Enslaved to the Mob Ch. 11bydarkknight0307©
(Author's Note: Sorry for the long, extended delay in posting this one. It's been pretty busy in my life, and just haven't had the time, nor the muse, to write. I've gotten a lot of e-mails about this, so please keep in mind that I am not a professional getting paid to write. This is merely a HOBBY, something to do in my spare time. As with all of my stories, all characters depicted are eighteen years of age or older, and all work is the sole property of this writer.)
Slowly the gunshots died away, their loud bangs slowly retreating further and further away from the bedroom until there was no sound at all but the frantic screaming and yelling in Russian. She couldn't and wouldn't be able to see the few masked assassins fleeing the grounds, making their way through the same dense woods she herself had used not that long ago. Although the firefight sounded over, and the Russians at least victorious, Angelique remained firmly in place upon the bed, her eyes wide as she stared out directly into the open doorway of the bedroom in search of any sign of her Mikhail.
Every second spent under the bed was excruciating for Angelique. It felt like an eternity only exasperated by the pain and growing dread of not knowing what was taking place within the numerous floors and rooms of the Mansion that had become home for her. The loud, thunderous gun shots that echoed throughout the house in the moments after Mikhail's departure from the bedroom had since died away into silence.
As Angelique lay under the bed, her naked body trembling as she clutched the pistol within her hands, her mind was filling with dread and fear. There was no telling, no idea, at all of what was going on within the Mansion. The silence was frightening, more so than any sound of gun fighting could have. With the gun fire came the knowledge that the struggle was still going on, the fire fight still being waged, that Mikhail was still alive in the fight. Silence only gave her fear and doubt of who came out victorious and who survived the fight. She shuddered to think what would happen with Mikhail gone. What would stop his men from taking her? What would stop them from simply putting a bullet between her eyes?
But more than the fear of what would happen if Mikhail was killed, was the care and concern for him. She couldn't shake that feeling of dread and fear of a man she truly cared for. It was hard to admit it, hard to say she actually had feelings and cared for the man that kept her captive. Deep down, that moral consciousness, knew it was wrong, so utterly wrong to even remotely feel the way she did for him. A captive should not care for the man that held her against her will, her mind reasoned. As much as that moral conscious would have loved to chalk up her feelings to a case of Stockholm Syndrome, that feeling in her gut, that innate sense of genuine love and care, would not leave her so easily.
It was as she was thinking of what was going on within her heart and mind when the sight of a person standing within the doorway startled her and jolted her mind into a sense of alertness. Looking out from under the bed, it did not take very long at all to recognize the bare feet and bottom of the crimson red robe.
"Get out of there, now." Mikhail's voice said, hurriedly moving about the room.
Angelique slowly crawled out from under, a sense of relief washing over her as her eyes fell upon Mikhail ripping apart drawers from dressers. One look at him told her everything she needed to know without asking. Blood was splattered upon his face and chest, his eyes dark and cold. There was a cold determination within him; a dangerous aura around him that oddly, and confusedly, aroused Angelique. There was just something about him, something about that dangerous sense about him, which made her body tingle with an odd sense of arousal.
Mikhail's eyes turned to her naked, trembling form for only a moment before throwing a long, black winter coat towards her from one of the drawers. "We have to hurry. They'll be back soon. They always attack in waves. If the first one doesn't do the job, the second one will." He said, turning his attention to the large, old mahogany armoire cabinet. After throwing open the doors, he pulled out two large duffle bags. "I tell you to run, you run. I tell you to hide, you hide. Don't be a stupid cunt, Angelique."
Quietly he opened the bags, pulling the zipper down to inspect both quickly. In one contained clothing and a few moderate bundles of bills, while the other contained smaller contents of weapons and ammunition. He didn't hesitate to grab both bags with one hand, clearly favoring his left arm as he nodded over to the door. "Keep your eyes closed, and hold onto the sash of my robe. You shouldn't have to see the carnage down stairs."
Angelique gently nodded her head, eyes widening at Mikhail's albeit vague description of the lower levels. It was then, as she looked to him with fear in her eyes, that she noticed blood slowly trickling and running down his hand from the arm he was favoring. Clearly he was wounded as the blood slowly dripped, and in any other circumstances, she would have rushed to his side, ready to take care of him. But this was not any other circumstance. This was life and death. She knew what was at stake as she threw on the long, black and thick trench coat.
Slowly she reached for the loose sash of his robe, her nervous fingers trembling as she gripped and held on tightly. The fear was clear to Mikhail, and undoubtedly understandable. "Just take a deep breath. You're alright, but we must hurry. I promise I won't let anything happen to you." Mikhail said, turning to plant a light, gentle kiss upon her forehead before finally leading the way out of the bedroom.
Not a word was said between the two of them as Mikhail led his cherished slave through the halls of his home. For both of them, the fear was too strong. Mikhail, a man that was rarely afraid of anything, was filled with dread and fear for the first time in a long time. His men were gone, either dead amongst the intruders, or gone, away from the Mansion for their night of relaxation. The darkness was virtually impenetrable to his eyes, making the ability to see anything in front of them poor. There was no telling what was lurking within the halls, waiting for the perfect time to strike.
"Keep your eyes shut." He said firmly, his foot feeling out the outline of a body obstructing their path. Angelique did exactly as she was told. Quietly she complied with his command, her eyes shut tightly as her hand gripped the silk sash firmly. She was terrified, absolutely terrified of the infinite dark possibilities of their fates. In so many ways she felt close to death, so close to the veil that separated life and death. Even though she was close to Mikhail, feeling safe in his presence somewhat, it still did not take away the fear of death. The mere touching, the brushing of her bare leg against the still warm lifeless corpse, put everything in to perspective for the young woman. Death was all around her, so palpable and tangible. It brought tears to her eyes, knowing the end may be near.
Mikhail quietly guided Angelique through the halls and down the stairs, trying with all his might to ensure she did not come in contact with any bodies if he could help it. The last thing he wanted was for her to be scarred, to be haunted by this night for the rest of her life. A beauty such as hers, a true beauty that grew upon him, was something he did not want blemished by the mental hardships of this night.
Once he had her through the halls, it was just a short and hurried walk down a small few steps into the garage of the house. Quickly he opened the back door of one of the large, black SUVs, allowing the light from inside the car to flood into the cold, dark garage. "You can open your eyes now." He said, turning his attention back to his slave as she opened her eyes. "I want you to climb in and lay down on the floor. We'll be gone in just a few moments, Princess. I have a few things I need to take care of."
Immediately Angelique shook her head frantically, tears running down her face as she looked up to Mikhail. "You can't leave me. Not again, not here." She said, her voice being shaken with the emotional turmoil of the night. "Please don't leave me here, please..."
The sight of her in such a condition tugged at his heart strings. As much as he wanted to be with her, to give her a sense of security, there were things that had to be done, things that would only jeopardize her safety. She was better off alone in the garage, a place where few would look for her, while he took care of business. There were things needed done, things needed to be saved, and things that needed to be destroyed.
He shook his head as he leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss upon her head. "Get in the car, and lay down on the floor. It's me they want, not you." He said, pulling back to look into her eyes, those entrancing eyes. "We don't have time, and I'm not going to take you back into harm's way even more than I have. Now get in the car before I force you in there, Princess."
Even though she wanted to stay with him, to be safe and secure with him, Angelique knew it was an uphill battle, one that she couldn't win. The garage was, perhaps, one of the safest places to be, and as much as it frightened her to just consider being alone once again; she knew that Mikhail would be back for her. There was just a certain look in his eyes, a reassuring feeling she felt from him, that he wouldn't let anything happen to her as long as he was still alive. He would always be there to protect her, which the sacred bond between them wouldn't allow for him to just so easily leave her to the wolves. She was safe with him. As long as he was alive, she was safe.
Softly she nodded her head in understanding, wasting no time in climbing into the back seat of the large SUV. Angelique slowly nestled her body upon the floor before the back bench, the thick and long winter coat allowing her body to blend into the dark shadows of the interior of the car. Once again she found herself hidden in secret, waiting for her Master to come back safely for her.
The silence was deafening as he moved through the dark corridors of the mansion. His weak, injured arm hung struggled to hold a red gas can from the garage, as his other hand clutched a berretta. Mikhail moved slowly and cautiously through the halls, his eyes wide and alert through the blinding darkness. And yet, even without the light, without the ability to see where he was going, Mikhail knew exactly where he was, and where he was going on memory alone.
He grew up in this house. He played with his toys in these halls. It was where he learned of his father's death, and where he learned of his grandfather's death. In this house, Mikhail knew everything about it, from the happy memories in his life, to the dark secrets these walls contained. Tonight, these walls would not let the secrets be unleashed into the world. If the assassination squads did not destroy this house with their guns and explosives, the Feds, and all of their manpower would tear this house apart. It was a thought that filled him with disgust. He was not going to let that happen. If anything was going to happen to this house, it would be by his own hands, not by others.
In the darkness he walked, finally coming to the private office that had been his base of operations for so long. It was a room that had seen the fates of many men decided, from nosy, relentless investigators, to the unfortunate men that had caused him harm. Numerous death warrants and bounties had been signed throughout his family, and soon, it would be no more. Even in the darkness, he knew the room was untouched, quiet, and calm like a room so far away from the carnage just beyond the halls. In any other circumstances, he would have paused for a moment, taking the time to cherish the last moment he had in the room, but Mikhail knew time was short. In a matter of minutes, there would be another group of thugs coming to kill him, not having heard back from their first wave.
Mikhail moved swiftly through the room. Things, invaluable, important, things needed to come with him, to be saved from the destruction he had planned. After placing the can of gas upon the desk, he moved quickly to gather all that was needed. A ledger book containing all of the paper trails of the small USB Drive that held any and all financial information from his computer. A small book of family photos, kept over the ages of his family. He piled the two books on top of each other onto the desk before hurriedly moving to the framed painting.
The moonlight shining through the windows illuminated the old Russian landscape painting upon the wall, giving it a glowing hew before Mikhail ripped it from the wall to reveal the hidden safe. There was no need for light as he quickly punched in the pass code onto the numeric key pad, and in a matter of seconds the subtle click of the locks of the safe door reached his ears. Mikhail acted on pure adrenaline-fuelled instincts alone, not thinking much at all as he grabbed the small safe deposit box and the rest of his treasures before performing the final task he was dreading deep within his heart.
Cradling the books and box in his damaged, bleeding arm, Mikhail began to burn away the place that had been his world for so long. Gasoline was poured and deposited throughout the office, leading out into the destroyed foyer. Past the paintings that had survived the test of time. Past the dead bodies of friends and foes. Every last drop of gasoline from the red can was poured until nothing but fumes exited. For a moment, Mikhail stood alone in the hallway where he once spent many childhood days playing with his toy cars while the grown-ups talked behind closed doors. Tears glistened in his eyes as he held a lighter in his pocket, looking out at the place he grew up, the place that was his home, before burning it all to hell.
It was quick and sudden after he lit the lighter and tossed it into the trail of gasoline. As the flames began to grow and blossom, consuming the dead bodies and the place of memories in moments. He couldn't stay around, he wouldn't. No. His thoughts and mind were upon another possession of his, tucked away in the backseat of his vehicle still in danger. As quickly as he could, he moved through the small side hallway that led back into the garage. He didn't waste any time at all before climbing in behind the driver's seat, and tossing the salvaged possessions into the passenger seat before pulling the keys from the center console of the SUV. "Stay down until it's clear." Mikhail commanded, his eyes peering into the back seat to make sure she was still there as he started the car.
He began to fish around in the darkness of the vehicle for the garage door opener, a growing sense of urgency taking him, until something peculiar caught his attention. From the still opened door of the hallway, he could see shadows against the glow of the orange flames, moving shadows that seemed to be growing closer and closer.
There was no time. It was too late. Quickly and suddenly he put the car in reverse, bursting through the garage door with a clatter. The car violently whipped around at Mikhail's control, speeding down the wooded drive at breakneck speed as the sound of gunfire began to fill the air. By no means were they safe. Mikhail knew that all too well as he sped down the lonely drive away from the burning mansion. It was only the beginning of a long night on the run.
The sound of gunfire alone made Angelique scream out in terror. Never before had she come close to any kind of gun fighting, let alone being in the target. It frightened her like nothing else in the world could. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she trembled upon the floor, her hands clutching the coat over her body tightly. Even though she was with him, even though she was in Mikhail's care, she still feared for her life.
It was moments until the sound of gun shots had died away into faint, distant echoes on the night air. The sounds were only replaced by the digital numeric sounds of a key pad Mikhail pressed upon the front dashboard phone of the car. Angelique listened as Mikhail spoke in his native tongue, and even then, she could hear the pain in his voice. She knew instantly upon seeing his arm that he was hurt, but the strain and pain in his voice as he spoke was clear. He was hurt; there was no doubt about it. How long they could survive with him in such a state was far beyond her understanding. Lying upon the floor, Angelique not only prayed for her own life and survival, but that of her savior's.
"You can sit up..." Mikhail finally spoke as he focused his eyes on the deserted road they were on. "...We're safe for now."
Slowly Angelique sat up, her body trembling in fear as she peered out of the tinted windows. They seemed alone, deserted on the lonely road that cut through the vast, sprawling woods. The night was calm, almost eerie without any stars at all. Clouds had moved in, obscuring the glow of the moon to nothing. It was dark, an ominous feeling over taking her as she looked out of the windows, not knowing what was going to happen, nor what to expect.
Mikhail was silent as he drove the car as fast as he could from the scene. It was not anger, nor remorse that filled him in those silent moments, but fear, actual, ice cold fear that gripped his being. He was not afraid to admit it. It was by sheer luck alone that they had survived, and by much larger luck that he was still alive after the shot to his arm.
Time was running out. Quietly he looked over to the bleeding, wounded arm as he tried to steady his breath. Calm. He needed to be calm. Even when his brain did not want to do anything but panic. Was what he had heard true about those Haitian Hit-Men? He hoped not, oh how he hoped not. It was not out of the realm of possibility. The back-room stories of them came swimming to the forefront of his mind. Poison bullets. Dipped in snake venom. 'If the shot doesn't kill you, the poison will.' Already he could feel his heart racing, pounding against his chest. He needed to get away, he needed the doctor. If all went to plan, if they had made it to the Safe House in time, the doctor would be there. All would be well. All would be safe. Angelique would be safe.
Angelique. He was so afraid, so concentrated upon the endless possibilities of the night, that he momentarily forgotten about her. One look into the rear-view mirror told him all that was going on in her mind. So clearly he could see her body shaking and trembling in fear. The frightened look in her face, illuminated by the street lights outside the vehicle as they passed through the small little town just before the freeway, told him she was more frightened than he was.
'If she only knew what was happening in my arm.' He thought to himself. They needed something to distract each other, something to take their minds off of the troubles and uncertainty that filled them. Mikhail knew all too well that Angelique needed to be calm, needed to have a clear head, relaxed as best as she could, especially if something were to happen. The tension continued to build, and one mistake, one simple mistake, could result in their demise. She was nervous, all so nervous and terrified. She needed something to help relieve her mind and body, and Mikhail had just the idea.
"Distract yourself." Mikhail said, his eyes peering around as they sped onto the freeway entrance ramp. "Masturbate for me."
Angelique was taken completely aback by his command. He wanted her to do what? For a moment, she paused, truly not believing what she had heard until she caught the sight of his eyes, those powerful, questioning eyes in the rearview mirror of the car.