A single woman kneels on the floor, her head bowed. Her red dress clings to a too-thin frame, and Semyon cries, “Elena!”
Inara turns and glares at Kolya. “You said there would be women. Is this all you have to offer?”
“No, no. But this one…she is special. I believe she is perfect for Comrade Popov. I wanted him to have a few moments with her before the auction. Alone.”
Inara leans in to whisper in West’s ear in Pashto.“You’re supposed to fuck her. Put on a show and get her and the girls out. I’ll distract Kolya.”
I don’t like this. We knew they’d probably have to split up, but the plan was for West to excuse himself to the bathroom. Not be locked in a room with a girl he’s supposed to fuck.
“Leave us,” West grits out, striding over to the girl and grabbing a handful of her blond locks and forcing her head up to meet his gaze. He leans over, inhales deeply, and then turns around to glare at Kolya. “Teper.”
“Come, Natalya. I will show you to your seat for the auction. Sergei will wait outside for your employer.” Kolya takes Inara’s arm and guides her from the room as West wraps his hand around Elena’s throat and hauls her to her feet.
As soon as the door closes, West leans in and whispers in Elena’s ear. “Are there cameras in this room?”
Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t answer.
With his hands roving down her body, he pretends to kiss her neck. “Elena. Listen to me. I’m here for you. To get you and the other girls out of here. Semyon is waiting. Along with Zion’s sister. But you have to answer me. Are there cameras in this room?”
“Da. Behind you.”
West roughly shoves Elena over to the settee in the corner as Wren’s fingers fly over the keyboard. “Sixty seconds,” she says. “Make it look good.”
Grasping the strap of her dress, West glares down at the frightened girl. “Fight me, Elena.” He climbs on top of her and pulls up her skirt with one hand, pinning her wrists with the other. She bucks, trying to throw him off, but he’s twice her weight, if not more. “Just a little longer.”
“You’re good,” Wren says and lets out a shuddering breath. “The cameras will be glitchy, but they’ll mix static with a looped image.”
“Thank fuck.” West jumps off Elena and helps her to her feet. “I’m sorry, kid. I had to make it look real. Do you know where the other girls are?”
She nods, swiping at tears tumbling down her cheeks. “They are in basement.”
“Any other way down there besides the stairs outside the ballroom?” West asks as he pulls his pistol from the holster.
Her eyes go wide, and she chokes back a sob. “Freight elevator. To the right, all the way down the hall.”
“Let me guess. Cameras everywhere?”
“Da.”
West presses his back to the wall behind the door, motioning Elena out of the way. “We’re going to move fast. Do you have shoes?”
“No. He take them.” She shakes her head, staring down at her bare feet. Bruises cover her legs and her face has been used as a punching bag too many times. “I can run.”
“Okay. Romeo, prepare for my signal. India, get the hell out.”
On the left half of Wren’s tablet screen, Inara laughs at something Kolya has to say, then lifts the glass of Champagne to her lips as she takes a step—directly into another guest’s path. The glass tumbles from her hand, the liquid spilling onto her pants.
“Der’mo! Imbecil,” she mutters at the man she ran into, then turns back to Kolya. “Do you have a powder room? This will ruin my outfit.”
“Show her,” Kolya orders one of his men, and the beefy guard starts to lead her down the hall.
Back upstairs, West shouts, “Help!Pomogite!”
When the guard bursts into the room, West wraps an arm around his neck and squeezes, cutting off the man’s air. “Shut the door,” he hisses to Elena, and she rushes forward.
Fifteen agonizing seconds later, the Russian sinks to his knees, and West holds on for another four count before letting him drop. “Headed to the freight elevator.”
“Roger that,” I say, my eyes trained on Inara’s camera as she reaches the ladies’ room.
