AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “I assure you, the food has not been tampered with. You will find things much more enjoyable if you indulge me.”
I shook my head. “I’m good.” With my nerves, I wasn’t sure I could hold the food down.
He slammed a fist on the table. “I will not tolerate insolence.”
I flinched.
“If necessary, Mr. Spinelli will strip you bare and force-feed you like a baby.”
Spinelli’s chuckle got a scowl from Pons.
I picked up the sandwich and took a tentative bite.Please, Duke, now would be an excellent time to rescue me. I chewed slowly to stretch out whatever was going to happen and give Duke time to find me. He would find me. I knew it in my bones.
“You have the key I want.”
I schooled my face. This was the first time the drive had been referred to as a key.
“Having the contents of that box out there has caused me and my associates to lose a considerable amount of time and money.” His face twisted in anger. “I want it. And I want it now.”
The door opened. “Yaroslavsky has arrived,” Johnson said.
As if my day could get any worse. The Russian mob boss Duke had mentioned was a part of this?
“Take her upstairs,” Pons commanded. “I need to talk to Igor.”
Spinelli was at my side in an instant, yanking me up. So much for a pleasant lunch.
He shoved me into a spartan bedroom this time. It was clearly not a normal bedroom, as the lock clicked on a double-sided deadbolt as soon as Spinelli left. This was Pons’s version of a prison cell.
Checking the window, the drop from this height didn’t look too bad. I could make a rope out of the bedsheets to slide down. But when I slid the glass to the side, it stopped after three inches. A bar had been welded into the channel. Yup, this was a guest bedroom for involuntary guests.
Sliding to the side and peeking down, I saw a rotund man in a rumpled suit and two goons, one with a bald head and the other with a scary neck full of tattoos.
“How are you, Igor?” Pons said.
“Better when we have key.” Igor’s Russian accent was thick.
“Your brother was supposed to get it for us,” Pons said.
“Where girl?”
“Upstairs.”
“Where key?”
“She only just arrived, so I don’t have that answer yet.”
“No more room for drums. Your method too slow. Give her me, and I show how we do it in Russia. ”
“Very soon, I’ll be able to take your deliveries again,” Pons said.
Drums? Deliveries?
“Once this EPA situation is settled,” he continued, “we’ll both be making money again. God, I love the EPA. Every new regulation and fee makes us more money.”
The Russian laughed. “And short drive.”
Taking deliveries of barrels and needing to fix the EPA situation could only mean one thing. They were making money together by avoiding the fees for the proper disposal of hazardous wastes that were supposed to be going to Nevada for processing. I’d scratch their eyes out for putting innocent families at risk by polluting our water.
