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“Gate locked,” a Russian-accented voice said. Then he ran back toward the house.
I slipped my shoes on. I’d have to scale the gate, and then it would be a footrace to the neighboring house and safety. Or, I could try to hide until Duke got here. He had to be on the way, didn’t he?
The door to the house opened and closed, then silence.
When they didn’t find me, they’d search this area again. The grapevines didn’t provide enough cover to hide, so my decision was made for me—climb the gate and run through the small vineyard to the neighbor’s house.
Peering over the barbecue, the coast was clear. I sprinted for the pool house.
Get to the gate and then the neighbor. Get to the neighbor.I turned the corner at a run. “Oof.” I ran smack into a nightmare.
“There you are.” Johnson grabbed me.
Eyes.I tried to scratch him, but he grabbed my wrist.
Knees. I kicked at him but only hit his shin.
“Bitch.” He slapped me across the face so hard my vision blurred.
Throat.I threw a punch where I thought his throat was, or at least one of them, but missed wildly. Nothing I tried worked.
He heaved me over his shoulder. “I like a little fight in a girl. You and me are going to have a lot of fun.”
I kicked and hammered his back with no effect as he carried me to the house.
“Tape her to this chair,” Pons ordered. The chair was big and beefy, not the kind I could tip over and break.
Tony Spinelli tossed his brother a roll of tape, and once again, nothing I did to resist worked.
Yaroslavsky sniffed my hair while Johnson taped my legs. Then he grabbed my breast and squeezed. “Ripe.”
I spit at his hand but missed.
“Spirited horse make best mount,” he said with a laugh.
“You stay with her while I get my kit,” Pons ordered after Johnson finished.
“Sir?” A waif of a girl who couldn’t be more than sixteen stood in the doorway. “Dessert is ready.” She didn’t even give me—a woman in obvious distress, duct-taped to a chair—a second glance.
“Thank you, Natasha. Igor, join me for pryaniki.”
“Real pryaniki?”
“I think you’ll like how Natasha makes them.”
Yaroslavsky grinned. “We see.”
Natasha? The name on the bracelet in his sex dungeon. Was the teenager a girl Pons hadboughtfrom Yaroslavsky?
A wave of nausea rolled over me.
CHAPTER 37
Duke
Terry and Jordyrolled up right behind us in a second Cayenne at the meet point on Wild Bush Lane. I was already gearing up with what we carried in the back of the Cayenne.
“Terry, gear up. You’re going in with us,” Lucas called. “Jordy, you’re on comms, and we need eyes in the sky.”
