Chapter 5 Athena
ATHENA
My wrists ache where his fingers gripped me. My dress is torn, and my heart is still pounding like it's going to explode out of my chest.
Dimitri Kastaris just murdered five men with a calmness that borders on a psychopath or serial killer. I can't even begin to decide.
Mainly because it's hard to think when a man is pinning you down and pressing a gun under your chin.
"Can you drive any of these?" he says, nodding toward the cars around us, blood dripping from his ear onto my face.
I swallow hard. Not because I don't want to speak to this asshole, but because I can't find my voice.
"I said, can you fucking drive any of these?" he says again, lifting me up slightly and slamming me back into the car hood.
"Yes," I manage just before he's about to do it again. "Yes, I can drive."
"Which one's yours?"
I hesitate, weighing my options. I consider lying, but what's the point?
I swallow hard. "That one." I point at the black Audi.
He drags me by my arm, the barrel of the gun never leaving my skin. My heels skid across the pavement, and my dress tears at the straps.
I wipe his blood from my face, but it just smears on my fingers and, I'm sure, my cheek.
As we walk past, I try not to look at the dead bodies. I've seen more in the last two minutes than I have in my entire life. Actually, I've only ever seen one dead body in real life, my mom's.
We get to the Audi, and Dimitri pushes me against the passenger side door.
"Keys," he demands.
"In the glove compartment."
He moves me to the side and opens the door. Then he grabs a fistful of my hair and shoves me inside toward the driver's seat. "You're driving."
I climb across and fall into the driver's seat, banging my knee on the center console. He lets go of my hair and slams his door shut.
"Asshole," I yell, rubbing my head.
He opens the glove box, pulls out the key fob, and presses the button to start the car.
"Drive," he says, jamming the gun into my ribs.
"Where?"
"Just drive. Away from here."
I put it in drive and ease out onto the main road.
"Faster," he says.
I slam my foot on the gas, throwing him back against his seat. The tires screech as we fly down the empty street.
"Careful," he warns, adjusting his grip on the gun.
"Sorry," I say, not sorry at all. "Wasn't that what you wanted? Speed?"
"Shut up and drive."
We drive in silence for a few moments, and I clench the steering wheel tightly, trying to hide the slight tremble in my hands.
We're on the outskirts of the city, in some industrial district I don't recognize. Warehouses and empty lots line the streets. No witnesses. No help.
Perfect place for a murder.
My heart hammers in my chest. I glance at him, at the blood drying on his ear and neck, at the ropes still hanging from his wrists like brutal jewelry.
How am I alone with him now? A killer who somehow managed to not only escape captivity, but kidnap me and slaughter anyone in our way, all while half-naked and drugged.
What the hell was I thinking? Who is this man, and why did I think I could do anything worth a damn to him, tied up or not?
"Take a right up here," he says, breaking the silence.
I do and instinctively ask, "Where are we going?"
"Somewhere we can talk properly." He adjusts in his seat, wincing slightly. "About why you decided kidnapping me was a good idea and how long I'll let you live."
"You're a fucking psycho, you know that?" I say, finding strength in the fear that is wrapping around me.
He stares at me for a moment and then lets out a sarcastic laugh. "You drugged me, tied me to a chair, lied to my face, and helped deliver me to men who were going to kill me, and I'm the psycho?"
I glance over at him. "Fuck you."
"That's what you could have done had you not spiked my drink."
My cheeks flush with unwanted heat. "You're disgusting, you know that?"
"And yet you keep looking at me like you're not sure whether you want to slap me or ride me."
I'm so annoyed right now I decide it's better to stay quiet and not entice him to say anything else. I notice how he's still shaking his head slightly, trying to scatter the brain fog from the drugs, I'm sure.
He leans forward slightly and checks his surroundings. I grow even more nervous, as I have no idea where we are, and somehow he does.
As we drive away from any hope of civilization, the streetlights grow more sparse, and buildings give way to open grass and vineyards.
What the fuck am I doing? Driving to my own execution?
My gaze drops to the speedometer. Seventy miles per hour. The road stretches empty before us. No one's around.
I could end this now.
If he's going to kill me, I might as well finish what I thought I could do.
Without overthinking, I jerk the wheel hard to the right toward some trees.
The car shakes as it leaves the smooth road for the dirt barrier.
Dimitri's reflexes are too quick. His hand shoots out, wrestling the wheel from my grip. The force of his take on the wheel sends us fishtailing across the road.
"ARE YOU INSANE?" he roars, his arm braced against mine. "Stop the fucking car."
I do, but not because I'm following directions. I'm too afraid to commit to what I started.
The tires screech to a halt inches from the tree line. The headlights catch all the dust and rocks the car has kicked up.
My chest heaves. My hands shake. I stare straight ahead, unable to breathe.
And the worst part? I can still feel his body heat from where he grabbed me. It's in my skin. I hate him. I want him dead. So why the hell am I shaking for more than one reason?
He grabs my wrist.
"You try that again and I'll break your goddamn fingers."
"I'd rather die than go wherever you're taking me," I say, my voice raw.
"If I wanted you dead," he says, the gun back at my side, "you'd already be cooling next to your friends back there."
"Now drive, and if you try anything else, you'll be begging for me to kill you."
I wait a moment and slowly pull back out onto the road.
"God! Just," I turn to him, "you ruined everything, you know," I say as I accelerate again, my voice cracking. "Everything."
He looks out onto the road. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"I know exactly what I'm talking about!" My scream fills the car. "You killed my father, and you know what, in a way, my mother too. That ruined my life, so fuck you."
"I didn't do shit to anyone that didn't deserve it. I don't know what lies you were fed, but I didn't do anything to you."
"You killed my father!"
"Then there's a good chance it was coming to him."
That stops me cold.
"You don't even know what you're involved in, do you?" he says. "Who you decided to fuck with."
"Shut up."
He laughs. "Someone gave you just enough pain to weaponize you. But," he says and jabs my ribs with his gun, "not enough truth to keep you alive."
"You're wrong," I say. But even to me, I sound desperate.
He leans in close.
"If I was wrong, I'd be dead right now. You had your chance. You didn't take it."
I swallow hard. My throat feels like it's closing.
"You think you're safe because you're pretty," he says, voice low. "You think you can play games and walk away. But you picked the wrong fucking man, Athena."
I feel tears building, but I force them back. I will not cry in front of him.
"Why didn't you kill me?" I say, glancing at him and seeing his blue eyes shift between me and the road.
"Because it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out you're in over your head, and I have questions. So..." he says, trailing off, "plus, I figured they wouldn't shoot you. That would help get me out alive."
"Well, since you basically used me as a shield, can you at least tell me where you're taking me?"
"Somewhere safe."
I scoff. "Safe with you? The man threatening me with a gun?"
He glances down at the weapon still resting against my side.
"You're safe as long as you're useful. Feel better now?"
"Not really," I say.
"Well, Alepoudítsa, it's the best you're gonna get."
I don't react. I tell myself it's just another game. Another way to get under my skin. But when he says it, the way it comes off his blood-streaked lip, I hate that it lingers in my head.
"You know I'll try to escape the first chance I get," I say it because it's true. And because I need to remind myself I still have some control left, even if I don't believe it anymore.
He smiles.
"We'll see," he says and points up ahead. "Take that road there until it ends. We're here."