BUFF (30 page)

It's hard to hear over the thoughts of his heart. Over the last framed image of her in his mind.

Beautiful.

Bare in her beauty, reckless in her want for him. He still can’t understand how a kind-hearted woman like Becky can see anything good in him.

The emotion grips him in the aisle. He needs to get back there. He needs to have all the time he can with her. He’s never felt… good in his life. He never will when she’s gone.

Everything is running out between them. Soon there’ll be nothing left and memories will only serve to screw with him. He'll die from the distraction she’ll most likely bulldoze through him.

His life will never be the same.

He will never be the same.

He squeezes the medicine bottle in his hand, slicing his hand through the air to grab the phone and bring it to his ear.

“What?” he barks, his strides long as he makes his way to the line of the counter.

“Colt, fuck! Colt, Luis is dead."

Colt stops in his place, almost tipping forward. “The fuck?"

“I went to Kulich's penthouse, no-one was picking up the phone and Luis said he'd be there. Fuck, he's dead, man… so is Roman."

His mind goes numbly void, like a nuclear blast eradicating every inch of thought from him. “Where's Kulich?"

“Dunno, man, no-one knows where the fuck he is. He never came down the elevators, everyone’s in their place. We don't know where the hell he went to. Colt, I think he knows. I think he knows everything."

*     *     *

SHE DOESN’T LIKE BEING WITHOUT HIM.

Becky doesn’t care if she has pneumonia. As long as he’s with her she can handle the pain.

He’s her drug.

Her escape.

Becky halts the avenue her thinking is going down. She can’t go on like this. She isn’t going to be able to handle the rest of her life if she can’t even make it five minutes without Colt.

He's right. She has to stop hiding. If not for herself, then for him. She owes him her life. He’s risked everything, the least she can do is make something of herself. If she can manage not to mess up what she’s been given.

Knowing her…

She feels his hands snake around her waist. As usual, the jump of her skin runs its course and she chuckles lightly. His hot breath fans her ear, drops to the pulse point that Colt knows drives her wild.

“That was quick,” she murmurs, leafing through the tea bags, relishing in the pleasure he stimulates inside her.

“Turn around, sweetheart. I’ve missed those beautiful green eyes of yours."

The foreign tone, the musky scent—hits her. She whips around only to be jerked back against the body of a stranger. Her eyes widen then slit in recognition as the black orbs staring over her pulses and dilates.

Her bones feel like they break from the terror and she clutches onto the lapel of his suit jacket. The birth of terror expands, locking her jaw in place, stirring her stomach up as a fire trail of bile rises fiercely.

“Mr.—”

“Kulich,” he finishes pleasantly, soothingly. The menacing black holes of his stare claw at her; a deathly silent exchange between them. “I told you we’d meet again, Miss Rebecca Appleton."

RAIN ALREADY KNOWS
she isn’t there.

Even before his bike screeches to a stop, his boots smack the ground, his legs sprint to the house like a crazed man, Colt doesn’t have to be inside to know she’s gone. His eyes sweep the front door, taking in that it isn’t ajar or broken in any way.

Kulich is gone.

He should have never left. What the fuck was he thinking leaving her?

Twenty minutes. Twenty fucking minutes.

He draws his gun from under his shirt, pops the safety off with a slight graze from the pad of his thumb. He lets it lay at his side as he makes his way in. Kulich is unpredictable at best. Who knows what lays in his leave to intercept Colt's attempt to rescue Becky...

He does a quick but diligent sweep of the foyer before making his way gingerly into the other room. The stillness bothers him. It’s too quiet, too silent for his liking. Especially with all the thunder crashing around in his head.

Becky, her face, her angelic eyes, keep playing through his mind, repeating through him. And every time her features grow darker, more distant.

The past hits him like a torpedo. He failed once before and it cost him his soul. He’d become a cold-hearted killer because it was the only way to drown out her screams…

Becky had been his redemption. He can’t lose her.

He has to get to her.

He has to save her.

He searches the bedrooms, gun drawn, as he goes through each room. He isn’t expecting to find anyone, but maybe he’ll find a clue, a message she might have left when Kulich wasn't paying attention. He scans the living-room, sees nothing. The kitchen is the last place he hits since it's too open to provide any leads.

He jolts to a stop when he notices the jar of tea bags lying scattered on the counter, the teapot humming on the stove and on the verge of whistling. Colt feels like his heart has been stabbed with a scolding hot poker. He slams his gun onto the counter, gripping the edge, making his skin redden as his knuckles whiten.

The anger that runs through him, takes control, crushes against him for release. Head down, he tries to push the image haunting his mind. Her snow-white skin is bathed in blood, raining down her face. The gruesome picture almost knocks him off-balance. The countertop creaks under him and he realizes he’s been holding his breath, searching for strength where there is none. The pain ricochets throughout him, doesn’t deter from making his vision whiten and his stomach knot.

He rips off his jacket, feeling suffocated by the leather. He wants to destroy something… kill something.

How can the man who’s been the only father he's had in his life be on the other end of the bloodlust that's overcoming him?

Then the phone rings.

He grabs it from his pocket, sees his hand shake and curses himself for the weakness. He needs to be strong. For Becky.

He clicks the button, stays silent as his stare searches for some peace in the scenic view. He needs to stay neutral. Calm. But right now, even he can’t quell the demonic rage that rushes into his bloodstream because of the man on the other end.

“Where is she?” The steady timbre of his voice vibrates.

Kulich snickers. “Safe. With me."

“Let. Her. Go.”

“Colt. Come on,” Kulich says, as if they’re discussing the weather. “You know I can't do that."

Colt's voice doesn’t stray from its calm tone, but it deepens as he mutters, “I'm not asking again, Vladimir. Let her go."

“Not an option. Besides, you have something I want."

Colt bites down on the tip of his tongue, tastes the pain and blood. Fuck the games. He wants her back. That's it. But Kulich doesn’t do simple. He has to play games, drag the other person out until they submit themselves, body, mind and soul.

“What's that?”

“You can have the bitch, just give me her family in return.”

There is no second guessing his immediate response. “No."

“Then I guess we're at an impasse.” Kulich actually sounds pleased at the conclusion.

“I guess so,” Colt agrees, lowly. “I want Becky
and
her family."

“Well so do I.”

"You want them dead, Vladimir. There's a difference,” Colt points out, his voice rising.

Colt hears the other man's stall-tactic come into effect. Perfect timing. “How much is it gonna take, Colt.” The challenge in Kulich’s words makes Colt's hand curl into a tight fist. “How much?” Each word is like the stab of a spear in Colt's side.

“Moneys not the issue,” Colt spits out, just as ice cool and impartial as is his approach.

“Right.” Kulich makes no effort to hide his disbelief.

Suddenly, something clicks in Colt's head. Kulich wants to play games? Fine. He’d dragged him into this business when he was just seventeen-years-old, taught him everything he knows for the last five years. Colt has to be wise and use that to his advantage. It's the only weapon at his disposal that may be able to save Becky.

“Where're you?"

Kulich ignores his question, showing Colt who has control. Power. “Meet me at the Monday corner-drop, on the lower east side. Midnight. We'll talk then."

“Yeah."

“Have her family there. Alone,” Kulich says, his anger cracking through his tone. “If I even catch a whiff of another guy with you—I'll fucking kill her. If she’s lucky."

Colt swallows the sting of his threat along with the fear and anger inside him. He fights to control the storm of rage and death that is his instinctual gut reaction, taunting him to kill and let go of the beast inside him.

But he holds it all under a thin wrap of control as he answers coolly, “Done."

“See ya then,” Kulich says, accenting the last word before he hangs up, "
Son
.”

He has no time to think. Panic. This is what he does best. Stay in control. In the game.

He gets straight back on his bike and hits One on speed-dial. “Jenson."

“Colt. Fuck, man, what the hell is goin' on?"

“Listen—get Spencer, bring them down to the Monday drop point where you usually pick up the merchandise. He's gotta be there by midnight."

“Okay, okay—but what's goin' on?” Jenson asks.

“Do it,” Colt barks, his mind like a missile aimed only on getting Becky back. “Kulich has Becky.” His voice wavers for a fraction of a second.

“Shit. Colt—"

“Just get him there by quarter to twelve,” he orders. “Call me when you arrive."

“Got it. Anything else?”

“I'll instruct you once you get there. Be careful."

“On it,” Jenson replies. He hesitates a moment then speaks again. “Colt, you know what you're doing?"

“Yeah. Whatever it takes to save Becky.” His voice hitches up when he says her name.

“All right, man. Done."

“Good."

Colt clicks the phone off and guns the engine to life, eyeing the road ahead. He grips the bar handles, pulls back on the urge to floor the rest of the way. The last thing he needs is to get caught by a cop for speeding. Priority is Becky, getting her out of this, making sure she’s safe and away from Kulich’s clutches.

Colt miscalculated and now Becky is paying for it.

His hands tighten, barely resisting the furious need to yank the bars from their position.

Not again…

Becky is the last person on Earth who deserves to be going through this. She’s pure and sweet and too fucking good for this life.

His life.

People like her, kind and selfless—he never really believed they existed. Not since...

And Becky is the last person in the world who should have to suffer any kind of torment because of the life he’s chosen to live. Colt's head shakes, his jaw hardening as a he tries to squelch the painful volt searing through him. He vows silently to himself.

He’s watched someone he loved murdered right in front of him.

No matter what it takes.

Never again.

*     *     *

THE VLADIMIR KULICH
she has heard about and the man that stands circling around her, contradicts one another.

This is the man who ordered the death of her father, who wants her killed along with her mother and baby brother.

She has no idea where she is. Wherever they are, it’s cold. Four gray walls, one small room—that’s all she’s been made aware of. He doesn’t yield in his pacing, moving back and forth like a person very much at their end.

She tries to hide the shiver that crawls up her body and the noticeable way it makes her shake, but she’s freezing beyond the limit of her control. Having a cold doesn’t help matters.

He hasn’t tied her down, hasn’t even threatened her yet. She doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. He’d told her to move, quietly, and she had done so. Other than that he seems plagued and in his own world.

His frantic pacing stops, the hand over his mouth falling and he looks down at her in the small metal chair as if her presence has just become apparent to him.

“So you and Colt." His black eyes are shiny, gleaming at her like the tops of his black hair. He looks pleased and she isn’t sure to take that as a good sign or not. She doesn’t reply. His mouth pinches together, his eyes scanning every inch of her. Again she can’t tell whether he’s frowning or smiling, but her body reacts by clenching together. He licks his lips, making them shiny too. “Just trying to figure out what all the fuss is about."

She gulps, only answering because he looks at her like he’s waiting for one. "Fuss?"

“You're a fucking child compared to Colt. You realize that?” He steps closer, one side of his body leaning in like he’s telling her something only she should know.

She reads his eyes and sees him darken. “I-I—”

“You think you know him? Got it all figured out, don't you?” His tone is crystal clear in its attempt to demean her. He’s playing a game. She doesn’t know if it’s smarter to keep her mouth shut or play along. But maybe if she keeps him talking, time will go by faster and Colt will… he will what? Becky isn’t even sure if Colt knows she is missing...

Kulich’s eyes are hungry in their taunt. “I know him well enough," she replies.

“Well enough for what? 'Cos you spread your fucking legs and let him fuck you—you think you got him figured out?” He laughs, it comes straight from his gut. He wipes the sheen from his forehead, clutching his side. “Aw, come on, sweetheart. I know you're young but even you should’ve known that's fucking naïve."

She ignores him and the way his unpredictable nature frightens her. “Please don't hurt him or my family,” she whispers.

Her plea dies at his feet. “We’ll see."

“What does that mean?” she asks, her face dropping.

She can’t give up. Not now.

Be strong... He’ll save me... Somehow... I just know...

Scraping the corner of his mouth with his finger, Kulich moves to the gray wall on her left, leans back on it and props one foot up against it. But even in this casual state he never seems to relax. “Colt was definitely right about you being the mouthy type."

She uses the insult to her advantage, deciding to turn the question on him, shift the balance. “You talked to him about me?"

Kulich eyes her with a knowing glance that steals her thoughts and freezes her fear inside her, dropping like a lead ball. “Oh yeah. All the time, sweetheart. He told me you helped him, saved his fucking life and now he feels he owes you I guess. Or does he make it seem like more? Because, you know, Colt doesn't do commitments."

“I know.” The nerves under her skin tremble.

“Oh good,” he reiterates, smirking. "So you know he just fucked you for kicks."

She doesn’t like the deadened abandonment in his eyes, black, barely noticeable, but clearly feels it. “He was trying to help me."

“By going against me. I don't know if you realize this, little girl, but I picked Colt up from the fucking streets. I made him the man he is today. Nothing is gonna change that. Especially a pathetic cunt like you."

He speaks the words so lightly it’s hard for her to take offense. The man is sick, deluded. Her head shakes and the shadows around his eyes darken, making it almost impossible for her to talk. But she has no choice.

"He just didn't want to hurt my family… he didn't mean… You can just send us away, it won't matter now."

“Wont matter now?” He pushes himself off the wall using his leg. “Now that you fucking ruined everything.” He swaggers closer. “Five fucking years I was like a father to him! And he fucking betrays me for… for a piece of tail? A quick fuck with a tight virgin who’s desperate for it?"

“It's not like that.” She hates how small she sounds under him.

“Then what's it like? Colt doesn't do promises, sweet-cheeks. He doesn't like strings or attachments of any kind.” He bends forward, his face occupying her vision until it’s the only thing she’s being forced to see. There is so much evil in his face she can’t give him a straight stare without her body recoiling.