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My head was swimming. I’d desperately tried to shut Alexandra out. I needed to focus.
All day, she’d been all I could think about. I was obsessed. Her proximity to me, her smile, her smell… It all drove me crazy.
Needing some distance from her, I let her storm off. I’d give her a minute while I waited to see if we’d been followed all the way to the hotel. Then I would go explain.
But first, I needed a drink. My nerves were in tatters.
A feeling of unease came over me as the adrenaline from the car chase began to fade. I backed away from the door, keeping my body facing it at all times.
I poured whiskey into a glass from a decanter to my left. There was no ice, and this was my fourth whiskey. But at the moment, I didn’t care. I took a gulp, pleased at the burn as it went down.
After sipping at the whiskey for a minute or two, I sighed.
Time to go and see little miss stressy pants, I guess.
I knew women were emotional creatures and didn’t blame Alexandra for her outburst. It hadn’t even bothered me really. I knew she was scared, lonely, and probably homesick by now. But I’d felt an overwhelming urge to keep her safe, which had momentarily overshadowed everything else.
With one last glance at the front door, I strode to the room she’d holed herself up in. I knocked loudly.
“Lex. It’s me, doll.” But I received no answer.
I knocked again. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. Let me in so I can talk to you.”
I tried the handle, pushing at the door. It was open…
Ice-cold dread seeped into my stomach. I dropped my whiskey, glass shattering and contents splashing across the floor.
The room was empty.
Alexandra
I turned to face the center of the bedroom after making a show of slamming the door as hard as I could.
My vision was blurred with tears, but I could still make out the shape of three big, dark figures in the room around me. I froze, instinctively.
Before I had time to scream, a rough hand had grabbed me from behind. I bit the hand as hard as I could and heard angry Russian words close to my ear.
But before I could react any further, my mouth was quickly taped and my hands were tied roughly behind my back with strong duct tape.
I remembered, probably from some survival book or movie, to ball my fists and tense my muscles as they were bound. Consequently, I still had circulation and could move my hands slightly.
One of the men knelt at my feet, preparing to bind my feet too, but struggling with the tape. Another Russian gestured angrily at his watch.
The kneeling Russian’s face was deliciously close to my knee…
I smashed it into his face as hard as I could, satisfied when he reeled back, grunting. Blood poured from his nose.
These guys had it all wrong if they thought I was going to make this easy.
The largest of the three pushed the one in front of me away and roughly grabbed my legs, while the other completed the task of taping my legs together.
All the while, I stared triumphantly at the man whose nose I’d hopefully broken. He glared back angrily, not even bothering to stem the flow of blood.
The last thing I saw was him standing up before a burlap sack was put roughly over my head. I could barely see anything as I was carried from the room.
I panicked, feeling disorientated. The whole kidnap had taken just over a minute. Or at least so I thought; my perception of time was next to useless.
Cruz
