Page 43 of Hers to Control

“I’ve met Mikhail,” I blurt out. It’s not much, and I feel weak for giving in so fast, but I’m not fucking ready to get beaten. Or tortured.

Without another word, Tsepov Senior walks out, ignoring my desperate pleas for him to tell me what he needs to know. My eyes fix on the guy I’m left with. He grins at me and I see several silver teeth shining back at me.

“Let’s have some fun, pretty girl. I can’t cut out your eye the way I want to, because the boss would get pissed, but I’ll show you what all our girls have to learn before they join the stable.”

Whatever I thought he’d do before, I suddenly realize it might be even worse.

Much worse.

Eric

This is the dumbest idea I’ve ever had, but I’m not about to turn back now. The club in Flemingdon Park is my best bet to get to Mia quickly, and I doubt that whatever the Russians are doing to her right now is good, so time is of the essence.

I ignore the stripper dancing on the stage and scan the room. There are two huge dudes posted near a door in the back. That would be the way to the office then.

I turn towards the bar instead, positioning myself so I can keep the Bratva muscle in my line of sight.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks, and I shoot her a grin that feels painful. “How about a whiskey and something real sweet on the side?”

She tilts her head and gives me a calculating look. “How sweet are we talking?”

I pull out my wallet and put five hundred on the counter. “What does that get me?”

She grins and nods at one of the numbered doors along the side of the room. “One of the girls will bring you your drink to room four.”

I nod and head to the room.

In the middle of the tiny room is a chair and at the far end is a narrow stage. It takes two minutes of standing around before a woman wearing nothing more than a sparkling thong opens the door and comes into the tiny room.

“Hello darlin’,” the woman simpers in a slightly slurred Texas accent. Her eyes are glassy and her pupils wide. She’s definitely high as fuck. “I’ve got your drink and I hear you’d like something sweet on the side.”

She puts her hand on my chest, but I knock it off. I’ve got no time for this shit. Unfortunately, this was the only way I could think of to get Anya Tsepov’s attention.

“Listen, I need you to go tell Anya Tsepov that I’m here to speak with her.”

Her high brain takes a moment to process that, then her eyes widen even more and she shakes her head.

“You’ve really got no choice,” I tell her, drawing her attention to my knife by twirling it in my right hand. They didn’t check for weapons at the entrance, idiots. “Here is the thing, I can kill you now, or I can kill you and some of the other girls if you tell anyone but Anya that I am here to speak with her. Or you can just give her my message and nothing bad will happen.”

This is a fucking shit show because the chance that this drugged-up prostitute will actually deliver is slim. In fact, the chance that she rats me out to some security guy is one hundred percent higher. If I don’t kill her, and she does what I ask of her and they find out, they will kill her for sure, and we both know it. Which is why I’ll need to sweeten the deal.

“I’m guessing you don’t get nearly enough of the good stuff around here.” I sheath my knife and pull a little baggie filled withwhite powder from my other pocket. “If you get Anya, this is all yours.”

Her eyes fix on the packet as if it’s a lifeline. Then she nods.

“I can try. They don’t usually let anyone up to the office, but I can say I got a big tip to deposit. They don’t want us flashing those at the bar.”

I nod. “Do it then.”

When she leaves, I push my foot out to keep the door from closing all the way, allowing me to monitor who’s coming up to the room through the tiny slit. If she rats me out, this will be good as shit, but better than nothing.

I watch Texas walk through the club but I can’t see whether she makes it past the security guys to head to Anya’s office, and I grind my teeth as the minutes stretch. Images of the cabin flash through my mind. Mia’s backpack on the floor, a pushed-over kitchen chair, the marks in the gravel.

I shake my head. None of this is helping.

Movement draws my attention and I step back from the door. A few seconds later Texas walks back in, tits first. She doesn’t speak until the door is closed. “Ms. Tspov said to wait two minutes, then come up when the guards are gone.” Her eyes are fixed on my pocket as she delivers her message.

I pull out the packet and hand it to her. If she’s smart, she’ll overdose. Probably the best for someone like her.

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