Page 6 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Not being late was theone thinghe’d asked Elliot for his morning, and he was fucking it up.

When a black car pulled up beside Elliot not a block later, the relief that hit him almost bowled him over. Mattia also didn’t trust him to be on time, so he’d sent a car. Right, okay. At this point anything was better than actually being late.

The door opened and a man stepped out, calling his name.

If Elliot had been less frazzled, maybe he would’ve looked at the man’s face or thanked him for the ride.

But they didn’t have time for that.

“I’m here, I’m here! Let’s go.” He all but threw himself in the car. It pained him to be rude, but for once he really couldn’t bear all the pomp and circumstance. They needed togo,and they needed to go now. With a car he might have just enough time to—

“Mr. Brooks?” The man who’d opened the door was still standing outside the car, confused.

“Mattia told you I’m late, right?” Elliot bit his lip, clenching his hands in his lap. “We have to go.”

Bringing up Mattia got the man to move. He slid back in the car and shut the door. Elliot was bookended by two men, which he had just a second to find unusual before one reached over and ripped his backpack off him.

The other man produced a pair of zip ties.

Elliot swallowed as he realized that neither of the men were familiar. Mattia usually cycled through the same few drivers.

He realized then that the car was different too. Mattia was brand loyal when it came to cars.

This wasn’t one of Mattia's cars. These weren’t Mattia's men.

He sucked in a breath as his wrists were grabbed, the zip ties pulling tight around them as a black bag came down on his head.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. This was exactly what Mattia had always warned him about.

He was being kidnapped.

He was being kidnapped.

And then, hysterically, his next thought as the car pulled away from the curb was how Mattia was going to kill him, if these men didn’t first.

Chapter 2: Nikolai

Nikolai wrapped his hand around a bar in the window and gave it a firm tug. It held.

“Stop worrying,” Gerard said from behind him. Nikolai had heard the footsteps and recognized them, so he didn’t startle.

“You’re supposed to be being with Alex.”

“Alex and Pyotr have it covered,” Gerard said. “I figured the real crisis might be here.”

Nikolai made a sound of derision but didn’t look away from the barred window. The bars had been soldered in and didn’t at all match the aesthetic of the rest of his house. They looked hard. Ugly.

The rest of the room hadn’t been otherwise changed at least. Mostly it had been emptied out, including the adjoining half bath. Left in the room was the bed with crisp new sheets, a bedside table, and a small refrigerator now stocked with drinks and snacks.

“Is fine. We say this plan was best.”

“We did,” Gerard said, switching from English to Russian. He wasn’t a native speaker like Nikolai was and only switched when they needed to have a private conversation or he was about to step into something that made Nikolai uncomfortable.

Nikolai had a bad feeling it was the latter.

Gerard continued,“But this has to feel a little bit like home, yeah?”

Nikolai shot Gerard a sharp look.

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