With Mr. Queen's hand gripped at the bend of her elbow, pulling her along with no regard to the fact that she was stumbling trying to keep up with him. Feet fumbled over each other almost as bad as nervous words did. All it had taken was a calculating stare from his steel eyes to silence her adrenaline induced babbling. They were somewhere near the docks or in the Glades, she wasn't exactly sure. She had been too focused on the fact that he had kissed her and then forced her onto the back of his motorcycle to pay attention to where he was going. Her survivor instinct definitely needed an update.
Her head spun around to peer at her surroundings. She locked her eyes on him as he smoothed the wrinkles in his suit from the motorcycle ride. He stood with his feet apart, hands clasped behind him, shoulders back, and jaw locked. She thought she had read somewhere that he had been a soldier. Not that she could remember. Right now, she was way too concerned with the fact that they were standing in an open lot. Alone. In the dark.
"What's going on," she mumbled.
How stupid could she be? Why was she not running? She was confident that she would not make it very far but any ounce of self-preservation that she had told her she should at least try. Instead, she stood her shaky ground and was asking the mobster what his plans were. Now that he had her alone. In the dark.
Though his face was blank, there was a smirk he was hiding from the obviously terrified blonde. For someone who was supposedly a genius, she had to know that if he was going to kill her he wouldn't have picked her up from work and been easily identified as the last person she had been seen with. For someone who was supposedly a genius, she had to know that if he was going to kill her she should at least scream or run. Not just stand there. She had clung to him from the back of his bike, petite tight body molding against his back as he leaned into the curves, bobbed and weaved out of lanes at high speeds. Suppressing his intrigue, Oliver meticulously straightened the wrinkles in his suit before speaking.
"Miss Smoak, I hate to do this but the situation demands it."
"Oh God, look if you're going to kill me-," she began pleading, lifting her hands in a notion of surrender, eyes widening as he approached. But before she could finish, he had somehow looped his arm around her neck. As her body went limp, Oliver couldn't contain his smirk anymore and let out a low rumbling chuckle before lifting the blonde over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.
As he approached a hidden door, Diggle emerged from the darkness with his arms crossed over his chest. He eyed the scantily clad bartender draped across his friend and employer's shoulders, her slim and shapely legs on display. Under the pretense of rolling his eyes, he surveyed the area. They were strictly in Russian territory but with things heating up with the Triad, being more than careful wouldn't hurt.
"Ya' know, that's going to leave a nasty bruise on Felicity's neck."
"It's worse than being dead, right," he asked sarcastically, moving into the doorway and down the dimly lit stairs.
"Well, I would be concerned if I actually thought you were going to kill her."
At the bottom of the stairs, Oliver turned to face his friend, one arm grasped tightly around Felicity's legs right underneath her butt. His trigger finger itched and he shoved his hand into the pocket of his pants.
"What are you saying Digg?"
"I'm saying this is beginning to look a bit more involved. With things drastically heating up with The Triad, what's your game plan Oliver concerning this girl?"
"Right now, Miss Smoak is of use to me. And I will handle the rest," he informed the other man, jaw clenched tight before turning and walking away, leaving Dig on the stairs with the distinct feeling that this would not end well.
When Felicity came to she was acutely aware of two things. Her neck hurt. And she had a headache. Unceremoniously, a bottle of water and two indistinct white pills were thrust into her face. Looking up into the bright fluorescent lighting, Felicity narrowed her eyes before sitting up, wincing, and looking around the room. It was a large space, with bright lights. They were underground somewhere. As the last memories surfaced through her brain, she frantically began running her hands across her body. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding upon confirming that she was still in the same hideous crop top and shorts she had been wearing before Oliver Queen rendered her unconscious. However, with that relief came a certain amount of justifiable rage. Dry eyes narrowing at the sight in the corner she sprung up from the couch, only to have strong arms wrap around her when she stumbled.
"Calm down, catch your breath. It takes a minute to recover after that creepy neck incapacitating thing he does," came the soothing rumble from the tall and attractive black man standing in front of her.
Flushed and taking long deep breaths, her brow furrowed in a quizzical expression before she gestured wildly, "Don't I know you?" At a rapid pace her brain begin to filter through images like an electronic server before she began snapping her fingers as it came to her, "You were in the coffee shop that one day! Have you been following me?!" He had the decency to look ashamed. Hands on his hips, he looked down at this feet before holding her gaze again. When she realized that he wasn't going to reply she directed her fury at the source of her problem. Oliver, Mr. Queen, her kidnapper, whatever was currently sitting at a table with a group of men playing cards and drinking, laughing. Well, halfheartedly laughing but laughing nonetheless. Wait a second- he was laughing? Laughing after he knocked her unconscious and dragged her to God knows where? Without missing a beat, she shoved past the tall stalker and marched towards his table without any regard whatsoever for the six or seven heavily armed mobsters keeping him company.
"You kidnapped me!"
"Kidnap's a strong word," said one of the guys sitting at the table, scratching his beard with a slight smirk on his face. He wore an eye patch and was big and burly.
"Ms. Smoak," Oliver began, standing up from his spot at the table and approaching her, "if I recall correctly, you willingly came with me."
"That was before you knocked me unconscious and dragged me to some creepy warehouse space underground! I'm not an idiot okay? Don't let the blonde hair fool you because I dye it! What the hell do you and your merry band of mobsters want from me anyway? And why are you having me followed? And-," before she could continue ranting, he rushed her, wrapping an arm around her waist and placing his hand over her mouth.
"Miss Smoak, listen carefully because I do not like to repeat myself, stop talking and just listen. Now, I trust your ability to open this," he nodded towards the large metal shipping crate she had just noticed standing in the center of the room as if belonged there, "I trust your desire to keep your brother and your mother and your best friend alive. And the only way they remain alive is if you do what you are told. However, I have known many individuals in your situation who have done something incredibly stupid. Not knowing where we are or how you got here, therefore necessitating the kidnapping as you so call it, tends to help curb some of that stupidity. Do you understand?"
It wasn't until she nodded her affirmation the he removed his hand from her mouth.
"So, this is how you normally do things."
"No, not at all. Normally you and your brother would have been long dead by now. But like I told you already, I have need of you Miss Smoak."
Felicity closed her eyes to keep the tears at bay. She would have never been able to predict the turn of events that dressing up and going to Verdant had led to. Once again, she reminded herself not to be beguiled by how many times he kissed her or how attractive he was. This man was dangerous. And she was in an increasingly precarious situation. Even now she was utterly convinced that she would not leave this experience, this experience of knowing him, unscarred. However, she was also beginning to realize that the scars she would leave with would be far from the physical kind. At the back of her mind she wondered, wondered if she was living on borrowed time. She needed an escape plan, some way to get herself and her family out of this mess and preferably out of Starling City. But she also had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Queen was one, if not ten, steps ahead of her. Knowing that in this very moment, with him and his little Russian death squad at his back, she had a greater probability of getting home alive and in one piece if she simply stopped asking questions and cooperated.
"Fine, Mr. Queen. I am deeply indebted to you for sparing my brother's life," she began, crossing her arms over her chest, "so I will do my best to open this obviously stolen cargo crate."
"Ooh, I like this one," the big burly man with the eye patch called out before slamming down whatever liquor was in his shot glass, "pleasure to meet you Felicity! I have to say, we've all been waiting to meet you ever since we heard about the tiny blonde computer nerd who bartered for her brother's life."
Oliver looked at Slade from over his shoulder with half a smile before saying something in Russian that had the whole table erupting in laughter. As Felicity made her way to the crude tech station set up in another corner, with multiple desktops and servers sat up, Oliver locked eyes with Dig. His friend, and employee, was standing there smirking with his hands crossed over his chest. His eyes were challenging, as if he was trying to ask Oliver who he was trying to fool.
Tommy and Oliver both had a ridiculous habit of wanting to keep her out of the family business. Which of course was futile because Thea had a ridiculous habit of finding her way into the family business. Which is how she knew that the sister of the pretty little gangbanger who had robbed her had found herself in the service of her older brother. She could only imagine who equally miserable and terrifying that experience was.
When they were kids, Tommy and Oliver had been carefree party playboys. She had heard the adjustment was rough on her eldest brother through various family stories but those had occurred before she was born. Oliver was Russian on his mother's side. Moira Queen-Merkulov had been born Maria Knyazeva but after coming to the United States for college started going by Moira. At 21 she met and married Robert Queen, a Starling City blue-blood who came from old money but had dreams of doing everything better and grander than his ancestral predecessors before him. His family had not been a fan of the private and tight lipped Russian immigrant and had tried to convince him of taking preemptive measures with his finances and their legacy. He hadn't listened. Subsequently when he died in a tragic boat accident, leaving behind his wife and young seven-year-old son, Moira had received everything.
She never knew exactly how it went down and she wasn't quite sure she wanted to know, even though she suspected her uncle and maternal grandfather had something to do with it. All she knew for certain was that a year later her mother had married Malcom Merkulov. A widower with a young son a year younger than Moira's own. He was also a wealthy Starling City businessman, the CEO of Merlyn Industries, whom everyone knew but simply couldn't prove was a major player at the top of the food chain of the Russian mob scene. And two years later, Moira gave birth to Thea. As such Queen Consolidated and Merlyn Industries (Merlyn because her father claimed the name Merkulov didn't carry a mass appeal) merged together to become Merlyn & Queen Incorporated.
Her family did a remarkable job of keeping both their business separate. One might worry how her father and her brothers managed to juggle family business, company executive business, Bratva business, and in addition to her brother's Verdant business but she knew that they didn't have a choice at all. She knew her parents expected her to go to college, get an MBA, help run the legit side of their family enterprises, marry someone Russian, and perpetuate the cycle, but honestly, she was just seventeen and her family legacy was the least of her worries.
Besides, she had seen what it had done to her brothers. Turned the fun, jovial young boys into grim, hard men. Even more so in Oliver's case. To this day, she had no idea what had been said between her parents and her brothers but Tommy had stayed behind to learn from their father while Oliver had joined the military and then been sent off to Russia. She now knew what they had intended, for Tommy to be the head and for Oliver to be the fist. For Tommy to be the one everyone knew and for Oliver to be the one everyone feared. Somehow or another only part of that plan had worked out. Not that she should really be surprised. Oliver had always been smart, even when he was too drunk or high to act like it. Now Oliver was the one everyone knew, feared, and respected. And Tommy, though he had spent all that time learning from Malcolm just didn't have the knack for business- both legal and otherwise.
Deep down, Thea knew what they were trying to do. Trying to keep her seventeen for just a little while longer. But she was a Merkulov and that ship had already sailed. It was why she made it her business to know what they were trying to keep from her. She always wanted to be prepared. Which was why she was waiting in Oliver's bedroom with a cup of coffee and one of those breakfast pastries Raisa baked every morning when he stormed in wearing a suit from the night before.
"Late night big brother?"
"Damnit Thea, don't you have school?"
"What? No good morning? I mean, I've been worried about you. I haven't seen you at the mansion in days-."
"I've been staying at the penthouse."
"Ollie," she said rolling her eyes, biting off a chunk of her pastry, "I've got two more guys on my security detail this morning. Are you going to give me that bullshit line about me not worrying?"
"I have everything under control," he said, tossing his suit jacket on an arm chair across the room, "and don't even think about ditching your security team today," he told her, pointing at her sharply.
"I won't. Scouts honor," she pledged, approaching him slowly and giving him a look that let him know she was about to ask for something, "As long as you tell me what's going on with the sister of the guy who robbed me."
He sighed. Though Thea was ten years younger than him, they were close. And their relationship had shifted after his time in both the military and in Russia. They didn't laugh with each other as much but she knew he loved her and was determined to keep her safe and do anything for her. Which was probably why her interest was piqued by the petite blonde. In fact, it was Thea who had asked him not to kill the pretty little gangbanger who had robbed her. He had no interest in heeding her request and she damn well knew it but in her own words, she thought she'd ask anyway. And contrary to what Dig thought, not killing Miss Smoak or her brother had more to do with good business than anything. But right now, he didn't feel the need to explain himself.
"Thea…"
"I know, I know, I know you don't want to talk to me about business. But I'm not an idiot. I know something's up with the Triad and I just…"
"Everything's fine Thea. You should get ready for school."
"Fine let me know if you need anything," she responded, making her way towards the door before he stopped her.
"Actually, could I borrow some of your clothes?"