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His lips widen in a smug smile, and he leans to whisper in my ear. “I want to fuck you in every part of my home, on every piece of furniture. That way, when I zone out again, I’ll have at least one of those spots in view. That will make it much easier to come back, don’t you think?”
“I like that idea.” I bite his lower lip. “I’m a big supporter of alternative therapy techniques.”
He growls. “Cash register. Car. Kitchen. Let’s go.”
“I need to go to the bathroom after the cash register stop, but I have no complaints about the rest of the itinerary.”
As soon as we’re done paying for my jacket, Sergei ushers me to a mall restroom we find down one of the hallways, and sits on the bench out front to wait for me. I’m just washing my hands when the door behind me opens. I lift my head, glancing at the mirror, and spot the redheaded woman I saw while walking Mimi the other day. Our gazes meet in a reflection, and her lips widen in a smile.
“Angelina Sofia Sandoval,” she says in an accented voice, and cold dread rushes down my spine. “Someone would like to talk with you.”
She takes a few steps toward me and places a phone on the counter next to the sink. I stare at the name shown on the screen, trying to control my erratic breathing, then pick up the cell and press it to my ear.
“Diego,” I say, trying to make my voice sound calm. “What can I do for you?”
“Did you really think you could run away from me, you little bitch?” he barks.
“Yes. I hoped so.”
He laughs like a madman. “I will enjoy breaking your spirit, palomita. No one gets away from Diego Rivera.”
“I’m not going back to Mexico, Diego. Ever. As far as anyone is concerned, I'm a US citizen. So while I'm here, you can't do anything to me.”
“I could kill you,” he says. “Or even better, I could kill that Russian you’ve been fucking. Authorities won’t blink if one of the Bratva’s men ends up gutted on the street. Or with his car blown up. They’ll probably thank me.”
I suck in a breath and straighten my spine. “You won’t dare kill him. It would mean the end of your collaboration with the Russians, and they’re your biggest buyer.”
“That’s true. I would very much prefer to keep a good relationship with them, even if your crazy lover killed my men last time. Russians bring good money to the table, which means you’re going to come back willingly,” he sneers. “I’ve had people watching you for weeks, and from what they say, you seem very close to that demented Russian. Tell me, palomita, are you in love with Belov?”
“Of course not,” I lie. “I’m just using him to get what I need.”
“Then you wouldn’t mind if one of my men waiting on the other side of the hallway shoots him on the spot?”
I grip the edge of the counter in front of me. “Please, don’t.”
A crazy laugh comes from the other side of the line. “The little runaway bitch has fallen in love. How convenient.” He snorts, “So, what will it be? Are you coming back? Or am I killing your lover?”
“You won’t touch Sergei.” I close my eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling. “I’m coming back.”
“Perfect. Now listen to me carefully. You’ll text Juana the time you’ll be alone in the house tomorrow and can slip out without anyone noticing. A car will be waiting for you.”
“Tomorrow?” I choke out.
“Yes. You have one day to figure out how you’ll explain the situation to your Russian. But keep one thing in mind. If hecomes after you, he will be killed the instant he sets foot in Mexico. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
He laughs again. “I’m so looking forward to having you here, palomita. I’m getting quite bored with Maria lately, and I’m sure your pussy is much tighter than hers.”
I throw the phone onto the counter and stare at my reflection. It’s over. I swallow bile, turn toward the redheaded bitch, who’s been standing by my side the whole time, and tell her my number. She saves it, nods, and leaves the bathroom with a smirk on her face. A few seconds later my phone pings with an incoming message. I look at the short text—Juana’s number—and squeeze the phone with all my might.
One deep breath. Then another one. I turn on the water and splash some on my face. It helps a little, but I’m still close to breaking down. I splash more water, then look at my ghostly pale face, wondering what I’m going to do. Should I run? Diego will kill Sergei for sure in that case. I could tell Sergei the truth. He’s more than capable of defending himself. But what if those scumbags set a bomb in his car? Or house? You can’t defend yourself from a bomb.
No, there must be another way. Shit. Think, damn it. Police? Yeah, right.
Maybe I could go back to Mexico, then try to run again? It could work, but it would take me weeks or months until I convince Rivera that I’m docile enough for him to loosen the security. Doesn’t matter. I will endure anything if it means being free of that son of a bitch. But it would also mean never seeing Sergei again.
I wrap my arms around myself, squishing the red leather jacket Sergei just bought for me in the process, and press my lips together to bottle up the scream that’s been building inside ofme since I saw Diego’s name on that phone. No. I’m not falling apart here. Taking a deep breath, I will my legs to move.
