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“What the hell do you want?” a man growls in a thick European accent.
I take in his appearance. He looks to be in his forties and life has not been kind to him. His black hair is thinning. Frown lines and wrinkles cover his face. He looks like hell.
“I’m in the room next door and–” My words come to an abrupt halt when I see a woman laying on the floor behind him. The man looks over his shoulder and then back at me. He grins evilly as he takes hold of my arm, yanks me inside, and shoves me inside the room with one fluent motion. The force is so great it sets me off balance and I fall to the floor.
“Hey!” I scream. “Have you lost your damn mind?”
“Aren’t you one noisy bitch,” he curses.
“If you let us go, right now, I won’t call the police,” I lie. As soon as I can get to a phone, I’m calling the damn cops. This psycho needs to be locked away. Forever.
The man stares at me as though contemplating my words but deep down I know he has no intentions of letting the woman or me go. The look in his eyes I’ve only ever seen in movies. Maybe he’s drunk or high? No sober person would look like this, right?
Doesn’t matter,I shake away my thoughts of him and turn my focus to the woman.
I look down at her and brush her red hair out of her face. My body relaxes when I see her chest slowly rising and lowering.
Thank God,I say to myself.
“Now I have two kurwas,” the guy laughs.
“Kurwas?” I repeat, looking up at him.
“Whores,” his grin widens.
What the hell had I gotten myself into?
“Why are all women giving me headache today?” the man asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It is like all cities are cursed for me.”
I bite back the urge to ask him what the hell he is talking about. It doesn’t matter what he’s talking about because the guy is clearly a psychopath or some washed-up thug. Maybe both. Speaking to him will only make the situation a thousand times worse for the woman and myself.
“That damn Godmother. This is her doing. She cursed me!” he slams his fists against the wall, startling me.
The woman jolts in my arms and her eyes fly open. My heart nearly jumps out of my chest. I clutch my shirt with one hand while still holding the woman with my other arm.
They’re both going to be the death of me at this rate,I mutter to myself.
“Dupek! Dupek!” the woman screams, sitting up and pointing at the man. “You are horrible man!”
I have no idea what dupek means, but if given five guesses, I’m sure if I guessedasshole, I’d be correct. It’s the disgust in the woman’s tone that makes me think asshole. She doesn’t sound scared like I thought she’d be once she woke up. She sounds royally pissed off and out for blood.
The man paces in front of the door. He mutters a lot of words in a foreign language while glaring at the woman occasionally.
“He is a very bad man,” the woman whispers to me. Her accent is as thick as the man’s accent. Russian? Polish? I can’t quite place it.
“What?” I ask softly with my eyes glued on the man.
“He kills women.”
“What!” I shriek, gaining the man’s attention. The woman pinches the back of my arm. I bite my bottom lip and fight the urge to scream bloody murder from the pain.
“What did you say to her?” the man growls.
“I said nothing. She is scared of how you look,” she attempts to lie.
The man rushes over to us. He grabs us both by our collars, shouting in the foreign language. I’m too scared to even attempt to push him away. All I can do is stare into his fierce, wide brown eyes.
I want to go home,I whimper silently.
