Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Sasha
“I think it’s time for you to return home.”
“Home?” I snort because that apartment is not home.
But then my breath catches again. “How do you intend to tuck me back into that prison without my brother knowing I escaped?” That did seem to be part of the deal.
My brother will remain in the dark. That was the reason I was playing along.
If Dimitri doesn’t know what I tried to do tonight, he’ll not hasten whatever plans he had for me.
I’m buying the time I need to come up with some new plan.
“Let me worry about that,” he answers, holding out his hand. I don’t take it. Even I know not to touch a coiled snake.
One of my hands is wrapped around my torso, the other about my throat. “No, thank you.”
“It’s not a request,” he growls, extending his arm a little further. “This is a demand.”
I press my lips together, continuing to tap lightly on the pulsing vein in my neck. My head is swimming, and I can hardly think with the fog of fear.
I don’t want to touch him, it feels…dangerous.
But he keeps his hand in front of me, not wavering, until slowly, tentatively, I let go of my neck and slip my fingers into his.
His hand is warm, his skin rougher than mine, his fingers closing around me in a strong, sure grip. For just a second, I sink into the feeling, like his hand is infusing me with strength.
Remembering myself, I try to pull my fingers free, but he holds firm. Leaning in, he reaches his other hand up toward my face and I automatically flinch.
Movements like that have always meant that pain follows. He gives my fingers a gentle squeeze as he carefully brushes my hair back from my shoulder. “There is no need to be frightened.”
I scoff lightly, looking away. “There is every reason to be frightened.”
He doesn’t answer as he starts pulling me, not to the door I entered through, but to another in the back of the office.
His two goons follow, as if to illustrate my point. This is a hostile environment.
It leads to an industrial-looking hallway with concrete stairs and metal railings. But we stop in front of a small service elevator, where Ryker pushes the button for the parking garage.
My one hand is in his, the other still wrapped around my stomach. His free arm comes to the small of my back, his fingertips brushing against the ones at my waist.
This man is not my port in the storm. He’s not even my friend. He’s been more than clear that he’s blackmailing me into…something.
And yet, I have this urge to sink into him, hide my face in his chest. His scent has wrapped around me, cedar and musk, strong but with a smooth velvet finish.
I close my eyes and draw in a breath through my nose, using his smell to black out the stale air in the elevator that whooshes at my face as the doors open.
He leads me in, his touch strong enough that I don’t need to open my eyes, I just respond to the pressure of his hands telling me when to stop and start.
When the doors close, I let out a rush of air, my lashes fluttering open. That’s when I realize we’re in the elevator alone. The goons are gone. “Where are dumb and dumber?”
He lets out a rumbling laugh. “How do you know that movie?”
“I watched a lot of American television back in Russia,” I answer with a small shrug even as his fingers at my waist slide into mine, pulling me into his body.
I have no idea why my sister’s fiancé would hold me like this. Maybe just to calm me down so I don’t go telling my sister what an asshole’s she’s marrying. Spoiler. She already knows.
“Why is that?”
“There’s not much else to do when you can’t leave the house.” I make the mistake of looking up at him then. His eyes are back to unreadable, dark and deep pools that make me feel like I might drown in them if I’m not careful.
I look away again, watching the descending floors of the elevator on the lights above the doors, instead.
We hit the parking garage and the doors slide open. This isn’t the main lot of the casino but a private parking floor where only a handful of matching black SUVs wait in a row.
Ryker finally lets go of one of my hands to pull a key fob out of his pocket, one of the SUVs flashing in response. He walks me to the passenger side and opens the door for me, taking my hand to help me in. “Chivalrous,” I murmur, even as my lip curls.
He ignores the sarcasm. “Thank you. I try.” And then he closes the door behind me.
The locks don’t click, and I reach for the handle, my fingers brushing the cold metal. Can I run? How far would I get?
For another second I hold, second guessing myself. Would I make the situation better or worse if I try to escape now?
But I no more than wrap my fingers around the lever when the driver side door opens. Ryker slides in, shutting the door, and clicking the locks.
Then he backs out of the parking spot, driving through the lifted gate, and out into Vegas traffic.
I consider asking him again what he’s planned for me but it’s useless, so instead, I slide down into the seat.
I wanted money to be able to leave comfortably, but that doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen.
So I’m just going to have do without. I’ll find a way to leave this city somehow. Outside the city limits are a bunch of shit casinos. I’ll move through them, winning enough money to escape.
I draw in a breath, looking over at Ryker Smith. Will he up the security at the apartment? Make it even more difficult for me to escape?
In all likelihood…yes. But I do have another chance. Everyone is liable to be distracted at the wedding.
Sneaking out in a bridesmaid gown is a little obvious but I’ve got a few days to come up with a work-around.
The idea that I still have a chance at success helps me relax back into the plush leather bucket seat.
It doesn’t take long to arrive at the building where I’ve been living. What took me over an hour to walk is accomplished in a few minutes of driving.
Ryker pulls into the parking garage and finds a spot in the near empty lot, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
He dials the line, and I hear it ring twice before a male voice answers. “Ryker?”
I recognize the deep timber of my brother’s voice as well as the faint Russian accent that still laces his intonation.
“Hey,” Ryker answers. The word carries a familiarity that makes me prickle with discomfort. It’s the fact that my jailers are so well acquainted and Ryker now holds one of my secrets. “I need to discuss a detail about the wedding. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course. What do you want to discuss?” My brother asks.
“I’m actually close to the building. Mind meeting me in the conference room on the second floor?”
“Fine,” my brother replies. “How soon?”
“Five minutes.” And then Ryker hangs up the phone. Just like that, he’s cleared the apartment of Dimitri so that I can enter.
Because though my brother lives in another unit, he spends increasing amounts of time “checking” on me and Katarina.
But my brother being gone doesn’t mean I’m free from notice. The cameras will certainly—
He dials the phone again, another male voice picking up.
“I’m in the garage. I need a cut in the feed from the garage to the third floor, through the right stairwell. Make sure to stagger it so that not too much of the system is off at once.”
I stare at him, my lips parting in surprise. Dimitri does not, as far as I know, have that kind of power.
Not that I didn’t know that the Smiths were always the puppet masters. But I’ve gone and played myself right into Ryker Smith’s hands.
He opens his door and slides out of his seat.
I already know there is no point in running here. Even if they shut the garage cameras down, the entire outside is rigged. I’d never make it. It took me days to learn the rhythm on the wall outside my bedroom.
Ryker opens my door and offers his hand once again. With a grimace, I slide my fingers into his. “How’d you get off the third floor without being seen?”
I shrug. If he thinks I’m telling him my secrets, he’s crazy. “I’m resourceful.”
“Hmm,” he says as his hand comes to my back again. The automatic lock of the stairwell door clicks and he pulls it open.
The guards must control the doors, it’s the only explanation I can manage before we’re in the stairwell and starting up the stairs.
We easily climb the three flights, but stop on the third-floor landing, the door from the stairwell to the apartment still locked.
That’s when Ryker’s phone buzzes with a text. He glances down. “Your sister-in-law is in the kitchen. You can’t enter yet.”
Ava. Despite not knowing how I feel about my brother, I like his wife. Smart, kind, and beautiful in this warm way, there have been a few times when I’ve considered asking her real questions.
But my father taught me a long time ago to be very careful who I trust.
But then a new thought occurs to me. “You have cameras in the apartment?”
Can the guards see me changing in my room? My face flames at the idea. I don’t have a lot of experience in that regard, and I definitely don’t want random men checking me out.
Ryker glances down at me. “Just in the kitchen and hall, they point at the elevator and the stairwell. For protection.”
My brows lift. “Who’s protection?” Because they seem to use the security a lot more for keeping us in, than for keeping others out.
But the door buzzing, interrupts me asking.
Ryker opens it, putting pressure on my back so that I step from the stairwell and into the kitchen.
“I’ll see you at the wedding,” he says as I look back over my shoulder, our gazes locking.
My lips part to reply, but I’m silenced by the shadowed look in his eyes.
His dark gaze assesses me before he closes the door.
I’m left staring at the blank metal barrier as the lock clicks back into place.
Still a prisoner.
But if I’ve been a little pawn waiting on the chess board, I think I might have just moved myself into play…