Wicked Love

Hiding Island

Kelvin Belinsky

Our Arrival in Samoa

"Ruth!" I shouted.
"Sunflower, baby, look, don't do what you're thinking about. There are kids in the plane, there are kids who still need to grow into adults. Independent adults."

"Why the fuck do you think it's your business?!" She cried. I hated the tears. I thought I was immune to them since I'd seen them way too many times, but this time, they cascaded down into lava I thought was going to burn me alive. I didn't like seeing her like this. For the first time, I loathed seeing the pain in those beautiful eyes. All I wanted to do was to transform into a mop and a paper towel until I didn't see her tears, every one of them, until I didn't feel so bad inside.

"Who's the father, Ruth?" Jake pressed.

"Just mind your fucking business!" Ruth shouted. She swung the hammer towards the window, and we watched as a little crack formed.
"Second time's the charm." Ruth said,  reading herself for the second bang.

"Ruth!" I shouted. I took one step towards her, and she pointed the hammer at me.

"One more step, Kelvin Belinsky, one more step." She threatened, but I only stepped closer.

I pulled my pistol out from my waistband, released the racking of it, and aimed.

"Don't let me do this, Ruth." I said, trying all my might to turn my voice into something that would inform her of how serious I was, but the glare she gave me was only a dare.
She lifted the hammer and got ready. The second she swung it to the window again, I released a bullet and she tripped on something before pathetically falling to the ground.

A crowd of wind rushed into the plane through the whole, and we watched as the crack expended. The kids got to the floor and held on the furniture, gripping for dear life as gravity stopped existing. Just when we thought the broken window was the worst that could go wrong, all of the windows broke, and the wind was so strong my body started floating. I used the edges of the table to pull myself towards Ruth. She was passed out at the side of the cupboard, her body curled into its self.

"Ladies and Gentlemen please remain calm, we're about to make a safety landing." Captain Josh Rocha spoke through the speakers that were put on the ceilings of the plane, and I shifted my body so it kept Ruth from flying out.

Fifteen minutes later, we'd landed in Samoa. Jasmine lined up the kids towards the exit while she stopped her watch from buzzing a warning. The woman had complications with her heart, and everything concerning could have made it jump out of her chest. After she got the kids out, I nodded at the guys for them to leave. I held Ruth in my arms, sat us on the slide at the exit, and sled down from the plane.
I could almost taste the scent of the air. The ball of mixed aromas sat messily at the base of my throat, and nothing small such as a cough could get it out of my lungs.
Ruth's body was like a sponge against mine. Small, petite, and curvy. I gripped her tightly against me until I could feel the air that left her parted lips.

There were so many answers I needed to get out of her, and we couldn't even survive the first question. Literally.
One unanswered question stood between me and understanding why she was the package. I needed to know who was the father, and I specifically needed to know if Alexandra Belinsky was the father. If he wasn't, then I'd need an explanation for the resemblance on her kids. I needed to know why the fuck she was the package and what made her so special. I was so concerned over why Belinsky would ever ask me to export a package—live.

A man clad in a black suit and white gloves drove my car towards us. I put Ruth in the passenger seat, put the seatbelt on her, shut the door, and rounded the hood. After calling Zechariah and Isaiah in the car, I waited for them to get buckled up before starting the engine. Even as I drove in the empty island, I felt eyes and attention. That's when I caught Zechariah staring at me from the rearview mirror. I kept glancing back to check, but each time, he was still staring at me, and the kid's grey eyes were beginning to creep me out.

Our stay included five cabins overlooking the ocean, and that meant we'd spread into groups. After planning, we'd gotten it confirmed that I'd be having a closer look at Ruth, her kids, and their little charming lives.
When I stopped the car near our cabin, I turned off the engine and looked back to find two pairs of grey eyes still staring at me. That's when I realised that the kids were twins.

"Did you kill mom?" Isaiah asked, her voice mouldered into a pathetic, scared, little cat.

"No." I said, going out of the car and waiting for them to get out as well.

"Are you dad?" That came unexpectedly from Zechariah, and my eyebrows rose in amusement. Isaiah's shoulders went rigid. I could technically feel her prayers from where I was standing. The girl really didn't want me as the father, but I saw the opposite in Zechariah's eyes, and my curiosity was only soaring.

"So, you guys don't know your father?" I asked, and both of them shook their heads in unison.
"Me too."

I got Ruth out of the car, walked towards the door of our cabin, and let Zechariah open the door. After leaving their mother on the couch, I scanned through the cabin.
It wasn't bad. There was a small kitchen, but the fridge was doable. If not much could be cooked, then enough takeout could be put in the fridge. There was a two-seater couch where Ruth had been sleeping. It faced the Tv, and a rug was placed in between. One bedroom had a queen-sized bed while the other was a twin—size. Even though Ruth could take the bigger bed with her kids, I still didn't trust my body enough; surely the bed would soon break.

"Kelvin Belinsky, there's someone knocking on the door!" Isaiah's soft voice shouted from the kitchen. I left the bedrooms and went straight for the door, opening up to an angry-as-hell Logan Carter.

"Mr.Carter."

"Fuck you, Belinsky. Don't you dare Mr.Carter me." He responded, hitting the door wider before sitting on the chair beside the couch.
"You fucking left me to die."

"Mom said we shouldn't swear." Zechariah commented.

"Well, your mom's dead, punk." Logan responded, and Isaiah's face turned red while her shoulders slanted. A tear was welling in her eyes when I told her Logan was lying.

"I need a word with you." Logan told me. His eyes were saying a serious tale, and his knuckles were turning white at his sides.
I stepped out with him, walking to his black Mustang. When we got in, he opened up the window and lit his cigars while he held his whisky, looking relaxed for the first time in ages.

"I'm told by my people that the gang that sent the letter are Afrikaans Mafias." Logan said, inhaling swiftly before puffing out the smoke.
"South African, one of the resources told me."

"Carter, where the fuck are you getting all this information from?"

He took a great look at me. This time, his face was giving nothing of a tale, it was blank as void. Empty.
"They originate from Dutch, and that makes better sense." He carried on, ignoring my question and taking another swig of his whisky.

"I thought they were Savin Mafias."

"Cover up." He told me, and then he turned his face so his eyes were meeting mine.
"If the Savin mafias said we had something of theirs and they start shooting at us, that means something real deep. If we get away and suddenly Belinsky says we should take a package while we're at it, that means the package has a reason to run too. One thing for sure, the package might know the reason for the run. They know what the Savin Mafia wants, and the sooner we also know, the sooner we can get this war settled." He took a deep breath.
"Talk to those kids, clearly the mother ain't spilling juice."

"Those kids don't know if they're his."

"But they might know why they're here. They might know why mommy needs to run. They might know why daddy's people need to run."

"Fuck."