I remove my own phone from my suit pocket along with her shirt rag to dab at my throbbing nose while I debate sending Gavriil a text or calling him with an update.
Since I don’t want him to hear her continued screams, I go with a text.
“Where to, boss?Pakhan’s estate?” Renat asks.
I consider his question for a moment and make a snap decision. “No. We’re going to my place. We’ll use the empty garage bay to question her,” I say as I type out the message.
None of the men say a word, but I can practically hear their thoughts they’re smart enough not to say aloud:The Pakhan isn’t going to like having to come to her this late at night.
They’re not wrong. But if Gavriil doesn’t want to come all the way back to the city tonight, then I can handle it.
I’ve just hit send when the screaming stops, making my head, along with the others, turn slightly toward the back. There’s a moment of silence, then come the questions.
“Why? Why are you doing this to me?” she asks.
Her voice is barely more than a whisper thanks to all her shouting. And I fucking hate hearing the fear and desperation in it.
Rather than answer her, I pass the tote bag back to Petrov.
“Inventory it,” I direct him.
A moment passes where Alina doesn’t speak or scream, thankfully, as he begins digging through her purse.
“Usual girly shit—sunglasses, feminine products, pink lip gloss, hair ties, more hair ties, mints.” He pauses, then I hear clanging. I look back and find him holding a heavy keyring that could rival a school janitor's. Various keys are attached to it, not normal, modern ones, but the giant, antique skeleton key style nobody actually uses. “The fuck?” Petrov mutters in English before switching back to the language our hostage probably won’t understand. “There’s at least a dozen of them.”
Why would she need a bunch of old keys? What do they go to? Rooms at the hotel she works at? If so, why carry them around with her when they must weigh several pounds?
It’s odd and also a little endearing.
I’m still thinking about the damn keys when Renat pulls into my apartment’s parking garage and heads down to the lower level. The one I rent solely for my vehicles, with limited security and no cameras. There are also four garage bays, including one that’s kept empty, with no windows, just a steel chair that can be bolted to the floor, a few tools, and a drain in the middle of the floor that takes care of messes.
After Renat parks, I open the car door and take a slow, deep breath of the gasoline and oil scented air. My men get out as well, and we all meet at the back of the vehicle.
“She’s going to scream again, isn’t she?” Renat asks, key fob in hand, ready to open the cargo hatch.
“Probably,” I reply with a sigh as I rub my temple. “I had three fucking meetings today about port shipments. Now this bullshit. Let’s hurry up and get it over with.”
Tipping my chin at Petrov, I tell him, “Go unlock the door then check in with the guards on perimeter duty to let them know we’re back and warn them we’ve brought in a flight risk.”
“Sure thing, boss,” he replies.
Once he walks away, Viktor asks, “Have you received a response from Gavriil about the change of plans?”
Always the worrier.
“No, not yet,” I reply.
“You sure you want to do this now, boss?”
By ‘do this now’ he means disobey thePakhanover some random woman he ordered us to bring in.
“I’ve followed his orders,” I reply, ending the discussion. “Now, once she’s settled, I’m going to go up to my apartment and clean up all this fucking blood. Neither you nor Petrov will even think about retaliating for earlier while I’m gone. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Viktor agrees.
“Open the hatch,” I tell Renat. “Then I want you to go and check the security cameras. Notify me or Viktor of any late-night visitors.”
“Will do,” he replies, then the screaming starts immediately when the back of the SUV opens.
