With a cocky wink, the man lying on top of me nods.
“Is Nikolai with you?”
The smug expression on Asher’s face fades before he shakes his head. “But we’re clearly on the right path.”
He rolls off me before standing to his feet. Leaves fall from my back when he hoists me off the ground without seeking permission.
While Trey and Maddox silently reprimand me from leaving their post, Trey requests an update from his crew. My interests pique when he asks, “Any signs of Maxsim?”
A ginger-haired man with pasty white skin shakes his head. “No, but I bet she knows where he is.” He yanks Maya forward, his shove so aggressive, she falls to her knees.
“I don’t know anything—” Maya’s words are cut off by the butt of the ginger’s gun skating across her temple.
“Don’t!”
The man’s furious growl at my demand simpers to a purr when Asher growls at him in Russian that he’ll slice his tendons if he so much as looks at me in the wrong manner.
“Nikolai may not be here to punish you, but that does not mean I won’t,” Asher continues to warn, unaware I am bilingual.
After swallowing harshly, the unnamed man asks, “Nikolai’s?”
“Yes,” numerous men reply in sync.
When the man steps back in fear, I approach Maya. The blood streaming down the left side of her face makes me squeamish, but I push aside my annoying neurosis. I don’t have time for childish responses.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Maya whispers in French when I raise her head via her chin. “He said he loved me, and that he was going to give me what I deserved.” She hiccups numerous times in a row. “No one was meant to die. It wasn’t meant to be like this.”
“Who promised you, Maya? Maxsim?”
Salty water mingles with blood when Maya nods.
I take in a relieved breath. This explains how Maxsim knew so much about Nikolai’s private life. Maya’s presence at the Popov compound is so ghost-like, everyone talks freely around her. It isn’t that they trust her; they just never saw her as a threat. Enslaved women aren’t known for their gusto.
Not wanting our conversation overheard, Maya communicates with me in French. “I tried to help. I-I promise. When I heard what was happening, I tried to stop it.” Her stuttering makes it hard for me to decipher what she’s saying, but I get the gist of it.
I squeeze her hand, believing the honesty in her eyes. “This was too big for you, Maya. You should have reached out to Trey or me.”
Her lip quivers as she replies, “I was going to, but when you and Nikolai escaped, I thought you’d come back for Rico.”
My heart rate jumps. “Nikolai? He was here?” In my excitement, I express my question in English.
When Maya nods, Trey steps forward. “When?”
“Il y a trois jours.”
“Three days ago?” I double-check.
Maya nods again.
“Was he okay?” Nothing but hope rings in my tone.
Color drains from Maya’s face before she shakes her head. “He wasn’t well.” Confusion crosses her features before she asks, “How do you not know that? You were with him. You were the last person to see him alive.”
The confused suspicion in her voice makes the wooziness clouding my head double. What she is saying can’t be true. I’d remember. Nikolai isn’t a man you easily forget. She must be mistaken. If Nikolai was with me three days ago, he would have been found with me. I wouldn’t just abandon him—especially if he’s injured.
Maya isn’t the one peering at me in skepticism. Several pairs of eyes are glaring at me, some more angry than wary.
“If I knew where he was, I’d tell you,” I half-sob/half-shout to the men glaring at me through lowered lashes. “I don’t know where he is. I don’t remember anything!”
