MADISYN
“We just passedthe turn for the address that I gave you.”
I double-checked the license plate and the vehicle’s make and model before climbing into the back seat.
The driver doesn’t answer.
“Sir?”
We slow down as we come to a traffic light, and I yank the door handle, but it doesn’t budge.
Shit!
I always check to ensure the child safety lock isn’t latched when I get in the back of a rideshare vehicle. But I’d been so focused on Mikhail and trying to ignore him during lunch that I’d been distracted.
“Who are you? What do you want?” I try not to let my voice quiver, but I might not get another opportunity if I don’t fight now.
He’s silent.
Does he work for Mikhail? Is he going to threaten me because I betrayed his family?
Maybe it has nothing to do with Mikhail. I certainly don’t recognize him as a member of the bratva.
Does he have a vendetta with the FBI?
Or maybe he’s just a pervert who wants to get me alone.
It doesn’t matter, and I need to get out while I still can. We’re not far from the office. I can see the skyscraper from the road. We’re a block away but heading in the wrong direction.
I don’t have much but my hands and my purse. I don’t have my weapon with me because I’d been undercover. It’s locked up in my safe at home. Little good that is doing me right now.
I grab the straps for my purse and yank it around the driver’s neck, cutting off his oxygen supply, choking him.
He slams into the vehicle in front of us, and I’m tossed around the back seat.
“You bitch!” he snarls and yanks the steering wheel hard as he slams on the gas, moving around the car that he just hit.
He weaves between vehicles and recklessly crosses traffic, driving on the wrong side of the road before he veers off into an alley.
At the opposite end of the narrow road, is a black SUV.
The driver slows to a crawl before cutting the engine.
Two men in dark suits step out from the vehicle blocking the road. The rain has lightened up, but neither seems to care about getting wet.
I don’t recognize the taller and more muscular, bald man who was driving, but the second, who comes around from the passenger side, he’s familiar.
He’s an associate of Mikhail’s, more specifically, an errand boy.
“Sergei?”
Why are they doing this?
The tall bald associate yanks open the back door and reaches into the vehicle, grabbing my arm.
“Mikhail sent you?” I can’t believe the nerve of him and pretending like he gave a damn about me!
“Come with us,” the bald man says. He doesn’t answer my question. He drags me toward the awaiting vehicle while Sergei quietly says something to the driver.
I can’t hear what’s being said, and I don’t care.
“Get off me!” I scream, fighting back. My elbow hits the guy in the ribs, but he doesn’t so much as flinch.
We’re in a darkened alley. There are no witnesses, no windows, no sign of anyone but us.
If I go with these men, I may not have another opportunity to escape.
Does Mikhail want me dead?
Did he hire a hit on me because I work for the FBI?
I stomp on the bald man’s toes and slam my elbow into his groin.
He grunts and is momentarily stunned, releasing my arm from his grasp. “Get back here!” he shouts, doubled over in pain.
Right, like I’m going to wait for him to kill me. Did he think that I wouldn’t fight back? He underestimates my desire for survival.
I race in the opposite direction of the vehicle, toward the main road, for help, screaming to get anyone else’s attention.
Sergei chases after me. His footsteps grow louder and closer.
I glance over my shoulder and make the mistake of seeing him catching up with me. But that’s not all I notice; the bald man has something in his hand.
I get only a glimpse. Is it a gun? He gives no warning that he’s going to shoot me, and why would he if he wants me dead?
A jolt of electricity courses through my body.
The bastard has a stun gun.
I fall to the ground, unable to run or fight back.
Sergei scoops me into his arms and carries me back to the awaiting vehicle.
He could have killed me. Why didn’t he?
* * *