Chapter 3 #3
“Not speaking isn’t an option,” he tells me, his tone making it clear that I will be answering his questions.
When I don’t immediately answer, he leans forward, invading my space and making my heart start to race.
It’s just because I’m scared, I tell myself, and not because he’s sexy and scary in a good way and making me all hot and bothered.
No, I mentally yell at myself. He’s scary in a bad way, a very bad way.
“All I had to do was pin you to the wall and it was enough to make you piss yourself, kiska. You sure you want to stay silent?”
“What does that word mean?” I ask, breaking my silence, even if it isn’t to answer his question.
He gives me a very small smirk. “It means pussycat, because let’s face it, sweetheart, you’re no lion.”
I’m insulted, but he’s right. My inner badass never did make an appearance, and I think it’s safe to say that I’m not cut out for a dangerous life. “Fine,” I say, knowing there’s no point in putting this off any longer, “but I want your word that you won’t kill me and that I can make a phone call.”
He laughs and scrubs a hand over his jaw, I try not to notice the dried blood that still covers him. “I won’t kill you unless you give me no other choice.” He thinks for a second and adds, “I’ll consider a supervised call.”
“That’s a lot more vague than I’d like, but I have no choice but to take it, I guess. My name is Madison Montgomery, but everyone calls me Maddie, and I’m the maid.”
He mutters something in Russian, looking less than pleased with the mistake.
“You didn’t think to inform me of this when I called you Kaylee?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Yeah, so you could slit my throat like you did Seth? No fucking thanks. Why were you even trying to kidnap her? Is this about Scott?”
“What do you know about Scott?”
“Not much. I know he’s involved with drugs, but I don’t know the details.
Look, I know enough to know that you’re not someone I want as my enemy.
” When he just stares at me, I keep going.
“I think this is all just a big misunderstanding, and if you could just let me go, then we can forget any of this happened.”
I’m not sure what he’s about to say, because before he can even open his mouth, a loud, deep voice yells something in Russian. Without taking his eyes off me, my kidnapper yells something in response and soon another very large, tatted-up man walks into the room.
“Holy shit,” I whisper when I realize it’s the same guy who I saw walking out of the women’s shelter.
There’s no cute grin on his face now, though.
He’s glaring at me like my kidnapper. In fact, aside from different eye color, they look a lot alike.
I must be looking at two of the crazy Medvedev brothers, the ones that have a reputation for being ruthless and scary as hell.
I really hope the third brother doesn’t show up.
I’m not so sure my heart can take much more.
They have a long conversation in Russian, but my kidnapper rarely takes his eyes off me.
It’s unsettling to say the least. I have no idea if they’re talking about the best way to let me go or the most efficient way to dispose of my body.
When my hands start to shake and my breathing picks up, I know I’m about to lose it.
“Please speak English,” I say. “You’re trying to decide how many pieces to cut me up into, aren’t you?”
“I take it you know who we are?” my kidnapper asks.
“The Medvedev Bratva,” I whisper.
“I’m Vasily,” the man who I’d seen earlier says. He smacks my kidnapper’s back and adds, “This is my brother Volodya.”
“I saw you coming out of the women’s shelter on my way to work.”
He looks at me, sizing me up, before he says, “My wife runs the shelter.”
“It’s a beautiful place. Most shelters look depressing and not very safe.”
Vasily nods and sits on the edge of the bed. “It was very important to my wife that the place be as inviting as possible, especially for the children.”
I look at the two brothers in front of me, both of them are men you would look at and then hurry up and run in the other direction.
Their whole aura reads do not fuck with me, and you’d have to be an idiot to ignore that, but as much as I’m not crazy about being kidnapped, Volodya didn’t hurt me.
Scared the hell out of me, yes, but he hasn’t hurt me, and now his brother is telling me his wife runs a shelter for abused women and children. I have no idea what to think right now.
“You took me by mistake, right? So why can’t you just let me go?”
“It’s not that simple,” Volodya says. “You could make a lot of trouble for us. I believe kidnapping is illegal in this country, not to mention the murder you saw me commit.”
“Okay, I get that you can’t just trust me to keep my mouth shut, but what if we made a deal?”
He raises a dark brow at me while I try like hell to hang on to the tiny thread of courage that’s running through me. “Hire me as your maid.”
They both look at me like I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have. I saw a man die tonight, I was chased by a masked psycho, and I peed my pants for the first time since I was a little girl. It’s safe to say I’m about at the end of my damn rope, and I think they sense that.
“You can keep an eye on me if I’m here. I have experience, and I need the money.”
“Why do you need money?” Volodya asks.
“That’s my business,” I tell him, making his lip twitch up the slightest bit.
The brothers go back to speaking Russian, and after several minutes, Vasily laughs and then Volodya looks at me and says, “Fine. I’ll hire you as my maid, but first we need to go over the rules.”