Page 10 of Russian Roulette
“At least now I can stop calling you ‘America’s Most Wanted’ in my head,” I tell him. “If you need something to stop that bleeding, I have a red scarf you can use. All you need to do is untie me first. Blood is dripping onto your shirt. More like pouring, if you want the truth.”
“Nice try,” he snaps. He quickly strips off his black T-shirt, leaving me speechless at the sight of his tatted and scarred bare chest. Like his arms, his chest is completely covered in tattoos. Along with the tattoos are several deep pink and white scars. Some with jagged edges, others are smooth. He was either seriously injured in an accident or burned.
He wads up his shirt and places it against his ear. “It’s nothing more than a paper cut,” he says. He leans in closer to my ear. “I like pain,” he whispers. “Do you? Should we find out?”
Before I can answer, we pull out of the parking garage and into the stream of steady traffic creeping along the famous Vegas strip.
“Where are we going?” I ask after we’ve driven a couple of blocks. They ignore me. “What are you going to do with me? I deserve answers. I’m getting the distinct feeling this is more than a random kidnapping. Who are you guys? At least tell me that much.”
“You’ll find out,” Vulcan replies.
“When?”
“Soon,” he says, giving my leg a squeeze. I hadn’t noticed his hand had moved and is now resting casually on the inside of my thigh. His touch feels familiar and almost right in a strange way. Which makes no sense at all.
We stop at a traffic light, and I wonder if it’s possible to get the attention of another driver. While I can peer out, the windows are tinted so other drivers can’t see in. Any attempt I make to get their attention will be pointless and might anger my captors more.
The silence in the car is making me nervous. I’m hyperaware of the men on either side of me. I can’t help noticing every breath they take and every time they shift their arms or legs. My skin burns where they’re touching me. The close proximity of the two men is making it hard to think straight.
“Who do you work for?” I ask to break the silence.
“What makes you think we work for anyone?” Vulcan replies. “How do you know we’re not working alone?”
“I don’t,” I reply. “You don’t strike me as an organized team, though. You’re sloppy.”
“Why do you say that?” he asks.
“Your so-called security man let me knee him in the balls,” I explain. “I would’ve gotten away if the door hadn’t been locked from the inside. He slipped up and told me your name and I heard you call him ‘Leroy’ which is the same name on his badge. Do the rest of you want to tell me your names, too? If not, I’ll just refer to you as Snake Charmer and Thor.”
I’m trying my best to get them talking to personalize myself. Supposedly, it’s harder for someone to kill you if you can get them to perceive you as a real person. I’m not entirely convinced of the theory since I tried it with the Russians and it didn’t work.
“Why are you calling him Snake Charmer?” Vulcan asks. “What did he do?”
“He dropped a snake in my hand while trying to flirt with me in the casino. I told him I wasn’t interested in him then and I’m still not.”
Snake Charmer turns around and stares at me with those ocean green eyes again. What is up with these guys and their hypnotic eyes?
“I wasn’t flirting,” he says. “I could tell something was off with you, so I was trying to get a better read. That’s why I came over to talk to you. To check you out, that’s all.”
“When was this?” Vulcan frowns at him. “You didn’t mention meeting her before.”
“This morning at the casino,” I reply. “He tried to hand me a roll of quarters and instead dropped a snake in my hand. A cold, wriggly snake, I might add.”
“Whoa! Hang on! Is that snake in this car by any chance?” Leroy pipes up from the driver’s seat. “Please tell me it’s not because if it is, we’re pulling over right this second. I can’t deal with snakes. Snakes are where I draw the line.”
“No, I dropped her off at my place,” Snake Charmer tells him. “Don’t freak out.”
“Good to hear,” Leroy says. “That’s a big relief. You might as well tell her your names. One of us will let it slip out sooner or later, anyway.”
“You mean you’ll let it slip,” Snake Charmer says.
“Whatever, Seven,” Leroy replies. “Oops! I gave it away,” he says with a loud chuckle.
“Fuck you, Leroy,” Seven mutters. “I hope she crushed your balls.”
“Seven?” I repeat. “As in ‘Lucky Seven’? Interesting name.” I nudge the Viking with my elbow to get his attention. “It only leaves you, Thor. What’s your name?”
The Nordic God leans his shoulder against the window and turns to study me. “My friends call me Kit,” he mutters after a long moment.
