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Mikhail nodded approvingly. “Enjoy, gentlemen.”
“Oh, I certainly will,” growled Luka with a cruel smirk.
He stalked toward the town center with Vadim following close behind. The enforcer didn’t require a partner for his role in the mission; he was definitely capable and willing to handle an interrogation on his own. But it was helpful to have another set of hands, just in case another one of Turgenev’s men happened to come crawling back to the ghost town. Vadim waited by the collapsing entrance of the farmhouse to stand guard.
Luka strolled right into the middle of the farmhouse, where a shaft of light illuminated the hay-covered floor. There were a few broken rafters directly above, which let the brutal desert sun beat in on the shirtless man lying bound on the floor. He was positioned in this specific spot for that reason. His back and shoulders were shiny pink with sunburn, and beads of sweat rolled down his body, mingling with rivulets of drying blood. The captive was almost delirious from sun exposure, dehydration, pain, and fear.
Luka looked down at him without an ounce of pity. He nudged the man in the ribs with the steel tip of his boot, and he shuddered with pain. He was black-and-blue along his ribs and sides. He was crying, but too dehydrated for any tears to fall. Luka knew these injuries were relatively shallow. He might scar, but hewouldheal. Luka had no problem eliminating him if need be, but death was not on the docket for this guy. He was more useful for information and as an example to any of Dasha’s other supporters.
“Please… don’t hurt me anymore. I-I’ll say anything you want,” the man whimpered.
“I know. You think you’re at your limit,” Luka said, slowly circling the man to keep him disoriented and dizzy. “It’s my pleasure to inform you that it could get so, so much worse.”
“What do you want from me? I’m sorry! I should never have gone near that girl!”
“Correct. But unfortunately for both of us, you did,” said Luka. He dug his toe into the man’s side, twisting the metal tip back and forth against the mottled bruises.
“Aagghhh! I was only following orders!” he cried.
“And what was in it for you? Is this the payout you expected?”
“Obviously not,” the man hissed. “Dasha said… he said we would get rich.”
Luka rolled his eyes. “Just from kidnapping one young woman? What were your plans for Inessa? Ransom?”
“I’m not sure,” the target hedged nervously.
“Think harder,” Luka grunted.
He withdrew a long, narrow blade from a sheath attached to his belt. The man trembled as Luka approached from behind. He pressed the sharp edge to the victim’s sunburnt back, drawing it slowly across the bubbling skin.
The man shivered and tried to jolt away instinctively, but he was chained to a massive piece of twisted old railroad hardware, which was too heavy for him to drag in his current condition. It had taken Luka and Vadim working together to carry the hunk of rusting metal into the barn to begin with, so there was no chance of their captive going anywhere.
“Dasha never told me any details, I swear,” the man groaned. “He just hired me for a job. I needed cash for my brother’s bail and I took it. I never even saw a cent of it.”
“Now, you never will. Your boss is dead,” Luka said. “What did he tell you the job was?”
“He wanted me to come out here to this shithole and set it up.”
“Set it up, in what way?” Luka pressed. He grabbed the man by the sweaty hair and pulled his head back so he could easily slide the long dagger across his neck.
The man was breathing fast and shallow now, his eyes bugging out at the huge knife.
“He said he was going to bring someone here and keep them hostage,” he gasped. “I-I didn’t even know it was gonna be a girl.”
“Are you lying to me?” Luka growled, leaning down so that his face was mere inches from the captive’s terrified countenance. He could smell the man’s awful breath and see the tiny beads of sweat on his skin in the shaft of harsh afternoon light.
“Come on, man, why would I lie to you? Dasha is dead, right? What does it matter anymore?” The man wept.
The enforcer dropped him like a hot potato, wrinkling his nose at the shuddering coward. He hated to see a man cry up close. It was repugnant.
“You really don’t know anything?” he sighed. He began circling the captive again, making him dizzy and unable to keep up.
“I told you, Dasha didn’t explain his plan to me,” he said, sniffling. “Just the basics.”
“Not even good enough to be trusted by a scumbag like Dasha Turgenev,” Luka said cruelly. “You must not have made a very good impression on him. Where did he find you?”
“Friend of a friend of a friend.”
