Page 61 of Dancing With Delusion

“I . . . I can’t say, Dmitry. They’ll kill me.”

“Harriet, you think you’re in control here? I hate to break it to you, but whether you tell me or not, you’ll be leaving in a body bag. I’m simply giving you a chance to save your loved ones from the same end.”

Marshall hands me some electrical tape, and I grab her wrists. She pulls away slightly, staring at me with sadness in her eyes. She silently begs me as I tape her hands together, but there’s no pleading with me. She crossed a line when she helped take what’s mine. “Please, Dmitry, you don’t have to do this,” she whispers between sobs. “I know deep down there’s good inside you.”

I smirk, glancing at Marshall, who does the same. “Save the therapy session, Doc. I’ve tried it, and it was decided I’m a lost cause. Even the devil himself can’t help me.” I grab a handful of her hair and twist her head to look her in the eye. “Now, are you going to tell me where she is?” I bark, and she jumps at the tone of my voice. I’m getting impatient now, and every minute this bitch wastes is another minute Victoria isn’t with me.

“Dmitry . . . please . . . I can’t. You have to understand.”

“The only thing I understand right now is that you are the reason my wife-to-be and unborn child are missing,” I snap as I remove my suit jacket, handing it to Marshall. He passes me a pair of bolt cutters from the little torture bag we brought with us.

Her eyes are full of panic, and she begins to rock from side to side in an attempt to break free, but it’s no use. I’m an expert at securing my prey.

I approach her with the bolt cutters. “I’m not the one responsible,” she rushes out frantically. “I’m just the middleman. I don’t have details.”

“Continue,” I say as I place the bolt cutters on the table and remove my cufflinks, handing them to Marshall. Then, I slowly roll my shirt sleeves up to my elbow.

“I . . . erm . . . please . . .” She’s hysterical now as she looks around the room like she’s expecting someone to rescue her. Her eyes fall to Marshall. “Are you going to let him do this to me?” she demands, and I turn to look at him with an arched brow.

Marshall grins. “Who am I to stop his fun?”

“You’re sick,” she screams, tugging on her restraints.

“Yah know, I suspected you right from the start,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “I think you’ve been in on Victoria’s downfall from the beginning.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she yells.

Marshall folds his arms over his chest. “I’m gonna enjoy watching you suffer for everything you’ve put Tori through.”

I smile at her feeble attempt to get my man to save her, one of my most loyal men at that. “Now, shall we get on?” I ask, picking up the bolt cutters again. I squat, dropping to one knee and taking one of her hands in mine. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, which little finger must go?” I singsong as I tap each finger with the cutters.

She thrashes her head from side to side, her eyes wide with fear. I steady her hand by placing mine over the top. Then, using the bolt cutters to grip her fingernail, I rip it from the bed in one swift movement.

She screams in pain, and Marshall throws me a rag which I stuff in her mouth. I move on to the next without giving her a chance to speak. Her muffled screams fill the room, and a satisfied smile crosses my face.

I look over to Marshall casually. “I thought she’d have a better pain threshold,” I say nonchalantly, shrugging. “I think we’ll try a couple from this side,” I add as I make my way to the other hand. I repeat the same, ignoring her cries of distress.

I stand graciously, moving my neck side to side as the tension eases from my shoulders. I pull the rag from her mouth. “Ready to talk?” I ask, leaning against the table in front of her.

Tears roll down her face, mixing with the sweat covering her cheeks and upper lip.

“Please,” she wails, and I can tell she’s not ready to break.

I sigh heavily and stuff the gag back in her mouth. “Wrong answer.” Muffled words come from behind the cloth. “Sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you.” I grin. “Marshall, can you make out what she’s trying to say?”

“No, Boss. Personally, I think she wants to lose a couple more nails.”

“You heard the man,” I say with a shrug.

I continue to remove all her nails one by one, each scream offering a little more satisfaction. I’m glad she hasn’t offered the information so easily. Where would the fun in that be?

I place the bolt cutters on the floor beside me. Removing the rag again, I watch as her eyes roll into her head. I sigh and give her a sharp slap to the face, bringing her attention back to me.

“You aren’t giving out on me that easily. Where is she?”

Her breathing is erratic, and her head lolls forward like she’s about to pass out completely. “Her file is in my top drawer. She’s being held at a residential address,” she murmurs breathlessly.

“Who has her?” I bark, and she lifts her eyes to look at me, shaking her head desperately.

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