“You fucking son of a bitch. My father will kill you.” She struggled as if tied up, keeping her hands behind her back.
“State your name,” I growled.
“Fuck you,” she shot back, even adding to the dramatic moment by spitting in my face.
I reacted instantly, maybe a little too harshly, cracking my hand across her cheek. The force was just enough for a sound, not enough to cause any pain. However, not only was she a good little actress, snapping her head to the side, she darted the tongue across her bottom lip as if collecting the blood I’d caused. And the fire in her eyes told me even though we were acting, I would be the recipient of retaliation later.
I couldn’t wait.
“Do not!” the purchaser snapped. “Hurt the merchandise.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Far too precious. Now, state your name,” I told her again.
“Rafaela Bitch Marichetti. And I think I’ll kill you myself.” Her words were said with such conviction I wondered if I should be frightened of her and her improved skills.
“Accepted,” the man said.
“I will provide you with a transfer number for the money we discussed. Be mindful of our contract. I will not tolerate a change in plans. Where do I leave her?”
“You’ll have the information later today. Keep her out of the public eye for now. No one is to know you have her.” I could hear a slight hint of concern. Perhaps that was based on the news of my reappearance.
My sigh was full of anger. “If you cross me, I will hunt you down.”
“You’ll have your information by the end of day. Call then.” With that, the unidentified bastard ended the call. The end of day. Things had been expedited. That meant I would need to move forward as well.
Which was fine by me.
Yes, the anger lingered, threatening to exact the same revenge I’d mused over only hours before. The noose had a knot and the invisible monster was swinging the rope in a direct aim for my neck. That’s how protective I’d become of my female companion. After I grabbed a napkin and wiped spit from my face, she offered a heated look. “Very believable.”
“I do try my best,” she mused.
I fisted my drink, her smile an indication she was pleased with her acting abilities.
In truth, so was I.
“Sadly, I don’t recognize his voice,” she said. “You didn’t try and get him to laugh.” Her attempt at making light of the ordeal allowed me the security to note she hadn’t been traumatized.
“It was disguised much like mine.”
Kirill shook his head, neither one of us able to decipher the man’s identity. Neither could my lovely companion.
That was fine. The proof of life was all that mattered.
“That was… joyful,” Kirill said. “And of little use.”
“Nonsense,” Rafaela said, with a tone I remembered well. She was enjoying being a naughty vixen. “Didn’t you hear the fear in the man’s voice?”
“Have patience,” I told them. “As my father used to say. The dead often speak the loudest.”
Kirill shrugged and moved from the seat, giving us a few minutes of privacy.
She scooted onto the edge, taking my hand in hers. “I know this is very difficult for you.”
“You have no idea how much. Someone I cared about could have betrayed me.”
Her sigh was heavy. “You need to remember that sometimes people are so overwhelmed by sadness that they see no other way out but to do the unthinkable. Dante blamed himself and no punishment my father inflicted on him eased the suffering from his guilt. That’s why he left, but not before promising me he’d find a way to make it up to me.”
“Did he?”
