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It makes me feel so vulnerable. So helpless.
My heart skips a beat when someone knocks sharply on the front door.
And before the relief has a chance to set in, my confusion takes over. Who would be knocking at this hour? Frowning, I slowly turn to study the unmoving barrier. It can’t be Gleb because he would just let himself in. And it’s a different knock than Lev and Denka have used to check-in.
“Who’s there?” I ask, slowly creeping toward the door.
“Leon,” he says, his Russian accent thick with agitation and vaguely familiar. “I’m one of Gleb’s men. Something’s happened to him. He told me to bring you to him right away.”
Panic turns my blood cold. That Gleb didn’t come himself means it must be bad. Oh god, has he been mortally wounded?
The image of Gleb asking for me as he bleeds out somewhere floods my vision. The cold metal of the door handle bites into my palm as I wrench it open, the humid, stagnant air of the hall slicing through the room like a harsh breath.
As soon as the door swings wide, I realize my terrible mistake.
In my moment of alarm, I stopped thinking. My fingers slip from the doorknob.
I opened the door to two massive Russians who fill the hallway.
Two men whose expressions tell me they don’t belong with Gleb at all.
“No,” I breathe, my heart shuddering to a halt. Adrenaline flushes through me.
A wicked grin spreads across the first man’s face—the one who called himself Leon. And before I can move, his hand closes around my throat.
He’s fast.
Air trapped in my lungs, I scrabble at his fingers, trying to break his grip. But he’s too strong. And my frantic sense of helplessness drives me to the brink of panic.
He steers me back into the condo as the man behind him closes the door and locks it. Caging me in with them.
Gasping, I kick out.
Fighting desperately, I give it everything I have.
But he overpowers me with ease.
“Keep quiet,” my captor growls.
He pulls a chair out from the dining table before shoving me into it with astonishing force. My back and ribs groan, my sit bones bruising instantly as they hit the hard seat. The wood protests noisily under my sudden impact, and the bottom of the legs squeaks across the floor. The resulting nails-on-a-chalkboard sound raises goosebumps on my flesh.
His partner grasps my wrists. Wrenching my arms around, he ties them behind my back. Sharp plastic bites into my skin, trapping me in place.
The first guy—whose dark eyes glint with menace—crouches in front of me. But he keeps a stranglehold on my neck. “Make a sound, and I’ll kill your little girl. Got it?” he murmurs.
I shudder, the fear bitter on my tongue. I don’t doubt he means every word. A strangled noise issues from my mouth. I don’t have enough air to speak. So I nod.
“Good.” The man releases me then.
I drag in painful gasps of air. Throat raw, I lean forward as my head spins with the sudden rush of oxygen.
“What do you want?” I rasp, finally managing to calm my heart enough to speak.
I don’t know where Gleb went today, but these men could just as easily belong to Mikhail as they could the Kellys.
Either way, I don’t recognize them.
And they’re clearly prepared to hurt me.
