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From what I knew of police tactics, they wouldn’t try to make another move until they replenished their numbers. That gave me a small window to get the hell out of here. American prisons may have been easier than Russian ones, but I had no desire to see the inside of either ever again.
“If you move, I’ll shoot you,” I barked as I climbed up into the driver’s seat. Starting the engine, I steered the SUV in the opposite direction of the cops and peeled out of the parking lot.
“Whoareyou? Who the fuck kills two cops like it’s nothing? They have helicopters, you know! And cameras! How far do you think you’re going to get now that you’ve—”
“Shut up!” God, his fucking mouth would.not.stop! I couldn’t think with him yammering on. There were plenty more where they came from and I needed to sort through my options before I inadvertently drove us into a roadblock or right over spike strips.
Because he couldn’t seem to help himself, Roan kept going. “Where are we going? If this is some suicide-by-cop shit, let me out right here. I’m not fucking dying for you!”
“I swear to God, if you don’t shut your fucking mouth, I’ll shut it for you.” In case he forgot Ididhave a gun and Iwasn’tafraid to pull the trigger, I aimed it at his head.
He swallowed hard, pressing himself into the corner of his seat, his eyes locked on the barrel hovering right in front of his face. “What’s going to happen to Katya? Is that guy going to kill her now?”
Rage coursed through my veins. Always a challenge. Always pushing that little bit more. He saw what I was capable of and he still thought it was a good idea to test me. I was beginning to think bravery and stupidity went hand in hand with him.
Instead of shooting him, I did what I did the first time we ever stood face-to-face — I slammed the heavy barrel of my gun into the side of his head as hard as I fucking could.
He slumped against the door, a rivulet of blood trickling down the side of his face.
Maybe now he’d stop asking so many fucking questions.
15
Roan
Someone tooka sledgehammer to the side of my head. Or, at least, that’s what it felt like. I was pretty sure I had a concussion. The pain, the wooziness, it all reminded me of any number of head injuries I got playing soccer or fucking around with Freddy through the years.
I reached for the side of my head, but my arms wouldn’t move. Jerking up, I looked right and immediately whipped my head left. Both of my wrists were handcuffed to a wooden headboard. I yanked against the restraints, but they didn’t give. All I accomplished was rattling the bed and tiring my arms out.
Letting out a string of curse words, each one came out muffled. I tried to open my mouth, but it was stuck shut. Tape, or glue, or something. That fucker.
He wasn’t even here for me to silently seethe at. There wasn’t anywhere in this tiny motel room for him to hide, except the bathroom. The door was open and the light was off, so I doubted he was in there. How could he tie me up and leave? What if I asphyxiated? What if my brain swelled and I died right there?
Unable to do a damn thing, I glared at the dusty popcorn ceiling and took stock of my new situation.
Not only were these mystery Russians into bank robbing, they were also clearly involved in human trafficking. Is that what they had planned for me? I didn’t think I really fit their demographic, but what did I know? Maybe there was a market for tall, lean, blond-haired, blue-eyed guys.
Except, Mr. Black didn’t send me with the girls. Did that mean he had a different fate planned? Or was it some fear that I’d spoil the goods, so to speak, before the girls got to their new buyers?
I snorted at the thought. Aside from the fact I wasn’t a rapistora pedophile, there was the tiny little detail of my sexual orientation. Yuri’s threat could have all been for show, but I didn’t want to take the chance. As far as I knew,theydidn’t know about my sexuality and I’d prefer to keep it that way.
Admittedly, it was sometimes difficult whenever my silent captor was around.
No, Roan!
Tall, dark, and murdery werenotadmirable traits. He wasn’t even nice. Nice to look at, butnota nice person.
Jesus Christ. He was holding me captive, killed two cops right in front of me, and handcuffed me to a fucking bed.Noneof that was ok. He was a fucking psychopath. But try telling that to my dick, who had a shitty track record when it came to choosing men, and was now awake and in search of release.
As if my life couldn’t get any worse, the deadbolt turned and the door swung open.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my hard-on to dissipate that very instant. Maybe if I ignored it, it would go away.Notlooking at my smoldering kidnapper was a good start.
The mattress dipped to my left.
My eyes flew open, right as Mr. Black’s hand hovered over my face.
Even if there was something over my mouth, I still tried to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing.
