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Fuck, fuck, fuck! She could be anywhere. With anyone. The thought of her in another dark corner of the club with some stranger makes me feel sick.
I slam my palms against Sergey’s chest one more useless time. “Get off of me.”
He swipes my arms away and fumbles with the hem of my dress. He drags his hand over my upper thigh. I squeeze my legs together until I think they might snap.
“Don’t fucking touch me! I’ll scream.”
Sergey pulls back just long enough to smile. “Go ahead. No one will hear you.”
He’s right.
No one can hear me. No one can see us.
Mariya is alone and I need to get to her.
My dress is up to my waist now as I let the punches fly. I pound on Sergey’s chest and shoulders and head with flailing fists. He yells and stumbles back just as one catches him in the nose.
Pain lances through my hand, but I barely feel it. I can’t feel anything with the adrenaline pouring through me.
Until Sergey draws back and smashes his fist directly into my face.
His knuckles collide with my cheekbone. My head bounces off the glass behind me. Stars swirl in my vision as an instantaneous headache roars through my skull.
Pain. It’s all pain.
So much that I can’t think about anything else.
Not even when cold air rushes over my hips.
When strange fingers tug at the waist of my panties.
When nightmares from the past blend into the cold, hard reality of what’s about to happen to me in the bleeding edge of the present.
54
YAKOV
Oleg meets up with me as I’m mounting the stairs to the mezzanine level. “I talked to the head of security as soon as I got here. Security cameras caught them coming in, but the cameras upstairs are down,” he says. “They haven’t worked for over a month.”
Of course they’re down. Why should anything in my life be fucking simple?
“But Luna and Mariya went upstairs?”
Oleg nods. “And they were alone.”
Knowing they’re not on the main floor narrows the scope of our search, but not by much.
The mezzanine wraps around the entire club. People are writhing and dancing in the strobing lights everywhere I look. We make our way down one side without spotting them and are coming up the other when a woman in a see-through dress with stars over her nipples throws herself at me. “Buy me a drink?”
“No.”
She somehow manages to smile through a pout. “Buy me a drink and I’ll give you anything you want.”
A few weeks ago, I would have taken her up on her offer for no other reason than I was bored. I would have fucked this woman’s face, tossed her a few bucks for a drink, and carried on with my night.
Now, she’s repulsive.
I shove her into the leather chair behind her and she flips me off. “Asshole!”
