Now I’m here. Stuck in a cell with a bunch of sobbing girls. Frankly, the place doesn’t smell any better than the truck. Shit, piss, stale cigarettes. Water is dripping somewhere. Rats scurry. All the ingredients for a five-star stay in a trafficking halfway house.
Fucking Russians. No goddamn class.
“What you laughing at, wop?” Vassily snarls. Pretty brave for a guy with a bullet aimed at his brain. Then again, it’s probably sosmall she might actually miss it – he’s obviously not that smart. Little wildcat. She’s just changed the playing field in my favor.
“What’s your price?” I say simply. He narrows his eyes on me. “For me to get out of here,” I add. “How much to let me go?”
“Too rich for your blood,” he sneers. I chuckle. He’s really brazen. These guys are a breed apart.
“Oy!” the girl snaps. “I’m the one with the gun. I ask the questions!”
Vassily and I spare a look in her direction, then lock eyes again.
“Four mill,” he mutters.
Motherfucker. That’s double what he was just demanding before.
“You asked two million from the other guy,” I snap.
“That’s different. Family business. And we would have some fun with you before handover. I like fun. Is stress relief.” Stress relief? “For you, four mill.”
Fuck.
The prospect of being tortured half to death before being handed over to my fucking uncle doesn’t fill me with joy.
“Fine. Four million. But I take the girl.”
“Are you fucking kidding?” she squawks. “Who’s holding the motherfucking gun?”
A sharp motion behind her has Vassily’s partner snapping a quick blow to her skull. Her head jerks sideways, and the gun is out of her hand.
“I am,” the asshole says. I almost feel guilty – she’d still be armed if it wasn’t for this little conversation.
And then she’d be dead. These guys have played this game too many times. And they’d be looking for revenge. She’d die horribly. Vassily has clambered away from her to face me. I don’t look at her as I keep talking, but I sense her getting to her feet, straightening her clothes angrily.
“Call my men. They’ll set it up.”
The pair look at each other. Vassily gives a nod.
“You have deal. How do I make contact?”
“You’ve got my phone. Go through my contact list. We need to speak to Mario. He’s my underboss. He’ll make it happen.”
There’s another pause, then the men speak quickly in Russian before addressing me again.
“Good. We get phone. You wait here.”
Right. As if I’m going anywhere.
Vassily’s buddy gets the joke too.
“Wait here,” he repeats. “Good one.” He’s laughing when they shove the girl away and slam her cell shut with a clang. The sound echoes as they leave the area the cells are situated in and exit through a door at the end of the corridor. I blink at the bright rectangle of light, then I turn my attention back to the girl.
“What are you looking at, cunt?” she snaps.
“Jesus. Kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“My mother’s dead.” There’s a challenge in those blue eyes.
