Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“If she means nothing to you, she’s of no use to me,” Prodi threatens.
Fuck.
I should let them kill her. It will be merciful compared to what lies ahead.
I stare at Prodi, and as he gestures to one of the men to take care of Everleigh, I hiss, “She’s my girlfriend.”
What the fuck are you doing?
Prodi gives a skeptical look, then orders, “Go get the girl.”
He doesn’t believe the lie we’ve told him.
I keep my expression neutral, and when Everleigh is dragged back into the room, she’s also shoved down on a chair, and her wrists are strapped to the armrests.
Her eyes are wide on the knife embedded into the back of my hand, and it looks like she’s going to puke.
“How long have you been in a relationship?” Prodi asks.
“Just over a year,” I answer so Everleigh doesn’t fuck things up.
“Don’t you like Russian pussy?” he asks.
“I like my women exotic,” I mutter. “If it weren’t for Everleigh, I’d try some Italian pussy.”
The knife is ripped from my hand, and a curse bursts from me, “Iisus Khristos.” I shake my head and chuckle darkly because, so help me God, I will kill Riccardo Prodi.
One of Prodi’s men walks to Everleigh, and grabbing her hair, he yanks her head back and presses the knife to her pulse. She makes a squeaking sound, her terrified gaze darting to me.
I’ve seen fear before but nothing like the horror in her amber eyes.
Christ, you’re going to get yourself killed for a woman you don’t know.
“Tell me about your girlfriend,” Prodi says as he lights another cigarette.
“She’s from Ohio. She recently lost her parents, so she only has me.” I hate lying, but I’m fucking good at it. “She just finished school and came to Russia to be with me. We’re going to elope so I can keep her here with me.”
Prodi tilts his head, his eyes flicking between us. “You don’t look in love.”
“No fucking shit,” I mutter. “This isn’t the honeymoon I envisioned for us.”
“You didn’t seem to mind when your brother ripped off her nail,” he mentions. He gestures to his men, then says, “Choose who will take the beating from my men.”
Fuck my life.
I shake my head as I let out a chuckle, “Of course, it will be me.”
He nods, and a soldier comes to unstrap my forearms, and I’m pulled to a standing position. It’s only then I notice the pool of blood that’s formed by the leg of the chair.
If Prodi doesn’t kill us, infection will. I doubt the man is going to provide us with first aid.
Another soldier comes to yank my arms behind my back, and cable ties are used to restrain me.
Everleigh’s breathless with fear, her eyes still glued to me.
The men attack all at once, and with my wrists tied, I can’t do much to defend myself. I take punch after punch and hear Everleigh cry, “Please stop! You’re going to kill him.”
I stagger a step back while a grin spreads over my face, “It will take a hell of a lot more than this to kill me, sweetheart.”
The next punch to my nose drops my ass to the floor. The men start to kick, and when a boot slams into my head, everything goes black.
It’s our first day on the job, and I give Misha a nervous look.
We’ve been assigned to Rodin, a low-level boss, and we have no idea what’s in store for us. We only know not to disappoint Papa.
“If Vincent could do it, so can we,” I whisper.
Misha nods. “At least we’re together.”
We’re standing outside a warehouse where we were told to meet Rodin, and as he and ten of his men climb out of SUVs, I straighten my spine.
These are the men we’ll have to impress if we want to work our way up to boss level.
When Rodin pulls a bat out of the SUV, my muscles tighten.
Blood in, blood out.
Chapter 8
Everleigh
I’m sitting next to Alek, who still hasn’t come to. They just dropped him on the floor and locked us in the room again.
My nerves are frayed, and I don’t know how much more I can take.
Alek went along with my lie, and because of it, they beat the crap out of him. I feel horrible for putting him in this position, but in all fairness, I’m here because he kidnapped me.
It’s hard to think of Alek as my kidnapper. Especially when we’re being held captive by worse people.
My eyes move over all his injuries, the slash on his left forearm, the stab wound in his right hand, and all the blood on his face. It looks like his nose is broken.
I wish I could clean him up.
My gaze darts to the door, and I’m torn in two. What if I ask for a first aid kit, and they torture us some more?