Page 8 of Pistols and Plush Toys

The stop was abrupt, like someone had pulled the wind from his sails. His expression dropped from one of urgency to confusion.

Elliot watched him, eyes wide and body shaking as Nikolai’s gaze dropped down and back up, then down again.

What—?

Then Elliot realized what had cut through Nikolai's urgent entry, what the man was staring at. Elliot was tightly clutching Apricot in his arms. He’d fallen asleep holding his stuffed giraffe because he’d given into the weakness of needing the comfort, and now—

The shock of being woken so suddenly turned into a new trembling fear.

He remembered all too keenly the few times Mattia had caught him with one of his stuffed animals.

The way the man’s top lip had curled up in a sneer, disgusted that Elliot was playing with something so childish.

He’d thrown out every one of those stuffed animals, destroying some on the way, and Elliot had been forced to swallow the tears, because mourning the loss of a child’s toy would’ve only incited Mattia more.

Elliot forced his hands to unclench from the soft fur, wishing he had had time to hide Apricot under the blankets, or better yet, stuff the toy back in his backpack, but it was too late now.

His knuckles ached as he dropped Apricot onto the bedspread, shoving the plush away with such force that it fell off the bed. Sorry, I’m sorry.

But his eyes stayed on Nikolai, on the predator in the room.

Elliot hadn’t really looked at him yesterday, too terrified to focus properly, but as the silence stretched, he took in how big the man was, tall and broad, with muscled shoulders.

His dirty blond hair was cut close to his head, and his eyes were a piercing shade of blue.

He had a handsome, square jaw with a dimple and a slightly crooked nose, as if it had once broken.

Nikolai was wearing a thick gold chain around his neck, a matching gold chain bracelet, and several rings on each hand, though those were hidden quickly when Nikolai crossed his arms, his head tilting ever so slightly to one side as though trying to decide what to do with Elliot.

The silence went on too long, and Elliot’s body ached with tension as those blue eyes sized him up, no doubt measuring his worth. No doubt finding him lacking any.

Stupidly, he wished again that he had hidden Apricot so that Nikolai hadn’t seen the small plush animal.

Even though Elliot was no longer clutching it like a child, it was probably glaringly obvious to Nikolai that Elliot cared about the toy.

It would be an easy way for Nikolai to further cut him down.

At least it wouldn’t be new territory.

At last Nikolai opened his mouth. His shoulders drew back up, and his presence dominated the space.

“Your boyfriend, he is wanting to say I’m liar,” Nikolai said, sounding disgusted. “So we are going to show him I’m mean what I say.”

Elliot could barely swallow around the knot of fear in his throat.

“Get up.”

The order was sharp, biting. Usually it would have Elliot on his feet instantaneously, but the fear held him there against the headboard. He was still reeling from being woken up, and having Apricot—having a vulnerable part of him witnessed before he could do anything about it.

Nikolai frowned. “Does Alex need to drag you out?”

The further threat had his body unlocking. Clumsily, he slid off the bed onto his feet. For a second he was afraid his knees were going to collapse underneath him, but they held. Barely.

He was still in the clothing that he’d been wearing yesterday, and his T-shirt was badly wrinkled from sleeping in it. Nikolai looked him up and down again, and then turned and strode out of the room. The expectation that Elliot follow was clear.

So he did.

Nikolai led him through a lavish, beautifully designed house.

In contrast to Mattia's minimal, white and chrome design aesthetic, this place was colorful, done in woods and bright blue accent colors. Everything was neat, but far from the sparse way that Mattia lived. Even the hardwood beneath Elliot’s feet that he expected to be cold was warm somehow.

Where Mattia's place resembled an Architectural Digest show home, this place looked lived in.

Was this Nikolai's… actual home?

It couldn’t be. Why would he have brought Elliot here?

Then suddenly, they were at the front door.

Nikolai paused only a second at the threshold and then opened the door, stepping out to hold it for Elliot.

It was a bright, clear sky morning, and seeing it threw him.

He had just enough time to look beyond Nikolai at the vast landscaping before the man was down the steps.

There was a sleek, black car waiting in front, at the top of the long driveway.

Nikolai opened the back door of the car and then looked up at Elliot expectantly.

A shiver went up his spine, but he started toward the car anyway like a dead man going to the gallows.

The rocks lining the paved drive bit into his socked feet, and he had a brief, insane thought that he could make a run for it.

He was outside, and maybe if he was quick enough—

But no. Elliot had no idea what protected this estate, or how many of Nikolai's men were out there. He wasn’t even wearing shoes. If he ran, it was almost a guarantee he’d be caught, and then what? Nikolai had been extremely clear with him that there would be repercussions if he were difficult.

And Elliot was a coward. He didn’t want to be hurt, didn’t want to make it worse for himself. Nikolai could be taking him for torture right now, but on the offchance that he was telling the truth about Elliot’s cooperation…

He got in the car.

It was a strange replay of the day before to be scooting in across the plush, leather seats.

The car even smelled the same, that rich leather scent beneath the faint trace of some deep, cognac cologne that Nikolai wore.

Elliot hadn’t recognized it before, but some part of his brain had clocked the scent and paired it to the man when he’d been closely menacing yesterday.

It was such a stupid thing for his brain to pick out when it could have been focused on literally anything else to help him get out of this situation.

Then Nikolai was sliding into the car after him and pulling the door shut with a soft click. There was no running now, Elliot had made his choice. It was him and Nikolai and whoever was driving, obscured behind the privacy glass.

“Ah. Almost forget,” Nikolai said. Before Elliot could turn or wonder what the comment was about, everything went dark.

He made a pathetic shriek of alarm as he realized a black bag had been put back over his head. Automatically Elliot went to reach to take it off. Nikolai caught his hands.

“Leave it,” Nikolai barked. “Or I’m will zip tie you again.”

His hands were huge, easily engulfing Elliot’s, holding him still as if it cost nothing. His heart fluttered like a trapped hummingbird, overwrought with terror. His whole body was frozen, afraid that any movement might further anger the man.

Then Nikolai squeezed at his wrists and slowly eased away. It was a warning, an unspoken, be good.

There was nothing Elliot wanted more. He’d do anything to get through this unscathed.

He wasn’t defiant or brave. He wasn’t one who would endure torture or pain with a straight face.

He’d never been hard like that. He’d be good, if only because that was all he’d ever strived to be, for all that he was terrible at it.

He hated fucking up, hated upsetting people, and apparently that went for his kidnapper too.

There was a sharp rap on the glass, and Elliot jumped. The car started to pull away from the curb.

Where were they going? He was being taken to another location, which couldn’t be good. Useless tears welled in his eyes again, and he was almost grateful to have the privacy of the bag to hide them. He bit his lip hard to keep the sobs in. Quiet. He needed to stay quiet.

Sometimes that made things hurt less.

Elliot felt the car slow at the front gates as it had on the way in. He heard a distant sound of metal sliding open. Some words in what he assumed were Russian were exchanged.

This was exactly why there was no point in running. If Nikolai was anywhere as competent as Mattia, there’d be no simple escape. Men like Mattia left nothing to chance when it came to something they wanted.

He had no idea how long they drove for, making turns that meant nothing to Elliot.

He had no idea where Nikolai's house was, so had no idea where they were going in relation to it.

He just tried to pay attention to the movement of the car, because staying focused on it was the only thing keeping him from spiraling worse than he already was.

But then the car finally stopped, engine turning off. The fear tripped over itself as he heard the car door open. Something grabbed him, a hand reaching to take his own and help him out of the car, but Elliot still jolted in surprise, a humiliating whimper escaping him.

Nikolai sighed, as if Elliot was annoying him. “I’m telling you, cooperate and you will be fine. Calm down.”

That was an impossible task. Still, when Nikolai urged him out of the car, Elliot went, managing to follow blindly and swallow down further cries.

As he got to his feet, his other hand was taken as well, forcing Elliot to be steady in his strong grip.

He wasn’t going to trip with Nikolai holding him up, but it didn’t do anything for the way Elliot’s heart was threatening to jump out of his chest in fear.

Where were they? What was about to happen?

Nikolai guided him forward across pavement that was hard and cold under his feet, his socks as the only barrier against the cement, and it made him feel worse. Like he’d been stripped in a way he hadn’t been yesterday. Bared in a way that made tears run faster down his cheeks.

Nikolai stopped and there was a rush of air, a door opening. Then the man guided Elliot forward again. Their steps across the floor sounded hollow, as though whatever building they were in was empty. The air was still and cold, smelling of moisture and green decomposition.

Elliot’s mind jumped to every crime story he’d ever seen online. To the kinds of run down, secondary locations where bodies were disposed of. Oh god, oh god, was that what this was? Had Nikolai brought him here to die?

His whole body shook, the adrenaline a sickening punch after having just recently woken. He wanted to throw up or collapse, anything to break the tension coiled like an unsprung trap inside him.

They came to a stop.

“Sit,” Nikolai said firmly. “There is chair.”

The hands guided him down carefully, but Elliot still practically dropped into the seat. It was a hard chair, the warm metal seeping immediately through his clothes. It was exactly the kind of chair that people got tortured in.

When Nikolai let him go and stepped away, it was almost worse. Without knowing where Nikolai was, Elliot’s mind ran wild with what he could be doing. Elliot could hear his steps, and then things being moved about nearby, as if on a table. What were they? Knives? Chains?

He was trying to hold it together, really trying, but when the footsteps came back toward him and the rough texture of rope began to wind itself around him, tying him to the chair, Elliot couldn’t stop the sob that spilled out.