Chapter 4
SCORPION
“I need a shower, Andriani.”
At the sound of Ekaterina’s voice, I scowl down at the sudoku puzzle I’m working on. It’s not that I’d forgotten her presence. She’s fucking impossible to forget, and not just because she’s loud, demanding, and the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met.
Also because she’s the most gorgeous, fuckable, biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met.
“There are needs, and then there are wants, Sidorova,” I call back to her.
She’s handcuffed to the other bed again. Mostly because I don’t need to keep worrying about her trying to escape, but also because I like leaving her where I don’t have to look at her. Or talk to her.
She’s decided to circumvent me by yelling from the other room.
I’ve been pretending I’m not here for the last hour, ignoring every word that comes out of her mouth. Threats, Russian, curses, lengthy explanations of what she expects to be served for her next meal—there’s no end to her desire to annoy me.
Unfortunately, we’re both stuck here together until my brothers Saint and Priest decide how best to use her to our advantage against her brother.
My hike down the driveway to get cell service has left me with more questions than answers, but I’m willing to wait.
I’m not the don or the consigliere. I’m just one of my brother’s most-trusted soldiers. I do what I’m told.
Mostly.
No one told me to kidnap Ekaterina Sidorova, but I was fucking pissed after the Bratva blew up our restaurant, and she was the lowest-hanging fruit.
“A shower is a need,” she calls back.
That mouth of hers is going to get her into trouble. What I’d give to see those pouty pink lips wrapped around my dick.
“Duct tape,” I growl back at her.
It’s not an idle threat. I’m not above silencing her the only way I can, aside from the permanent one.
For a few beats, she doesn’t say anything.
I carry on with my puzzle. Being turned off and disconnected from the outside world appeals to me.
Shit hits the fan twenty-four seven in my world, and it’s fucking amazing to be somewhere that can’t happen.
At least not until I walk half a mile for cell service.
“What are you doing out there, torturing all the souls you’ve collected?” she asks.
My pen pauses and I sigh. “Trust me. None of the men I’ve killed had souls to collect.”
“What about the women?”
Clever. She’s testing me. Pushing me. Trying to get me to admit that I’ve never physically hurt a woman. Which I haven’t. But that’s none of her fucking business, and I need her to fear me and what I’m capable of.
“None of them did either,” I call back to her.
And then, fuck it. I snap the book of puzzles closed. It’s another relic, left behind by the previous owner of the cabin, but I kinda like it. I’d like it even more if I didn’t have a mouthy hostage in the next room, interrupting my concentration every thirty seconds.
“What’s your number?”
Jesus fuck. This woman.
I stand, abandoning the stool and sudoku, and stalk to the bedroom to unlock the door.
Knowing she’s capable of anything, even if it should be impossible for her to escape the handcuffs and the sturdier bed—I clearly made a mistake thinking that bolting the piece of shit in the other room to the floor would stop her—I take out my Glock and have it at the ready as I swing the door open.
I didn’t have time to install a camera in this room, unlike the other one, where I planned to keep her, until the hellcat broke the damn place apart.
Ekaterina is where I left her, lying on the bed with her hands cuffed to the headboard. Her silky black hair is spread over the pillows, and her tee has ridden up, revealing her toned midriff and the button that’s still undone on her jeans.
“What number?” I bite out, trying to ignore the twinge of lust inside me at the sight of her there, at my mercy.
Ekaterina Sidorova could give a dead man a rager.
“Your body count. You know, how many people you’ve killed.”
I lean my hip against the doorjamb and tuck my piece away. “You’re awfully interested in my business.”
“Maybe I’m sizing up the enemy.”
“You don’t need to worry about that. If it’s me versus you, I’m going to win. Every fucking time.”
Her eyes narrow to slits. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you.”
I drag my thumb along my jaw, feeling the scrape of scruff I haven’t shaved in a few days. “I’m not the one handcuffed to the bed right now, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“You had an unfair advantage. You dragged me off the street from behind.”
I grin. “Who said anything about playing fair?”
Taking her was easy. I’m not sure what the fuck Sidorov was thinking, allowing his sister free rein in the city.
It took my men less than three hours to find out everything I needed to know about her, from what she ate for breakfast to every detail of her daily routine.
If I didn’t already want to clip Sidorov for the stunts he’s pulled, I’d want to watch him choke to death on his own blood for not looking after his own sister.
She tugs at her wrists. “Seriously, Andriani. I’m losing the feeling in the tips of my fingers again. Isn’t there some other way you can hold me hostage?”
“I could put you in a cage.”
“Fuck that.”
“Cuffs, it is.”
She thrashes on the bed, the movement making her tits bounce in ways I absolutely should not notice. “I need a shower.”
I’m going to need one after this too. An ice-fucking-cold one.
“How about a sponge bath?” I suggest just to be an asshole.
Her eyes seethe with ice-blue flames. “You’re a pig, you know that?”
“Has anyone ever told you that the best way to get what you want from someone isn’t to fling insults at them?”
She bares her teeth at me like the feral hellcat she is. “How much longer is this purgatory going to last, Andriani?”
Fuck if I know. Somewhere between taking her off the street and having to sleep on the lumpy-ass couch in the living area all night long, I realized that I may have bitten off a bit more than I can chew.
Why couldn’t Ekaterina be meek and terrified of me?
This all would have been so much easier if she were crying in the fetal position.
But no.
I’ve got a demanding diva on my hands instead, one who refuses to be afraid or shut up.
“Until I say it’s over,” I tell her. “And not a second sooner.”
Then I step back out of the room, locking the door from the outside.
“When I get out of here, I’m going to cut off your little dick myself and make you eat it!” she shouts.
“I’d like to see you try,” I shoot back. “Besides, my dick isn’t little. It’s fucking huge.”
A string of Russian words follows me as I dip back out of the cabin.
I need to get some fresh air and see if I have any word from either that spawn of Satan Sidorov or my brothers.
And I also need to find a better solution for keeping my captive if I’m going to be stuck with her for much longer.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to keep being her bathroom buddy.
Katya
The cabin is quiet.
Scorpion left a while ago, and as far as I can tell, he hasn’t been back. I haven’t heard the door or his now-familiar footsteps. Not a creak of the floor. Panic settles into my chest, making it heavy and tight, as my mind starts to whirl again.
What if something happened to him? We’re in the middle of the woods.
Are there bears here? What if he got eaten by one?
I mean, good for the bear, but I’m thinking about myself.
Does anyone else know where I am? Surely Misha is trying to track me by now.
Especially if Andriani sent him that picture he took of me.
Suddenly, there’s a bang, and the sunlight filtering through the lone window disappears. A piece of plywood has been slapped overtop the pane.
“Andriani, is that you?” I demand.
No answer except the whirring of a power tool.
It’s got to be him. Who else would be bolting the window closed?
Definitely not a bear. And what are the odds that there’s another psychotic, lethal kidnapper roaming around here aside from the one who’s been tormenting me since yesterday?
Not good.
Brrrt. Brrrt. Brrrt.
The power tool’s rhythmic reports are the only sound.
It’s got to be him.
“Andriani,” I try again. “You can’t leave me cuffed to this bed all day.”
Nature is beginning to call again, even though he’s been stingy with the water he’s allowed me.
Still no response.
There’s some more drilling and pounding or whatever noise at the window, followed by silence.
Now it’s even more depressing in this dingy room.
The bulb in the ceiling is switched off, making it almost dark as night in here, except the light creeping in from under the locked door sending a hint of brightness to bathe the shadows.
Maybe he’s sealing my tomb.
I probably should have held my tongue. But I’ve never been good at doing what I’m supposed to do.
I hear the front door opening and then footsteps. His footsteps. Relief chases some of the anxiety. The lock scrapes open, followed by the door. He flicks the switch, and light fills the room.
I blink. His black hair is falling over his brow, and no man has the right to make a five-o’clock shadow look that good.
He’s still wearing a three-piece suit, like he’s a CEO about to head into a high-stakes board meeting instead of a Mafia kingpin holding me prisoner in a shitty cabin in the woods.
He’s also carrying the power tool instead of his gun.
“Playing with your tool again?” I ask.
Because I can’t keep my mouth shut, apparently.
“Are you volunteering?” He smirks. “If so, no thanks. I’ve got plenty of women happy to do that for me.”
I clench my jaw, annoyed with him for his endless smug confidence and ability to meet me tit for tat in any conversation. It’s impossible to get one over on this zasranets.
“Hard pass,” I say sweetly. “I like my men the way I like my cars, new, not used.”
He barks out a laugh. “No wonder you’re so uptight and bitter. You’ve never had an orgasm.”
“I’ve had plenty,” I snap.