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The dog issues a low grumble, not quite a growl, but a warning for sure. I look over my shoulder, and it points its snout to the other door. I inch along the wall to the other door and reach for the doorknob, keeping an eye on the dog. It lays its head down as soon as my hand touches the handle. Strange. I open the door, and sure enough, it’s the bathroom.
After emptying my screaming bladder, I approach the sink and stare at my reflection. The first thing I notice is that I’m clean. There are no dirt splotches on my skin, and my hair looks washed. Someone bathed me. They also put clothes on me. I vaguely noticed it as soon as I woke up, but I didn’t pay attention to what I was wearing then. It’s female clothes, pink shorts and a white T-shirt with a cartoon character on the front. The shorts fit, but the shirt is a little tight over my breasts. Looks like the only fat left in my body is in my boobs.
I splash some water over my face, drink a bit directly from the tap, and start opening the cabinets. I’d kill for a toothbrush because my mouth feels like sandpaper. It must be my lucky day. I find a box with two unused ones under the sink. When I’m done brushing my teeth, I leave the bathroom and head to the other door, but the moment I take a second step in thatdirection, I hear deep growling. I stop, and the growling ceases. Great. I should have expected that. But now what?
There are a few paces to the exit, but only half that between me and the dog. I wait a couple more minutes, rooted to the spot, then take another step, faster this time. The beast barks and lunges toward me. I cover my face with my hands and scream.
There is a sound of running, and the door opens. I don’t dare remove my hands from my face, still expecting the dog to attack.
“Mimi!” a deep voice from somewhere in front of me commands. “Idi syuda.”
Mimi? Who in their right mind would name that thing Mimi? I separate my fingers and squint through them to take a glimpse at the owner of the booming voice. When I do, I immediately stumble several steps backward.
I’m not easily intimidated by men. Growing up in a drug cartel compound, I had hard-looking men around me since I was a little girl. But this... this man would intimidate anyone.
The guy standing at the door is well over six feet tall and heavily muscled. However, he is not bulky like one would get by pumping weights in the gym and taking supplements. His body must have been honed to perfection over years. Every muscle is perfectly defined and fully on display since he’s only wearing faded jeans. And as far as I can tell, he’s also fully covered in ink. Both of his arms up to his wrists, torso—all the way up to his collarbones, and, based on the black shapes I can see on his shoulders, his tattoos must continue over his back as well.
I let my gaze travel upward to his face, which is set in sharp lines. His hair is pale blond, creating such a strange combination with his inked skin. But the most intriguing feature is his eyes—glacier blue, clear and piercing—that watch me without blinking.
The scary Russian takes a step toward me. I yelp and take two backward.
“It’s okay. I am not going to hurt you,” he says in English and raises his hands in front of himself. “What’s your name?”
How much should I tell him? He doesn’t know who I am, thank God. I’ve been pretty low-key in my father’s business, so it’s not like I expected anyone from the Russian Bratva to recognize me. I need to keep it that way. Shit. I should have thought about this and prepared a story.
“¿Cómo te llamas?” he asks again, but I keep my lips shut.
I need some time to think, so I look down at the dog he’s holding by the collar and pretend to focus on it.
“Comment tu t'appelles?”
French? How many languages does this guy speak? I will have to give him an answer soon. Should I give my real name? It’s not rare and rather universal, better to go with the truth than to forget which name I give him.
I decide on English. “It’s Angelina.” Since I finished high school and attended college in the US, I don’t have an accent. And it’s safer.
The trembling in my legs is getting worse, and I’m slightly lightheaded again, so I put my hand on the wall and close my eyes, hoping I won’t faint. The food Nana gave me—some fruit and a few sandwiches—helped me regain some of my strength, but I ate the last of it yesterday morning.
I feel an arm around my waist and my eyes snap open.
“Back to bed,” the Russian says into my ear, places his other arm under my legs and lifts, carrying me toward the bed.
It feels familiar, his closeness. I don’t remember much of what happened in the last twenty-four hours, but I do remember feeling strong arms taking me out of that truck, and again later. I lean my head on his shoulder, closer to his neck. Déjà vu. I close my eyes, and inhale his scent, something woodsy and fresh. Familiar. I know this smell from last night. I was delirious andunaware of what was happening around me, but I remember falling asleep to this. Is he the one who found me?
We reach the bed, but he doesn’t put me down right away. Instead, he just watches me. His face is only a few inches from mine. He doesn’t seem so scary up close without all that ink in view. In fact, he is rather handsome with those sharp cheekbones and pale eyes. The only imperfect thing on his face is his nose, which is slightly crooked as if it had been broken repeatedly. It's strange how being pressed to his naked chest like this doesn’t bother me.
“Do you know where you are and how you got here, Angelina?” he asks and lowers me down onto the bed.
His question instantly shakes me out of my daydream. I move my gaze to the dog lying in the middle of the room, snoring. No way am I telling him the truth, but I do need a believable story. One which will convince him that I’m a nobody so he will let me go.
“I was traveling,” I say, not removing my gaze from the dog. “Backpacking. I got kidnapped outside of Mexico City last week.” There. That sounds believable. Most of the girls Diego had in the basement came to him that way.
“Alone?”
“Yes.” I nod.
“And what happened then?”
“They put me into that truck. I don’t know where they were taking me before you found me.”
