Page 67 of Pretty Little Game

“’Kay, but the pin I dropped is right at the house where the girls are being kept. Unless you plan on making a grand entrance, I suggest finding an airstrip nearby and driving in. There’s plenty of forest you can drive through without blowing your cover.” I glance around but can’t make much sense of the land’s layout in the pitch-black.

As quickly as I can, I give him as much intel as I have–how many men there were on the plane, what they looked like, that they’re Russian. I describe the layout of the mansion I can see from my hidden spot and its relationship to the runway. “The girls are inside somewhere, but I can’t see them from here.”

“Got it,” Lucca says curtly. “Find somewhere we can meet up to coordinate, and send me that location. We can go in together as soon as we put together a plan.”

“I’m not waiting,” I state flatly.

“You sure as fuck are!” Lucca shouts. “You’re already outnumbered, just from who you said was on the plane, and it sounds like you might be trying to break into Fort Knox. You’re not going in alone.”

“Look, I couldn’t gather much with all the Russian being spoken, but it definitely sounds like one of the girls might get raped, and I won’t just stand around to see if, and when, that might happen. Hurry the fuck up, but I’m going in as soon as I find an opening.”

Whoever these assholes are, the fact that they would abuse a woman makes them as low as dirt. But that they would dare touch Bianka has me seeing red. It took every ounce of self-restraint I possessed not to blow my cover on the plane. Now that I have the potential to take them down without getting myself killed, I refuse to wait a second longer.

The phone is silent for long enough, and I wonder if I might have lost him. Then Lucca’s voice comes across the line low and grave. “Don’t fucking die on me,” he commands.

“I’ll do my best,” I agree, hanging up and shoving my phone into my pocket.

I could hear it in his tone. My brother doesn’t want to lose me, but if it comes down to saving the girls or not, he won’t try to stop me. Not that I would listen, even if he did.

Taking a steadying breath, I creep out from the trees to find my way into the brightly lit mansion.

23

BIANKA

Once again, I’m bound tightly to a chair, this time with my hands behind my back. I don’t know where I am; aside from that, I’m in what looks like the office of a massive house in the middle of snowy nowhere.

After our kidnappers tied us up, most cleared the room, leaving two to watch us. Neither is Maksim, thankfully, but neither of them is the leader either. And I eye them suspiciously for a long time, waiting to see if they might take advantage of our incapacitation.

They’re both tall, well-muscled men with guns holstered at their waists beneath their tuxedo jackets. Their strong Russian features are both serious and intimidating. But they don’t antagonize us in any way. Instead, they guard us silently, their gazes skimming over our faces with as much interest as if we were the furniture we’re so tightly bound to.

A clock ticks quietly atop the impressive mahogany desk in front of the large picture window. It reads 3:47 and based on the dark world outside, it must be early in the morning.

Poor Ellie looks half out of her mind with fear. She seems to have run out of tears, and now her red-rimmed eyes jerk in the direction of each tiny sound that groans through the elaborately furnished mansion.

At the house, they removed her mask as well, so now I can plainly see the mascara tracks running down her cheeks. She appears exhausted, frazzled, and dejected, and I can hardly blame her. My heart aches to know she’s suffering because of me.

I almost say her name but catch myself at the last moment. The only thing keeping her out of Maksim’s hands right now is the fact that the men don’t seem to know which one of us is me. So I can’t risk saying her name.

But I need to say something to her–to get her to talk. Her silence is far more frightening right now than anything that could happen to me.

“I’m so sorry,” I murmur, leaning as close to Ellie as my bonds will allow.

“Why are you sorry?” she asks shakily, her watery gray eyes meeting mine. A quivering smile tugs at her lips. “I’m just grateful you’re here with me–selfish as that might sound.”

I laugh breathily and dare to give her a reassuring grin. “Are you okay?” I whisper.

Ellie sniffles, shaking her head. “I’m just so scared, B–”

“Be brave,” I cut in sharply before she can say my name, my heart pounding.

Glancing toward our guards, who watch us with narrowed eyes, I decide against telling Ellie any of the information I’ve picked up. I don’t see how it will help her, and it could definitely hurt me.

Instead, I go for what I hope might reassure her, fruitless as it might seem. “We’ll get out of here,” I say adamantly. “I promise.”

“Quiet,” one of the guards growls in accented English.

I immediately obey.

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