Page 117 of Rebellion

Not happening.

“Hand over your handbag.”

She gave it to him and he searched through it, pulling out her phone.

He gestured to her to get out as he did the same. Then he smashed her phone to bits.

What an idiot.

Aleksandr would be able to track her to where her phone last pinged. Didn’t he know that?

And besides that, her cousin had a number of fail-safes in place. Did Arseni know there was a GPS tracker in the car?

Likely. He’d probably removed it too.

But she bet he didn’t know there were two. Or that her handbag had another tracker in it. The only trouble was that Sacha had to realize that she was missing in order to come after her.

And by the time he did... well, it just might be too late.

25

Colm felt ill as he stared at the piece of shit hanging from the ceiling of one of Rogan’s interrogation rooms.

It was a place out in the countryside, far away from neighbors who might notice some odd comings and goings. The building looked like an old run-down shack.

But it had a soundproof basement, which is why Rogan now owned it and the land under one of his corporations.

Rogan would likely need to get rid of this building after they were done, now that the Russians knew where it was.

They might have an agreement, but that didn’t mean they fully trusted each other. After arriving, to Colm’s shock, Anisimov told him to have some fun with Oleg before he questioned him.

Colm didn’t need to be asked twice.

Stepping up to Oleg, Colm drew his fist back and punched him right in the cock.

The man let out a pained groan, his face growing purple as he tried to breathe through the pain.

“Ouch. I felt that,” Aleksandr said as he sat on a chair. “Did you feel that, Viktor?”

“Yeah. I felt it.”

“How dare you touch her, you fucking asshole!” he said to Oleg as he treated his stomach like it was a punching bag.

Oleg moaned, then started to make a choking noise before vomiting.

Colm got out of the way just in time.

“You think he’s ready, Viktor?” Anisimov asked.

“Nearly,” Viktor replied.

Vik seemed like a man of few words, which Colm could appreciate. He landed a few more punches before Anisimov called for him to stop.

“He doesn’t deserve for me to stop,” Colm snarled. “This bastard hit her. Hurt her.”

“And soon you can do what you like to him. But I have a few questions.” Anisimov stepped up to Oleg. “Who is Mike?”

Colm frowned. Huh?

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