Taken and Misused.

"Marco made a deal with the mafia boss in New York, Semyon, we’d get high-end motors and parts as long as we continued winning the street races. We had to give him a cut of our winnings each month. And, well, remember the last race I took you to?” Vaughn set his food down as he waited for an answer from me.

“Where Darik lost his car?” I asked.

“Yes, that one, well that car was outfitted with parts from Semyon. New everything. Losing it meant we broke the deal Semyon had made with Marco, and, well, fucking up a deal with a mafia boss isn’t the most healthy thing to do.”

“Well, why don’t you just tell this man you will pay him back?” I asked, taking another bite of my food to quell my hungry stomach.

Stephen spoke up this time, “my da- Semyon did not look at it as a matter of money, but of pride. He couldn’t let Vaughn get away with messing up their deal because then others would try to do the same.”

“Precisely,” Vaughn confirmed.

“Then why did that man try to shoot me? I had nothing to do with this deal,” my question made Vaughn look away for a moment, his eyes haunted with sadness.

“They knew I cared for you, so I guess he was trying to teach me a lesson before he killed me too,” Vaughn answered, tugging a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

I took a few minutes to digest all of this information, we were on the run from some mafia boss who wanted to kill me and Vaughn for some deal Marco made with him and Darik messed up. Well, put it that way and it didn’t sound too bad. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t mad.

“You couldn’t have told me?!” I exclaimed, standing up and shoving my carton of food onto the table. All affectionate feelings for the stupid street racer flew out the window at the news of this whole ordeal being his fault. “A little warning before we went to this man, Semyon’s, gala event?” I began pacing, “here I thought some mad man with a gun had just stormed into the gala but really he wanted to kill me!” I let out a stream of profanities in French, shoving an accusating finger in Vaughn’s face every now and then to which he just stared at, completely confused. Stephen was equally astounded. “I can’t believe this! You know, Stephen told me you were bad to be around. Well, I guess he was right,” I was standing facing the door to the hotel room, contemplating walking out.

“Princess-“ I cut Vaughn off before he could go any further.

“Don’t you ‘Princess’ me Vaughn Hart,” I snapped, turning to face him and pointing a threatening finger in his direction. The burly Vaughn looked taken aback by my remark.

“Elisabeth,” he tried again, “I never meant for this to happen, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t think I’m planning on forgiving you anytime soon” I shot back, “you are in the cat house my dear sir.”

“The phrase is dog house Elisabeth,” Stephen corrected. I had almost forgotten he was sitting next to Vaughn.

“And you!” I proclaimed, bringing my attention to the wide-eyed Russian. “What are you doing here?” I demanded, advancing on him this time.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly help you two escape and then return to face my father” he said with a shrug, I frowned at him, my confusion dampening my anger.

“Semyon is Stephen’s dad,” Vaughn clarified.

“I was not asking you,” I said, still feeling animosity towards Vaughn.

“Shut up the two of you,” Stephen hissed, turning the television off.

“What?” I snapped, crossing my arms.

“Are you sure you didn’t see anyone odd out there Vaughn?” Stephen asked, standing slowly.

Vaughn looked as if her were in a deep thought, “shit, there was an old pickup truck that followed me back here; I didn’t think anything of it.” Headlights flashed through the hotel room window and then the sound of an engine was cut off and the shadows of three men could be seen from inside the room.

“They found us,” Stephen muttered, hurrying to grab their bags, he slung the two duffle bags over his shoulder. “Vaughn, Take Elisabeth out to the car.”

Vaughn gently took my arm and led me back into the bathroom; he stood on the toilet lid and slid the old window up. “Come on, can you get through?” He asked, but I was already hauling myself through the window. “Dancing doesn’t turn you into a twig Vaughn,” I snapped, “I do have muscle,” my annoyance was keeping me from freaking out.

“Glad to hear it,” he replied although he didn’t sound it. I hit the grass on my feet and my heartbeat sped as I was engulfed by the dark. Vaughn soon joined me on the ground and soon Stephen’s head popped out of the window, he tossed the two bags out and then he followed. Vaughn shouldered the two bags and the three of them hurried to Stephen’s car. A loud crash was heard from inside the motel room and I jumped, my hand freezing on the door handle. “Get in,” Vaughn commanded, opening my door for me and quickly pushing me into the back seat then closing the door. He did the same in the front seat and Stephen started the car and hit the accelerator, shooting away from the motel.