Page 110 of Koroleva

Something pulled my hair back, causing me horrible pain.

My body ached, my ribs hurt, and my eyelashes felt like they were stuck together. I opened my eyes with difficulty. I was tied up in a damn chair, and in front of me, Andrey was hanging from the ceiling, secured with thick chains. His torso was bare, soaked with water, and a man was walking around him with an electric shock baton.

I knew that device well; I had used it myself on a few occasions to make some snitch who had crossed us talk. You could adjust the amperage to cause more or less damage, adapting it to the area being treated. The kind of toy any child of an extreme masochist or torturer would ask for Christmas.

I shifted restlessly, trying to free myself from the chair I was bound to, and from the hand that was pulling my neck backward. I heard the cocking of a revolver pointed at my temple.

"You finally wake up, about time. I hope the sleep has cleared your mind enough."

"Why am I here? What have you done to us?"

"Nothing you haven’t done before, an injection and off to sleep to move you without much trouble."

How long had I been unconscious? The last thing I remembered was losing control of the car, it starting to spin like a top before crashing hard against a tree.

"What the hell do you want?" I asked with a grim face. There was no doubt about which gang they belonged to, their physique and accent made them unique.

"That’s what I like to hear, you wanting to talk. Your friend seems to have forgotten how; he hasn’t opened his mouth no matter how much we’ve played with him."

The man let go of my head and positioned himself in front of me. I looked from side to side; we were in a building, on one of the top floors, judging by the height that the windows allowed. It could be an office block or even a hotel. The Chinese had several businesses that matched the surroundings.

I heard a dull groan and turned my gaze to the other end of the room. Andrey's torturer gave me a demonstration with a powerful shock on his swollen abdomen. His forearms tensed, gripping the palms of his hands on the iron links.

The Russian was barefoot and stood on a puddle of water that had accumulated on top of a plastic sheet that must have measured two by two meters.

"Stop it!" I ordered them. "He doesn't answer because he barely understands Spanish," I excused him, "and your accent is terrible, I even struggle to understand you."

Those guys were two of Cheng's henchmen; they couldn't be mistaken.

The ones on the motorcycles must have been either a distraction or the ones responsible for the blowout. They caused the explosion, aiming at the front tires of our vehicle. Perhaps the pair holding us had followed in a sweep car in which they loaded us once they had us drugged.

Either way, the accident had been staged, and it looked very much like what happened to Nikita was also the work of the Chinese.

"Don't take me for a fool," he grumbled. "We know who your little friend is, just as we know who you are. He seemed to understand Spanish well enough, or at least to speak it, when you were messing around among the trees." I felt a nervous tic in my cheek. They had been watching us, just as Andrey had suggested would happen. "Then he had no trouble finding words..." I clenched my teeth. The Russian must have been furious with me for what he heard, and if we got out of this, he was never going to want to speak to me again.

Damn fool! I was more driven by lust than the safety of everyone.

I squirmed, responding bitterly.

"And what about it? Were you dying of jealousy? Is that why you brought us here? Because you got turned on and wanted to get involved with us both?"

His open palm crossed my face.

"Silence."

"Make up your mind, first you want him to talk, now not to, all that three delights rice must have gone to your brain." I was trying to buy time and see how we could get out of this mess.

The Chinese tucked his gun into his belt and grabbed my neck.

"We want back what you stole from us!" he burst out, squeezing. I couldn't breathe, the asphyxiation clenching me from within. I couldn't even speak until he let go and I started coughing to regain my breath.

"We haven't stolen anything from you!" I exclaimed hoarsely. He gave me a few seconds to continue speaking. "If anything, it was you who tried to take ownership of the cocaine shipment that disappeared from one of our ships on the very day of the goods reception."

"If you lose things and can't guard them, that's not our fault," he replied swiftly.

"We didn’t lose anything. You were the ones responsible for the plunder," I spat out angrily. "What did your boss think? That we would just sit back? You have no fucking idea who you're messing with." The Chinese clicked his tongue several times.

"You're the ones who have no fucking idea. If you have problems with lost items, file a complaint," he said jokingly, "I’m sure the cops will be thrilled to lend you a hand, or both."

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