Page 9 of For a Price

“So you are your own boss,” he says on a note of mocking. His Russian accent grows thicker and more pronounced with each word. “You are a criminal mastermind, kidnapping the sovietnik?*. Is that true?”

Sovietnik? What the hell is that?

I keep my expression neutral, giving little to nothing away. At least I hope that’s the case.

He’s clearly observant; he hasn’t taken his eyes off me from the moment I realized he was awake. Something tells me the brutish violence he’d inflicted on JC earlier isn’t the only kind of unnerving behavior he’s capable of.

There’s something calculating and unsettling about his calm demeanor now. It feels like even more of a threat if possible…

I breathe through my nose and say, “I won’t be answering any questions. I’m not the one up for ransom.Youare.”

His grin spreads. “Ransom,” he repeats. “You are selling me, devochka? Is that smart to do?”

Note to self: google devochka…

“I said I won’t be answering any of your questions. Save your breath.”

I use my free hand to fumble my phone out of my pocket and dial Finch again.

He doesn’t answer the second time around. JC and Fozzil haven’t texted back. I’m still left holding the bag in what’s an incredibly frustrating situation gone wrong.

Honestly, I’d be perfectly justified if I wiped my hands clean right now. If I saidfuck thisand stormed out and never returned.

The only problem is, walking away now would cause more problems than solve. Not only would I likely have a barbaric Russian after me—who has seen myface—I’d have JC and the twins coming for me.

Typically, in our merry little band of criminal misfits, when one person defects, it never ends well for them. Treachery is pretty much grounds for pay back.

Huffing out a sigh, I pocket my phone again.

“What is the matter, devochka? Are you worried? Are you scared?”

“Stop talking.”

“Why have you covered that pretty face, devochka? Don’t be afraid. Let me see.”

“I said stop talking!”

He laughs. It rumbles out of him, a thick and guttural sound. Almost a threat in itself. “Youareafraid,” he says. “I promise to play nice. Untie me, devochka. I will show you.”

My insides rattle some more while my grip bears down on the kitchen knife. “If you think for one second you’re intimidating me, you’re wrong.”

“But I am. Look at you. Pretending to be tough. Quaking so beautifully. C’mere, devochka.”

I take a step back. “I’m not going to tell you again. Either stop talking or I’ll shut you up with duct tape.”

“You have made a mistake,” he says, unfazed by the threat. He lifts his bound wrists, held together by the zip ties, as if able to snap them in half all along. Now he’s about to show me. “You have convinced yourself you are in charge. You are wrong. Either c’mere or I will come to you, devochka. Your choice.”

* Devochka = Girl

* Sovietnik - the advisor to the pakhan in the bratva

CHAPTER 5

Katerina

“Staywhere you are or I swear…” I take more steps back, tossing a glance over my shoulder.

Finch mentioned firearms. If I remember correctly, they’re in the bedroom. But I’ve never been a firearms person. Even when we’ve pulled off heists and other high-stakes robberies.

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