She looks up at me with those pale green eyes, and the slightest shimmer warns me this isn’t going to be an easy conversation. “Will you hold me?”
Shedding my pants and folding them neatly next to hers, I slip under the sleeping bag with her. “All night, sweetheart.”
* * *
Wren
Despite how close we are—physically—Ryker still hides under the tight, black t-shirt. I shed my flannel as he arranged an arsenal on the coffee table, and I’m down to my panties and tank.
But he’s here with me. His arms around me. And I feel safe for the first time today. “I found a private email server Zion set up for Elena.” Every time I close my eyes, I see the photo of those girls. Huddled together. Terrified. Abused.
“She found enough dirt on Kolya to put him away for life—if we were in the United States. Financial records. Payments from his organization to government officials. And…so much more.” Turning to grab my tablet, I press my thumb to the biometric scanner and type in my ten digit password. “I made back-ups of everything. All encrypted.” The last email from Elena fills the screen, and Ryker swears under his breath. “When Kolya gets tired of one of his…girlfriends, he ships them off to God-knows-where. Sells them.”
Anger rolls off Ryker in waves, and he forces out a breath, purposefully loosening his grip on the tablet. “I can’t get in the building without help. Every inch of the exterior is covered by cameras. Two blocks away, a group of boys—probably about Zion’s age—hang out at a public fountain. They rotate on and off throughout the day. Three or four at any one time head out, come back two hours later and disappear inside. Thirty minutes later, they’re back at it again.”
“Selling drugs.” A cold weight settles in my chest, and I close my eyes, trying to slow my heart rate, even as the second Xanax threatens to knock me out completely. “Zion never talked a lot about what happened over here. Only that he worked for someone—helping with the guy’s accounting in exchange for drugs. He sold drugs too. Like those boys you saw today.”
“Kolya Yegorovich is a fucking asshole.” Ryker’s arms tighten around me, and I give in to the pull towards oblivion.
“I know.” My words slur a little now, and I sigh over the lump in my throat. After a minute, I shake my head, remembering the other email that sent my panic rising. “There’s more.”
I bring up another video—one I only found when I went looking through the deleted messages. On the screen, Elena huddles in a tiny, but pristine bathroom. Blood stains the side of her face, and she can only open one eye.
“Zion, Misha is dead. Kolya…he knows I convinced Misha to help you escape. And he was so angry with me. Even more than before. You have to get me out of here. He swears he will sell me if I go against him again. If he finds these messages… I do not want to end up like Sveta and Ilsa. Please. Hurry.”
“When did she send this?” Ryker asks.
“A week before Zion disappeared. Two days after the video I showed you in my apartment. Misha went from trusted employee to dead in forty-eight hours.” I swallow hard, then pull up another message. “This is Z’s reply.”
I’ll fix this, baby. I promise. I just need a little more information. Then…I can go to my sister. She’s brilliant. And she works with the baddest guys on the planet. By next week, I’ll tell her everything. Love, Z.
“Fuck.” Ryker pushes to his knees, sets the tablet on the couch, and punches the cushions with enough force the old sofa creaks. “He intercepted this somehow, didn’t he? Kolya?”
“I…I think so. And…maybe that’s why he came after me?”
Ryker’s brows draw together, and though I’m a little dizzy now, and my vision’s gone fuzzy from the meds, I can still see his mind working. His multi-hued eyes shift and darken when he thinks, and I’m mesmerized by his intensity.
“Wren?”
“Oh…sorry. I’m…”
“Half-comatose.” Easing me onto my back, he plays with a lock of my hair. “Sleep, sweetheart. We can finish this discussion in the morning.”
There’s something else I have to tell him. Something important. But I’m so tired. And I hate how the Xanax steals my focus. But his lips are on mine, and he tastes so good, feels so good, I don’t care. Until I close my eyes.
“She’s…his favorite,” I mumble against his chest. “Elena. She’s…Kolya’s favorite of all his…girls. And she…knows too much.”
Ryker’s voice rumbles under my ear. “He’ll kill her long before he’ll sell her.”
“Uh huh. We…have to…help her.”
Whatever he says in reply fades until all I can hear is a deep, comforting baritone, and I let myself slip under.
21
Ryker
Ineed help. How fast can you get to St. Petersburg?
