I wanted to ask how he knew that, but then I realised it was a stupid question. Of course the Bratva would have an extensive dossier on anyone they allowed into their circle, allies or not. Then the full meaning of his words hit me.
“She’s not here at the manor?” My head shot to Ryker’s, my eyes widening as I took in his expression. “She’s here, right?”
His throat worked as his gaze darted towards the door. “Yes?Fuck. I’ll be right back.”
He ran, swerving around the large group of men arguing and gesticulating. Des must’ve called for backup because the Thorpe men now outnumbered the Volkov men, but the Volkovs still had far too many weapons, and they were out for blood.
I caught my dad’s eye. He was standing in the corner of the room with his hands clasped behind his back, ostensibly a neutral party, although I knew his loyalty lay with the Thorpe Syndicate.
Okay?I mouthed, and he nodded. His brows flew up when he took in my position with Volkov still holding a gun to my chin, and he made a step towards me. I frowned, discreetly lifting my hand to still his movements. Him coming over here would only exacerbate the situation.
Ryker rushed back into the room. He glanced over at Des, who was locked in a silent face-off with Grigory, and exhaled harshly. “Fuck. I need to speak to Des, to find out which one of our men was bringing her here. No one’s seen her, and she’s not in her room.”
“As I told you,” Volkov ground out. “She is with another man.”
Ryker got all up in his face. “There is no fucking way my sister is with another man voluntarily. Get that through your fucking head, right now.”
“We will see.” Lowering the gun, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist. “Let’s go.”
“Let go of me. I’m not gonna resist, asshole.” I yanked my arm free. “Ry, speak to Des. I don’t fucking care— I can’t?—”
“I know.” Ryker’s gaze met mine, hard and determined. “That’s my fucking twin. The most important person in my world. I’m not gonna let anything happen to her.” With that,he stalked across the room towards Des, interrupting his stand-off with Volkov’s dad, speaking low and fast. Desmond’s eyes widened, his hand going straight to his earpiece. As he spoke, he kept his gaze on Grigory, but when whoever was on the other end replied, he swore harshly, turning to Ryker.
“She was collected by one of our men. Bill Smith. He was there with me when we picked her up. We had no intel, no reason that we needed to be suspicious of anything, but we haven’t been able to reach him since the game finished. He’s gone radio silent.”
I was already pushing through the arguing group, Volkov and Dan at my side.
“Yourman. We did not have anything to do with this,” Volkov said, glancing at his father. “Attwood. Hoyton. Thorpe. You will come with me. We will follow the map, and we will find out what trouble my fiancée is mixed up in.”
40
NOVA
“Miss Thorpe.” The man who greeted me at the rink doors was the same one who’d driven me to the game with Des. He’d introduced himself as Bill when he’d picked me up, and I’d recognised him as one of my father’s newer hires. Another of his endless supply of henchmen, doing his dirty work for him while he pretended that he was above it all.
“Hi.” I gave Bill a small smile.
“Come with me, please. I’ve parked round the back.” He hustled me around the side of the building to the waiting car.Opening the door, he ushered me inside.
“Thank you,” I said, sliding into the cool leather interior. He nodded.
“Anything I can get ya, Miss Thorpe? We got water, orange juice, crisps…”
“Um. A water would be good, thanks.”
Climbing into the front seat, he leaned over to rummage in the glove box. Handing me a bottle of spring water, he swiped my phone from its position on the back seat next to my thigh. “I’ll get that charged up for ya, miss.”
“I have enough battery—” I began, but he was already plugging it into a cable that was hanging out of the open glove box. When he closed the glove box with my phone inside, unease trickled through my veins. “Could I have my phone back, please?”
Tapping the front of the glove box, he winked at me. “Fast charge. Give it five minutes, and she’ll be all juiced up for ya.” The locks clicked, and he started up the engine. He murmured into his headset, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror, and I sighed, tilting my head back and closing my eyes as the car rumbled through the darkened streets.
When I opened them again, we were on a country road with high hedges on either side. My brows pulled together as I stared into the dark, my eyes straining to make out my surroundings. I’d made the journey between the rink and Thorpe Manor several times, and something about this road felt unfamiliar.
We had also been driving for a lot longer than five minutes.
“Bill? Could I have my phone back, please?”
“Almost there,” he said in reply, flipping the indicator as he spun the wheel to the right, turning onto a bumpy lane.
