Samantha. Oh god.What will happen to my sister if I disappear? Who will help pay her tuition? Who will call her to make sure she’s eating more than just ramen noodles? Who will be in the audience cheering for her when she graduates med school?
Fueled by desperation, I tug against the zip ties again, ignoring the stinging pain as plastic cuts into my flesh. I need to free myself. To survive this. Samantha only has me.
The slamming of car doors jerks me from my thoughts.
Voices.
Multiple voices.
Bright, desperate hope flares in my chest. Maybe someone noticed what happened. The police, even. Maybe this nightmare is about to end.
I strain to hear through the glass and metal separating me from whatever’s happening outside.
Conversation drifts into the car, reaching my ears. One of the windows must be cracked.
“Where the fuck were you, Alexei?” This man is clearly not a happy camper. “We had a job tonight.”
My ears perk up at the mention of my captor. Alexei. Now I know his name.
“I had to take care of something.” Alexei’s voice is low and cool. Unfazed. “Took longer than expected.”
“You’re supposed to charm them into coming home with you, not tie them up before you reach the bedroom.” I can almost hear the smile in the second guy’s voice.
These guys must be my captor’s—Alexei’s—friends or business associates. The fact that they have faint Russian accents has my heart sinking.
“She’s not—” Alexei releases a frustrated sigh.
A third new voice joins in, this one intense and unsettling. “There’s blood on your shirt.”
“It happens.”
I huff into the gag. It happens?It happens?Who says that?
Murderers, that’s who.
“You killed somebody.” The first guy’s tone drips with disbelief. “Did the woman in the back of your car see? Why is she still alive?” A beat passes. “We eliminate witnesses, brother. That’s how we do things.”
Alexei remains unflappable. “Well aware. But things went south, and I had to shoot the fucker I was meeting. Anyway, the girl’s not a typical witness. She knew the guy.”
The man who called Alexei his brother growls. “If this is about MJ, you were ordered to drop that. By Roman himself and by our father.”
Silence.
“I know.”
“And yet here you are. Chasing ghosts instead of doing your job.” All traces of teasing have left the second man’s voice.
“I wasn’t chasing ghosts. It was Benny Parker. He knew something about what happened.”
“Did you even think about the consequences? To yourself, to us, to the Bratva?” The first guy, Alexei’s brother, sounds livid. “And the girl? What’s your plan with her? Because if Roman finds out you’ve got a witness?—”
“He won’t. Not from any of you.” I’m not sure how to decipher the threat ringing in Alexei’s voice. “Tell him I got a tip about a rival crew encroaching on our territory. That I went tocheck it out and got ambushed. Tell him whatever the fuck you want, but give me twenty-four hours.”
Territory. Crew.
The words hang in the air, pieces of a puzzle I don’t want to solve. Because if I’m assembling them into the correct picture, then my chances of survival just slid from slim to none.
“We can give you a few hours, Lexei. We can’t guarantee more. And you’d better have a more believable story ready for when Roman calls.”
