Page 14 of Russian Roulette
“No way.” She shakes her head. “You’ve made a big mistake. The Russian mob isn’t after me. Trust me, you’ve got the wrong girl, so you can take me back to Vegas. No hard feelings, guys. It’s been a unique adventure, but all good things must end. I’m sure you don’t want me filing a police report for kidnapping any more than I want to waste my time going to the police station.”
I bet you don’t.
“Not so fast,” I say. “I saw your reaction when I mentioned the Russians. You’re involved with them somehow. Tell us why they’re not after you. We’re not leaving here until we get answers.”
She drains her water bottle before answering. “The Russian mob isn’t after me because they believe I’m dead. Are you satisfied now?”
“What???” Seven and I both yell out at the same time.
“Whoa, whoa, hang on,” Kit says. “Why would they think you’re dead?”
“Because they tried to kill me two days ago in Los Angeles.”
The table goes dead quiet. This situation is heading into a more serious territory than we anticipated.
“Well… this conversation is taking a turn I didn’t expect.” I lean closer to her. “You’ve caught our attention now. Tell us what happened.”
She brushes off my question as if she hasn’t dropped a bomb in the conversation. “Two Russian thugs grabbed me when I stupidly stepped into their car, thinking it was my rideshare. I won’t make that mistake again. They wanted information from me I didn’t have. When I told them so, they tried to kill me. I escaped by jumping off the boat we were on and swimming until a fisherman picked me up. Luckily, it was dark and their aim wasn’t good.”
“They were trying to kill you? What the fuck! What did you do to them?”
“Nothing! I’m sure they’re hoping I’m shark food by now,” she says. “After I dove off the boat, I ducked underwater whenever their searchlight came my way. I’m a California girl and a strong swimmer. Water is my friend.”
“How did you get to Vegas?” I ask.
“I drove my car. Is that a problem?”
“Where’s your car parked now?”
“None of your fucking business.”
“We’re making it our business,” I say. “The Russians can track your car to Vegas. If they can find your car, they can find you.”
She shakes her head. “Not this car. I’m not worried.”
“Is the car stolen?”
“No! I didn’t steal a car! Are you accusing me of being a criminal?”
“Oh, I’m definitely convinced you might be a criminal on some level,” I reply. A potential problem occurs to me. “Are you in town with someone else? Or are you here alone?”
“I’m with a group of friends who will be missing me,” she smoothly lies. “I’m sure they’re already panicking and searching everywhere for me. You’d better take me back to town before they call the police.”
“You told us it wouldn’t be worthwhile to hold you for ransom,” I remind her. “You said absolutely no one would miss you.”
“I lied, so you would let me go.”
“Or you’re lying now. Tell us the truth. What did the Russians want with you?”
She sighs as though she’s growing bored with the line of questioning. “As I keep saying, the Russians wanted me to provide them with information I didn’t have. That’s it. End of story. They’re idiots and they grabbed the wrong girl. Just like you did. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Which apparently is a bad habit of mine.”
Leroy rises from the lounge chair and stretches. “I hate to break up the party just when it’s getting interesting,” he says. “Seven, you need to get your ass back to Vegas if you intend to make your show on time.”
“Show? What show?” Jade inquires, casting a curious eye at Seven. “You’re a performer, right? I should’ve guessed with your weird snake tricks and scarves that go on forever. What do you do?” Slowly, she turns her head around to give each of us a thorough examination. Her eyes widen. “Hold on! Are you all performers? Or actors? Is this a reality show? Should I expect a camera crew to pop out of the RV with a microphone and cameras? Because I’m not one bit amused if it is. I don’t like surprises or jokes.”
“Leroy, why did you let that slip?” Seven complains, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Can you not keep your mouth shut?”
“Sorry,” Leroy says, clearly not sorry. “She’d find out eventually,” he continues. “Your face is all over billboards in Vegas. They’re hard to miss. You can’t be the hottest ticket in Vegas and not expect to be recognized.”
