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“My mother. She misses me.”
His eyes narrowed and he glanced at the guard next to her. Oh goodie, now she might get hit again. She braced herself.
Instead, he motioned for the guard to drag her over to a chair. Forced her into it. The man walked up. “We will find out.”
She lifted a shoulder and ran her tongue around her cut mouth. Mostly a tear on her lip, but oh, it throbbed. Threatened to send tears into her eyes.
But she’d been through worse. Watched her first boyfriend get beaten to death before her eyes. Then was kidnapped and shot and nearly suffocated by the same murderer. So a little slap by some Russian thug wasn’t going to crush her.
“I see,” he said. “Well, if your friend happens to come looking for you, we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t find you, huh?”
She stilled.
“American girl, blonde hair, still pretty. You’re worth something.” He looked across the room, and she followed his gaze to a man she hadn't seen before, sitting on an overstuffed chair. “What do you think, Lukka?”
He had a full head of dark hair, matching gray eyes, and was built as if he worked out, his jacket tight around his arms. “I can sell her.”
Sell. Her?
And she sort of lost herself then, the simple, dark, cruel way he said it just landing in her bones, her soul.
Her voice trembled. “Listen. I’m…my uncle has money. Lots of money. He’s a billionaire.” Okay, not quite that anymore, but he’d recovered well from his loss a few years ago. “He can…let him ransom me.”
The older man’s eyes narrowed, and he took a breath, folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t believe you.” He motioned to the guards.
Hands grasped her arms and lifted her.
“Believe me. His name is Ian Shaw. He lives in Montana.”
“We could send her to Sevvostlag,” said Lukka.
She stilled. He probably said it in English to strike her blood cold, because the rest he delivered in Russian.
The older man nodded. Smiled.
“What—where’s that! That sounds like a gulag!”
Now Lukka smiled.
“Is it Siberia? Are you sending me to Siberia?” She twisted, looking back at Lukka. He’d folded his arms, watching her.
“My fiancé is going to find me! And when he does—” She shut her mouth as they dragged her through the door.
What? What was he going to do?
Get himself killed? Start a war with Russia?
Oh, good job, Shae. Give him away. Now they could lie in wait for the man she loved to find her.
Somewhere in Siberia.
Two
Ned had died, more than a little, his entire body caving in when Shae’s call cut off on her scream.
He nearly threw his own phone against the wall.
But not before he had the presence of mind to hit the callback number.
