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“Who hit you, Angelina?”
I blink. It’s hard to focus on anything else when he’s so close, but I somehow manage to collect myself. “I fell.”
“You fell.” He nods and moves his gaze to where his finger is, still next to the bruise. “On someone’s fist, maybe?”
“No. I tripped. Over one of the boxes in the truck.”
His eyes find mine again and I swear my heart skips a beat. “Do you know how much time is needed for a bruise to get that nice yellowish-green color, Angelina?”
“Two days?” I mutter. I never actually thought about that.
“Five to ten days.” He leans forward so that his face is right in front of mine, “Tell me the truth.”
“I just told you.” I whisper “I’m not lying.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then.” His fingers release my chin. Sergei straightens and heads to the door. “The windows are locked and connected to the alarm. Please don’t try breaking them,” he says. “Mimi is a military-trained dog, and she will be in front of the door the whole time, so don’t tire yourself trying to escape, because you’re staying here until you start telling me the truth. I’ll come to take you downstairs for lunch.”
With those words, he leaves the room and closes the door.
Shit.
* * *
I spend almost an hour sitting in bed, trying to understand where I fucked up. Except for the bruise thing, my story was solid. I tried to keep it as close as possible to the truth to make it more realistic. How the hell did he catch me? The bigger problem is, I have no idea how much he knows.
Everybody has heard of Sergei Belov, the Bratva’s negotiator in all drug-related business. He came to Mexico quite often. What if he recognized me from one of his visits? I don’t see how he would, though. I didn’t go to Mexico often enough for our paths to cross. And I would have remembered seeing him.
I’ve always avoided cartel gatherings and parties because those usually ended up devolving into orgies or with someone getting shot. Or both. I preferred reading in the garden or hanging with Nana in the kitchens. Dad liked to say that I was antisocial. I wasn’t. I’m not. I’ve just always been... socially awkward.
Maybe Sergei just overheard Regina giggling while we were talking and called me out on pretending to speak with my mom? Still, it would be best to get out of here ASAP. Just in case.
I stand up from the bed, walk across the room and open the door just a crack. Mimi, the Cerberus, is sleeping on the floorjust across the threshold, but her head snaps up as soon as she hears the door. Great. I shut it and head toward the windows. Both locked. Now what?
I’m still debating what I should try next when I hear steps approaching, fast. In the next moment, the door to the room bursts open and Sergei barges in. He doesn’t pay attention to me, just grabs the helmet and the leather jacket off the recliner and runs out. Shortly after, I hear an engine roar to life outside. I rush to the window just in time to see him turning his huge sports bike onto the street at an insane speed. Less than five seconds later he’s out of sight. I rush to the door in hopes that the dog left its guard spot, but no. She’s still there. Damn it.
Approximately two hours later, there’s a knock at the door and a gray-haired man with glasses comes in, carrying a platter of food. He’s in his late sixties or early seventies, has a nicely trimmed beard, and wears a pale-blue shirt with navy slacks.
“Change of plans,” he says, approaching the bed. “Sergei had to leave, so you are getting a room service.”
He places the platter on the nightstand, turns, and offers me his hand. “I’m Felix.”
I grab his fingers. “Please, let me get out of here. Please! Just hold the dog and I’ll be gone in a second.”
“I’m sorry.” He places his other hand over mine. “I can’t do that. And even if I could, Mimi wouldn’t let you leave this room. She listens only to Sergei’s commands.”
“Please!”
“You have no money. You don’t even have shoes. And you spent the night in delirium because of starvation,” he says softly. “You’d faint before reaching the next block.”
I let go of his hand and move back. It wasn’t like I expected him to help me escape, but I had to try.
“When is Sergei getting back?” I ask. I will have to reason with him, obviously.
“I don’t know. But I’ll let him know you want to speak with him when he does.” He nods toward the platter. “The doc said you should eat only light food for the first day, so I’ve prepared you risotto with vegetables and some salad. There is also more of the soup. Sergei said you liked it.”
