Page 99 of Doomed
I scramble backward on the bed, desperately trying to cover myself with my hands. The silk ribbons suddenly feel like nothing at all.
“Who are you?” I demand, trying to sound brave despite my racing heart. “Get out!”
The Russian laughs, his gaze slithering over me like a venomous snake. “I’m Ilya Orlov. And you, you are coming with us.”
One of the other men tosses a blanket at me. “Cover yourself, unless you want to ride like that with those bruises proving what a whore you are.”
My fingers fumble with the blanket, wrapping it around me to cover myself. The ribbons I’d tied now feel like chains, restricting my movement when I need it most.
“Knox will kill you,” I spit.
Ilya’s smile widens. “That’s precisely what I’m counting on.”
He nods to his men, who advance toward me. I try to run, but my foot catches in the blanket. I crash to the floor, pain shooting through my elbow.
Rough hands grab me, hauling me upright. I fight wildly, kicking and scratching, but it’s useless against their strength.
“She’s a fiery one,” one man comments in heavily accented English. “No wonder Blackwood keeps her locked up. You like being Blackwood’s little pet?”
“Pretty ribbon package, and look at all the bruises,” the other man snickers, yanking at one of the silk strands peeking from beneath the blanket. “Blackwood always did have expensive taste in his toys.”
Ilya grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Your Knox has crossed me. Now I have something that belongs to him.”
I thrash against their grip, the blanket tangling around my legs as they carry me out of Knox’s apartment. The silk ribbons underneath catch and pull against my skin.
“Let me go!” I scream, kicking wildly at anything I can reach. My heel connects with something solid—a shin, maybe—and one of the men curses.
“Feisty bitch,” he growls, tightening his grip until I gasp in pain.
They haul me down the hallway toward the elevator. I twist my head, desperately searching for anyone who might help. The hallway is empty. Of course it is—Knox’s floor only has two other penthouses, and his neighbors are rarely home.
“Someone help!” I shriek anyway, my voice echoing off the walls.
Ilya backhands me across the face. Stars explode behind my eyes, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
“Quiet,” he hisses. “Or next time will be worse.”
They drag me into the service elevator. My stomach drops as we descend. These men know the building. They planned this.
The elevator opens to the parking garage. I renew my struggles as I am carried toward a nondescript white van. One man slides the side door open while the others wrestle me inside.
“Hold her,” Ilya commands.
Two men pin me down as Ilya produces a pair of handcuffs. The cold metal bites into my wrists as he secures them too tightly. The blanket has slipped, exposing the blue ribbons across my chest. One of the men leers at me, and I curl into myself, desperate to maintain some dignity.
“Drive,” Ilya orders, climbing into the passenger seat. At the same time, the other two men remain in the back with me, watching my every move.
As the van pulls away, reality crashes over me. What the hell have I gotten myself into? I knew Knox was dangerous—a criminal who dealt in violence and drugs. He’d even mentioned problems with Russians, but I never thought...
I never imagined I’d become collateral damage in his war.
I close my eyes, remembering how Michelle warned me. How everyone warned me. But I was too captivated by Knox’s intensity, too addicted to the danger he represented.
Now I’m paying the price, practically naked and handcuffed in the back of a van, being taken God knows where by Russian mobsters.
34
KNOX
