So, I've been questioned on what Olga looks like. So at the bottom I'll post a link. I got the name from Olga kurylenko, the actress. As well as what i'd expect her to look like, these beginning chapters she looks like the woman she played in Hitman, 'Nika.' thank you all for the reviews(: I don't own anything.

If I Didn't Know Better

Oh you might as well be the devil,

Keeping me out past three

Well you're the one with that apple,

So baby you can't blame me

Oh why don't you keep drinking?

Give me one night with you

- if I didn't know better, The Civil Wars

Olga huffed in frustration, using all her strength, she heaved the dead-weight up the edge of the ditch. "What are you, two-hundred pounds? Fucking fantastic." She spoke to the non-responsive male. Wanting nothing more than to kick him and leave him on the side of the road at this point. She couldn't fully understand why she didn't do just that, but realizing she couldn't bring herself to do something that awful, she let out another sigh of frustration. "You owe me big time pal." She said in between pants, as she finally pulled him to the side of her car, assessing the damage to her front end, she sneered, "Owe me a new bumper too, asshole." Just to let out some aggression, she kicked his thigh. knowing it probably wasn't the best idea, she didn't think twice about it and began the process of heaving him into her back seat. Olga paused as the distant rumbling sound of motorcycles reached her ears, "fuck,fuck,fuck." She let out a strangled roar and with one final push he was far enough in the seat to where she could slam the door shut and jump in the front seat. She put her car in reverse and drove like a mad-woman back in the direction she had come from, silently hoping he wouldn't croak in her back seat. "Well, so much for charming." Olga mumbled under her breath.

Pulling into the lot of a beat up looking motel she had passed earlier Olga wondered to herself how she was going to pull this off. Dragging in a severely wounded man would surely draw attention, plus she doubted they wanted blood all over their carpet. She gnawed on her lower lip as she pondered. An idea struck and she parked around the back entrance, knowing she would need a key for it she walked towards the front door and asked for a room, preferably on the lower floor. Once she obtained the key, she wheeled out a luggage cart to her car. Thankfully, the back lot was nearly empty and poorly lit, as well as out of sight. "Okay, lets see how this works." She grabbed his hands and dragged him onto the base of the cart, laying him down, she dug through her trunk for a blanket and covered the limp body. She pulled out a few suitcases and pillows and piled them on top, "Sorry." she muttered, she wasn't at all sorry, more like severely pissed. As shady as it looked, she held onto the delusion that she wouldn't get caught and began wheeling him and her luggage to the back door. The walk to her room was one of the tensest moments of her life, she reminded herself to remain calm over and over again until she reached her door and scrambled to wheel him inside. Once that was finished she slid down the door and let out a shuttered breath, "slava bogu." Her muscles were sore, and the leather jacket she had put on to cover her blood stained top was digging into her wounded shoulder, she threw the jacket off and began to work on dragging him to the bed.

After cleaning her shoulder and bandaging it, she made her way over to the bloody man on the bed. Checking his pulse, she felt relief wash over her that he was still alive. Olga pulled the torn biker mask from his face, she peeled off his cut and placed it on the chair beside her, she made quick work of his hoody and made an annoyed sound at the fact that she would have to cut off his shirt, which was completely soaked with wet and dry blood. Once his shirt was gone she raised a delicate eyebrow and observed the tattoos littering his body, the two smiley faces on his ribs made her face twist in confusion, she shook her head and began cleaning away at the cuts on the front part of his body, most likely gained from laying down his bike. She was appreciative of the sheer muscle and olive skin tone before her, she chastised herself, this was no time to be checking him out. As her hand leaned in to clean the cut on his forehead, she realized she forgot about the bullet wound, dug into his back, "Shit," Olga was about to roll him over when a hand shot out and grabbed her hand, there was a pained moan from the man and his dazed eyes slowly opened to look up at her, "the fuck you think you're doing?" He groaned out between shallow breathes, she scowled and spat out , "helping, idiot." They stared at each other for a short moment before she spoke again, " I need to get to your back, there's a bullet in your shoulder." She pointed out, " You don't fucking say?" He spat back at her sarcastically. He sat up slowly and groaned, Olga tried to push him back down but he swatted at her hand, "You shouldn't strain yourself," a small fuck off was his simple reply. She realized how close they were at that moment, she was sat on the edge of the bed, while he was half leaning on her good shoulder, his head rolled closely to the area where her shoulder and neck meet, his breathing came out in small pants, his breath warm, causing her to shiver, "Hurry the fuck up," he snapped at her, bringing her out of her thoughts. Olga moved quickly behind him, steadying him slowly as he leaned with his arms stretched in front of him, supporting his weight. Olga was amazed that he was still conscious, little alone holding himself up, he moved to sit cross-legged and straightened his back to give her better access. "I gotta take out the bullet," she said quietly and reached into her medical bag. "you know what you're doing?" He grumbled out, "I wouldn't even attempt this if I didn't," She whispered, recalling the numerous times she's pulled out a bullet from a member of her family, being apart of the Russian mafia makes you learn quickly. After a grueling hour of digging into his shoulder and cleaning it, she finally had the wound sewn and bandaged. She laid back with an exhausted sigh before pushing herself off the bed to clean up the bloody mess she had left on the desk next to her.

Happy watched the woman next to him as she cleaned up the mess, it had been silent for a long time, there was numerous questions racing through his mind, but he asked the most important one first, "why didn't you call the cops?" she paused for a brief moment, before sighing, "I have my reasons," Happy didn't like that answer and he glared at her back, "Answer the fucking question." She turned slowly with a small smirk on her face, "I just did." He growled at her, the sound merely made her smirk widen. "I really don't feel like having law enforcement breathing down my neck right now." She spoke, he raised an eyebrow at her, his hazel eyes piercing into hers, studying her for a moment he asked, "you on the run or somethin'?" She walked closer and happy felt his body tense up, "Or something." She let out a small laugh, "this isn't funny woman" He grumbled to her.

In that moment Olga felt her patience snap, "No this isn't fucking funny, I hauled your fat ass, up the side of a fucking ditch! After, may I remind you, being shot! I have my blood and yours, and some dead guys brains splattered all over me, I risked my life wheeling you into this piece of shit motel, Vy neblagodarny yebat' ! The least you could do is thank me! I was decent enough to not let you bleed to death on the side of the road, or be killed by those other fucking bikers!" She was cut short when happy stood so quickly she barely had time to register before he had her pinned to the wall, "What other bikers!?" He snarled at her, "Iisus khristos, I don't know, I left before they got close enough, but my guess was they were members of that other gang, the Mayans, I wasn't waiting around to find out." She spoke quickly, glaring at him, he didn't let up his grip on her wrists. "How do you know about the Mayans?" Olga growled in frustration, "Let go of me!" He shoved her further into the wall, "Answer me!" He snapped at her, "Nothing! I saw them drive by a diner I was at, then again, the symbol was on that mans cut." He lingered a little while longer before backing away from her. The room fell into a tense silence as the stared at one another, the same way they did holding each other at gunpoint.

Happy felt himself sway, due to blood loss and over exhausting his body, he cursed and felt his legs give away. she was there in a flash, steadying him, leaning his body weight onto her own. She struggled to keep him up, eventually lowering him onto his knees. They were both panting. Happy could feel himself slowly being dragged under, not before he looked into her eyes and saw a trace of worry. He chuckled quietly, what the hell has he gotten' himself into?

Vy neblagodarny yebat' ! - You ungrateful fuck!

Iisus khristos- Jesus christ

slava bogu- thank god

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