Page 20 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Nikolai let go only once he was certain the man wasn’t going to keel over. He still looked pale, and there was sweat at his brow from being sick. A shower would be a good idea.

“Come. I’m will take you to other bathroom. There is toothbrush and shower there. You will feel better.”

He didn’t wait to see if Brooks would follow. It was another opportunity for the kid to run, but Nikolai was quickly becoming convinced that that wasn’t in his repertoire. Nothing about him said that he was a fighter. He was clearly a much gentler soul than that. One who had, by a series of unfortunate circumstances and a poor taste in men, ended up here with Nikolai.

The least Nikolai could do now, as they waited for Vitale to come around to his demands, was make Brooks comfortable.

Chapter 5: Elliot

Elliot trudged along behind Nikolai, nausea still heavy in his stomach and the sweaty, anxiousness of the morning hanging around his shoulders. He’d been on the verge of a panic attack since the moment Nikolai had barged into his room this morning, and the fact that he’d alreadyhadone wasn’t keeping the possibility of future ones at bay. It was wearing him down.

The house was a labyrinth, if only because of the size. He followed as Nikolai led them back toward the front of the house. The man was typing rapidly on his phone, but not for a second did Elliot think he wasn’t paying attention. Everything about Nikolai screamed competence with exacting precision.

“Ah yes, good,” Nikolai said of the collection of shopping bags that had been tidily left on a catchall table near the front door. He grabbed them all up and then turned back to lead Elliot deeper into the house once more.

They went down the hallway, and through a living room. Elliot spotted photos on the fireplace mantel. He couldn’t see the details from where he was, but they looked decidedly personal. The whole living room looked decidedly personal.

Maybe thiswasNikolai's primary residence.

There was a blanket thrown across the couch, books and papers stacked messily on one end table. There was even a laptop on the coffee table with what looked like a spreadsheet open on it. For some reason Elliot latched onto those details. The man was scary, but these little details were a life raft to Elliot. If this man could tangle his laptop cord and wipe doughnut sugar on his expensive slacks, maybe… maybe he was telling the truth that Elliot wouldn’t be harmed if he cooperated.

It wasn’t strong logic, he knew that, but Elliot latched on to the feeble hope. If his body kept up this amount of panicky fear, he might explode. Or have a heart attack.

They didn’t stop in the living room, but walked through it to the other side. Down that hall was an offshoot with a full bathroom. Nikolai strode into it carrying the bags and dropped them all on the nearby counter. The bathroom was a huge room, containing both shower stall and bathtub, double sinks, and miles of pristine tile.

Elliot frowned to see how dirty his socks were against the tile. He was a disgusting mess.

“My assistant Meredith has done shopping for you,” Nikolai said, gesturing at the bags. “There is toiletries and clothing for you. Maybe something fits good.”

It took entirely too long for those words to settle in, for Elliot to understand what the man meant.

“Oh,” he said, and then quickly, “thank you.”

He felt like he should say more, but he’d already tried apologizing, and it had only seemed to annoy the man.

“If you are needing anything else, I can get,” Nikolai said. “You just say, maybe after shower, yes?”

“Okay,” Elliot said quietly. “Thank you.”

Nikolai gave him one last long look, and then stepped back toward the door. He didn’t exit the bathroom, stopping just at the threshold and then turning his back to be facing out into the hallway. There, he leaned against the doorframe and pulled out his phone once more to begin typing.

Elliot’s brain felt like it was moving through tar. He was here for…?

Cleaning up. What had Nikolai said yesterday? He’d be given food and showers, supervised. The bathroom in his room was just a toilet and tiny sink, a closet makeover if anything. No cabinets and no mirror. It certainly hadn’t had a shower.

Elliot hadn’t thought about it at the time. Now his belly swooped again, bile threatening to rise back up even if there was nothing left inside him.

He bit his lip, the split tender and sore, but he knew there was nothing he could say. Of course Elliot wasn’t going to be given privacy here. Nikolai might not consider him a risk to his person, but he wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t going to chance Elliot trying something.

Whatever that could possibly be.

After far too long of Elliot just standing there, staring at Nikolai's back, the man shifted, though he didn’t look up from his phone.

“There is problem with shower?” Nikolai asked.

The question was more of a demand, and it jolted Elliot out of his stupor. Right. Of course. Elliot was sweaty and disgusting, wearing days-old clothing with the taste of sick still in his mouth. Nikolai's house was too nice to be mucked up by him if he refused to shower.

“Y-yes,” he said meekly. “Sorry.”

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