Page 43 of Born in Depravity

I was only vaguely paying attention to the conversation Nikolay was having with Petrov. Probably more taunts, to see if he could rile Petrov into acting out.

The woman came back with a tray. She collected the empty glass Petrov left behind when he finished his drink. I still hadn’t had a drop of the Scotch that was handed to me. Neither had Mikhail or Nikolay.

The woman came up to Catalina and when she grabbed the glass, Catalina sneaked the note into the woman’s hand.

I watched as the woman tensed, looking down at Catalina and subtly shaking her head.

She wouldn’t be walking out of here with the note. She would betray Catalina—as she should, since it was her life on the line.

I stopped her before she could say or do anything, putting my hand out. All conversation ceased.

The look in the woman’s eyes told me she knew I already saw it.

Quietly, she walked to me and handed the note over.

I unfolded and read the one single word on a piece of paper that looked to be from a brochure left out at the motel room.

Help.

I laughed out loud before I handed the note to Mikhail, who read it with some amusement in his blue eyes.

I stood up to my full height and Catalina flinched.

I wasn’t a small guy. At six-foot-five, I had always stuck out no matter where I went. Made it easier for people to make me out in the crowd and shoot me at point blank if they wanted. And with the job I had, who I was, there were a lot of people who wanted that.

Unfortunately for them, I wasn’t easy to kill, and little Catalina was going to find out exactly why they dubbed me the Russian Psychopath.

Leaning down, I grabbed her without saying another word. She fought back, trying to get away from me, but I easily subdued her, lifting her over my shoulder.

“Room?” I asked Petrov. He smiled nastily, reminding me of a weasel.

“Maria will show you,” he answered.

I nodded.

Perfect.

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