“Behave, little girl,” he commanded in a thick accent. And I didn’t know why, but hearing him speak in English made everything so much more real and frightening.
Chances were high, I wasn’t getting out of this alive.
On our journey downstairs, I noticed all of my Nest cameras had been covered. Kozlov had cased the house beforehand, probably when Ransom and I were in Texas. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be familiar with their locations.
“I don’t know where he is,” I groaned when I noticed Kozlov standing by the door, waiting for his soldier and me. “I’ll be no help.”
Kozlov smiled serenely, half-patting half-slapping my cheek. “He’ll come for you. You mean something to him.”
Jesus. How closely did they follow us?
Black cloth wrapped around my eyes from behind, secured firmly in a double knot. I was shoved outside, into a car—not a spacious one by the feel of it—where I sat quietly while three voices conversed in Russian.
Sorting hysterically through my jumbled thoughts, I tried figuring out what they wanted from me. I was obviously a means to an end. Something to lure Ransom into their territory. Then again, I doubted they’d spare my life if things went sideways.
The drive was excruciatingly slow, but I didn’t know if it was because they’d taken me far, or on account of my nerves being shot.
When the car finally came to a stop, I didn’t know whether to feel relief or renewed fear. The door to the back seat flung open. The person who sat next to me got out first, pulling me along. Since I sat in the middle, I felt the person behind me poking my back, egging me on.
“Where are you taking me?” I hiccupped. “I’m President Thorne’s daughter. If you think you’ll get away with this, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Even to myself, I sounded like a weak side character in a slasher film, destined to die quickly and painfully to move the plot along.
I heard Kozlov chuckling near me. “Relax.”
“Are you serious right now? You want me to relax?”
He didn’t answer.
We went up a flight of stairs. Each step I took felt like I was nearing a death sentence.
The place smelled weird. A mixture of dust, food, and old wool. I wondered where we were. How close we were to civilization.
“When will you take my blindfold off?” I tried to keep my voice calm. Keep the conversation going. Remind them that I was human, and innocent.
“Soon.” Kozlov sounded almost cheery.
“You don’t expect him to come here, do you?” I asked. “He doesn’t know where this place is.”
“I don’t,” he confirmed. “I plan on dangling you in front of him somewhere else. Once I decide on the details.”
“And if he doesn’t take the bait?” My voice echoed in an empty, dank room. A shove to my shoulder made my ass meet a hard wooden chair. Someone behind me untied my blindfold.
Kozlov stood in front of me, chuckling as he opened his arms. “Then I suppose the bait would become useless to us.”
No need to tie me down. I was in no danger of escaping. A big, bald man stood by the door of the small back office. Kozlov was right in front of me, holding a gun, and his assistant was sitting behind a desk, awaiting instructions.
The phone tucked in my waistband burned my skin, demanding to be used. I could ask to go to the bathroom and see if I had service. Whatever I chose to do, it needed to be done before my battery died.
Kozlov strode toward me, tugging at his dress pants before crouching slightly to bring himself to my eye level. “Miss Thorne, here is what’s going to happen. I’m going to ask you questions about your employee, and you are going to answer them truthfully. If you don’t, you will be thrashed. If you refuse to cooperate, you will be thrashed. If you lie, you will be thrashed. Am I understood?”
I nodded. Though, shockingly, I had no desire to share anything about Ransom with him.
It made no sense at all. The man had brought this disastrous situation upon me singlehandedly. I should be singing about him, volunteering any piece of information I had.
Kozlov grabbed a chair and positioned it in front of me. He sank into it.
“One—where does Lockwood keep his weapon?”
That was an easy one. I didn’t even need to lie. I had no idea. I shook my head. “Don’t know.”
“Miss Thorne.” Kozlov smiled regretfully, as if he was on my side. The good cop. “I really wouldn’t like to hurt you more than absolutely necessary. Answer my question.”
“I would love to,” I said, my eyes leveled with his. “But I don’t know the answer to your question. Not sure if you noticed, but he’s a pretty secretive guy.”
The whip came from behind. At some point, his assistant must’ve stood up and taken off his belt. My back was protected by the chair, mostly, but it licked the nape of my neck, burning like a thousand fires.
I let out a soft moan, but didn’t cry. I couldn’t let them win. These people, who trafficked women in and out of the country. Who murdered, and raped, and put weapons into the hands of criminals.
“Question number two,” Kozlov announced, standing up and waltzing the room nonchalantly. “Are you fucking him?”
“How is that your business?” I thundered.
“Everything he does is my business,” he said quietly. “He killed my son.”
“It was an accident!” I blurted out. I knew it was the wrong thing to say before I even finished the sentence. Knew it, because even as I heard it, I realized how miserable it sounded to the ears of the father of that baby.
All Kozlov did was look past me, give a little nod, and turn around, his back to me. I sucked in a breath, bracing myself for what I knew was about to come.
The belt hit my shoulder first.
Then the back of my head.
Then the back of my knees.
I choked on my screams, swallowed down my tears, and refused to break down. My head hung limply on my chest. I was sweating buckets. I couldn’t take it anymore. But I couldn’t tell them anything about Ransom, either.
I found out I was a loyal, trustworthy person…only to waste those traits on a screwed-up man who had no feelings and twice as many issues as me. Typical.
“Now let’s try again, Miss Thorne. And this time, with a little more cooperation…”
In the corner of my eye, I saw Kozlov advancing toward me. My whole body flinched. He raised his hand, no doubt with intentions to hit me. I sucked in a breath.
“Stop.”
The voice was deadly calm. My heart stumbled all over the place, ping-ponging inside me. I looked to the door at the same time Kozlov did. Ransom stood inside it with his arm wrapped around the bodyguard’s throat, his gun to his temple.
I wanted to cry out in relief, but my throat was choked with sobs.
Kozlov turned fully toward him, looking amused more than scared.
“How did you find us?” he inquired, almost politely.
“My client carries a mini iPhone, and I track her whereabouts constantly.”
Kozlov’s gaze flew to his assistant, who recoiled beside me, knowing he would pay dearly for the mistake.
The Bratva soldier was completely still in Ransom’s headlock, aware that my bodyguard had no qualms about putting a bullet in his head if the situation demanded.