34. Andrie
Andrie
“I’m not sure whether I should start with the interrogation or torture you first so you’ll be begging to talk instead.
” Irina sighed, tapping her gun to her chin as if deep in thought, but I knew better.
Irina was like a cat who enjoyed playing with her prey before killing it.
It didn’t matter if I told her what she wanted to hear in the first five minutes or after five hours.
She wasn’t about to stop until I’d drawn my last breath.
Killing wasn’t the goal—the goal was to see how long she could extend the pain.
“Tell me, why would a second-rate human trafficker want a patient list from a psychiatrist no one’s ever heard of?” I countered.
Spitting out a mouthful of blood, I smiled, as if she’d done exactly what I’d predict she’d do.
The more I could set her off-balance, the better.
“You do realize the government pulled all of my contracts the second they realized Hardy was dirty—including confiscating my patient files. Even if I had copies, which I don’t, it wouldn’t do you much good.
The US military and all the rest of the branches that used my services are all doing damage control right now.
By tomorrow, any government asset I’ve ever come in contact with will have a completely new alias and background.
You illegally entered the United States, kidnapped a former government employee, and are likely guilty of a list of other crimes with nothing to gain,” I lied without hesitation, keeping my confidence as bolstered as I could.
Her lips thinned as I spelled everything out for her, face paling a bit as I went. But then her jaw tightened, and she sneered. “You think I did this for nothing?”
“We both know you didn’t want this list for anything other than political gain in your circles.
And the second you try to use it to buy yourself a seat at the big-boys table, you’ll lose what little credibility you’ve been able to get from them.
Because I can bet that each and every one of them has enough strings to vet that list before they even buy it from you, and they won’t take kindly to you trying to fleece them.
” This time, I rolled my eyes as if annoyed that I needed to spell it out for her.
I expected irritation and cold calculation, but instead, she lashed out again, punching my stomach.
At first, the move pleased me. Punches and blows were nothing compared to what Irina would do to me if she were in control of herself and wrapped up in her games.
Then, the wildness in her eyes, the rage she was letting loose, registered.
This was not the woman known for her love of torture and inventive ways of “playing” with her wares.
This woman was panicked, reactive, and outright scared.
While I didn’t love the idea of an unpredictable Irina, the fact that she was out of control and not thinking clearly might work to my advantage.
At least, in terms of choosing just how painful my own death would be.
Fortunately for me, I knew exactly what buttons to press to get what I wanted.
“You know, Demi used to laugh about you,” I wheezed.
“Saying you were always drunk on power you didn’t even have.
Sure, everyone toed the line with you in Russia, but that was only because they were afraid of your father.
Demi said it was kind of pathetic that you didn’t realize the men around you were just humoring you. ”
Irina screamed again, this time pistol whipping me across the face.
My head spun, blackness creeping into the edges of what was already narrowing sight—thanks to a swelling eye from the first hit—but I fought it back, knowing I’d be helpless if I passed out.
The pain was intense, so intense I wanted to vomit, but self-preservation won out despite the cold sweat and double vision.
“How is he by the way?” I might be beyond angry at Xander right now, but no way in hell would I put him in jeopardy. “I always regretted not being able to thank him for a good time, even if it did cost me a hell of a lot.”
Internally, I winced, I’d meant to keep her focus on Russia and her problems, not me.
“He’s dead.” The lack of emotion would have been surprising if I hadn’t heard stories from Demi about growing up with her.
He’d warned me when we’d first been together that his mother was capable of murdering not only me but him as well if she felt he was becoming more trouble than he was worth.
Even though she hadn’t been the one to kill him, she probably hadn’t shed a tear over the loss of her only child.
“I hadn’t heard,” I lied again, my eyes wanting to cross as the world faded from focus before I forced my attention back to the woman in front of me. “I would’ve sent flowers.”
Undeterred, Irina tilted her head, her anger cooling as her curiosity got the better of her. “How did you escape your fate? Sex slaves have such a short expiration date. I honestly didn’t peg you as being able to survive the trip across the Atlantic, let alone live out the rest of the year.”
“Raid. Right place at the right time,” I tried to match her blasé tone. Were my words slurring? I couldn’t tell. “I can’t say the trip was fun, but I made it out with only a few scars, so all in all, I chalked it up to a learning experience and moved on.”
“A … learning experience?” For once I’d shocked her.
I shrugged. “You date men in dangerous jobs, you’re likely to end up in just as much danger as they surround themselves with.”
“So, you became a boring therapist in the suburbs?” she asked, a little skeptical, as if trying to reconcile what little she’d know about the woman her son had been briefly living with all those years ago with the straight-laced woman in front of her.
“Not totally boring. I did have all those government contracts,” I pointed out. “Until my handler betrayed me and tried to have his goon get my patient list, that is. How did he track you down?”
“The dark web. I saw his ad listing and, as you already guessed, thought that might be of use to some.” Putting the gun into the small of her back, she grabbed a butcher knife from a nearby counter.
“I’m afraid I had more confidence in his …
reliability … than I should have.” She tapped the knife blade to her lips.
“He did make the entire thing sound so simple. A lesson for next time, I suppose. What’s the American expression?
Don’t count your chickens before they hatch?
Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I was able to track the list back to the original source.
After all, it’s always better to get the information first hand. ”
I didn’t like that glint in her eye, the mask settling over her face. I was losing her, and I knew what that meant for me.