on the counter.

“Whoever freaked that guy Felix out is probably on his way. Maybe it would be a good idea to—”

“Enough!” he screams, making me flinch.

He pulls out his phone and presses it to his ear.

When the person on the other side picks up, he starts speaking rapidly in Russian, glancing at me periodically.

I tense, waiting, trying to pick up on a single word in the unfamiliar language.

His tone brightens, and it makes my stomach sink further and further.

He’s happier now, and I can’t imagine that means good things for me.

He hangs up, closes his eyes, breathes deeply in through his nose, and focuses back on me. That edge of mania in his eyes has shifted to something that looks a hell of a lot more like triumph. Oh fuuuuck .

“Time to talk, bitch. Where’s my money?” he asks. It’s the most lucid and calm he’s sounded yet.

I wish I’d bothered to come up with an answer before now—a lie that might sound true. “I… I don’t have it on me,” I whisper.

“Fucking obviously! Where is it?! Where is my fucking money?”

He takes a few steps towards me, lifting the gun. When he’s within arm’s length, I turn my head, and he presses the tip into my cheek.

I’m shaking so hard it’s making the chair vibrate.

“I don’t know, but I can bring you to the people who do.

” My throat tries to close around the words several times as I attempt not to dissolve into sobs.

If I can stall, or hold out, or get him to take me somewhere out of here where he has to stow that gun…

“I don’t believe you, cunt. Sounds like you need to be taught what happens when you lie to a Volkevich.”