The Bratva King's Kidnapped Bride - Page 53

I had to believe I was going to be able to do that, get out of here somehow, or the tears would start, and they’d notice I was awake. As it was, I lay as still as possible, trying to ignore my stomach, turning over from the dank smell of the place.

Staring at them and wishing their heads would spontaneously combust didn’t work, and one of them eventually turned to check on me. I quickly shut my eyes and went limp, but he only chuckled at my attempt to seem out of it.

“I know you’re awake. Just stay quiet, and there won’t be any problems.”

No, they didn’t care at all that I was mentally cataloging every detail of their faces. I wasn’t making it home. They were probably only keeping me alive while they waited for the torture specialist to arrive.

I’d never see Aleks’s handsome face again, or hear his gruff voice that always ended up tender. Never see Jenna graduate and start the life she deserved. Never know the outcome of Aunt Marjorie’s treatment, or get to celebrate with her when she was pronounced healthy again.

“I guess you know who my husband is,” I said, desperate enough to try bargaining. They looked at each other, whiskey glasses paused halfway to their lips, and both burst out laughing at that for some reason. I tried again anyway, easing myself to a sitting position against the rough wall. “I’m sure he’ll cooperate with you and give you whatever you want to let me go.”

The one who killed Sergei knocked back his drink and slammed the glass down before rising. It only took two steps to be at my side, bending over me. His breath stank and was hot on my face as he snarled at me, locking his fingers tight around my jaw so that I couldn’t recoil from him.

“We told you to be quiet. That means no talking.”

He had the same dead-eyed stare as when I’d watched him slice open Sergei’s throat, and my mouth went dry. I couldn’t have gotten another word out even if I wanted to, and his cold glare was very persuasive in making me shut up.

“Are you going to stay quiet now?” he asked, reaching to squeeze my wrist.

A bolt of pain shot up to my elbow, reminding me of when one of them had kicked Sergei’s gun out of my hand. Everything that happened in the elevator up to the point he killed my bodyguard was a blur, but that part seemed to happen in slow motion. He twisted my bad wrist, and I gritted my teeth so as not to make a noise.

“One more sound out of you, and we’ll tie you up like a pig on a spit instead of just these handcuffs.”

I finally managed to nod and let out a silent breath of pain when he let go of my face and slammed my hands back down into my lap. My wrist throbbed in time with my head, and I slumped back down. I tried to figure out if sitting up or lying down made my stomach less upset. Both were about the same, but my head hurt less lying in a fetal position, even though it made me feel uncomfortably aware of how helpless I was.

One stomp to the skull, and I’d be dead. They wouldn’t even need to dirty up a knife this time. I was consumed with what was going to happen next, certain it wasn’t going to be good. It would have been better to think about something more positive than possibly being tortured while I was on speaker phone to Aleks so he’d hear every agonized scream, but I couldn’t stop.

The one guy couldn’t stop fiddling with his phone, messing around with a puzzle game for a few minutes while the murdering one put his head down on his arms to rest. After getting bored with the game, he checked his emails and text messages before putting the phone down. A minute or two later, he’d pick it up again and start the loop all over.

I couldn’t look away from the constant, restless motion of his hands, and it started making me dizzy. My stomach flipped over and started to churn, much more urgently than the mild nausea I’d been fighting since I woke up in the car.

Pressing my hands against my middle, I tried to ignore it, honing in on the guy’s brightly colored game on his screen, but soon, my stomach was turning inside out.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. His head whipped around, but the meaner one didn’t lift his head. “I’m going to be sick again,” I said.

He muttered something but stood up, dragging me by my collar to the door. He dropped his phone on the small table next to the lamp, and after raising the bar, he tossed me outside onto a gravel drive. I was surprised it was still daytime, and the sun made me blink as my bad wrist collapsed underneath me. I swiveled to the side so my shoulder hit the sharp little rocks instead of my face.

A second later, he yanked me up by the back of my shirt and helped me balance while I heaved. There wasn’t much left to come out, and there was nothing but a long dirt road connecting the driveway. I couldn’t turn my head enough to see behind the shed without appearing suspicious, and the miles of empty desert in front of me didn’t give me any helpful clue as to where they’d taken me.

Something like a third of California was desert, and without knowing how long we’d driven or what direction we were going, it was a futile attempt unless there was a visible road sign.

My captor shook me as I let my head drop. Even with despair creeping over me, I wondered if I could outrun him if I found a way to get him to let go.

“You done?” he grunted, hauling me up.

I elbowed him in the gut as hard as I could, expecting him to double over so I could make my break for the road. I was even leaning forward, ready to bolt. But he didn’t even flinch or loosen his grip; he just shook me again and looked disappointed.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“You’re lucky it was me you tried it with,” was all he said as he dumped me back in my corner.

Okay, so maybe one of them wasn’t a ruthless killer. I could only see the whiskey bottles, but maybe they had water in the car. I very quietly asked since I was parched and my mouth was disgusting from being sick.

The “nice” one slapped me and told me to shut up. Grabbing his phone off the squat table next to the door, he plopped into his folding chair and started up his routine of scrolling and swiping. I watched him for another few minutes, trying not to think about how thirsty I was, and realized I’d had a full view of his phone this whole time.

An idea came over me that filled me with renewed hope and fresh energy. I waited for him to get bored of the game and set the phone down, and when he picked it up again a few minutes later, I followed the trail of his finger as he unlocked it.

Clamping my lips shut to keep my excitement under wraps, I moaned softly. His head turned to his partner, still resting, then whipped around to glare at me. I had to remember he wasn’t nice just because he wasn’t as openly cruel as the killer. It was very likely they’d both done their fair share of dispatching people from this world. But I had to try. As long as there was breath left in me, I wanted to see Aleks again.