Page 64 of Savage Beauty

“I always knew you were visiting Marina regularly. After your father told me the truth about Rocco, I bugged her home and bided my time, waiting for you to drop some information I could use.” He grins. “I didn’t expect you to make it as easy as you did. Pissing off Sal Tosca was very helpful of you. But I left the listening devices in place anyway. And, of course, your car now has a tracker, too. I put that in place before I entered Tosca’s house yesterday.”

This bastard thought of everything, which is more than can be said for me. How could I have been so stupid?

“Get up.” Igor removes his boot and digs me in my side again. “We’re going inside, and I’ll tell you exactly what will happen.”

* * *

I make it to the downstairs lounge, collapsing onto the couch. The lights are too bright, and my head throbs, but I’m no longer in danger of passing out.

A couple of minutes here should be enough. Then maybe I can beat the ever-loving shit out of this fucker until he tells me what he’s done with my wife.

“I knew your word was worth nothing,” Igor says. He stands beside the drinks tray and pours himself a whiskey. “So when I saw your car heading for JFK, I thought you were trying to flee at first. I’ll admit to being shocked—you knew I’d stop at nothing to hunt down and kill every Kislev if you tried to get away from me. So it was good to see you were only bringing the girl back.”

I should have made Josie leave. I shouldn’t have gone after her in the first place. She’s gonna die, and it’ll be because of me.

“She’ll be fine,” Igor says, as though I’m thinking aloud. “I won’t hurt her unless you make me, not when she’s carrying your baby. Although it would be fair enough if I did, don’t you think?”

“I’ll kill you.” My words are strained, filtered through my tortured breath. “I swear it. You’ll die for this.”

“I’m afraid not,” Igor says. “If I don’t call my associate in ten minutes, he’s under instructions to waste that little whore. And he’s a nasty guy. He’ll probably do a few other things first if you get my meaning.”

My whole body goes cold. “Igor. You hurt my wife or child, and I’ll make you suffer the kind of torment The Devil himself couldn’t imagine.”

“My son is dead!” Igor shouts, his voice ringing off the walls. “My only child. I lost my love, too. Why should you get to keep what you stole from me?”

“You tracked my car, saw I was at Signora G’s house, and tuned in to listen, so you must have heard it all.” I try to sit up. “Marina, Signora G. She said it wasn’t my fault.”

Igor won’t look at me. “Itisyour fucking fault,” he says, hatred suffusing every syllable. “I don’t care what you or anyone else says. And Iwillhave my vengeance. How else will I find peace?”

“You won’t.” Every word is painful. “Nothing will bring Rocco back. I think of him every day, too.”

Igor isn’t listening. “I will keep your wife with me now. You will be sworn in as the new pakhan of the Kislev bratva tonight at thekomissiya’sChristmas Gala. You’ll see Josie there, and you’d better play along because I’ll put a fresh bruise on her for every word of back-talk from you. Is that clear?”

I bite my tongue hard enough to taste the metallic tinge of blood. As much as I want to pummel Igor to a bloody pulp, to do so would be to guarantee Josie’s death.

“Your silence is most reassuring.” Igor throws back his whiskey and flings the glass into the corner, where it smashes on the tile. “Until then, I suggest you rest up and attend to business, as befits a new leader. I’ll see you at my estate at eight p.m. You’d better shake my hand when you arrive.”

He slams the door as he leaves.

43

Josie

Idon’t remember much about the car journey. The tape over my mouth made it tough for me to breathe, and I drifted in and out of consciousness. I do recall being carried up a flight of stairs and dumped on a bed, and when hands reached for my wrists, I tried to fight. A stick of sharp pain in my upper arm, and I knew nothing more.

There’s no way of knowing how much time has passed. It could be minutes, could be days. Maybe Sasha is dead, and I’m going to die in this room. Die because of what I mean to him.

There are so many ways for Igor to hurt me. He doesn’t have to kill either of us to make us suffer, and I have no doubt he knows that. The man lost a family and knows how it feels. Igor would have had me watched, and when he saw my swelling belly, he’d have dragged me back here anyway. He took me from Sasha because, somehow, he knows about the baby.

I no longer believe Sasha set out to destroy my life. He loves me, and without that simple and beautiful truth, my baby and I would be safe, many miles away.

All we needed was time. Just a little time to work out how to turn this around and bring Vlad and the others home without murders and betrayal hanging over us all.

Like hell. I could have run away. Why, in the teeth of actual danger, did I turn down my one shot at safety?

Because I don’twantto be safe if that means no Sasha.

My head aches. As my vision adjusts, I take in the room. It’s unfamiliar but clearly an under-used bedroom; there’s a musty scent, like old furniture polish. The bed is a four-poster, and my hands are lashed to the top posts with old-fashioned cuff restraints. They’re the type that were used in asylums years ago, pulled tight with velcro and secured with a buckle. My arms are stretched wide, and there’s nothing I can do to get loose.

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