Page 8 of Refrain

I flinch as the rough pad of his thumb grazes my forehead.

“Except forthat.My little birdy mentioned this female cop would have a scar like that.”

Breathe.I do as he withdraws, feeling my chest expand and contract.

“You’re crazy—”

“Am I?” The shadow that falls over his face could be a trick of the ghoulish light, but he looks older. Harder. More demon than angel. “Tell me who your target is,” he demands. “Or I go back out there and let good ol’ Vlad know that he has a mole in his club. Are you after the girls? I know sometimes you cops like to use them as collateral to get to the big boys. That won’t work.”

“You could tell Vlad,” I admit. “But he…he won’t believe you.” Only because he might already know. I feel it in my gut. Despite the few hiccups, this has been way too easy. “I’m not a cop—”

“Then who are you?”

I have just a second to compose a good lie. “I work for them. The police said, if I come and get them information, they won’t charge me for prostitution, and I can be safe.”

Blue Eyes tilts his head, unconvinced. I’ll have to dig deep to fool him.

“Think about it. Could a cop just prance in here undetected? Without backup? Without a weapon? Look.” I run a hand down the side of my tiny, white shorts. “I can’t even hide a gun. Who would be that stupid—”

“So, who are you, then?” He advances another step, and I’m trapped. “Tell me the truth or I’m going to Vlad.”

“I’m no one,” I insist.

“Oh, really?” An alarming expression contorts his mouth. A breathtaking smile. A terrible grimace. “Then whatbusinessdo you have with Olshenkov?”

I blink, unguarded for a split second. What business do I have with Vlad? Nothing. Everything.

“That’s my business—”

“And your cop friend. Don’t tell me he’s just here to hold your hand?”

“His…business is about Piotr Petrov,” I stammer, risking a kernel of the truth. “That’s it.”

“Petrov?”

I avoid his suspicious glance in favor of hunting for a way out. I could shove him into the bathroom and barricade the door. Incapacitate him somehow. I could…

“What’s your name?”

“Why does it matter?” I glance at him sharply.

“I guess it doesn’t,” he admits. “Still want to know though.” He angles his body toward mine—a stance that makes it ten times harder to sneak past him.

“Ksei,” I spit.

He cuts his gaze to the doorway before I can tell if he believes me or not. “Well…what do you say we both get the hell out of here, then,Ksei?”

Go?My mind latches onto that word. I should fucking run.

Something about this room renders me helpless. The walls of my old prison are familiar yet different at the same time. Even the paint seems to be a slightly different shade of gray. There’s a tinge of red now. Wait… That “speck” of red starts to flash. It doesn’t come from the wall itself, either, but a small, black box mounted near the ceiling.

Shit.Recognition hits me like a punch to the stomach.

“The camera…” How could I have been so stupid as to forget it? “He’s watching us.”

Someone has to be in that little room at the back of the club, making the lens refocus to trigger the light. Vlad?

It doesn’t matter.

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