Promises Pt. 07

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons is entirely coincidental. All characters depicted in sexual situations are at least eighteen years old.

As always, any political, social or religious views in this story are those of the characters and their circumstances, and don't necessarily reflect those of the author.

SPECIAL NOTE: I don't claim any unique expertise when it comes to mental conditions, but the situations described in this and future installments of this story are actually pretty tame compared to some in the annals of psychology. Let's not get too wrapped around the axle trying to tie them to actual cases in the literature. The mind is an extraordinary thing, and we're all just having fun here after all.

*****

PART SEVEN -- Things Are Not At All What They'd Seemed

Kira is being held tight, a hand clamped across her mouth and a large butcher's knife to her throat. Her assailant has heard me coming.

"Raul," I say calmly, "put down the knife and let her go."

Instead, he clamps down on Kira even tighter. Her eyes are wide with fear, but not just from the knife at her throat. She's looking around uncomprehendingly. I get a flash of what she was like the first time I met her, when she went from scared child to brash and confident woman. This transition seems to be going the other way, though. I can't recall ever seeing another human being look so terrified, bewildered and vulnerable.

"If you come closer, I will cut her throat," Raul warns, starting to move toward the open back door. Part of me says I should let him go because he will probably release her in the doorway and make a break for it, but I can't be sure. He might slash her before running, assuming (rightly) that I'll stop to tend to her rather than pursue him. I can't let that happen.

"If you don't release Kira unharmed right now," I say, looking him straight in the eye, "I will hunt you down and kill you, no matter where in the world you run."

His fear of me is visceral and I'm frankly astounded that he's been so daring as to use his key to slip in the back way. He must have seen me leave but failed to notice that I hadn't gone far.

We have a bit of a stalemate now. My mind, which can never seem to stop multitasking, observes that this is a literal "Mexican Standoff." That thought doesn't last for more than a few seconds, though, because from behind me a roundish brown object streaks across the room, striking Raul squarely in the face. My surprised mind registers that it's a coconut.

It's hardly a fatal impact, but the shock is enough for Raul to loosen his grip for just a moment. Kira squirts free, racing toward the bathroom. With his hostage gone, and momentarily disoriented by the blow to his face, Raul blindly waves the knife at me as I rush forward.

I block a wild knife thrust with a forearm and grab his wrist, twisting it to the side and forcing him to spin away from me. I yank his arm up behind his back in a classic chicken wing hold, but in my rage at what he's tried to do to Kira, I don't stop at the point that usually incapacitates an opponent and makes him give in. Instead, I keep right on going. Raul shrieks horribly as things in his elbow and shoulder tear. The knife clatters to the floor.

I let go of his ruined arm now and whip him into a headlock, applying pressure and having no intention of stopping this time. After what he's done to Kira, I'm going to exact my revenge and end his miserable existence. His ear-splitting shriek ends mid-note.

Logic returns just in the nick of time, though, and holds me back. If I kill Raul, the legal repercussions are more likely to keep me away from Kira just when she needs my protection from her more professional pursuers. My number one priority is her safety, and killing her now-helpless assailant in front of at least two witnesses won't serve that purpose. Instead, I quickly palm the side of his head and ram it against the wooden center pole of the bungalow. He drops to the floor like a rag doll.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gabriela scoop up the coconut (which is still rolling across the polished teak floor) and race toward him, murder in her eyes. I finally make the obvious connection. Raul is the man who'd tried to rape her in the dormitory shower the day before. Her diminutive size probably made her the same kind of target as Kira. From the look in the maid's eye, I'm thinking he may have been better off if I'd killed him. Oh well. He took his chances and lost.

Anna is several steps ahead of me, racing into the bathroom after Kira. The smaller woman has wedged herself between the toilet and the wall, sitting with her legs pulled up to her chest in a fetal position. Her eyes are wild with fear as she looks around uncomprehendingly. In her panicked scrambling, she's knocked a couple of shampoo bottles onto the floor, one of which I manage to step on. The top blows off and the blue, viscous fluid shoots out across the tiles.

"Where am I?" Kira screams hysterically. Then, and much, much worse, she looks at me with complete terror and confusion.

"Who are you?" she wails.

I take a step backwards in shock, but my bare foot lands on the slippery puddle of Suave and I feel my legs go out from underneath me. I turn to try and catch myself, but the edge of the soaking tub is coming up fast.

* * * * *

I wake in some sort of medical facility. I'm still naked under a light sheet, almost fully reclined in a bed with rails. A middle-aged female doctor is standing over me with a penlight in her hand, likely in the process of checking the reactions of my pupils to light. That shouldn't be necessary now.

Then I notice that there are two very dour looking police officers standing against the wall, watching me like hawks.

"Where am I?" I croak. "How's Kira?" The doctor either doesn't understand English or is pretending ignorance to avoid having to talk to me. She picks up her clipboard, gives me a curt nod, then strides out of the room.

The officers just stare when I attempt to communicate with them, but they yell and begin moving forward when I start to get out of bed. I desist, but I'm worried as hell about Marco's goons. How long have I been out? There are no windows or clocks in the room. For all I know, night has fallen and they've been running loose on the island for hours, looking for Kira and her laptop. Hopefully, Anna has filled the police in about the threat.

The officers continue to stare at me for what seems like another hour. I've never felt so helpless. At least my forced inactivity allows me time to sort out my memories and make sure my mental faculties have fully recovered. Eventually, I'm sure I can recall every event leading up to my clumsy fall.

My anxiety keeps building and I'm on the verge of trying to shove my way past the cops, but then another police officer walks in. He's a relatively big guy, maybe six foot two, and the deference of the other officers tells me that he ranks them.

"Hello, Señor Malakhov," he says in a surprisingly high voice for a man his size. "You are in the hospital here in Cozumel. I am Police Inspector Esquebel."

Finally, someone who speaks English. I pledge that I will learn at least the basics of Spanish if I ever come to Mexico again. "Please tell me how Kira, uh, Teri is doing. Is she okay?"

He nods. "Señorita Zwilling is in another room in this hospital. She was not injured, but the doctors want her to stay overnight to make sure she is all right."

It's Señora Carlisi, not Señorita Zwilling, but I don't see the utility in quibbling.

"Look, Inspector, her husband has sent a couple of guys down here to kill her and destroy evidence of his crimes. She needs to be protected." I try to keep my voice level, calm and serious, hoping I don't sound crazy.

Esquebel's face is carefully neutral. "I am aware of the situation and can assure you that the young lady is in no danger."

"Have they been apprehended?"

"No, but it is not an issue. That is something you will need to talk to her about."

"I'd like to do that. Am I free to go?"

"Soon. I have some questions I must ask you first." He gives me a look that says this is no mere request.

I know it would be smart to have a lawyer with me for this, but I'm not sure how that works in Mexico. Do they have something like Miranda here? I might have asked him about that, but I can plainly see in his body language that he doesn't think I'm a criminal, and isn't planning on charging me with anything. I really need to see Kira, and being difficult with him will only delay that.

I take a deep breath and bow to the inevitable. "Of course, Inspector."

He nods to one of the other officers, who brings my bed to nearly upright, then resumes his position against the wall. The other officer is setting up a video camera on a tripod.

"I would like to record this conversation," Esquebel says. "Will that be acceptable?"

"Sure, that's okay."

The camera is ready to go, so Esquebel turns and speaks some rapid-fire Spanish in its direction before turning back to me. Then we spend about thirty minutes going over everything that happened from when I arrived in Mexico. I'm honest with him, even when he asks if Kira and I were intimate. I start to worry, not knowing if there are any laws about polyamory in Mexico. Happily, he doesn't ask the same questions about Anna, evidently assuming that she is just a friend of ours.

I tell him about the confrontation with Raul, only leaving out the hold I'd put him in and just how close I'd come to killing him.

"Señor Villarreal has a large number of deep bruises on his face," Esquebel says. "He was evidently struck many times with a coconut."

"I'm afraid I have no memory of anyone striking him in the face, other than the one hit from Gabriela's throw," I say, which is technically true. I can guess what happened, though, and I wish I'd seen it. Gabriela must have really exacted her revenge.

Esquebel's expression tells me that he already knows how Raul got those bruises, but doesn't much care. We discuss what happened after I disabled Raul.

At last he seems satisfied that he's covered all his bases.

"Are you going to interview Teri and Anna," I ask, as the other officers pack the camera and tripod.

"I have already interviewed Señorita Jacobson and Señora Martinez, the maid from the resort."

Oh. "And what about Raul?"

"Señor Villarreal is in custody here at the hospital and will be arrested as soon as he regains consciousness."

"He's still unconscious? I hope he wasn't permanently injured." I'm lying through my teeth, of course.

"He regained consciousness in the ambulance, but was in intense pain. He was taken into surgery to repair severe internal damage to his right shoulder, after giving me his full confession." Esquebel's face momentarily twists into an expression of intense disgust. "It seems he has committed many sexual crimes against women and children over the years."

I have a picture in my mind of Raul begging for painkillers, while Esquebel demands answers to all his questions first. I barely suppress a smile at the thought.

"Thank you for talking to me, Señor Malakhov, he says at last. "How long are you planning to stay in Mexico?"

I'm pretty certain that Kira and I won't be flying out this afternoon after all. "Teri and I have tickets for a flight on Sunday afternoon," I say.

"Very well. Probably we will not need you to come back for Señor Villarreal's trial."

"Good." Oops. I see the look on his face. "Though I certainly plan to visit Cozumel again in the future," I quickly add. "This island is a very beautiful place."

Esquebel smiles. "It is, and we take great pride that everything here is pleasant and safe for our guests. You have my apologies that your actions became necessary. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay. You are free to go as soon as the doctor says you may. I will send her in." He hands me his card, then takes his leave. Moments later, the doctor returns.

"You sustained a concussion, Mr. Malakhov," she says in barely accented English, confirming for me that her earlier incomprehension had been feigned. "You should be just fine. You may take aspirin or ibuprofen if you have any lingering pain."

"Am I free to go?"

"If you feel you are ready. You arrived without any clothing, but a very tall American woman was here earlier and left some for you."

Thank goodness for Anna.

The doctor calls an orderly in and the two of them help me to my feet, making sure I'm steady. For the first time in a couple of days, I'm embarrassed about my nudity, but it helps that neither of them seems to care about that. Hey, they're medical professionals.

My head indeed hurts, but I have no difficulty standing and feel no dizziness. The doctor's eyes go wide as she realizes just how tall I am.

"I'm good," I say.

"Very well," she says. "Your clothes are sitting on the chair behind you. Someone will be here with your release forms in a few minutes."

"Thank you, doctor." She nods and walks out, leaving the male orderly to keep an eye on me while I dress. It takes less than a minute, and I'm happy to find my wallet in my back pocket.

The orderly leaves, but comes right back with my paperwork. Five minutes later, I'm good to go. I'm hoping to find Anna waiting for me, but she's not in the waiting room or the lobby. I go to the front desk. The digital clock on the wall says it's been almost three hours since the confrontation in the bungalow.

"I'm here to see Kitty Theresa Carlisi," I say, using her married name. The receptionist speaks fluent English, but finds no listing.

"It might be under 'Zwilling'," I say. Sure enough, that's it. He gives me the room number and I head for the elevator.

The door is closed, so I tap lightly. "Come in," says a male voice with a New England accent. I step into the room and see Kira lying on a hospital bed, fast asleep. Her face looks drawn, like she's been through some kind of trauma, but she doesn't appear to be hooked up to any machines. I want to rush to her, but beyond the bed, sitting in the hospital's standard issue chairs, are Anna and a middle-aged couple. The woman has a startled look on her face, probably because of my size, but neither of them looks at all pleased to see me.

"Hi, I'm-"

"Are you the man who kidnapped Teri?" the man interrupts, getting to his feet.

"Carl," the woman says, putting a restraining hand on his arm.

Anna's face is warning me to be careful.

"I'm Peter Malakhov, Kira's... I mean Teri's boyfriend," I say, less inclined to be obsequious now that I've been falsely accused of a major felony. "And I've never kidnapped anyone. Who exactly are you?"

"We're Carl and Marsha Zwilling," he says. "We're her parents."

Huh?

"That's not possible," I protest. "Her parents were killed in a crash." But even as I speak, I realize that these two each have a very strong physical resemblance to Kira.

"We most certainly are her parents," the man says indignantly, "and now I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

I'm about to tell him that I'm not going anywhere without Teri, but Marsha hits me with a question of her own. "Did you have sex with our little girl?"

That makes me pause, but there's no use denying it or trying to weasel out on the technicality that we didn't have intercourse. I nod. "Yes."

She bursts into tears. "I should have watched over her more carefully."

I'm not moved by her emotion. "Teri isn't a child," I say. "She's in her twenties, and she's married." But even as I say that, my mind is quickly churning through all the possibilities. Kira obviously misled me about the death of her parents. What else might she have misspoken about?

Anna comes to my side. "Peter, I think we need to leave."

"I'm not going anywhere until I talk to Kira. Those two mafia goons are still..." I come to a stop and look at Anna.

She confirms my thought. "That's right, Peter. No mafia. Please, if you have any trust in me at all, you must believe that you can't do any good here right now. Your talking to Teri can only hurt her. Let's go somewhere private so I can explain what's going on." The pleading look in her eyes does more than her words to convince me. I want, I need, to be with Kira, but maybe Anna and I should talk first.

I nod. "Okay, let's go."

Then we all hear a tiny, timid voice from the bed. "I know you." Kira has woken and is staring across the room at me.

"Oh, thank God," I say. "You remember me now." I begin to move toward her, but then stop when I see her expression.

There is some recognition in her eyes, but also deep, intense fear. It's the very same look of terror I'd seen on her face when I first met her in Minneapolis.

"You're the man from in front of my house," she gasps, then turns and reaches out with both arms for her mother, who quickly leans in and envelopes her daughter in a tight embrace.

"Teri, we came to Mexico together as friends," I say desperately, "then we fell in love. Don't you remember that?"

She begins to cry.

"Leave!" her father orders, and I feel Anna's hands on my arm. My mind is swirling with a thousand questions, but I let her pull me out the door.

"What in the hell is going on here?" I demand as she leads me down the hall and into a richly decorated, but thankfully deserted waiting room. She's silent until we're seated together on a couch.

Anna sighs, and I can see how this has been hard on her too. "Peter, the long and short of it is that Teri is physically fine, but was having a psychotic episode from the time you met her, right up until her encounter with Raul snapped her out of it. The girl you just saw in that room is a very different person than the woman we fell in love with, but it's the real Kitty Theresa Zwilling."

The emotions I've been experiencing are about the strongest I've ever had, but I finally get them under control. "Okay Anna," I say with a resigned sigh, "why don't you tell me about it in whichever order you think is best."

She nods, then gives me a smile and a quick rub of my shoulder. "There's the Peter I know."

I shrug helplessly, so Anna gets down to business. "Teri doesn't remember anything that happened, from the moment she first saw you, right up until Raul assaulted her."

"That's crazy."

"Maybe, but it's the truth, Peter. The last thing she remembers is being accosted by a seven-foot-tall man outside her house in Minnesota. Then she wakes up in a strange, tropical place, totally naked, and with another scary man holding a knife to her throat."

I try to imagine that. "Oh wow," I murmur. "If that's what she experienced, it's no wonder she was hysterical back at the bungalow."

"Yeah, and then you show up again, also naked, threatening to kill the guy with the knife. When she gets loose, she sees you practically tear the guy's arm off and smash his head in. Then the two of us rush into the bathroom where she's trying to hide, calling her by a name she doesn't recognize. To top it off, you slip and knock yourself out."

I nod ruefully. "Even as I was falling, I felt like an idiot for that one."

"Not your fault, but it made for a pretty chaotic situation. Having me naked in the bathroom didn't help calm Teri down much either. I left her alone at that point and checked to make sure you were breathing, then went out into the main room and got Gabriela to stop pulping Raul's face. I sent her into the bathroom since she was fully clothed and I knew that Teri speaks fluent Spanish.