Page 11 of Pistols and Plush Toys

“Did you check his things?”Nikolai asked Alex, who had what appeared to be a backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Yessir. His phone and smartwatch are in the black box in the car. He had the backpack on him, which we scanned, but it doesn’t have any tech in it. Just some personal stuff.”

Brooks gasped when he caught sight of the bag, and his zip tied hands curled together nervously.

Hm.

One thing at a time. Nikolai pulled out his phone and opened the camera, holding up the phone to get Brooks in frame. The kid’s breathing was fast, probably too fast, as more tears spilled down his cheeks, and Nikolai stared at him, debating whether or not to say something.

“Proof,” Nikolai finally said simply. Then, without waiting for a reply, he snapped a couple photos. In all of them Brooks was glossy eyed, pink cheeked, and zip tied. He looked worse than he was, which Nikolai should be grateful for, but the fact that the kid was here at all only made him feel guilty.

“Now the bag.”Nikolai shoved his phone back in his pocket and held his hand out for the backpack. He didn’t missthe way Brooks stiffened, the way he leaned forward as if he wanted to grab for it.

Well. Nikolai was about to find out what Brooks was trying to hide inside it.

The backpack didn’t look like anything special. Cloth, older, ragged at some of the seams. Less nice than what Nikolai would’ve expected from Vitale’s current boy toy.

His eyes drifted then to Brooks's attire. The guy was wearing a designer shirt and jeans, but the pair of converse had seen better days. They weren’t even the kind purchased to look beaten-up, they just looked old. Cheap.

Odd.

Nikolai unzipped the backpack and reached inside. At the top was a water bottle and a worn puzzle book. He pulled both out and set them on the bed beside Brooks. Below were a few snack bars, some crumpled wrappers, and a wallet. Nikolai pulled the wallet out and gave it a cursory glance to verify it was indeed Brooks's wallet.

Then… then there was something balled up in the bottom of the bag. He reached for it, dragging out a lump of gray sweatshirt material. Brooks made a forlorn sound, and his zip tied hands twitched forward again.

Nikolai frowned and turned the bundle over in his hands. Unwrapping it, he found it was indeed an old hoodie, the material soft with age and numerous washes. It was wrapped around what appeared to be a child’s giraffe plush toy.

What?

The design was… cute. Long-limbed with brown spotting and tiny horns on its head. It was, however, definitely for children. Nikolai's frown deepened. In all the research they’d done, a kid had never come up.

Who’s stuffed animal was this?

His eyes darted back up to Brooks to ask, but the look on the man’s face stopped him. It was as if he were bracing for something terrible. Worse, somehow, than even his kidnapping.

It gave Nikolai pause, and he glanced back down at the toy in his hand before looking back to Brooks. Brooks was white as a sheet, eyes stuck on the giraffe instead of on Nikolai. He was shaking.

There was something about this giraffe. Something personal. Nikolai had enough experience reading people to know that.

He also knew it was unlikely this giraffe had anything to do with his plans. They’d scanned the bag already for tech, plush included. For right now, he could leave this a mystery. He didn’t want to traumatize the kid if he could help it.

Traumatize himmore.Call it like it is, Nikolai.

He folded the giraffe back into the hoodie and placed it once more in the bag. The backpack he dropped on the bed beside Brooks.

“Alex, cut him free,” Nikolai ordered. Now that he was here and weapon-less, there was no need to keep him tied up since he was massacring his wrists.

Alex fished out a pocket knife and stepped up to the kid. Brooks flinched, and Nikolai tried not to snap in his guilt.

Thankfully Alex worked quickly, slipping the blade under the zip ties and slicing them apart. Brooks's wrists were so much worse than they should be for what he’d gone through.Great. Nikolai would need to get him some first aid. At least disinfect the abrasions.

“There is toilet and sink in there,” Nikolai said, gesturing to the tiny offshoot from the room. “Food and drinks in fridge. If you make problems, there will be consequences. You will be allowed meals and showers, supervised. Understand?”

Brooks looked from Alex to Nikolai. His lip was quivering.

Holding himself this rigid was getting tiresome. He wasn’t even hurting the kid, so why was he acting like Nikolai was going to murder him? He made a hand motion, dismissing Alex who went and joined Pyotr at the door.

“Vitale will cooperate, and you will go home soon,” Nikolai said. It was more comfort than he should’ve offered. He could practically hear his father’s derision.

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