Michael Reagan - The Devil's Handshake

“Allah?” Nara’s mind whirled. “Who is this man?” she asked inwardly as Yuri dragged her off to collect her papers and things.

“Why in the hell did I just do that?” Thomas thought, as Oleg and he joked and toasted each other health for the umpteenth time that evening.

The romantic in him answered, “Maybe it’s because I am drawn to her hate and fire mixed with such suppressed passion in her beauty?” The pragmatist in him dismissed the answer as rubbish. “If I hadn’t she would have been raped to death and then tossed on an Ashgabat rubbish tip like a dead dog,” he told himself taking a sip of his whiskey. “That’s something I am most surely not going to allow to happen to such a beautiful creature!” he further convinced himself as he took a bite of a piece of California sushi roll.

On arriving back at his hotel an hour later having left Oleg to play with the remaining whores, Thomas was informed by Mikhail with a disapproving eye that his “purchase” was now in his suite. He looked at his friend but chose not to say anything.

Mikhail had become a changed man ever since he had married his young pretty redheaded wife Hanna, telling him at every opportunity to settle down and find a nice girl almost as if he was afraid that Thomas would burn himself out.

“Bit expensive though for a Jelep, Boss!” Mikhail joked despite his eyes saying otherwise using the Turkmen word for a whore within his English sentence.

“I know, Mikail,” Thomas answered with a smile at Mikhail’s attempt at humor before continuing, “But when in Turkmenistan, one has to buy a horse!” making reference to the passion of the Turkmen people as they entered the lift together and rode it to his suite.

“By the way, that prick Yuri wanted to make sure I gave you this,” Mikhail said passing him an envelope.

Opening it, Thomas found it contained the girl’s “Permission to Travel” documents from the Government and a pristine Turkman passport. Taking her passport out and flicking through it, he saw it only had a recently issued visa for the United Arab Emirates in it. Turning to the end page, he found her full name.

“That’s a bit of a mouthful Boss!” Mikhail exclaimed, looked over his shoulder indicating his understanding of British humor for double entendre having been with him for so long.

“Indeed!” Thomas replied even though he hadn’t been listening as he had been taking in the fact that even in a passport photo the girl was stunningly beautiful, a feat in itself.

“Christ, she’s only nineteen!” he thought as her date of birth sunk in as he promptly closed the passport and placed it back in the envelope. He resealed it before passing it back to Mikhail.

“You keep this but give a copy to the Captain,” he said, referring to the skipper of his Gulfstream G-4 as he was going to need it for the paperwork for their return to Moscow in the morning.

“I don’t want my wild horse running off and getting herself killed!” he joked. “Oh and when we get to Moscow can you sort out her visas at the British Embassy as well, please.”

“Sure, Boss,” answered Mikhail without question although nonetheless somewhat surprised that Thomas actually intended to take the young girl with them. Up until that moment Mikhail had thought Thomas had saved the girl’s life because he was a ‘white knight’ but by the statement he had just given him it now appeared he was actually going to keep her. It disappointed him, but he decided against making comment. After all, despite their close relationship, he was the Boss.

“Hopefully he will do the right thing,” Mikhail thought before asking, “What should I tell the Embassy in Moscow for her multiple re-entry visa?” knowing that an entry visa for the UK wouldn’t be easy.

“Tell them she is the going to be the new Executive Director of The Libertine and as its parent company is English, that should be enough to get her an annual one.”

“Will do, Boss,” answered Mikhail. “I will get Rubin to get the paperwork sorted,” he then said referring to the member of the team who was the bag carrier as filling in paperwork was never Mikhail’s strong point. It reminded him too much of his days in the Shakbat.

Arriving at their floor they walked out of the lift then down the corridor that had the remaining members of his personal security team posted along it, to the suite.

“Night, Boss,” said Mikhail once they reached the door giving yet another disapproving look before making a mental note to have some clothes sent up for her.

“Goodnight, Mikhail,” replied Thomas, unaware of what was waiting for him in his suite.

Closing the door behind him, Thomas walked into the presidential suite. Taking off his tailored Saville Row blazer he then placed the garment on the long sofa and walked to the bar, whereupon he proceeded to get a champagne flute and a whiskey glass from the cupboard underneath and placed them on top of the bar.

It was that point he removed his Glock and holster. Something since that brutal night in Moscow he always wore. Putting the safety on the pistol, he placed it on the top of the bar.

Opening the refrigerator he found a bottle of Moet Chandon and some “exotic” Georgian Champagne.

“I think we give that miss,” he said, over the thought of drinking Georgian Champagne, as he put some ice in a whiskey glass then opened the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label and poured two fingers of the whiskey over the ice.

Guessing that he would find his guest already in the bedroom waiting for him and hopefully under the covers he made his way to its entrance.

The second Thomas entered the bedroom with the drinks he immediately felt guilty for his quips in the lift with Mikhail on the way up.

Lying on the bed, with just a blanket covering her perfectly naked beautiful naturally bronzed skin, her long jet black hair running down her back over the blanket covering her, on her side, blindfolded, her hands tied behind her back, legs also bound together in flex cuffs so she could not escape and gagged, lay Nara.

“Fucking Hell, Oleg!” Thomas thought with disgust knowing that the animal had sent her to him naked because in his eyes, she owned nothing that wasn’t his. He also knew now why he had been getting such disapproving looks from Mikhail. Although he couldn’t quite grasp why his friend had chosen to leave her like that. He realized now it was Mikhail’s way of sending him a message.

Seduction plans over, Thomas put down the Champagne flute followed by his whiskey glass on the table and then quickly walked to the bed, but, not before he had picked up the pair of cutters for the flexi-cuffs that had been left for him by Mikhail.

“Okay, Mikhail, I get the message!” Thomas thought, as he sat on the bed.

Drawn by her seductive beauty he listened for a few seconds to Nara’s heavy panicked breathing. Then like a moth to the flame drawn to her pretty face he gently touched it. The action immediately caused her to shake followed by a scream through her gag.

“You bloody idiot!” he scolded his mind, realizing because she couldn’t see the poor girl must have been terrified by his sudden unwanted touch. “Get control of yourself,” he ordered his brain.

“GUNARA,” Thomas said firmly, “ENOUGH,” in Russian.

She screamed louder. Needing to take control quickly of the situation without a word Thomas roughly flipped from her side to her back forcing the blanket off her in the process.

Screaming this time from the pain in her shoulders as her body fell on her hands behind her back and because of the unknown of what was about to happen to her, Thomas took her head firmly in his hand then pulled her back by her hair.

“Gunara, ENOUGH,” in Russian he repeated. “You have two choices, you must submit to my will and please me, or I give you back to Oleg,” he continued using the terrible words as a shock tactic to try and get calm her down with the threat of a bigger fear. “Your choice?” he added in a softer tone. “Nod once if you want me to send you back to Oleg?” he concluded using the return to Oleg clutches like the ultimate fear factor.