I tighten my grip on his throat just a fraction. The laughter dies. “Wrong answer.”
Footsteps pound, coming close. I glance around and see Andrei. Behind him, security is locking down the perimeter. Police sirens draw closer.
“Names. Now.”
He shakes his head. I haul him upright, wrenching his arm behind his back until his shoulder is on the verge of popping. He screams.
“Names!”
“Screw you!”
Andrei approaches.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“Inside. Safe. The cops are there and she’s with them. Didn’t want to leave you solo.”
I glance up at the parking lot. “Car is there?”
Andrei turns to where I’m looking.
“Yeah, far end of that row,” he says, pointing.
“Good. We’re taking him home with us.”
“Understood.”
Together, we carry the man. He thrashes and screams, but it doesn’t do him any good. It takes a little doing, but we soon have him at the back of the car. Andrei pops the trunk, reaching in and grabbing some zip ties.
In under a minute, we have the man tied, black-bagged, and locked in the trunk. I wipe the sweat from my brow, then flick the safety on my gun before returning it to my inner holster.
“She’s safe?” I ask again.
“Yes. Doesn’t look like anyone was hurt.” He nods to the trunk. “Aside from this poor SOB.”
I run my hand through my hair. “Take him home. Put him in the basement.”
Andrei’s eyes flash. He knows what that means. “Understood.” He slips into the car and drives off.
I want answers. And I’ll get them.
But first, I need to make certain she’s safe with my own eyes.
CHAPTER 41
ROMAN
I’m standing near the cordoned edge of the terrace when the first officers push through. Paramedics have Amalie seated on a bench just inside the museum doors, a foil blanket around her shoulders, a blood-pressure cuff squeezing her arm. She’s pale and furious—but unharmed.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Max Russo stepping out of a car. He scans the scene, spotting me instantly. Then his attention turns to Amalie.
Something tightens in my chest. I’m not sure what the cause of it is, but I have a bad feeling.
Max swaggers over casually. “Hell of a party,” he says, shaking his head.
“Right on time, Russo,” I say. “Arriving when there’s no longer a need for you.”
Anger flashes across his face, but he masks it quickly. “We’ll figure out who’s behind this.”
