Can't Let Her Go

My mobile rings, making me jump. I pull it out of my pocket. It is Anakin. My blood turns to ice.

“Have you picked up my package?” he demands.

“Yes,” the word is torn painfully out of my throat.

“Good.”

In that one word I hear something I have never heard before. Relish and hidden need. It creeps me out. Suddenly, he is Gollum in the blue light of the cave, his scratchy voice saying, “We wants it. We needs it. Must have the Precious. Sneaky little hobbitses. They stole it from us. Wicked. Tricksy, False.”

My brain feels like it is on fire. I can’t hand over Precious to Gollum, but then his voice changes and he becomes the Anakin I know. My master. “I paid a lot of money for her, so I hope I can count on you to do this job well.”

I don’t know how it happens, but it is as if there is a switch inside my head that Anakin can turn on and off. One that only he can access. The need to please him is stronger than any other instinct I have. Even the need for self-preservation or to protect an innocent human being from a depraved predator. I hear myself saying robotically, “Yes, you can count on me.”

“Good. Good. When you are back, I’ll take you out to dinner. It’ll be like old times.”

“Yes,” I reply quietly.

“Call me when you get to Moscow.”

“All right.”

The line goes dead. My chest feels tight, but I don’t have a whirling tornado in my head anymore. My role is very simple. I came here to pick up a package. All I have to do is escort it back to Detroit. It is a simple job. My mind throws up the scent of the girl as she lay, her legs open, her naked pussy inches from my nose. I push the thought away and simply remind myself that she belongs to Anakin.

I’m just the guy who will deliver her.

My face feels strangely hot, so I wind down the window. A gust of cold wind bites right through the sleeve of my leather jacket. Icy snowflakes hit my skin. I turn my feverish face towards the sun shining like a pale ball in the clear sky, but Sherpa has already warned us that a storm is coming. If I look over my shoulder, the clouds coming toward us are dark, very dark.

The train station is around the corner and I think I’ll be happier when we are safe on the train, flying across the countryside while watching the snow through a window. I inhale deeply and fill my lungs with the clean fresh air and slowly, slowly, my mind clears. She’s off limits, as if she’s diseased. I have to remember that. She’s not mine. She was never mine. This isn’t a movie. In real life, precious belongs to the Gollums of this world. What happened last night was just a mistake. A terrible mistake. She’s as much a victim as I am.

I’ll find a way to talk to her when the Sherpa goes out for a smoke. We’ll talk about what the hell this whole thing is all about. What she plans to do. Anakin is expecting a virgin.

The train station is deserted. That includes the platform. There aren’t any passengers milling about. This feels very bad. The Sherpa says something to Katya, but it is too fast for me to understand, and heads for the ticket office.

She turns to me. “He’s going to check out what’s going on.”

I frown. I don’t have a good feeling.

“This is a small town, and a small station. Sometimes, it goes on through, or it is late. It is not unusual.”

“If that’s the case, when is the next train?”

“Tomorrow … maybe.”

“That’s a hell of a way to run a railroad.”

She shrugs. “It saves money. At least, that’s what they say.”

“Look,” I say. “About last night—”

“Nothing happened last night. Nothing. If you cannot keep your tongue still, I will tell the Sherpa to leave you behind. He will do it because I am what he came for.”

“I hate to break this to you, missy, but he’s just the local talent. You’re flying back to Detroit with me. So, there’s no way, the Sherpa—”

“Sherpa?”

“That’s what I call him because he didn’t introduce himself and he’s my guide here, but once we get to Moscow, he’ll disappear.”

“Please. Don’t say anything now. We can talk.”

“Okay, we will pretend last night didn’t happen, but when we get some time alone, and we will, you’re going to tell me what this business is all about. Then we will work out what we are going to do about this situation. Anakin isn’t someone you want to play with. Got that?”

“I understand that,” she says solemnly. In the light from the windows her long curly hair glints as if she is a sixteenth century heroine.

My stomach contracts painfully. I nod and turn away from her.

“Now, quiet, Boris … the Sherpa is coming back,” she whispers.

I turn around to look at her in surprise and she smiles to show me she appreciates my little joke. It’s a small thing in a very bad situation, but I smile back. In the pale light, we smile at each other like fools.

The Sherpa approaches us. He looks annoyed. “There will be no train today.”

“Should we book into a hotel?” I ask.

The Sherpa shakes his head violently. “No. That’s not part of the plan. Wait here,” he orders shortly before striding off.

I turn back to Katya. “Tell me about this virgin deal.”

“Every five years, the town sends a virgin to Anakin. It’s always on her eighteenth birthday, so she is legally an adult. In the five years before that, he sends the parents money. Not a lot of money, but even a small amount is large here. And afterwards, Anakin sends more money and a lifelong stipend. The family lives better than ever.”

“What does he do with the girls?”

She scowls. “No one knows, but they’re never heard from again. Most of the girls are very good girls, respectable girls, they wouldn’t abandon their families so easily, so there cannot be a reasonable excuse why they do not write home even a single sentence to say they’re fine.”

I have to agree with her. Not hearing from them is a problem. Because I’ve been with Anakin for as long as I can remember, and I’ve never heard anything about a virgin imported from Russia. None of his men talk about it either. If it was on the grapevine, I would have heard. Something doesn’t smell right to me, but I know Anakin is capable of almost anything. He’s done some nasty things to people who don’t make their payments. Perverted things. Things that would turn an ordinary man’s stomach.

“What if he sells me to some rich Arab who turns me into his slave?”

I know instantly that isn’t the fate awaiting her. Anakin isn’t selling her to anyone. Until I can figure this out I don’t want to panic her. “I don’t think Anakin even knows a rich Arab.” I keep my voice mild.

“Everyone knows a rich Arab. They like to buy whatever they want.”

I doubt she has ever seen an Arab, let alone a rich one. I haven’t. “I tell you what. When we get back to the states, I’ll make sure your parents know you made it. I promise that. They won’t have to guess where you are or what happened to you.”

“Don’t make promises you cannot keep,” she shoots back.

“I keep my promises.”

“Everyone says that, until they cannot keep them. This is Russia, promises are cheap.”

Her attitude annoys me at a primitive level. I’ve lived my whole life believing promises are sacred. You make one, you keep it. It’s that simple. I’m good on my word, no matter what. I told Anakin I would bring her back for him and I will, but then I stare into her beautiful eyes and it’s hard to even think straight.

“The Sherpa is no fool,” she continues. “So don’t look at me like that or he’ll notice.”

That’s good, Katya. Stay hostile. We need to be enemies or I could never resist you. “If I don’t chat you up, the Sherpa will think I’m gay,” I respond dryly.

She laughs without humor. “Believe me, the Sherpa knows exactly what you like.”

I have to agree with her. The Sherpa might like me—in a very Russian way—but he’s loya

l only to Anakin. Not that I’d ever test a man’s loyalty. That’s a recipe for disaster. The men who have tested my loyalty have all gone on to meet their maker.