Page 7 of Throttle All the Way

“Alaska! What the fuck is this asshole doing there?”

“The Russians are up to no good up there. You might want to tell Bulldog in case he decides to put someone up there. Personally, I think it would be a good move.”

“I’ll let him know. How did Volkov get through the airport?”

“He’s been flying under the radar on a private jet. We finally have him pinned though. Turns out we may not be able to get to him, but we were able to get to the owner of the plane.”

“Perfect,” I whispered.

“The problem is that the fucker has connections and he was able to get away. He’s in the States, Garcia.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Watch your girl. I’m pretty sure he’s heard she’s alive and he’s finding his way to her.”

“He won’t be able to find her, she knows how to hide.”

“Wrong,” Ray corrected me. “The internet talks fast these days, Garcia. You should take a look at the news. Our pretty Mila is all over the paper.”

Just as he said that flashes of lights nearly blinded me, and as I turned toward the entrance of the hotel, Mila and Jeffrey Realms walked out. Her head was down but all they needed was one shot, one shot that could put her in her grave.

“I gotta go, Ray.”

“Call me if you need back up.”

“Will do,” I replied, slamming the flap of my flip phone off and quickly heading toward my bike.

I couldn’t leave her alone, not now. If anything, I had to remain closer to her than ever.

MILA

I'd felt uneasy lately, wanting to go back into hiding. All the flashing cameras and the thrum of high society was taking a toll on me. Today was one of the few days I had to myself before I was paraded around town again by another state official. The Chief of Police liked me enough, or maybe a council member this time.

I had to admit the money was good. I had enough to get myself a new apartment on the upper side of Seattle, and I finally lived comfortably. Sabrina had come through, she’d offered me protection and so far, nothing bad had happened to me.

Most of the men I entertained were a mix of desire and loneliness, their needs simmering just beneath the surface. Some craved raw, unapologetic sex; others wanted a submissive pet to command. A few had darker, more twisted desires, eager for me to fulfill fantasies they’d never dared speak aloud. Every man had his kink, his vice, and once I bent to their whim, they were mine—completely and utterly at my mercy.

No one dared lay a hand on me without permission. No one crossed the lines I drew or spoke to me out of place. This world I stepped into was a playground of power and indulgence, and the perks Sabrina promised were almost sinful. Diamonds drapedmy neck, silks adorned my body, and every meal was a decadent affair. I had it all, and yet, in the shadows of this new life, there was a darkness—a weight that clung to my throat, as heavy as the diamonds that now lay on it.

It wasn’t just paranoia. A presence lingered over me, and I sensed something was wrong. Someone didn’t belong and I was being watched, the thought made my pulse race for all the wrong reasons. Wherever I went, the sensation of being followed grew stronger, coiling tight around my nerves like a predator toying with its prey. It wasn’t fear that crept into my soul—it was anticipation, a seductive threat that both terrified and thrilled me.

I took a deep breath, the Saturday morning sun bathed the farmer's market in a warm glow as I strolled along the pier. It was my day off and I needed some semblance of normality. The air was thick with the scent of the sea as the Puget Sound lay to my left and the scent of freshly squeezed pineapple juice lured me in on the right. Fresh produce and blooming flowers aligned the stalls and I took it all in. The pleasant hum of activity surrounded me, but that subtle unease still clung to my senses.

I selected a few ripe fruits from one stall, and moved slowly toward the fragrant flowers. I tried to ignore it but the feeling of being watched intensified. My fingers brushed against the soft petals of a sunflower, and a shiver traced its way down my spine. I scanned the bustling market, my eyes darting between the sea of unfamiliar faces, searching for the source of my anxiety.

I tried to shake the feeling away. Telling myself I was just being paranoid. I tried to keep focused, enjoy the day, but then I suddenly caught a glimpse of him – a shadowy figure lingering out of my peripheral vision. My heart skipped a beat as I tried to make out his features, but he remained hidden in the crowd. Anxiety coiled in my stomach, and a sense of fear washed over me.

My pace quickened as I moved through the market, the weight of his gaze following me. Each time I turned toward him, he seemed to slip into the shadows. At one point I thought it was me seeing things out of nothing. Panic began to thread through my mind as I questioned whether it was just paranoia or was it a real threat that haunted me.

I adjusted the bouquet of flowers and fruits in my hands, stealing another glance over my shoulder. There he was again, a silhouette in the distance, his eyes fixed on me. The bustling market seemed to fade away as the realization set in – I was truly being stalked. Dread settled in my chest as I quickened my pace, weaving through the market's labyrinth of stalls. My surroundings blurred, and the vibrant colors of the market and brightness of the day seemed to close in on me. The weight of his gaze intensified, and I became acutely aware of how vulnerable I truly was.

I was careful, not wanting to cause a scene, or let him know I'd seen him. I reached the edge of the market, the crowd thinning as I entered a quieter street. Panic clawed at my throat as I dared to look back, but he was nowhere to be found. As I went up another street, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I didn't turn, I kept walking, knowing he was there. It wasn't a figment of my imagination. There was someone, a man, stalking me.

My steps became hurried, the rhythmic thud of my heart pounding in my ears drowned out the sounds of the traffic. The realization that I was being followed left me numb with fear. I fumbled for my phone, hands trembling as I went to dial the only number I had memorized, Sabrina Wellchild's. She was the only one in my life who knew what I was worth to Yulian Volkov. The only one who had offered protection.

The phone rang but she wasn't picking up as I continued to rush down the street, my eyes darting between the peoplearound me, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was in the shadows, waiting to pounce at me. The line between reality and my fears blurred with each step. The sunny market now felt claustrophobic, where an unseen murderer lurked, waiting for me to falter.

I quickened my pace, my senses on high alert, as my phone call went to voicemail, and frustration mixed with fear as I navigated the familiar streets, my every step shadowed by the persistent figure. I didn't know where I was headed, all I could think was that I didn't want him to follow me home. I shuddered at the thought of him already knowing where I lived.

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