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"I'm honored to receive your trust,Pakhan. I look forward to being of service to the family again," he repliedrespectfully.
"There are few I would trust with this task. I warn you. It's not without danger, but we can no longer allow the westerners to steal from us and from right in our own homeland. Every year they grow bolder and gain more influence. We've tried to solve the problem through negotiations, but the time for talk isover."
Ryder's curiosity was piqued at the word 'westerners'. The delicious food he'd eaten was settling in his gut like a heavy rock. He tried not to let his imagination run away from him before he got facts, yet his sixth sense told him his night was about to go toshit.
He didn't have long to wait. It wasn't the sound of the door opening behind his back, but rather the smothered screams of women that announced the arrival of additionalguests. The thought of watching another innocent woman being whipped while he munched on caviar as if he hadn't a care in the world turned hisstomach.
Yet the look of hatred mingled with joyous revenge in his host's eyes was the first clue they'd been joined by someone more important than another prostitute brought in for their perverted entertainment. With dread, Ryder pushed back from the table, turning his body until he could look behind him to the group now standing between the table anddoor.
Only years of experience kept him from blowing his cover in those first critical seconds. He felt the glare of the Volkov men on him, rather than the spectacle Artel and Vladimir had dragged into the room. If this was another sick test of his loyalty, Ryder had to admit, it was ingenious. His face may have frozen with feigned indifference, but his brain was racing to compile all viable options at his disposal, weighing the odds of getting out of the house alive and with his soulintact.
I'm fucked. I should have stayed inD.C.
Even as he thought it, he knew he didn't mean it. He was needed here.Now.
Viktor Volkov threw his cloth napkin on the table next to his now empty plate, pushing back from the table far enough that he could cross his right leg over his left, casually relaxing as he observed the newestarrivals.
He grinned victoriously as he switched to heavily accented English. "Welcome to my home, Mrs. Marshall. I've been awaiting the arrival of you and your daughters with greatanticipation."
In a moment of clarity, Ryder recognized that the makings of the next World War stood in the room. Kidnapping the wife of a wealthy foreign businessman was risky, even for the most powerful Bratva in the country. That she was clearly American only made itworse.
But it was the frightened young daughters–children–that would find the Bratva condemned and hunted for their foolish risk should their involvement ever be traced back to them. The girls couldn't be more than ten and twelve. Clearly underage and clearly off-limits in any ethics manual, including that of crime families. Kidnapping or hurting children was a declaration of war and put the Volkovs squarely in Ryder'scrosshairs.
Artel had hold of the youngest girl, but her sobbing clearly annoyed him. He thrust the frightened child into the arms of one of his henchmen just before barking his twistedorders.
"It's time to take a few farewell photos to send off to Daddy." As if the kids and their mother weren't scared enough, he taunted them. "I'm going to make sure he'll have nightmares of watching his family slaughtered each time he closes his eyes for the rest of hislife."
Ryder was relieved at the order. It solidified hisdecision.
I'm sofucked.
Chapter 2
"Ineed a few minutes.You go ahead. I'll meet you at the limo." Khloe turned her back on the room full of anxious people waiting on her. She carefully took a sip of her chamomile tea, praying not to spill it down the front of her Versacegown.
Her agent, Bernie Kaplan, complained for the umpteenth time. "We don't have a few minutes, Khloe. We should already be pulling up in front of thetheater."
She was well aware of that. She didn't need anyone telling her the importance of tonight's event. It was a day she'd dreamed of since she was a little girl growing up in the Bronx, not more than thirty minutes away from her Time's Squarehotel.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror. A small chuckle escaped as she compared her reflection to Cinderella. Despite working her ass off for years, self-doubt nipped at her, leaving her feeling like a fraud. A nobody, all dressed up, pretending to be someone important. The worst part was she had to fight down the panic that, like the Disney heroine, the clock would strike at midnight and everything she'd worked so hard for would be taken away. The more success she achieved, the more she lived in fear she'd wake up one morning and realize it had all been an elusivedream.
No, she wasn't ready to leave yet. It was either give the calming tea time to settle her upset tummy or risk losing the small snack of crackers she'd choked down when she got on the red carpet in front of dozens of reporters andpaparazzi.
Khloe was used to being hungry, but even she suspected she'd been taking her starvation routine too far the last fewmonths.
The clapping of Ricky's hands startled her. "Alright, everyone. Time to head down to the carport. We have two limos there waiting to take us all over to the theater. Everyone go ahead. Ms. Monroe and I will be right behindyou."
She welcomed the mild chaos her personal assistant's announcement caused. The commotion was better than having a room full of people awkwardly standing around waiting for her topuke.
Luckily, the majority of the crew mingling in her seven-thousand-dollar-a-night suite at The Plaza were more than ready to head over to the grand theater in Lincoln Park to get the release party started. Khloe watched her makeup artist, hairdresser, personal shopper, and the assistant the studio had sent over shuffle out the door without a backward glance. Unfortunately, they weren't the people she was hoping would leavefirst.
Bernie and Natalie Kaplan, her agent and publicist, otherwise known as the dynamic duo of the entertainment industry, stood grounded, arms crossed, permanent scowls on their faces. In their fifties, they had helped launch many A-lister's careers during their illustrious time in Hollywood. They were amazing at their jobs. The problem was they knew it. As much as a pain in her ass as they were, Khloe knew they had helped her land the lead inDirty Businessand for that she wasgrateful.
Ricky, her diligent personal assistant, did his best to try to encourage the Kaplans to leave, but she knew it wasfutile.
"It's okay, Ricky. We can head out now. I'm feelingbetter."
Liar.
