Chapter Eleven
Tiana
I wake up groggy.
My head is pounding and my vision is as blurry as one’s vision can get. The first thing I’m aware of is the smell of diesel… apart from the violent throbbing in my head.
Holy freaking shit!
What happened?
I do a quick rundown of the events after I walked out of the restaurant, and into the alley. I was moving quickly because the shadows seemed to be alive – when something hit me from behind. My head rang, and then I’d crumpled to the floor.
You got yourself kidnapped again, girl!
But by who? The FBI? Am I in their safehouse? If Agent Asshole is going to be in my face again schooling me about how I shouldn’t have left, he’s got another thing coming.
Except it doesn’t seem like them to take me by force. They’d grabbed me last time, but there’d been nothing rough about it. This time, I was hit. And I must have been hit really hard because my head is still swimming and throbbing. The stabbing pain behind my eyes is making my stomach roil.
Then I hear the sound of men laughing and talking in a language I don’t understand. I recognize it, though. I try to sit up, but my body feels heavy and unresponsive. I’m on my back, staring up into the metal girders of a high ceiling.
Dammit, girl!
What did you get yourself into this time?
I roll onto my side, and try to take in my surroundings, but my head is still in a daze.
The floor I’m lying on is bare concrete, and the walls of the space are covered with a metal sheeting.
Almost empty, aside from some racking, shelving and a stack of crates to one side with letters stenciled onto them.
Framed in the bright light of a wide doorway stands a shiny black van.
It’s clear that I’m in a warehouse of some sort, but I have no clue where.
There’s another peal of laughter, and I turn my head to see a group of heavyset men standing several yards away. Dressed in denim and leather, they look nothing like Agent Thomson and his FBI team. My head pulses again, and I try to fight down a groan. They turn to face me.
“Look who’s finally awake,” one of the men says in heavily accented English as he looks over at me. “Just in time to join the fun. We have big plans for you, suka ,” he leers.
“What… what do you mean? Where’s Agent Thomson?” I immediately regret mentioning the name. I already suspect they’re not FBI, but still I’m scrambling to make sense of my surroundings. My head is still pounding. I don’t know what they hit me with, but it feels like I was kicked by a donkey.
“Agent Thomson?” The man looks around at the others. “ Eta suka dumayet, chto my politseyskiye .” There’s more laughter, and there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s at my expense. “You think we’re cops, bitch?”
“Um… I don’t know.” I scramble stupidly for words, my head still pounding. A part of me is still clinging to the hope that these guys are undercover operatives, even though it’s painfully clear that they’re not.
Don’t be an idiot, Tiana.
These guys are not here to help you.
As if to confirm my suspicion, the men speak another string of Russian, then laugh again. I feel a cold knot of fear blossoming in my stomach.
“Let me be very clear, suka .” he says, grinning. It’s not a friendly expression. “You’re here as bait. Play along and you just might survive.”
“Bait?” I repeat, my heart starting to pound in my chest. “What are you talking about?”
“What do you think? To set a trap for Kirill Vyronov,” the man says, his grin turning into a sneer. “And what better way to draw him out of his fucking cave than by kidnapping his pregnant woman?”
No.
I feel a wave of nausea wash over me as it all sinks in. My suspicion has been confirmed. They’re members of a rival gang, and they’ve kidnapped me to lure Kirill out to them. And worst of all, they know I’m pregnant.
How the hell do they know I’m pregnant?
I swallow hard, but refuse to say anything. I know it would be useless. I could beg all I want, these are not guys I’m going to reason with. But it takes every ounce of my will to fight down the surge of panic creeping up my spine.
I have to find a way to get out of here.
The first thought that comes to mind is that Kirill will come for me. That’s what they want, after all. But that also means they will be prepared for him. He’d be putting himself in danger – just as they’re planning.
I can’t just lie here!
I try to stand up, but my legs give out beneath me, and I collapse back onto the floor. The men exchange words then one of them strides over, leans down, and grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet.
“Time to move, devochka . Let’s find out what you have to say about that fucker Vyronov,” he smirks as he binds my wrists behind me with an efficiency that speaks of years, if not decades of experience.
“I… I don’t know anything about Vyronov,” I stammer, my mind racing.
“He doesn’t tell me anything about his business.
” I try to fight back, but my body is too weak, and my mind is still foggy from whatever they used to knock me out.
Besides, even if I wasn’t reeling from what I’ve been through, I’d be no match for these guys.
They’re ruthless brutes. It’s clear that they wouldn’t think twice about killing me if it suited them.
Too disheartened to keep fighting, I finally give in as they haul me toward a door at the far side of the warehouse. Several of the men hang back while the two who’d initially spoken to me take over.
Unwillingly, I’m dragged out of the warehouse and thrown into the trunk of another vehicle. Once I’m out in the open, I put up another futile fight. “Help! Help me!” I scream, praying that someone might hear me.
“Tikhiy, suka! Shut the fuck up! ” one of the guys snarls.
My efforts only earn me a cuff to the head before something is stuffed into my mouth and bound in place.
Then the trunk is slammed shut, and an engine roars to life as the car begins to move.
I curl into a fetal position on my side, my tightly bound wrists screaming in protest.
It’s okay, baby,
We will be okay…
Panic claws at my chest, but I can’t afford to give up – it’s not just my life on the line anymore.
I steel myself, forcing myself not to give in to hopelessness, trying to focus on anything but the fear and pain.
With the way my mind is still swirling with confusion, it’s not too difficult.
Desperate for any form of comfort, I tug at the stray tendrils that are all I have left of my mother.
Fuzzy moments I’ve clung to. I think back to one of the few memories I have of her.
It was one of the last times as a child that I felt like I was truly cared about by someone.
I was maybe four or five years old, and my mother had taken me to the park. We were sitting on a bench, watching the other kids play, when she turned to me and smiled.
“You know, Tiana,” she said, “you’re going to be someone very special one day. You’re so smart and strong and beautiful. You can do anything you set your mind to.”
I swallow a lump in my throat. I remember feeling so loved and protected in that moment, like nothing in the world could ever hurt me as long as I had my mother by my side.
But then she was gone, and I was left alone with a father who didn’t care about me and a world that seemed determined to break me.
It’s breaking me now.
At least, it felt that way until I met Kirill. Sure, he doesn’t love like a normal person, but he’s more obsessed with me than anyone ever has been and probably ever will be again. However long that might be. And even though I know I shouldn’t, I can’t help but feel love for him.
But he killed her!
He was the one who took it all away. My mother. My childhood. It’s all his fault. I should hate him for that. And I do!
I put the thought out of my mind, forcing myself to focus on the present.
Wherever they take me, it can’t be far off because it feels like mere minutes before we’re slowing down again.
I hear people getting out of the car. Then the trunk is flung open, and I’m being yanked out.
When I kick out and try to poke someone’s eyes out with my heels, the bigger of the two hefts me up and slings me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I’m ridiculously outmatched.
They carry me across a deserted parking bay to a squat red brick building.
I still have no idea where we are, and I wonder how they expect Kirill to track us down after this convoluted maze they’ve brought me through.
Although they will probably just give him the coordinates, tell him to come alone, and then shoot him down on sight.
Shit!
I should hate Kirill for everything he’s done, but somehow, I don’t. A part of me that tells me that there’s more to the story Zoya told me about him killing my mother.
Or maybe that’s just what you want to believe, you lovesick idiot.
We reach the door of the building, and it swings open. “ Privet ,” someone mutters. “She’s the one?”
“ Da ,” the man carrying me says, shifting my weight on his shoulder. I hold myself stiffly, feeling every jolt and jar against my belly and cringing at the thought of what this might be doing to my baby.
The men exchange a few more words, and then we’re on the move again. I’m taken down a hallway, catching glimpses of bare walls before stopping at yet another door. The bigger of the two pushes it open, and then I’m roughly set on my feet in a small, dimly lit room.
Fear has me trembling as I take in the interior. A site office, perhaps, with a metal desk shoved in one corner and a chair beside it. I flinch as I’m pushed toward it, then pushed down onto the seat.
“Don’t hurt me,” I blurt, knowing it’s a foolish request. These men aren’t exactly the type who will treat me like a lady.
And they’ve made it clear what my purpose is.
Use me as bait to take down Kirill. And if they succeed…
I don’t even want to think about what will happen to me and my baby after that.
You’ll no longer be of use to them!
As they tie me to the chair, I close my eyes and think of Kirill.
I can’t help but wonder if Zoya was telling me the truth about him being my mother’s murderer.
There’s something about the whole story that just doesn’t add up.
Why is it that… the realization that dawns on me is like another donkey kick, except this time it’s in the gut.
Zoya!
Besides Roxie and me, Zoya is the only one who knows I’m pregnant. And now, my captors know it too. Which means…
Zoya sold you out to them, you idiot!
She convinced you to leave the restaurant by telling you that Kirill murdered your mom!
That’s what got you kidnapped!
My mouth almost drops open. If this is true, it means the transcript Zoya showed me back at the restaurant can easily be a fake. Maybe Kirill is innocent.
Innocent huh?
Yeah, right. There are many things one can say about Kirill, but ‘innocent’ is not one of them. Kirill Vyronov is anything but innocent. Maybe he has it coming. Maybe he deserves his downfall. And maybe by these guys using me as bait to take him down, I am fulfilling my purpose in this life.
Stop it, girl!
You can’t think like that!
I can’t give up. I have to figure something out. Not for myself, but for the tiny soul I carry in my belly.
I take a few deep breaths and force myself to stay calm as I try to think of a way out of this.
Twisting against the ropes that bind me is a complete waste of time.
Even if I get loose, there are two burly men bearing down on me.
And more down the hall. I don’t even know where they brought me. It’s hopeless.
Still giddy, I try to keep my head from lolling as one of the guys steps up to me. He has a knife in his hand, and he trails the tip of it over my cheek. I shudder at the sensation of the cold steel on my flesh.
“Alright, suka ,” he says. “It’s time to see how much information we can squeeze out of you while we wait for Vyronov to arrive.”
Please, God, send help.
Despite my conflicting emotions, I know that my only hope is Kirill.
The only problem is that he’ll be walking right into a trap.