Stealing Amy (Disciples 2)

“Do you have it, myshka?”

“Yes, I think I know how to get there…”

“If you have any trouble, call me,” he says firmly.

“I will,” I state and then take a deep breath.

I know he has her, I know it, yet… what if he doesn’t?

“Ivan,” I exhale. “Someone took Abigail.”

“I know.”

I wait a moment, expecting him to say more. When he doesn’t, I ask. “Did you?”

“We’ll discuss it when you get here.”

There’s a little click and I stare at the display screen.

Is that it? Is that all he’s going to say on the matter?! I push a couple of buttons but nothing happens.

The line dead, the car switches over to the radio. Heavy metal music starts blaring. I scream and pound my hands against the steering wheel.

That fucker, I know he has her. Why didn’t he just say it?

I scream once more and then turn off the music.

Getting myself under control, I focus on the plan. I need to keep my shit together if we’re going to make it through this.

I’m going to meet Ivan and convince him I’ve been held against my will so he won’t hurt Abigail. He’ll be angry, of course, but I’ve dealt with his anger before…

If I’m smart, he won’t kill me, he’ll just knock me around a bit.

With the plan in my head, I throw a glance over my shoulder and reverse out of the spot. The GPS starts spitting out directions to me once I’m back on the main road.

I’m five minutes into the drive when Johnathan’s phone starts ringing. I almost answer it out of habit and glance at the screen.

The words—Andrew calling—nearly give me a heart attack.

I’m so not answering that.

The phone rings and rings. It stops for a moment only to start ringing again.

Shit.

Andrew tries to call three more times before the phone falls silent.

I can’t talk to him; I can’t give him the chance to stop me.

I’m going to get Abigail back.

I push the gas a little harder and check the rear-view mirror. It’s not possible but I’ve got the strangest feeling that Andrew is somewhere behind me, following me.

I run through the next red light.

The phone starts ringing again. This time when I glance at the screen it reads—Lucifer calling.

Oh fuck no. I’m not stopping now.

I blow through the next two lights, narrowly avoiding an accident. Thankfully, I get lucky with the next light and then I’m turning onto the street where I’m supposed to meet Ivan.

The GPS leads me behind a strip mall. There’s only one other car back here, parked beside the dumpster. I pull up and park beside it.

The car is a sleek, shiny black and the windows are so dark I can’t see through them. I stare and stare, then suddenly remember I didn’t put the necklace on. I’m scrambling to get it clasped behind my neck when there’s a slight rapping on my window.

“Unlock the door,” a muffled voice says.

I hesitate for only a second before hitting the button.

The lock pops up and my door is immediately pulled open. Before I can grab the phone a black-gloved hand reaches in and grabs my hands. My seatbelt is unsnapped and then I’m yanked out of the car.

I hit the pavement, dropping to my knees, and then I’m yanked back up. I’m half-dragged, half-pushed to the other car by two strange men clad in all black.

“Where’s Ivan?” I ask frantically, afraid I’ve made a big mistake. Is this a trap?

“Don’t worry, myshka, I’m right here,” Ivan purrs from inside the car.

I’m shoved through the back door and nearly fall onto Ivan’s lap.

The car door shuts behind me.

21

Amy

“Little one, how I’ve missed you,” Ivan says huskily, grabbing me and pulling me closer to him.

I fight the urge to pull back, to stiffen, and will my body to relax.

I can do this. I can do this, I repeat inside my head.

I can endure anything to get Abigail back.

Ivan settles me on his lap and wraps an arm around my back, his hand coming to rest on my hip. His other hand tips my chin up, forcing me to look at him.

I stare at his face as his eyes roam over me possessively. He looks rougher than I remember. There’s a strain around his eyes I don’t recognize, and his nose is crooked, ruining his perfection.

“Where’s Abigail?” I ask.

His phone starts ringing.

The car starts up and backs up. Then I sense us rolling forward.

Ivan’s hand drops away, shoving into his pocket. He pulls out his phone and gives me that look he always gives me whenever he has to take a call.

“Hello?” Ivan answers, and then the rest of the conversation is in Russian.

His eyes drop to my chest, lingering on the little bit of cleavage I’m showing while he talks to whoever is on the line.

I wait and I wait. Squirming on top of his lap with impatience. Then I just can’t wait any longer for him to finish.