Page 4 of The Stowaway

“My name is Ivan. You're safe in my home. No one can get in or out of my home,” he said, sitting straight in his chair.

If that was supposed to make me feel safe, it didn't.

“What’s your name?”

I tried to sit up, but my aching body protested.

“Don't move. Your ribs are badly bruised.”

I realised I wasn't wearing my jeans or my T-shirt. Glancing down, I saw I was wearing a baggy white T-shirt.

“Who changed my clothes?” I croaked out.

“The doctor needed to examine you, but I changed your clothes.”

I looked away from him, feeling flustered that he saw me naked.

“What's your name, kotenok?”

I began fiddling with the covers beneath my fingers, taking the material and rubbing it between my fingers. Great, I’d reverted to my childhood stress aid in front of a stranger, but he made me nervous. I’d heard him speaking on and off in a different language on the phone call in the car, but I couldn't place his accent or language.

“Amelia,” I finally whispered.

“Amelia, that's a beautiful name, Kitten,” he murmured, and I wondered if that’s what kotenok meant.

I kept my head down, but my heart pounded at his words because my face was a mess, and I certainly didn't feel pretty, let alone beautiful.

“What’s your surname?”

I glanced up to see he was leaning forward in the chair. There was no way I was going to give him my full name. Paul and William were dealers, and they knew too many people in and around London. If word got out about my location, they would find me. The psychotic bastards.

A shiver ran down my spine.

I slowly shook my head as I looked down again and wondered if he had slept on the chair all night. I didn’t want to think about what I had left behind.

“Hmm. How about some breakfast? I've left you a toothbrush in the bathroom. Do you need any help in the bathroom?”

I shook my head again. I heard him stand up, but I didn't move until I heard the door close behind him. I sneaked a peak at the door before I pulled the covers off me and looked around until I saw the door on the far side of the room.

The room was huge, with high walls and ornate cornicing on the ceiling. I shouldn't have been surprised by the grand room. When he unlocked the door of the car I was hiding behind, I hadn't checked what kind of car it was because William had been close behind me. When he turned his back towards the other men, I’d snuck into the back seat. Ivan had moved away from the car, so I’d shut the door without alerting them. William had chased me through the streets relentlessly. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

His shorts slipped down my ass, and I rolled the waistband up a few times, trying to secure them. There were bandages on my feet, making my walk less painful. The bathroom was as luxurious as the bedroom. I cringed when I saw the state of my face. I touched the dark purple bruising around my eye. It looked like I’d been in a boxing ring. I pulled my eye open and saw it was bloodshot.

Fucking Paul had sucker punched me. My fingers ran over the bandage on my head. I’d hit the table on the way down, and then Will went to town on my ribs while I was down. I began to breathe in and out heavily, trying to stop the feeling of panic. The music that Ivan had played in his car lulled me into an exhausted slumber. It had helped until I woke up and saw him. I’d held my vomit in, not wanting to mess his posh car up.

My hand shook when I reached for the toothbrush. I needed to plan my escape from those evil controlling bastards. No matter how many times I’d begged my Mum to leave him, she never did. It was too late for her, and I wasn't about to become their next punching bag.

I carefully returned to the bedroom, holding myself upright so I didn’t jolt my ribs. My stomach churned as I wondered if I could hide out here for a few days until I felt strong enough to leave. Ivan wasn't the raving lunatic he’d been yesterday, so hopefully, it was a viable option. At least he had left my underwear on. I slowly climbed back onto the massive bed. My body felt drained of energy as I lay down.

When the door opened, I saw him there with his hellhound. I raised the covers over my head before lowering them down to peer at the large dog.

“Don't worry about Misha. He is harmless, and you caught us both off guard last night,” Ivan said with a small smile.

The smile softened the hard edges of his face.

“That's easy for you to say. He wouldn't be able to eat all of you,” I said, glancing at Misha again.

Ivan chuckled, and the hound walked beside his master as they came closer. The dog suited him. They both stood tall, proud and dangerous. Misha, with his build and colouring, looked like a Doberman. He looked at Ivan adoringly.

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