Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
H aven groaned.
Her head was throbbing, her mouth dry. She opened her eyes. She was lying on a leather couch. She blinked a few more times, and the room came into view.
It was a spacious, light-filled office, with pale, glossy, wooden floors and a large, wooden desk set in front of French doors.
Sunlight streamed in. There was lots of wood around the room and everything was decorated in shades of brown and tan.
The French doors offered a gorgeous view of…
She propped herself up on her elbow. Grapevines. Rows and rows of grapevines.
Haven sat up, looked around and jolted.
The Water Lilies was leaning against the far wall.
Her pulse spiked. It looked fine. There appeared to be no obvious damage to it. Thank God.
She rubbed her hands. The duct tape was gone, but there was still sticky residue on her wrists. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and she jerked her head around. Aleksandr Volkov came out of an adjoining doorway.
“Ah, you’re awake,” he said.
She glared at him, but inside she was quaking.
“Do you need some water?” he asked. “The drugs can leave your mouth dry, I hear.”
“I don’t want anything from you. You can’t just kidnap me!”
He moved to the desk and leaned his hip against it. “I can do anything I want, Haven. I always have, I always will.”
“You’re going to regret this.”
“I’m not afraid of Zane Roth.”
“Zane is a friend of my boyfriend’s. He’s not mine.”
Volkov cocked his head, a furrow forming on his brow. “It doesn’t matter, you’re mine now.”
Annoyed, Haven leaned back against the couch. “Seriously, what is it about me that attracts obsessive, creepy men?”
Volkov’s eyes flashed. “Careful. I don’t allow disobedience or insolence.”
The tone of his voice sent a tremor of fear through her belly.
“I can give you so many things, Haven.” He spread his hands. “Dresses, shoes, jewelry, the finest of everything.”
“You really think I care about that?”
He tilted his head. “I should’ve known you’d have more class. I have art that you’ll love to see. As soon as the buyer arrives—” he nodded at the Monet “—and I complete the sale of the painting, my good friend Sergei Zakharov will transfer me my share.”
Scumbag . Her nails bit into her palms.
“Then we’ll head to my oceanside estate in Mexico. You’ll love it. My art collection is incredible.”
She tasted bile in her mouth. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Rhys will come for me.”
Volkov looked unimpressed. “The boyfriend?”
“Yes, Rhys Norcross.”
The older man straightened like he’d been stung by something. “Norcross?”
She lifted her chin. “Yes.”
He muttered a curse. “Related to Easton and Vander?”
“Their brother.”
The look on Volkov’s face turned unhappy and disturbed. Then he shook his head. “No one will find you here, not even the Norcross brothers. After the buyer arrives from Silicon Valley, we’re leaving. We’ll be long gone before any Norcross can track you down.”
Haven glared at him.
“I want you to go into the adjoining bathroom. I have an outfit in there that I want you to change into.” He gave her activewear a slight sneer.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”
Volkov smiled coldly. “If you don’t reconsider, I will undress you myself.”
Ick . She didn’t want this man’s hands anywhere near her.
Glaring at him, Haven stomped through the doorway he indicated. Inside was a small, but nicely appointed bathroom with brown-granite countertops shot through with gold.
Hanging on a hook on the wall was a fire-engine-red dress, and a pair of strappy, silver shoes with four-inch heels.
Ordinarily, she’d drool over the shoes, but since Volkov had bought them, she didn’t.
The dress wasn’t nice, though. It was far too short, far too clingy, and far too low-cut to be something she’d usually wear.
Annoyed, she pulled her gear off and slid the dress on. Great, she looked like a high-class escort. She slipped the shoes on and decided to leave her ponytail. She wasn’t pandering to him any more than she had to. She strode out, glaring at him.
His eyes lit up. “Good. Soon, we’ll be on our way.” He strode out.
Haven pressed her hands to her face. Shit, she hoped that wasn’t true. Rhys would come.
She dragged in a shaky breath.
Damn, she really wished she’d told him that she loved him.
Okay, well she wasn’t going to sit around hoping to be rescued like some lousy damsel in distress. She definitely wasn’t going to let herself be whisked off to a skeevy bad guy’s estate, no matter how much art he had.
First, she checked the French doors. Locked, and no key in sight. She figured smashing the glass would make too much noise.
She walked back to the bathroom and searched it. She found a small air freshener spray in the cupboard under the sink. It wasn’t mace, but it would do.
Back in the office, she glanced at the desk. Maybe there was a phone? A jolt of adrenaline rushed through her and she hurried to the desk. She checked everything. One drawer was locked, one had nothing but a notepad and pen, and the others were empty. Nothing else, not even a stapler.
She huffed out a breath. Dammit .
She moved over to the main door, expecting it to be locked. The handle turned, and she swallowed a gasp.
Haven peeked into the hall.
There were no beefy guards waiting. She guessed they were around somewhere, or Volkov wouldn’t have left the door unlocked.
Quietly, she slipped into the hall. The house was gorgeous, and much nicer than Volkov’s San Francisco mansion. The wooden floors were beautiful, and the place had a relaxed, rustic edge to it.
She walked on her toes so she didn’t make any noise with the heels, and reached the end of the hall. She saw a large, open plan living area. Nice, comfy suede couches dominated the space. There was a monstrous flatscreen TV on the wall next to a large, stone-lined fireplace.
There were lots more French doors, all opening onto a large, flagstone terrace. Beyond that, she saw a pool and gazebo, and beyond that vines as far as she could see.
Okay . Get to the vines, hide, and run. Maybe she could find a road and flag down a car or something.
Haven darted across the living room. The first French door was locked, but on the second one, she got lucky.
She pulled it open, grinning as she slipped outside. She pulled in a deep breath of fresh air.
She loved Napa. Maybe after all this was over, she’d convinced Rhys to come away with her for a long weekend.
Sex, wine, and Rhys. Mmm .
She darted along the terrace, her heels clicking. First, she needed to get out of here.
Then she heard voices. Crap . She ducked down behind some outdoor couches. Her heart drummed so loudly that she was sure the people would hear it.
“All clear,” a deep voice said. There was a pause. “Vehicle on approach. Acknowledged.” Another pause. “Yeah, the Citation is fueled and waiting at the airstrip.”
Oh, shit.
Silence. Haven waited a few more seconds, and prayed the guard had moved away.
Time to go.
She jumped up and ran. She rounded the gazebo structure by the pool and ran smack into a hard chest.
“Oof.” She stumbled back.
A tall, blond guard in a dark suit scowled at her. “Hey, you aren’t—”
She lifted the air freshener and sprayed it in his eyes.
He threw his hands up and cursed. She tossed the can at him and it hit his head.
Haven ran. Get to the vines. Get to the vines.
Damn these stupid high heels. The heels kept sinking into the grass. She should have kicked them off earlier, but she hadn’t been thinking straight. She hadn’t gone far when a hand grabbed her ponytail and yanked.
She yelped. Oh, that hurt. It felt like her scalp was on fire.
She was swung around to face a scowling Ivan.
“You again,” she cried.
He wrenched her arm behind her back and marched her back toward the house. The blond guard met them, his eyes red and streaming with tears.
“Bitch,” he snapped.
“I’ve been abducted and held against my will, what did you expect?” She heard a noise from Ivan and glanced at him. “Did you just laugh?”
“No.”
She frowned at him. “Sounded like a laugh.”
“Lipinski, flush your eyes out,” Ivan ordered. He shoved Haven inside the house.
He marched to the office and Volkov met them at the doorway.
“Lucky I like a spirited woman, Haven.”
She rolled her eyes. She was too pissed off to feel scared anymore.
“But not too spirited. Ivan, tie her to the chair.”
Ivan shoved her into a chair in front of the desk. He pulled out his handy roll of duct tape.
“Is a roll of duct tape part of the henchman’s essential toolkit?” she asked sarcastically.
He ignored her, and taped her arms and legs to the chair.
Just great . Rhys, please be the hotshot investigator you are and find me.
Fear rose again, making her throat tight. She tested her bindings but she was tied up tight.
Another guard appeared in the door and nodded at Volkov.
The older man smiled. “Good, the buyer is here. Once the transaction is complete, we can be on our way, Haven.”
Her stomach lurched sickeningly.
Rhys, please hurry.
* * *
Fuck .
Rhys had never felt this frantic. He picked up Haven’s cracked phone off the concrete and the keys to his GTS.
He scanned the parking garage, his jaw creaking under the pressure of grinding his teeth together. He had no idea where she was.
Vander watched him like a raptor, clearly ready to subdue him if Rhys lost it.
Vander’s phone rang and he pulled it out. “Ace, what have you got?”
“Take a look.” Ace’s voice came out on speaker.
Rhys peered at Vander’s phone and they watched the security footage flicker across the screen. A big bruiser chased Haven through the parking garage, before catching her and manhandling her into a silver sedan.
“She called him Ivan,” Ace said.
Rhys cursed. “Volkov’s goon. The one who tried to detain her in the library.”