49. Ayana
CHAPTER 49
Ayana
“Y ou look surprised,” Wentworth drawled. “Not who you expected to see?”
I gaped at him, wondering if the sedative had really been a hallucinogen. That was the only explanation I could think of for why the former fashion photographer was pointing a gun at me in the middle of an empty warehouse.
I hadn’t seen or heard from him since he tried to attack me at the Sage Studios shoot. Now here he was, looking a little worse for wear but very much alive.
His eyes glittered as he stared at me. His nose was crooked, like it’d healed the wrong way after being broken—I felt a pang of satisfaction at that—and his hair was longer. A blue cast wrapped around his right hand, which meant he was holding the gun in his less dominant left hand.
“You’re a member of the Brotherhood?” I couldn’t keep the disbelief out of my voice.
I doubted it. The prospect was more absurd than a mob boss being a secret party clown, but I needed to stall while I figured out how the hell I was going to get out of this.
Assassin or not, Wentworth held a personal vendetta against me. A man with a grudge and a gun was a dozen times worse than a detached professional.
“Not a member, no. But you could say we have a mutual acquaintance.” Wentworth’s smile sent chills down my neck. “They wanted Vuk, I wanted you. Luckily, you two are a package deal these days. I only wish I could’ve seen that asshole’s face when he realized you were gone. He must’ve lost it.” He sounded positively gleeful. “We were following you all day. He never noticed because he never left Valhalla. Lucky us.”
I recognized that hyper, manic tone. He was high again.
Great. Like dealing with a vindictive, gun-wielding asshole wasn’t enough; I had to deal with a vindictive, gun-wielding, coked-out-of-his-mind asshole.
I kept my gaze on his as I pressed my right ankle against my ties. The rope gave another fraction of an inch.
“Do you know what he did?” I froze when Wentworth came up next to me. His breath smelled like sickly sweet fruit and whiskey. It made me want to vomit. “He destroyed my hand. Smashed it with a hammer. I’ll never be able to shoot again—not with a camera, anyway.” He waved his gun in the air and laughed at his own joke. “All because I wanted a little kiss from you .”
The cold metal of his gun pressed against my temple. Terror staled on my tongue, and I couldn’t suppress a whimper.
“He didn’t believe me when I said you were asking for it, but I’ve seen what you do in the name of ‘modeling,’” Wentworth sneered. “You’re half naked on a billboard in Times Square. If that isn’t an open invitation, what is?”
Hot, eviscerating anger boiled up my spine. My skin flushed, and I bit my tongue so hard, I tasted blood. I wanted to lash out and tell him people like him were everything that was wrong with the world, and maybe Vuk should’ve smashed his mouth in instead. That way, he wouldn’t be able to spew his vile poison.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t antagonize him when I didn’t have leverage. He wasn’t rational. Who knew what he would do if I set him off?
I forced myself to swallow my acidic response and tipped my chin past him instead. Ignore the bait. Keep him talking. “The body. Who is that? Why did you kill him?”
Wentworth rolled his eyes. “No one important. He crossed the wrong person, and that’s that. But I didn’t kill him. I only wanted you.” He smiled again. My skin crawled with the phantom legs of a thousand spiders. “If I had my way, we’d get reacquainted now, but they’ll be very upset if I deviate from our plan. Besides, I want Vuk here to watch. It shouldn’t be long before he finds us.” My surge of hope was dashed by his next words. “The Brothers left him a nice clue on the street. He’ll think he’s onto something, but we’ll be ready. Besides…” He gently traced the side of my face with his gun. “No matter how many people he brings as backup, it won’t be enough.” He stopped and jabbed the cold metal under my chin. “Because we have you, and he’ll never jeopardize your life. Not even to save his own.”
“You won’t get away with it.” I couldn’t resist a reply. I had to keep talking, or I was going to throw up all over Wentworth’s shoes. That probably wouldn’t go over too well. “You’ll never beat him. He’s too smart.”
“We’ll see.”
Wentworth’s blasé attitude terrified me more than a raging temper tantrum. What trap did he and the Brothers have planned?
It doesn’t matter. Vuk will get out of it. He has to.
He was invincible. Mortal, yes, but the idea of anything or anyone taking him down was unfathomable.
He was not going to die because of me. I refused to even entertain the possibility.
“I have to go. Lots of things to do, but I wanted to stop by and say hi,” Wentworth said. “Enjoy your time alone while you can.” He laughed again.
I held my breath until he disappeared into the darkening bowels of the warehouse. How many guards were here? What would Vuk be up against if and when he found me?
We have you, and he’ll never jeopardize your life. Not even to save his own.
Tears scorched my throat.
Wentworth and his co-conspirators wouldn’t kill me until Vuk was here. They needed me alive as leverage. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t do other things to me.
I had to free myself. If I couldn’t escape, I could at least hide until I found a way to call for help. It was almost nighttime, and it was always easier to hide in the dark.
I scanned my surroundings again. I didn’t see any cameras, and I was grateful they hadn’t stationed a guard here to keep an eye on me. If I were Vuk, they’d have a dozen armed guards on me at all times. They must not have thought I posed enough of a threat to warrant more resources than some rope and a quickly fading sedative.
That was the upside of the “dumb model” stereotype. People constantly underestimated me.
I reexamined my situation. Trying to break free from the knots was impossible. Even if I got my right ankle out, it wouldn’t help much. I needed to free my hands.
I looked around for the umpteenth time, desperately seeking a hairpin or anything I could use as a makeshift blade.
Nothing.
I was about to give up and try wiggling out of my ties again when my gaze fell on my shoes. As always, I was wearing heels—beautiful, spiky, four-inch stiletto heels. They weren’t a knife or scissors, but they were sharp, and they could be deadly if utilized correctly. Even better, they were pumps, which meant I could slide out of them easily.
A plan took shape in my mind. It was a long shot, but it was better than nothing.
I only hoped I had time to execute it before Wentworth returned.