Page 95 of Maxim

“Why will it be too late?” I can’t stop myself from asking as he pulls me along through the thick undergrowth.

“Because I have plans for you. Kolanski wants you dead, but I figure I may as well make money from you first. Seems only fair, given the resources I’ve expended so far. And besides, it will give me great satisfaction to break Maxim in the process.” He laughs like a lunatic and I see now the man is unhinged. Literally fucking insane.

There’s an SUV waiting about half a mile away, parked on a secluded track. Several armed men surround the vehicle, none of whom give me a second glance.

My wrists and ankles are bound with zip ties and a cloth gag is shoved in my mouth. Panic threatens to overwhelm me as one of Uriov’s men bundles me into the vehicle’s trunk and slams it shut, enveloping me in darkness.

Knowing this is all my own fault makes everything worse. If I’d told Max about the message I received, he might have come up with a plan to keep me safe while rescuing Jane. Instead, I’m on my own, with no backup or resources.

The best-case scenario is that Uriov lets Jane go now he has me, but realistically, that isn’t going to happen. All I can do is cling to hope that Max finds me somehow.

Chapter sixty-six

Nat

By the time someone opens the trunk I’m stuffed in, I’m on the verge of vomiting everywhere. It’s a combination of stress and motion sickness. My stomach churns, the cotton stuffed in my mouth making the situation infinitely worse.

The guy who hauls me out of the trunk takes one look at my green complexion and grimaces. Thankfully, once he removes the gag and I can suck in some fresh air, my stomach settles. The zip ties around my ankles are cut and I’m pushed in the direction of a large stone building.

It’s not clear where I am, but from what I can see, we’re miles from anywhere, with scrubby fields as far as the eye can see. Everything is silent. No traffic noises, not even birdsong. Then my eye snags on a rusty metal sign hanging from a broken gate: Linden Farm.

Mayor Kolanski owns a derelict farm somewhere rural. Could this be the place?

Uriov disappears soon after directing his men to take me inside. I hope he’s not planning on locking me up in a small, dark room - I have a massive phobia of enclosed spaces.

The building itself may have seen better days - the walls are crumbling in places and the windows filthy - but the entrance door is solid, reinforced with steel and fitted with heavy-duty locks. There is a security camera fixed above the lintel, which swivels as we walk past.

This place must be important if Uriov has spent a lot of money making it secure. I just wish I knew where we were because then I’d have an idea of which way to run if I got the chance to escape.

Not that it’s likely. I don’t even have a clue how long I was trapped in the trunk of Uriov’s car. We took so many different turns that it wasn’t long before I lost all sense of direction and time. My watch tells me it’s early evening, so we can’t be a million miles away from Max’s house, but who knows?

All I can do is pray Max realizes I’m missing sooner rather than later, and figures out where I am. Otherwise, I’m fucked.

Uriov’s man is firm but respectful. I assume he’s had orders not to hurt me, which is a relief. He pushes me inside the building and gestures towards a staircase that appears to go down into a basement area.

We pass a series of rooms with locked doors. I listen for sounds of occupation, but there’s nothing. It’s like a tomb down here. All concrete walls and harsh lighting. When we reach the end of the corridor, my captor unlocks a door and I’m shoved inside.

“Nat!” cries a familiar voice. Jane jumps up from the stained mattress she was lying on.

“Get back!” the man yells in a harsh guttural voice. She recoils and presses her body against the wall. From the bruises all over her arms, someone has hurt her in the time she’s been here. That makes me mad as fuck but I rein it in. Now is not the time to lose my shit. Just because nobody has laid a finger on me yet, it doesn’t mean I’m safe.

The zip ties on my wrists are cut and I’m shoved across the room. The door clangs shut behind me and there’s the sound of a lock engaging, but I ignore it and focus on my friend.

“I can’t believe you’re here too,” she sobs, all traces of my confident go-getting friend gone. Her hair is limp and there are grubby tear tracks down her face. I scan her quickly but her clothing looks intact, thank goodness, and as far as I can tell, she’s not been badly hurt.

“What happened?” I ask in a low voice.

“Anton picked me up and said he was taking me somewhere special, I assumed he meant a nice restaurant or something. We drove out into the country and ended up at some deserted farm. I asked him what was going on and he just laughed. He said I’d find out soon enough.” Her voice breaks. “I was left in here all night and then this morning, a guy took me upstairs and tied me to a chair. Anton appeared and took a photo of me.”

“His name isn’t Anton,” I tell her.

She looks confused. “What do you mean?”

“His real name is Anatoly Uriov. He’s Russian Mafia.”

“But I don’t understand… he told me he owns a tech business!” Jane stares at me like I’m having some kind of psychotic break. It’s obvious she’s struggling to make sense of it all.

“How did you meet him?” I have a feeling it wasn’t by chance.

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