Page 11 of Brutal Vows

My kidnapper chuckles and retakes his seat next to me. I breathe a sigh of relief when he doesn’t force me to lay my head on his shoulder again. I’m not sure how long I was asleep, but the cabin is dimmer and the sky outside the plane’s windows is darker.

“We will be landing soon,” he tells me. The only thing I can do is nod mutely. It isn’t like I have a tray table to put up or a phone to turn off. It does give me time to contemplate my escape. It will be difficult since every person on this plane, but the stewardess and I are six feet and muscular men with guns.

If we land publicly enough, there is a chance I can make my escape that way. Create enough of a ruckus to draw unwanted attention to them. They won’t want that. I doubt they are going to parade me through the airport with handcuffs, and I might be able to use that to my advantage.

The plane dips and sways, and I breathe in a long breath through my nose and out my mouth as the pressure in the cabin shifts slightly as it descends. It isn’t long before the plane is bouncing on the runway as we land. I grit my teeth and attempt to steady my nerves as the plane coasts along the tarmac toward our intended destination.

“Welcome to New Orleans, gentlemen,” a voice says through the intercom, the pilot I’m assuming. New Orleans—what are we doing in Louisiana? Is this where he lives? I stay rooted in my seat as the men get to their feet, a few of them taking the time to stretch before going for their bags from the overhead bins. It’s not like I can do much with handcuffs on anyway.

Outside the small window, I can see a cavalcade of black SUVs swarming the aircraft. Is this all for us? The bright lights of the airstrip make it easy to see what is goingon outside. My kidnapper is strolling out of the aircraft with a smile on his face as he embraces one of the men who steps out of the rear vehicle. They take a moment to talk, both their eyes flitting to where I am peering out at them.

The man nods to my kidnapper, a smirk on his lips.

Maybe I can get this man on my side, whoever he is. Whatever story my kidnapper is spinning to him; it can’t be the truth. Right?

A few minutes of waiting later, my captor is back at my side, unfastening my seatbelt and removing the blanket. It’s even colder now that the door to the aircraft is open and I can’t help the shiver that runs through me.

“I am going to introduce you to my friend now,” he tells me firmly. “Behave or you will find yourself with another trip over my lap, is that understood?”

Would he spank me in front of all those men out there?

“Yes.”

His hand comes to the back of my neck and tightens. “What was that?”

Gritting my teeth I respond how he wants me to. “Yes, sir.”

His eyes darken but he doesn’t say a word as he leads me off the plane. The man who greets us is tall, with large, formidable muscles and captivating eyes. He’s wearing Armani and shoes that cost more than my entire closet back home.

“Gia, this is Adrian Volkov,” he introduces me. “One of my most trusted friends.”

No, this can’t be. The blood drains from my face as I stare at the man before me in a different light. He won’t help me. No one can.

“Welcome to New Orleans, Gia.” He smiles, but itdoesn’t reach his eyes. It’s cold and calculated, the way it would be for someone in a position such as his.

Adrian Volkov,Pakhanof the VolkovBratva, one of the most feared men in the world—and he knows my name. No, that can’t be. If this man is truly Adrian Volkov, then that means…

“Kenzo will be happy to see you again, Vitali.” Adrian turns his attention back to my captor. “You missed one hell of a wedding.”

No. No. No.

How can this be happening? I can’t have this bad of luck. Why? What have I ever done in my measly existence to deserve this?

This man, the one after my brother, is the one I’ve always been taught to fear. Everyone in the Romano empire knows of his unspeakable acts. His betrayal.

Vitali Romano, but they callil traditore del sangue.

The blood traitor.

The son who murdered his father.

And now he is holding me hostage.

Lady Luck is a heartless bitch.

Six

“Good girl,”Vitali whispers as he leads me toward one of the waiting cars. “You obeyed my instructions well,piccola cerva.”

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