Then I step back out of the room, locking the door from the outside.
“When I get out of here, I’m going to cut off your little dick myself and make you eat it!” she shouts.
“I’d like to see you try,” I shoot back. “Besides, my dick isn’t little. It’s fucking huge.”
A string of Russian words follows me as I dip back out of the cabin. I need to get some fresh air and see if I have any word from either that spawn of Satan Sidorov or my brothers. And I also need to find a better solution for keeping my captive if I’m going to be stuck with her for much longer. There’s no way in hell I’m going to keep being her bathroom buddy.
Katya
The cabin is quiet.
Scorpion left a while ago, and as far as I can tell, he hasn’t been back. I haven’t heard the door or his now-familiar footsteps. Not a creak of the floor. Panic settles into my chest, making it heavy and tight, as my mind starts to whirl again.
What if something happened to him? We’re in the middle of the woods. Are there bears here? What if he got eaten by one? I mean, good for the bear, but I’m thinking about myself. Does anyone else know where I am? Surely Misha is trying to track meby now. Especially if Andriani sent him that picture he took of me.
Suddenly, there’s a bang, and the sunlight filtering through the lone window disappears. A piece of plywood has been slapped overtop the pane.
“Andriani, is that you?” I demand.
No answer except the whirring of a power tool.
It’s got to be him. Who else would be bolting the window closed?
Definitely not a bear. And what are the odds that there’s another psychotic, lethal kidnapper roaming around here aside from the one who’s been tormenting me since yesterday?
Not good.
Brrrt. Brrrt. Brrrt.
The power tool’s rhythmic reports are the only sound.
It’s got to be him.
“Andriani,” I try again. “You can’t leave me cuffed to this bed all day.”
Nature is beginning to call again, even though he’s been stingy with the water he’s allowed me.
Still no response.
There’s some more drilling and pounding or whatever noise at the window, followed by silence. Now it’s even more depressing in this dingy room. The bulb in the ceiling is switched off, making it almost dark as night in here, except the light creeping in from under the locked door sending a hint of brightness to bathe the shadows.
Maybe he’s sealing my tomb.
I probably should have held my tongue. But I’ve never been good at doing what I’m supposed to do.
I hear the front door opening and then footsteps.Hisfootsteps. Relief chases some of the anxiety. The lock scrapesopen, followed by the door. He flicks the switch, and light fills the room.
I blink. His black hair is falling over his brow, and no man has the right to make a five-o’clock shadow look that good. He’s still wearing a three-piece suit, like he’s a CEO about to head into a high-stakes board meeting instead of a Mafia kingpin holding me prisoner in a shitty cabin in the woods. He’s also carrying the power tool instead of his gun.
“Playing with your tool again?” I ask.
Because I can’t keep my mouth shut, apparently.
“Are you volunteering?” He smirks. “If so, no thanks. I’ve got plenty of women happy to do that for me.”
I clench my jaw, annoyed with him for his endless smug confidence and ability to meet me tit for tat in any conversation. It’s impossible to get one over on thiszasranets.
“Hard pass,” I say sweetly. “I like my men the way I like my cars, new, not used.”
