Chapter 18
Ava
It was a large, dark office. A flashy wooden desk at the centre, a liquor case on the left and couches to the right surrounding a pole that had a woman dancing on it.
She had nothing on, except a lace thong and black heels.
The dancer didn’t even skip a beat when she noticed us.
It seemed like guns to people’s heads were a normal practice.
The air was musty and smelled like stale cigar smoke.
There was an older man sitting on the couch, his legs spread wide with a dark-haired, naked woman kneeling between them.
I quickly looked up and away from her when I saw her head bobbing up and down.
But unfortunately, I looked right into the man’s eyes.
He gave me a challenging smile, waiting for me to baulk away from what I was seeing—to divert my eyes in shame.
So I kept his stare, keeping my face expressionless, almost bored.
As soon as the woman became aware of her audience, she stopped, lifted her head, but the man grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her head back down. He never broke eye contact with me.
Vlad gave a chuckle as the woman started gagging on the man’s dick.
Nausea rolled through me and Owen jumped forward from beside me, struggling against the two men holding him back. They forced him to his knees.
The man laughed and let the woman’s head go, never looking away from me. The girl gasped for air and gave a soft moan. “Again,” she begged breathlessly.
The man looked away from me for the first time, grabbing the woman by her hair, pulling her up until she straddled his leg.
He slapped her across the cheek and she grinded onto his leg in pleasure.
“Not now, Kara. I have business to attend. Get me a drink.” He had the thickest accent of them all, his words coming out in heavy, staccato sounds.
The woman stood without protest. “Yes, sir.” She turned and walked to the liquor cabinet, winking at me as she passed us.
“What can I say. The girl has a filthy appetite,” the man said merrily, tucking his dick back into his pants. “Now who are you, and why are you disturbing my time with Kara?”
Vlad answered in Russian, and the man looked between me and Owen.
“So how did the cops find out about our little operation here?” he asked, taking the glass of whiskey from Kara.
“We’re not cops,” Owen spat, his toy-boy act was long gone. He stared at the man in disgust.
“Don’t take me for a fool, young man.”
Owen straightened. “I’m not a cop. But you’re right, Michael. You’re no fool.”
The men around us shifted uncomfortably when Owen said the older man’s name. But Michael only smiled, taking a sip from his whiskey.
“We’re not here for you. I don’t give a flying fuck about your… operation in that warehouse. We’re looking for someone. Grayson Varon.”
Michael laughed. “Never heard of such a man.”
I turned and patted Vlad’s chest, giving him a reassuring smile that caught him off guard.
He didn’t know what to do about it, or the gun he had pointed at my back moments ago.
I guess none of his prisoners had ever been so comfortable as to touch him.
I stepped forward, concentrating on keeping my breathing steady and my face calm.
I ran my fingers across Michael’s desk, bringing them up again as if inspecting them for dust. “Of course, you have. He’s the man who supplied you with the paint for your little operation.
” Rule number five. When in trouble, bullshit your way through to the end.
Be that escape or death. Never let the enemy see you slipping.
“And what might you know about that, girl?” Michael questioned.
I had his attention. “I helped him steal it. Almost had to fuck two security guards for those six jars.” I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
“I see,” Michael answered thoughtfully. He gestured to Owen. “Did he help too?”
“Him? No. He’s my guard dog. Like Vlad here.” I smiled sweetly at Vlad.
“How do you know Grayson Varon then, Miss…”
“Oh, you can call me Candice. And we run in the same circles, Mister Varon and I. Used to be good buddies, actually. Until he took something of mine and disappeared.” My life. “I want it back.”
Michael laughed. “That’s what you get for being friends with a thief, Candy.”
I snorted. “Yeah, well, your wise words of caution would have been appreciated a few months ago, Mikey. So tell me where I might find him, and we’ll leave. As new friends. Or maybe even business partners. You’ll be needing a new thief when I’m through with Grayson.”
Michael watched me silently, an intrigued look on his face. “Last I heard of Grayson Varon, he was with his black-haired lover, finishing some old feud. What was her name again?” His eyebrow arched and he studied me intently. It was a test. To see how well I really knew Grayson.
I tried to keep my smile in place, tried hard not to let him see how deep his words cut me. His black-haired lover...
The joke was on Michael. I was exceptionally well versed on the subject of Grayson.
I knew all about his lover and family feud.
“You mean, Raina? No, she’s rotting in a Russian prison.
Very sad. And as for the family feud with Anderson, that’s all over and done with.
Thanks to me, actually. Almost had to fuck Charles too.
” I gave a bubbly chuckle, flipped my ponytail over my shoulder, and hopped onto his desk.
“Even a man like Grayson Varon can’t seem to do anything without a woman.
Now if you’re done testing me, Michael, I’d really like to know where he is. ”
“I’ll tell you what, Candy. I’ll give you the information you want, if you give me some information that I want on Grayson.”
I smiled sweetly at him. “You have yourself a deal, Mister Volkov. What do you need to know?”
He swirled his whiskey in the glass, took a long sip, savouring the taste in his mouth.
He looked the picture of ease, which had that little voice in my head screaming.
“I do not know Grayson on a personal level like you seem to. He’s very secretive.
So I want to know, who are the people he really cares about? ”
My stomach dropped. Why would he want to know that? Gods, I couldn’t tell him that. “That’s a trick question, Michael. Grayson doesn’t care about anyone. Take Raina for instance. He’s letting her rot in Mordovia of all places. He doesn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself.”
Michael Volkov was quiet for a second, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Hmm. Seems like you’re not as much help as I thought you’d be.” He lifted his hand and flicked his fingers towards us. “Ubit’ ikh.”
Vlad lifted his gun to my head, and the burly guard pressed a gun to the back of Owen’s head.
“Wait!” Owen’s eyes were fixed on me, his chest heaving. “Tell them or I will,” he pleaded, his eyes wild.
I shook my head slightly, my eyes boring into him. I couldn’t do that to Gemma. I couldn’t trade my life for hers. For whatever reason Volkov wanted her name, it was for no good reasons. I would get Owen out some other way. There had to be another way.
Think, Ava! What would Grayson do?
“I’m sorry. I’m not gonna let them kill you.” Owen turned towards Michael. “I’ll tell you, if you promise to let her walk out of here.”
Volkov gave a pleased smile and nodded his head in agreement.
“Gemma Monroe and Hunter, his adoptive brother. That’s who he cares about. The only people he cares about.”
“How sweet of you to want to save your boss’s life.
I’ll let her live.” Michael chuckled and looked to me again.
“But you need a new guard dog. This one is very disrespectful to disobey an order like that. Not to worry. We know how to deal with this type of insolence.” He nodded to the burly guard behind Owen.
The guard lifted his gun once more, and ice shot through my veins.
No!
I had no time to think. I reacted instinctively, pushing off the table, leaping into the air, right onto the guard behind Owen. A shot went off and I screamed in defiance as I stabbed a pen into the man’s neck.
Owen! Oh, dear gods, please, please, please, please!
The guard and I tumbled to the ground, but I was yanked up again before I could react. I struggled against whoever had me, struggled to get a look at Owen.
“Let her go!” I heard his voice, and a visceral sob escaped me. He was alive!
“You bitch!” Vlad spat, slamming my face onto the desk. Pain instantly shot through my cheek, so intense I could feel myself slipping into unconsciousness.
I gritted my teeth against the pain and fought hard against the dizziness. I had to stay awake. I had to find Owen.
Everything slowed. I couldn’t think. The screaming in the room was distant.
I blinked slowly, trying to clear my vision so I could see Owen.
I was bent over the side of Michael’s desk.
Vlad had a hand around the back of my neck, holding me down, while his heavy body pinned me painfully to the desk.
I kept still, kept my hands pressed to the smooth varnished wood. “Owen?” I breathed, shakily.
“I’m here. I’m here,” his voice was pained, shaky.
I found his eyes, and my chin started trembling as I saw the truth in them.
Another guard with a gun had taken the place of the one I had stabbed. It was all for nothing. He was still going to die. I had saved him. But only for a few more seconds.
“How dare you come into my house and stab one of my men?” Michael shouted at me. “You will die for that!”
Vlad pressed a gun to my temple. I started crying silently, my body shaking as I kept my eyes on Owen.
Owen’s eyes darted between me and Vlad. He was speaking in Russian, I realised—his words coming fast and desperate.
Vlad laughed cruelly. “You think begging me in my mother tongue is going to stop me from blowing her brains all over this desk? Have some dignity, brother.”
Owen sagged onto his heels. There were tears in his eyes. And defeat—the look of it turning my body ice cold.
This was it.