Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
I wiped the tears from my face and walked over to the window. I eased the curtain back and was surprised to find that Sergei’s house was in the middle of a beautiful subdivision with houses the size of castles and yards that had been landscaped to the hilt. Everything around—the houses, the cars, the boats—screamed money. Everything except my old, beat-up Pathfinder that sat in the driveway.
I was right. They had gone to the house. I’m sure they cleared the place of any evidence of wrongdoing. They certainly had the means to do so. They clearly had the means to do whatever they wanted.
My chest tightened as I thought about Ford. I could almost feel him worrying over where I was. He was a tough kid and tried to put on a brave front, but he was too smart not to realize something was wrong, especially after everything that happened with my father. I’d promised him I’d be back by lunch. And now, it was dark.
I pressed my fingers against the glass, and I wished there was some way I could reach through it and escape. But then, I thought about Viktor and his threat of putting a bullet in my pretty little head. Needless to say, it was enough to make me give up on the idea of trying to get out of here on my own.
I dropped my head into my hands and took a few cleansing breaths, hoping it would help settle my nerves. I actually thought it was helping until I heard a knock at the door.
I turned just as it creaked open, and a man stepped inside.
He was dressed in a crisp, white button-down and black slacks, and he had the same dark hair and square jaw as Viktor and Sergei, making me wonder if they might be related. But there was something different about him. He seemed colder, more intense, and the dark tattoos along his throat and hands only added to his menacing presence.
He didn’t speak. He just stared.
Waiting.
Almost daring.
Then, he stepped into the room, slow and deliberate, and his eyes remained trained on me and not in a good way. I swallowed hard, hoping it would ease the knot in my throat.
I stayed perfectly still and watched as he crossed the room. It wasn’t until he turned slightly that I noticed that he had a tray of food in his hands.
He walked over to the dresser and set it down without a sound. I glanced over at it and saw that there was a plate of roasted chicken, greens beans, potatoes, and a glass of water. I hadn’t eaten all day, and it smelled amazing, but I couldn’t bring myself to move.
He motioned his hand towards the tray as he told me, “For you.”
“Thank you.”
“Hmmm.” His eyes skirted over me, and a slight smile slipped across his lips as he said, “Viktor said you know Maggie’s.”
“I do.”
“Best burger in the States.”
“Yeah, they weren’t half bad, but their French toast was hard to beat.”
“You ever checked out DUMBO?”
DUMBO was the natives' terminology of Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass. It was an area filled with shops, bookstores, and art galleries. It was quite trendy, and this guy looked anything but trendy. “You know about that area?”
“Yeah, my mother was a big fan of the place.” He didn’t smile, but I could hear the amusement in his voice as he said, “I was the only one she could get to go with her.”
“My son wasn’t a big fan, but I loved it there. Bushwick, too.”
“Yes. They have some impressive murals in that area.”
“You into art?”
“You could say that.” He pushed back his sleeve, revealing the intricate tattoos that marked his skin. “It’s not for everyone, but it tells a story that only a few will ever truly understand.”
“Art isn’t always just about beauty.” I gave him a half smile. “Sometimes, it’s about remembering.”
He might’ve been a bit more intense than Sergei or Viktor, but I felt I would actually kind of like him—if he wasn’t holding me captive. That made it difficult for me to see him as anything but a villain. But he made me question that even more when he asked, “So, you’re with one of the Fury brothers?”
“I am.”
“I hear they’re good men. Their president has made a name for himself and his club.”
“Sergei didn’t seem to agree.”
“My brother needs reminding of where he came from.”
“Well, feel free to remind him.”
“I certainly will.” He started for the door as he said, “I’m Nikolai. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thank you, Nikolai.”
Before he walked out, he motioned his head toward the tray of food. “Eat. At the very least, hydrate. We don’t want that boyfriend of yours thinking we didn’t take good care of you.”
I nodded but stayed put as I watched him close the door behind him. Seconds later, the lock clicked, and I found myself alone once again. I walked over and gave the tray a quick once over. The food looked fine, so I picked up the tray and carried it over to the bed. I sat down and took a bite of bread. It didn’t have a funny taste or smell, so I went for it.