Stolen Jewel by Alexis Abbott
Stefan
My focus narrows in as I clock the threat encroaching on us. My analytical mind immediately leaps into calculating risks and tactics. I assess the speed at which the car is hurtling down this lonely backcountry highway, and the curve of the road. It’s as though time slows down for me alone. A moment splits and crystallizes into split second snapshots. All of my senses are instantly heightened. My finger presses down on the window button and it slowly starts to whir down to the bottom. Jewel’s frightened voice pierces the air beside me as she cries out my name. A gust of cold, powerful wind pushes through the open window, bringing with it the scent of dew on grass. My ears pick up birds cawing in the distance and the faint buzz of insects gathering thickly beyond the treeline. It makes an oddly pleasant soundtrack for what is sure to be an unpleasant rendezvous with a homicidal stranger. I can nearly hear Jewel’s heart racing at the horror zooming up behind us on a motorcycle.
My own heart is certainly pounding a little harder than its normal steady, even beat. As my senses sharpen, my body responds in kind. Adrenaline flows through my veins, making me feel like a well-oiled machine revving up to life. Fear transforms into exhilaration, panic melts into a tunnel-vision calm. My hand on the steering wheel tightens up. My beaten-up knuckles show almost bone-white through my skin as I clutch for precision. Every muscle in my body is tensed at the ready, poised for action, but not so tight as to hinder my reflexes. This is a fight or flight moment, and I am always prepared to fight.
I grit my teeth as I flick my eyes over to the side rearview mirror. I feel like a predator creeping through the tall grass, about to whip around and pounce on the threat that will become my prey. I size him up-- his blue and silver motorcycle, his dark clothes and lack of a helmet or even sunglasses on this bright, cold day. His brown hair is gathered in a lumpy ponytail, the straggly fly-aways whipping in the wind. On his face is a contorted expression. His eyes are cold, his eyebrows furrowed inward for focus. But his mouth is curved into a wide, toothy smile. Like a crocodile baring his teeth. He isn’t even trying to hide his identity or his glee at tracking us down. This man isn’t afraid to die, and he certainly isn’t afraid to get sent to prison.
I size him up in an instant: he’s an early recruit like me, but he’s been working the slimy, undesirable muck work for years. He’s recently landed a few good missions which have gained him the fleeting attention and favor of the bosses. They know how and when to turn a servant into a soldier. To strike when the iron is hot, as people say. He’s caught enough momentum to land him this prestigious and dangerous mission. He has to take back the hostage, which means having to kill me in the process, because there’s no other way I’ll ever let them have her. He probably thinks he’s invincible. He’s high off his recent success and praise. But that’s the problem: as soon as you prove yourself useful, they find a crueler use for you. The bosses sent him here knowing full well I’m more likely to survive this encounter than he is. He could have enough juice to complete his mission, but if he dies, that’s only one fewer weapon in their massive, swollen arsenal.
And if he hurts a hair on Jewel’s perfect head, I’ll rip him to shreds. He revs his engine and Jewel whimpers, shrinking down in the passenger seat. Fury floods through my body at the sight of my precious captive cowering in fear.
Then, the bastard fires a shot that splits the air and makes Jewel scream and curl up with her arms over her head. I glance back to see his gun pointing straight up at the sky. He fired just to fuck with us. He’s mocking me. Provoking me by scaring her.
I feel a powerful lurch of protective instinct for her. I’m a wolf defending my pack, only this time instead of a brotherhood of broken men held together by obligation and fear, it’s just one woman. One beautiful, good-hearted woman. This man has put her life in danger. My own life hardly registers in my brain. I don’t get attached to living. It’s easier to walk somewhat willingly into battle when you’ve already made friends with death. But Jewel? She deserves to live. She never asked to be plunged into my shadowy world of bullets and betrayals. What may have started out as an assignment has become my own full-fledged responsibility. I took on the commitment of protecting Jewel’s life the moment I went off-script. Everything since then has been my own decision-- and the results that follow. We’ve gone rogue. We’re off the grid. We’re outside the old plan, improvising by necessity every painstaking step of the way.
Right now, Jewel is helpless. Out of her element. It’s up to me to save her. I don’t know for sure what the Bratva would do to her if they take her back from me. But I’ve been a part of their dirty operations long enough for my imagination to cook up terrible, unspeakable punishments. As far as I’m concerned, the stakes have never been higher. I have to retaliate.
But first, I need to find my center. I have to slow my heart rate. I suck in one deep inhale as I turn to angle my body. My shooting arm lifts up and out to the open window while my other arm moves along the top of the steering wheel. I exhale slowly to sedate my heart as I extend my gun out the window. Despite the awkward positioning and the risks surrounding us like a minefield, I feel calm inside.
“Grab the wheel and watch the road,” I command Jewel.
“Wh-what? Oh my god, I can’t!” she panics.
I let go of the wheel and turn my body to look out the window. I hiss back at her, “Yes, you can. No one else will.”
She squeals and grabs the wheel too hard, making the car swerve a little into the other lane. I can hear her starting to hyperventilate. Instead of yelling at her in the urgency of the moment, I calmly soothe her even as I point my gun at the enemy.
“You can do this, Jewel. You’ve driven a lot of cars. You don’t even have to worry about the brake or gas pedal; leave that to me. You just look at the road and make the steering wheel match up, malyshka,” I instruct softly.
“What’s going on? Who is that guy? Oh god, I’m freaking out,” she mutters frantically. Her hands are trembling on the wheel, poor thing. She manages to keep us from swerving again, even though we’re still veering a little from side to side.
“What’s happening out there? Are you really gonna shoot him?” she asks.
“If he forces me to,” I reply gruffly.
“Right here in the open?” she says.
“Thank god there’s no one else on the road,” I shout over the gust of wind that whips around me poking out the window.
“Stefan, look!” Jewel squeaks.
I spoke too soon. There’s a pickup truck in the oncoming lane, coming at us fast. I quickly duck back in the window to avoid getting clipped. The motorcyclist is still behind us, darting around in the other lane like he might zoom up alongside us on the dotted line. Like he doesn’t care if he gets smushed by the truck hurtling straight at him.
“Oh my god, he’s gonna get hit!” Jewel cries.
“Don’t worry about him, just keep driving,” I order.
Instead of dropping his speed to safely stay behind us in this lane or taking the hit straight-on like a madman, he takes a different calculated risk. He revs his engine and peels out to the right to cut around us on the passenger side. His bike putters loudly along the edge of the road where the pavement crumbles into gravel and mud. There’s several feet of clearance to the right, but there’s a steep ravine beyond it that dips before the tree line. One wrong move and he could go spiraling off into the ditch. But he takes the risk anyway, zooming up dangerously close to the side of the car by Jewel’s window. She takes her eyes off the road to look at him as he buzzes past and lets out a little yelp of terror.
At the exact same time, the pickup truck flashes by in the other lane. He lays on the horn as he passes, and I note that it’s a grumpy looking older man driving. He looks positively bewildered by what he’s just seen, but he keeps moving, thankfully.
As the motorcycle swerves out in front of us and zooms ahead a little, I quickly take the wheel back from Jewel. She slumped back into the passenger seat. I glance over to see her looking pale as a ghost.
“Jewel, are you okay?” I ask her.
Her doe eyes are round with fear. She murmurs, “He looked me right in the eyes. He laughed at me.”
It’s not petty hurt that has her so unsettled. It’s the manic energy of this assailant. She’s picking up on what I noticed earlier: that he doesn’t have much self-preservation going on in that helmet-less head of his. Not only that, but now he’s gotten a good enough look at Jewel to verify for certain that it’s her. He has clearance now that he knows his target is in the car with me. Shit.
“What is he doing?” Jewel asks.
She points to the motorcycle far ahead of us now, but still swerving from side to side like he’s lost his damn mind. Then he hits the brakes hard, his tires screaming as he cuts a sharp U-turn and starts barreling straight toward us in the same lane.
“Holy shit!” Jewel shouts.
“I have to call his bluff,” I grunt.
“What?” she splutters.
I gently press the gas pedal and lean in as the car hurtles straight toward the maniac on a motorcycle. Jewel collapses down in her seat, screaming and bracing for impact. My heart is thumping in my ears. Every cell in my brain is screeching that this feels so wrong, so counterintuitive to staying alive. He’s betting on my weakness— the bosses will have told him all about my shift in loyalty, my choice to save Jewel rather than fall in line. He thinks he can scare me into swerving off the road, if not to protect my own neck, then at least to protect her. But I am not so easily defeated. Instead, I’m accelerating straight into an accident, and I hardly flinch. I’m betting on the fact that this man wouldn’t have made it this far in the brotherhood if he was completely idiotic, so he’ll have to give in first if he wants to live, much less complete his mission successfully. He’s a risk taker, but must still have something to live for, even if it’s just the hollow favor of powerful men who would let him die without a second thought. I understand him. I almost pity him.
The motorcyclist gets within less than a hundred yards of us before her grits his teeth and decides to stop playing chicken. He zips around in a tight circle and accelerates hard to get ahead of us again. When the collision doesn’t happen and she hears the motorbike putter into the distance, Jewel pops back up in her seat, looking absolutely dumbfounded. Her hands are plastered to her cheeks. She’s in shock.
“Oh my god, he’s insane!” she gasps.
“No, he’s just sane enough,” I answer steadily. “And I’m a better driver.”
This time, instead of driving right at us, the man takes another tactic. He drops his speed just enough to come within better sight of us. We watch him twist around in the seat with one gloved hand still on the handlebar. With his free arm he carefully raises his gun to point at our vehicle.
“Stefan! Watch out!” Jewel cries.
I swerve toward the side of the road as the biker lets off a shot. It glances off the top of the car with a sharp TING! Before we can fully react, he fires another shot. This one whizzes just millimeters past Jewel’s window. She screams and ducks down again, her chest heaving with sobs as tears prickle down her cheeks. Seeing her so frightened makes my heart ache with a pang I’ve never experienced before. In this instant, I wish I could sweep her away from all this, keep her innocent and happy, untouched by the grim dangers that lurk all around me. My longing to protect her doesn’t weaken me. I’m in battle mode, and my urge to protect Jewel only lights a fire under my ass.
I tighten my grip on my pistol and slam on the gas pedal. He’s already put himself at a disadvantage by having to shoot backwards. Plus, he knows that a battle between my vehicle and his motorbike is a fight between two different weight classes. He and his bike would be toast. If I can keep him moving, he won’t be able to aim properly. As for me, I’ve found my center. It’s right here beside me in the car. My beating heart. My reason for going rogue and throwing everything into the wind.
I realize I would do anything to save her.
“I’m so scared,” Jewel whimpers.
“Even if I have to drive him off the road, I won’t let them take you, Jewel. I promise you that,” I growl at her.
I lean out the window and level my pistol. My finger rests on the trigger as my eyes narrow in. With one hand still keeping the steering wheel steady, I line up a shot and fire. The force sends a jolt through my body but I don’t budge. The bullet grazes the biker’s arm close enough to produce a spray of obscene red blood. There’s an audible bellow of agony and the motorcycle jerks to the oncoming lane. He’s gripping his injured arm with his free hand, driving with his elbow. Definitely not a good idea. The bike sways in wide angles from side to side as he fights to regain balance. He puts his good arm back to work guiding the handlebar. But I won’t grant him that luxury. Not while I already have him disadvantaged and in my sights.
I cock the pistol and fire another shot. This time I get another little spurt of blood and a garbled scream from the biker as the bullet hits his hand on the bar. He’s completely overwhelmed with pain and confusion at this point. The motorcycle’s speed drops dramatically in the blink of an eye and starts spinning out toward the side of the road. He cuts frighteningly close to the front bumper of our vehicle in the process.
“Brake!” Jewel howls.
For a split second I think he’s about to get pulverized under the car, but I slam on the brakes just in time to miss him. The bike goes skidding off the road in a hail of kicked-up mud, dirt, rocks, and dust. I curve us around the cloud of muck. We both look over in time to see the rider manage to propel himself off the bike at the last second. The motorcycle, wheels spinning frantically, goes careening down the steep ravine. The rider rolls along the muddy gravel several times before coming to a stop. I skid the brakes and whip around to the side of the road, intending to check the carnage. I look back and see him lying in a muddy, bloody heap, his limbs all spread eagled on the ground.
“What are you doing?” Jewel gasps.
The car comes to a full, screeching stop and I instantly pop my seatbelt off. I reach to open the door, my gun right in my hand.
“Don’t open the door! Wait!” she cries out.
I don’t reply.
My killer instinct is kicking in. Years and years of conditioning with the brotherhood. The predator in me knows that my prey is wounded and vulnerable. It would only be too easy to eliminate him as a threat.
But as soon as the thought crosses my mind, I get hung up on the word “eliminate.” It is exactly what I was ordered to do to Jewel. Something stays my hand.
It dawns on me that she’s shouting.
“Stefan! Please! Let’s just get out of here, I’m begging you. Let’s go!” Jewel pleads with me.
Her sweet, broken voice snaps me back to reality. I don’t need to kill this man. Not yet anyway. If I leave him like this, I can send a message to the Bratva. A warning about what I’m capable of, and what I’m willing to do. Plus, if I let him live right now, then Jewel doesn’t have to watch me commit homicide. I want to protect her as much as I can— even from myself. I have to shield her from my cruel tendencies, my dark side she’s only caught flickers of so far. She’s seen enough suffering for one day.
So I close the door, fasten my seatbelt, and rev up the engine again. I hit the gas pedal and we zoom off down the dusty road. I look in the overhead mirror to watch the biker and his mangled motorcycle shrink away into nothingness behind us. I feel confident now that this was the right choice. I’ve successfully neutralized the threat for the time being. He won’t be getting back on that bike anytime soon. Cell service is nonexistent out here so he can’t call for help. Other vehicles come by this stretch of road only seldom this time of year. What’s the likelihood of someone stopping to aid a scary-looking, bloody, maniacal Bratva assassin? And then the time it would take to hitch a ride into town, find a way to call the bosses and report his failed mission, and accept whatever brutal punishment he’ll receive in return… He could be out of the picture permanently. Or a couple days at the very least. As we abandon the scene, I look over at Jewel. The tears have dried, and now she’s staring at me.
“What the hell was that?” she demands to know.
“That was a consequence of going rogue,” I answer gravely. “The bosses know I’ve veered off the map. They’re sending soldiers to stop me.”
“Just because of me?” she asks quietly.
“It’s not your fault,” I assure her. “You didn’t ask for any of this to happen.”
“But if you had followed instructions there wouldn’t be a crazed biker trying to shoot us on the road,” she points out.
I frown at her. “Jewel, if I had followed instructions, you’d be dead.”
“I know. But you didn’t. You changed everything to save me, and now you have a bounty on your head,” she sighs.
“Worth it,” I reply.
“You could’ve killed that guy. I know you know how. But you didn’t,” she repeats. “I saw the way you got him in the arm and the hand. Your aim wasn’t off— you hit exactly what you needed to hit. Just enough to fell the guy but not enough to execute him. I don’t know if that was for you or for me but, either way… thank you.”
She smiles at me faintly. “He may be a crazy assassin but he still deserves a fair trial, you know,” Jewel insists.
“There’s my little lawyer,” I tease back.
“And the way you fought for me… Stefan, I owe you an apology for being so resistant to trust you. I see now that you’re truly protecting me. I’d be a goner without you,” she says, passion choking her up.
I reach over to pat her on the knee. It’s meant to be an innocent reassuring gesture, but there’s no mistaking the flash of hot lust that burns between us for the split second my fingertips are touching her. I quickly put my hand back on the wheel and Jewel clears her voice.
“So, um, I’m kind of afraid to ask this, but where are we going?” Jewel changes the topic.
“Well, we need to lay low, especially with guys like that on the road,” I explain. “Unfortunately, most of the safehouses I know in this area are by the main road, which we can’t risk. Besides, if they’ve already caught on enough to send a guy after us—”
“They’ll be watching all the safehouses,” she finishes for me with a groan.
“We’re kind of in limbo out here. Not many places to stop in the backcountry. Not without being too easily tracked,” I go on. “But I have my own spot in mind. Not the most luxurious digs, but it’ll serve us fine as a temporary resting spot to recoup for a few hours.”
“As long as I’m with you, I can handle it,” Jewel remarks. My heart soars.
I just hope she’s right. She isn’t spoiled, but she’s definitely accustomed to modern conveniences. Updated interiors. Working appliances. This next place will be a roof over our heads, but it’s not much more than that. We drive down increasingly darker winding roads. The trees pack in denser and denser until we’re on a narrow dirt path. We’re quickly losing sunlight overhead. We roll along until finally a rudimentary sheet metal and wooden shed the size of a one-person camping cabin comes into view. It looks beaten up and overgrown, as nature patiently creeps back to consume it.
We roll to a stop.
“Is that it?” Jewel asks.
I nod.
She nods, too. Then, her face twists up and she bursts into tears.
I put a hand on her shoulder and tell her, “We’ll be in much more… normal accommodations by tomorrow night, I promise.”
Jewel looks at my hand on her shoulder, then up to my face. Her beautiful brown eyes are sparkling with tears. She shakes her head and points at the shed.
“That’s not the problem. I can deal with that. What I can’t deal with is knowing that we’re clearly in big trouble, and my presence in your world only makes it more dangerous,” she sniffles. She wipes furiously at her eyes, as though she’s ashamed to be tearful right now.
Jewel wants so badly to appear strong, even though she already is.
“That is not how it works. You have it backwards,” I tell her.
“No, I’m right and you know it. You said it yourself, Stefan. They don’t want you. They’re after me!” she cries, her voice cracking.
She turns and pushes open her door. She hops out of the car and starts storming through the overgrown weeds and leaping grasshoppers toward the shed on her own. In her bare feet, it’s taking her an almost comically long time to make forward progress. I grab the go bag and my travel bundle from the back, then lock up the vehicle and go after Jewel.
In my boots, I’m able to gain on her quickly just walking at a steady pace. She glances back at me over her shoulder and gasps, startled to see me already so close on her heels.
“You trust me, and you’re still afraid of me,” I point out, “so imagine how much my enemies fear me. I can keep you safe, Jewel.”
She glares up at me as I undo the combination lock on the shed door.
“A combination lock? That’s your security system?” she mutters.
“Who’s trying to break into this shed, Jewel?” I say, gesturing around the very modest interior as the door creaks open and light spills in. “Who could even find this shed in the first place other than me?”
“I don’t care about the shed, Stefan,” she sighs.
“Great. You have nothing to fear. I will keep you safe, Jewel. If they want you, they have to go through me first,” I comfort her.
She does not look comforted.
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” she says.
I unzip my travel bundle and two tightly-packed sleeping bags unfurl on the ground, taking up most of the foot space as I close the door. I take out a lighter to ignite two tall white candles situated on the single square foot of what could be called ‘counter space.’ The tiny shed is illuminated with dancing firelight. I locate the tiny wood stove and the neat but dwindling stack of logs to start heating the place up for the dropping temperatures tonight.
“I don’t want you to get hurt because you made an exception for me,” she
“Nothing would hurt me more than to lose you,” I answer her honestly. I stoke the wood stove fire and close the creaky door. “There. Should warm up in here soon.”
“Ugh! You’re so goddamn chivalrous!” Jewel snaps. She stomps her foot, which makes virtually no sound on the padded sleeping bags. “You show me nothing but patience and kindness and pleasure--”
I raise an eyebrow and get to my feet. I tower over her. I swear I can feel her heart thumping. Her cheeks are blooming rosy pink, her lips fumble to find words. Her lashes flutter as she looks away to finish her thought. I give her time.
“You risk your life to save mine, and I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to repay that,” Jewel blurts out.
Her eyes are wild. She moves closer to me. I feel the heat coming off of her body in waves. I’m already getting hard, just smelling her scent and feeling her heat. She reaches up with both hands to touch my face, my jaw, my lips.
“But I have some ideas,” Jewel whispers.
Her hands trail down my chest and tug at my shirt. I pull it off and toss it aside. Her eyes go wide as her fingers explore the ridges of my chest and stomach. She’s never been able to touch me quite like this.
For the first time, we are both unbound.
Her hands are free. And now that I’ve broken from the brotherhood, so are mine. We’ve gone rogue together, and wherever we go from here is our own decision. Judging by the lust burning in her eyes, we’re going to the same place. Right now.
Jewel peels her t-shirt up and off in one smooth movement while I hastily tug down my pants and boxers. She dives in to kiss me while she pulls down her rolled-up shorts and kicks them off. Her mouth collides hard with mine, but the pinch of pain is worth the way she moans. I grab her around the waist and scoop her up. When she instinctively wraps her legs around me, I kneel down and set her on the sleeping bags.
I catch her face in my hands and pull her back in for another passionate, adrenaline-soaked kiss. We are both completely naked, grasping at one another like two sloppy teenagers on the soft floor of our warm little shelter. She interlaces her fingers with mine and scoots in to straddle me. I lean slowly backward as she moans and ruts against my stiffening cock. Her pussy is already soaking wet, and her juices slick up and down my shaft. But then, she does something that surprises me.
She unlaces our fingers and moves backward on her knees. I brace myself up on my elbows to watch her in motion. Jewel licks her lips as her brown eyes flash. She’s blushing, but she isn’t shy. When she leans in to wrap her dainty hand around my thick shaft, a warmth rolls up and down my whole body. I groan and tilt my head back, giving her the go-ahead.
Tucking her hair behind her ears, she dips down to flick her tongue over the tip of my cock. I can see a strand of shiny saliva leaving her mouth as she pulls back. Her eyelids are heavy, her jaw slack. I see the way her hand slips between her legs instinctively because she’s so turned on. Jewel leans back in to suck the head of my cock into her perfect, wet mouth. Her soft lips and flicking tongue give me full-body goosebumps. When her brown eyes look up at me again, I see how badly she wants this.
Maybe I’m a bad influence on her. But if this is what going rogue feels like, I sure as hell don’t regret a thing.