“So you’re saying that your husband didn’t tell you anything else?” He straightened and began slowly walking around me.
“Anything like what?”
He made his way to my front again and locked eyes with me. “Did he mention any other name linked to the case?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you what really happened all those years ago and who orchestrated the bombing of that warehouse?”
Silence.
Then I broke it. “If you know Karik Tarasov very well, you’ll know that he’s a man of few words. He’s very secretive and won’t open up to anyone. What makes you think he let me in on such a secret?”
“For starters, you’re his wife,” he answered. “And my sources tell me he’s beginning to grow fond of you.”
Again, silence.
“My husband didn’t tell me anything about the Vetrov case,” I said finally. “He only said there were forces at play that I didn’t understand. He asked me to drop the case. And I have.”
He waited, his eyes never leaving my face. “Are you lying to me right now?”
Of course I am, you crazy son of a bitch.
“My life is literally in your hands. Why would I do that?” I replied, my expression unchanging.
He stared at me like he was looking for a truth he knew I was hiding.
“Quick question,” I began. “Did you kidnap me and bring me all the way out here just because you wanted to find out what I know about the Vetrov case?”
He hesitated. “Amongst other things.”
My expression turned dark. “My friend died because you wanted to ask me some stupid questions?”
“Collateral damage,” he said flatly. “Deal with it.”
My lips quivered as all that rage flooded me all at once. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
No answer.
It was a rhetorical question anyway.
I continued, “You’ve just doomed yourself and everyone else in this room.”
He furrowed his brows.
“By kidnapping the wife of Karik Tarasov, you’ve gained his attention—his full attention,” I went on. “You said it yourself: He’s starting to grow fond of me. Men like him are possessive and protective. Steal from them, and they’ll burn the world looking for you.”
I saw it, a glimpse of fear in his eyes. It was subtle. But it was there. Good. My words were getting to him.
“I’m not afraid of Karik Tarasov.”
“You should be,” I interrupted. “You know the man. You know what he’s capable of. Yet you killed his men and kidnapped his wife.” I clicked my tongue rapidly. “If I were you, I’d be halfway across the country by now.”
He laughed. “You’ve got a sharp tongue and a vivid imagination. But I hate to break it to you: This isn’t a Hollywood movie.”
“My husband will find me,” I said, my voice laced with conviction. “And you better not be here when he does.”
“Oh, hewillfind you, dear.” A small smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. “The question is….” He pulled out his gun and aimed it at me. “…will he find you…or your corpse?”
