Page 66 of Wrong Number. Right Don.
“You can’t tell me that?” I jerk against the chains. “You have me chained to a fucking chair, and you won’t tell me where I am?”
Her eyes flick up to mine, and I see a mixture of pity and fear. She’s captive here too—only she isn’t in chains.
“I don’t make the rules,” she says quietly. “I’m just here to keep you alive. I promise, no one wants to hurt you.”
“Too late for that!” I snap. “Why am I here? And why am I chained like a damn animal?”
She presses a clean gauze pad to the wound and tapes it down with steady fingers.
“There are people negotiating for your release,” she says. “It’s just going to take some time. You’re a means to an end, nothing more. Really, you’re one of the lucky ones.”
“Negotiating?” My blood runs cold. “Who’s negotiating for me?”
She doesn’t answer. I blink at her, heart pounding.
“Please,” I whisper. “I’m a nurse, too. Can you at least tell me if this has anything to do with Sergei Volkov?”
Again, she won’t look at me. That’s answer enough. She finishes wrapping my wrist where the metal of the cuffs has rubbed the skin raw and stands.
“I’ll be back soon with some water and something to eat,” she says. “Try to get some rest.”
And then she’s gone. The door clicks shut, and I’m alone again.
“Try to rest,” I mutter bitterly. “That’s not fucking likely.”
I sag against the chair, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. I don’t cry, not yet. Not because I’m strong, but because the terror hasn’t broken through the shock. I don’t know how much time has passed. Maybe twenty minutes. Maybe two hours. There’s no natural light in here, nothing to help me anchor to reality. Just the buzz of the overhead light and the growing ache in my back from the way I’m seated.
The door swings open again. The nurse is back, I hope. Maybe she brought food and water like she promised. But the figure who comes down the stairs is a man.
He’s tall and looks fairly young. He’s impeccably dressed in a gray tailored suit and gleaming black shoes. He moves with effortless confidence, as if doors open before he even reaches them.
He’s maybe thirty, only a few years older than me, yet everything about him screams power. He’s dangerous and arrogant. My breath catches in my throat.
“Well,” he says, surveying me with a cool, dispassionate gaze. “You clean up nicely. I won’t lie to you, you looked pretty shitty when they dragged you in here.”
I don’t respond. I just stare, trying to decide whether he’s the type who wants a reaction or the type who respects silence. He steps closer, folding his hands as neatly as his suit.
“You must be Nicole.”
I glare. “Who the hell are you?”
He smiles faintly, as if the question amuses him. “My name is Semion,” he says. “And you’re currently a guest of the Chechen Bratva.”
My blood turns to ice. Another Bratva. So this is about Sergei. “Why am I here?” I ask, forcing myself to sound bold.
“You’re here because of Sergei.”
I flinch at Sergei’s name; it confirms everything I’ve feared. Maybe I was right to leave, except leaving landed me right in his enemy’s hands.
“I don’t know anything,” I say quickly. “I’m just a nurse Sergei hired to take care of his mother. Please, just let me go.”
“See,” he says, crouching down so we’re eye level, “I don’t believe you. Sergei employs a lot of people, and I’ve never seen any of them have such a high level of security. You’re important to him, which makes you very valuable to me.”
I try to keep my expression blank, but my heart is beating so hard I’m sure he can hear it.
“I told you, I’m only important because I take care of his mother,” I say. “If you’re using me as leverage, you’ve picked the wrong person. Sergei doesn’t care about me at all.”
“Maybe that’s true,” Semion says. “Then again, maybe you’re just saying that because you think it’ll help you get out of here. Don’t worry, Nicole. I have no intention of hurting you. As soon as I get what I want, you can go back to playing house with Sergei.”
