Delicate

2. Olivia

I wake with pain radiating in my shoulder. My throat feels bruised, and my head throbs with an unrelenting ache in my temples. Zip ties dig into the flesh of my ankles and wrists. They're so tight it feels like every move against them, no matter how small, cuts my skin.

My heart skips a beat, and I struggle not to open my eyes as I realize what's happened. I've been taken. I register I'm not alone when I hear voices. I need to be still. I need to be quiet. I need to get the fuck out of here. I can't risk drawing unnecessary attention to myself until I can figure a way out of this.

"Who let him in, Ricky?" I recognize his voice immediately, the voice of the man with power. The dangerous man from earlier, the man in the suit, and right now he sounds pissed. The sound of his anger alone is enough to paralyze my body.

"It's a mistake anyone could have made, Kade." Ricky's words are hard. The man in the suit might be in charge, but it's clear Ricky is as well.

"It's a mistake that could have ruined me."

"You never made more than a handful of contacts. He would've had nothing on you," Ricky says dismissively.

"It's unacceptable." Kade's words are sharp, and nearly make me jump. But I'm too scared to move. I have to remind myself to breathe as I begin to feel lightheaded.

"Well, we found out before anything got leaked," Ricky grumbles.

"Are you sure?" Kade asks.

"We're positive." I gather my courage, and slowly open my eyes to find myself in a cramped and dirty office. It's really small with drop ceiling tiles covered in dust and a flat wood laminate door.

Kade's sharp blue eyes are narrowed and hard. He obviously doesn't belong in this cramped, dirty office. There are cardboard boxes stacked in the corners, and a dirty old chair behind what looks to be an even older desk. Nothing in here is expensive. It's cheap and filthy. The other men belong here. But the man in the suit doesn't. He's as out of place as I am.

Two other men are seated in the far corner, while Kade and Ricky are standing in front of the desk to my left. Ricky leans against the cheap desk piled high with papers and folders, feigning a casual position. But the air is tense around the two men.

Ricky yells sharply at the men in the corner. It's something in Russian, definitely Russian. The only word I understand though is a name, Vic. The two men shake their heads, but only one replies. Of the two, he's taller and more built. His voice is deep, and he has a thick accent. After watching their exchange, I'm assuming he's Vic.

It's obvious they're obedient lap dogs. Now that I look at them more closely, I can see that both of the men in the corner are young. The short and pale one could be eighteen or younger. The other, Vic, is maybe in his early twenties. Vic looks deadly though. If you saw him walking down the street toward you, you'd run in the opposite direction. He looks like he'd love to take his anger out on someone. He probably does. He has a toothpick in the corner of his mouth, and he keeps looking at my body like he wants to be alone with me. Inwardly I shudder.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

Ricky responds to Vic with rapid-fire Russian, and somehow he seems even angrier than before. I don't want to make myself a target for that anger, but I can't help staring at Ricky during his tirade. His face is sunken in, and he has dark bags under his eyes. They don't look like the kind you get from lack of sleep though, more like the kind that come with age and alcohol.

Vic's eyes bore into me. He ignores his boss and looks intently past both men at me. I can feel his hatred. Whatever happens, I cannot be left alone with him.