“You can’t help him–not in the state he’s in. He’ll hurt you.”
Desperation sent stinging tears to my eyes. When Maksim grabbed my hand, I jumped. Tugging me out of my chair, he said, “Come on. Let’s g-o.”
“Wait, what?”
“T-They need help, and they won’t call the police. We have t-to help them.”
“Um, okay.”
In a stupor, I let him drag me out of the living room. Maksim’s free hand went to his phone where he started barking orders in Russian.
“Sarah, what’s going on?” Mom questioned.
“Mom, try to push something against the bedroom door. I’m coming to help.”
Mom gasped. “You can’t put yourself in danger.”
As Maksim threw a glance at me over his shoulder, I replied, “It won’t be just me….” I swallowed hard. “My friend can help. He’s…”
“Ex military,” Maksim suggested.
“Yeah, military,” I echoed.
“Just please be safe.”
“You be safe,” I countered.
Maksim eased me into the garage. When his hand left mine, I missed his touch. But then my mind imagined Mom barricaded into the bedroom with Dad, tears welled in my eyes. “Please, Mom, don’t let him hurt you guys. Promise me you’ll call the police, okay?”
A long pause came on the line. In the silence, I heard glass shattering and Silas screaming. Finally, Mom said, “I will.”
A relieved breath whooshed out of me as I hopped into the waiting SUV. The bodyguard cranked up the SUV and then threw it into reverse.
“Listen, I’m not going to hang up, okay?”
“Are you sure you don’t need to concentrate on driving?”
“My friend’s bodyguard is driving,” I replied before I could stop myself.
“Bodyguard?” Mom questioned.
“Yes, he’s an important man.”
“He’s an important military man with a bodyguard,” Mom assessed.
“Yes.”
“What’s his name?”
When I glanced at Maksim for confirmation it was okay to give his name, he bobbed his head. “His name is Maksim,” I replied.
“Is he Russian?”
“Yes, Mom. Does that matter?”
“Maybe to your grandfather. He hated communists.”
At my embarrassed groan, Maksim chuckled. “Seriously, Mom?” I hissed.
