Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Turned out the old cliché was right all along—only we had the power to better ourselves.
I heard the door whining open downstairs. My jaw clenched.
“I thought we agreed on four hours, Random,” I lamented, loudly enough for him to hear.
Footsteps pounded up the stairway. One…two pairs.
Why were there two pairs? Who was he with?
My heart rattled against my ribcage.
I let go of the clothes I was holding and crawled under my bed. It was my safest bet. The only escape route from my bedroom was the balcony, and last time the Russians paid us a visit, they parked directly in front of it.
The footsteps grew closer, louder. I sucked in a breath, lowering my head to try to peek through the curtain of linen hiding me from view.
I saw two pairs of smart shoes. They entered my room with purpose, speaking briskly between themselves in Russian.
Shit, shit, shit.
One waltzed into my closet, kicking the half-full suitcases aside. The other approached my window, probably to see if I jumped through it.
Window Guy told Closet Guy something in Russian. They both laughed. They walked out of my room, filing in and out of rooms on the second floor. They knew I was here somewhere. They’d heard me.
I contemplated trying to take out my phone and call Ransom, but decided against it. My phone was a mini, so small I’d tucked it inside my waistline. It could easily slip and make noise.
Closet Guy trudged outside my home gym, growling. He and the other man met in the hallway again. Their hushed voices didn’t sound so smug now. My heart beat so hard I was surprised they didn’t hear it.
Were they going to leave? Ransom was their main objective. He clearly wasn’t here. No way he could hide under any piece of furniture. He was massive.
One of them began making his way downstairs. I drew in a lungful of air. Almost out of the woods. Then the other pair of shoes turned in my direction, swiftly lurching forward.
No. No. No. No.
The feet disappeared in my periphery. I couldn’t follow his location without shifting around and making a noise. Everything was quiet. I didn’t dare to breathe. Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed my ankles from behind and dragged me out from under my bed. My fingers automatically clawed onto the rug.
I jerked forward, bumping my head against the bedframe in the process.
Kicking his hands off in an attempt to fight back, I started screaming. The man flipped me onto my back, grunted in annoyance, and pressed his palm over my mouth. My teeth dug into his skin. The metallic tang of blood exploded in my mouth. He didn’t relent. In fact, he laughed.
Laughed and laughed and laughed.
He’s not Craig. He’s not going to hurt you like that. Pull yourself together.
The man’s face came into focus, as I blinked the white dots of adrenaline away. Even without ever meeting him, I knew it was Kozlov himself. His face was scarred in deep, purposeful slashes. Knife wounds. His eyes were very small and very black. Two raisins full of hatred.
With a swift bark in Russian, he made the person next to him pull me up to my feet. The man patted me down for devices and weapons. Dizzy on my feet, I prayed he wouldn’t find my phone. Halting on my pockets, the man took a step back and shook his head.
I let out a ragged exhale. He’d missed it.
Glancing around the room, I tried to look for something to attack the two men with. Kozlov’s assistant, in the meantime, brought together both my arms behind my back and bound them with thick black tape. I wanted to throw up. I’d never felt so helpless in my life.
You had to send your bodyguard away, didn’t you? All because you were jealous and petty and childish.
Although, it was also true that he brought trouble right to my doorstep, and if I made it out of this alive, I should destroy his career, for that alone, as punishment.
Kozlov turned on his heel and made his way down the stairs. This was my chance to try to take down his assistant. The man shoved me from behind toward the stairs. I complied, hoping he’d loosen his guard on me. But when we got to the edge of the stairs, I managed to slam my body into his, pushing him down. He gripped the bannister quickly with one hand, using his spare to sink his fingers into my hair. He tugged violently, lurching me toward his mouth. My scalp burned.
“Behave, little girl,” he commanded in a thick accent. And I didn’t know why, but hearing him speak in English made everything so much more real and frightening.
Chances were high, I wasn’t getting out of this alive.
On our journey downstairs, I noticed all of my Nest cameras had been covered. Kozlov had cased the house beforehand, probably when Ransom and I were in Texas. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be familiar with their locations.